'The two-thirty flight to London,' she gasped.
'I'm Sorry, but you're too late, it's already boarded. You'll have to take the next flight,' the pretty ground receptionist told her.
'No, you don't understand,' Sam said desperately. 'I have to get a message to someone on the plane. Oh, please, it's most terribly urgent,' she pleaded.
'Well, I don't know. Just a moment.' The girl disappeared into an office behind her while Sam gripped the edge of the desk hard, willing her to hurry.
Presently the girl came out with a man in uniform who looked Sam over rather suspiciously. 'You say you want to get a message to someone on the plane?'
'Yes. It's terribly, important. Oh, please hurry.'
He must have read her distress in her face because his expression changed and he said briskly, 'All right, I'll see what I can do. What's the name of the passenger?'
'Scott. Mike Scott.'
'And the message?'
For a second Sam hesitated, but then she said firmly, 'Will you just tell him that his wife is here?'
The man gave her a quick glance, then nodded and went back into his office. He seemed to be gone for ages. Sam paced up and down, waiting, unable to stand still. Then above her head she heard the roar of a big jet taking off and running to a window she saw a plane with British Airways insignia climbing high into the sky. So she had been too late after all. She stood there hopelessly, staring at the plane as it climbed ever higher into the cloudless blue of the sky.
Tears of frustration and despair came into Sam's eyes and she groped in her bag for a handkerchief. Her fingers fumbled on the envelope Mrs Gregory had given her and she slowly drew it out. Inside was a photograph, the type that street photographers take, and it showed her and Mike walking along a road near the harbour together. Mike had his arm possessively across her shoulders and they were looking into each other's eyes oblivious to everyone else.' Sam felt an almost physical pain as she looked at it. She had wanted proof that she had known Mike for so long and now it had been casually handed to her. Given with malice and self-interest at heart, of course, and given too late. If only she'd had it just a few hours earlier! Again she looked up at the plane that was now no bigger than a toy.
Then she felt a touch on her arm and turned lifelessly to find the uniformed man behind her. He smiled at her and pointed to some doors. 'If you go through there you shouldn't have long to wait.'
Sam looked up at him stupidly. 'To wait? But I don't understand, the plane's gone.'
'Yes, but we got the message through in time. Mr Scott should be along at any moment.'
Her face changing from despair to incredulous joy, Sam could only gaze up at him speechlessly. He grinned and turned away and then Sam was running towards the doors he'd indicated. They opened on to a windowed corridor above the airport concourse, but there were three side corridors opening off it and she didn't know which one to take, so she had to just stand there, bursting with impatience, and ready to run to him the moment he came in sight.
But when Mike did turn a corner at the end of a long corridor, she found that she couldn't move. He was dressed in a dark business suit more suited to the English climate than the West Indies and he carried a briefcase in his hand. As soon as he saw her he stopped dead so that the uniformed official who was accompanying him almost bumped into him. He stood and stared at her as if he couldn't really believe his own eyes. Then slowly, almost as if he were in a dream, he began to walk along the corridor, but after a few steps his pace began to quicken and then suddenly he was running and Sam found herself rushing to meet him. Mike dropped his briefcase and swept her into his arms, lifting her off her feet and holding her so tightly that she could hardly breathe.
'Oh, Sam. Sam.' He said her name over and over again, his face buried in her hair.
Sam had her arms tight round his neck, laughing and crying at the same time. And then, regardless of their surroundings, she said fervently, 'Oh, Mike, I love you so much!'
He set her down on her feet and cupped her face in his hands. For a moment he looked at her, drinking in every detail of her rapturous face, her eyes alight with love, then he lowered his head to kiss her hard on the mouth.
A discreet cough made them draw apart at last and they turned somewhat dazedly to find the official grinning at them. 'I hate to break it up,' he smiled, 'but a planeload of people will be coming along here in just a few minutes.' He handed Mike his briefcase and then opened the doors for them to go back into the main building.
Mike held out his hand to her and Sam put hers into his big one. It felt very warm and strong as it closed tightly over hers. They walked through the airport and out on to the steps. Mike gave his head a little shake and then grinned at her.
'Something tells me I'm not going to come down to earth for quite some time. How did you get here?'
'In my sports car. It's over there,' she pointed.
"You came in that?'
'Yes, I remembered how to drive it.'
He glanced at her quickly but then took the keys from her and drove away from the airport. They didn't say much as they drove along and Sam didn't bother to ask where they were going, she was too full of happiness, too thankful that Mike was beside her to care. She sat very close to him, her shoulder against his, and he turned often to look at her, as if he still couldn't quite believe she was really there.
At length he pulled up outside an old brick plantation house that lay well back off the road. Climbing plants rioted up the walls and the gardens were full of flowers lifting their heads to the sun. But inside it was cool and an elderly man smiled a welcome to this small hotel away from the tourist track. He led them upstairs to a circular-shaped room with long windows wide open to the soft breeze and then left them alone.
For a moment they looked at each other, suddenly awkward, then Mike fished in his inside pocket and held something out to her. 'Here, you'd better put this on. I bought it for you our last day in St Vincent and had it engraved.'
It was a wedding ring, very simple and plain. Slowly Sam took it from him and turned it to read the inscription. It said 'Mike and Sam—always'. She made a little choking sound and Mike reached out and put the ring on her finger.
'Oh, Sam. Oh, God, if you only knew how much I've missed you!'
He took her in his arms and held her close. He didn't kiss her but just let her feel his strength about her. Comfort, tenderness, safety. His love enveloped her. Gently he stroked her hair, but presently, when she had stopped trembling, he put her a little way away from him and said, 'When did you remember?'
'Remember?'
'Get your memory back. Was it the blow on the head that did it?'
Sam looked at him wide-eyed. 'Is that why you think I came back to you?' She reached up to touch his face. 'No, Mike, I still can't remember anything that happened before I woke up on the dinghy. I don't suppose I ever will now.' She gave a ghost of a smile. 'But perhaps that blow on the head did at least knock some sense into me. It made me realise that I loved you and that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. I'd been so mixed up—and then everything suddenly became very clear. And you were right about Paul, he was just a fortune-hunter, but a nice one. You were right about everything, and I was a fool not to realise it all along. I'm sorry, Mike. I ruined what we had. You must have given up on me completely to go back to England.' She looked away unhappily, but turned quickly back when he laughed.
'Don't you know me well enough yet to realise that I wouldn't give up so easily? I was going to England to find the priest who married us and bring him back here to testify to our marriage. To stop your father deliberately letting you commit bigamy and also to convince you once and for all that we're married, and I'm not a rapist as you once called me.'
Sam hung her head. 'I'm sorry, Mike,' she said meekly.
He tilted up her chin. 'You did turn out to be a very willing victim.' Lowering his head, he kissed her very gently, very tenderly, and then looked into her eyes. 'But this time we
're going to do it my way, Sam. The notice of our marriage will be put in the papers for all the world to see. And your father can either accept me or not, it won't make any difference. There'll be no more hiding, no more running away, do you understand?'
For answer she put her arms round his neck and kissed him long and lingeringly. When she drew away from him he immediately pulled her back, but Sam moved her head away before he could kiss her and said, 'Mike, do you think you could find our island again?'
He smiled. 'I have it charted down to the last detail. And I have my eye on another boat that would suit us perfectly until we decide exactly where we want to settle down.'
He went to kiss her again, but she moved away and said rather teasingly, 'Are you really well off, Mike?'
His eyebrows rose quizzically and he looked amused.
'I suppose you could say that. Why?'
'Because I didn't bring anything with me. I came to you just as I am. I shall need a whole new wardrobe of clothes before we leave Barbados.'
He grinned. 'And I left my suitcase on the plane. It must be halfway to London by now. We'll have to go out later and buy what we need.'
Sam began to unbutton his jacket and slip it off his shoulders. 'Later?'
His hands tightened on her waist. 'Well, perhaps tomorrow.'
She undid his tie and dropped it on the floor, then began to unbutton his shirt.
'Better make it a couple of days,' he said, his voice suddenly uneven.
Slowly Sam took off his shirt and ran her fingers lightly over his chest, then bent to kiss him.
'We'll make that next week,' he said firmly, and picked her up to carry her to the sun-dappled bed.
Candle in the Wind Page 16