Perhaps Love

by Lindsay Armstrong

  There was still not a soul in sight as she walked up the beach to where she had dropped her sarong at the edge of the bushes—or to where she had thought she’d dropped it. But as she frowned and scratched her head and turned back towards the sea, a voice said behind her,

  ‘Is this what you’re looking for, Sasha?’

  Her heart bumped frantically and her knees felt weak as she turned back in an awkward, stumbling fashion and found herself saying in a cracked, breathless voice and quite unassumed surprise, ‘Heath?’

  ‘Hello, Sasha,’ he said quietly, and stepped forward to hand her the sarong.

  He looked well, she thought fleetingly. In canvas shorts and an old T-shirt with his long legs brown and bare, there was nothing to distinguish this Heath from the person she had bathed with in Sydney so many months ago. Except perhaps that his eyes seemed to be a darker blue than ever.

  ‘I … I didn’t expect to see you,’ she stammered, and added to herself, at least, not yet …

  Something in his eyes changed. ‘Nor I you,’ he said after a moment. ‘In fact I couldn’t believe my eyes when the mermaid I perceived frolicking in the sea manifested itself as you, Sasha. How come you’re here?’

  ‘I’m on holiday,’ she told him. ‘I have a week off.’ Coward, Sasha, she taunted herself. But she added ingenuously, ‘How come you’re here?’

  ‘The same,’ he said.

  ‘Oh.’ She looked down at herself and then at the sarong in her hand and rubbed herself down with it briefly before winding it around her. ‘It’s a nice place.’

  ‘Have you been here long?’

  ‘Only since yesterday. Are you . .. are you staying up at the hotel?’

  He watched her as she took the band out of her hair and spread her fingers through it, then twisted it round her hand and wrung it out. ‘No,’ he said at last. ‘I have a bungalow.’

  There was an awkward pause. Awkward for Sasha at least as she tried to think of something to say. ‘You’re … up very early,’ she offered weakly at last.

  He didn’t agree or disagree, just studied her thoughtfully until she felt the colour steal into her cheeks and her heart begin to race because there was something frighteningly impersonal about his gaze.

  Then he said casually, ‘Would you care to join me for breakfast?’

  ‘I . .. well, yes, thank you,’ she said helplessly.

  And later in the day, when she was back in her own room, she found she was still frightened and disturbed. Only more so if anything.

  She thought back to the hours she had spent with Heath after they had shared a breakfast of sweet, golden slices of paw-paw and bacon and eggs which he had cooked himself, surprisingly well. He’d shown her round the beautifully built wooden bungalow that blended into its tropical background and they’d swum together from his private beach which was really a little inlet between two rocky headlands.

  It had all Ijeen very—ordinary, she thought. Just two people enjoying the sea and the sun. Except that it hadn’t been ordinary at all, because those two people had been like strangers—polite, friendly strangers.

  ‘It’s as if everything that ever existed between us is dead now,’ she murmured out loud as she dropped her sarong and bikini and stepped into the shower. ‘The tolerance, the way we used to tease each other, the fact that despite everything, we were good friends, even the anger—it’s all gone. He might be someone I’ve just met and will only know for a week. Like two ships . .. Oh God! Edith was wrong, and I was wrong to come.’

  And her despairing tears mingled with the shower water as she wondered just how she was going to cope with this week, but more particularly, the suggestion Heath had made that they barbecue some steaks on the beach that evening.

  Several hours later she was still pondering the problem. She had slept through the heat of the afternoon, but through a crazy jumble of dreams which had featured everyone she knew except Heath, although they had all talked about him until she’d been only too happy to wake up.

  She also pondered briefly on what to wear and settled on a more sophisticated version of the sarong she had worn earlier because it seemed to fit in with the general mood of the place. This one was a pale, clear yellow with splashes of hibiscus colour on it, and she wore her bikini beneath it and a pair of flat gold sandals.

  She had left her hair loose and she studied the effect in the mirror for a moment before turning away with a dispirited shrug, and retreating from the room which was beginning to remind her somewhat of a prison.

  But although she had been in the frame of mind to disregard her appearance, there were others who were not, she discovered as she walked through the lounge, which was an extension of the lobby. It was quite crowded, but mainly with men enjoying a sundowner while their wives and girl-friends put the finishing touches to their toilettes.

  And as Sasha walked through the area, unaware how a day in the sun and the sea had caused her skin to look peachy-golden, how her hair shone rich and auburn, and how the sarong highlighted her figure as she walked, a faint buzz of admiration grew, accompanied by some faintly audible whistles and bold stares.

  So that by the time she reached the main entrance and almost bumped into Heath coming up the front steps, she was flushed and embarrassed and poised for flight.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked immediately as he put out a hand to steady her.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said hastily, but added, ‘Can we go? I didn’t expect you to come and fetch me.’

  He searched her hot face quizzically. ‘You look as if someone’s pinched your bottom, Sasha.’

  ‘They wouldn’t want to try,’ she said crossly.

  ‘I see,’ he said with a tinge of irony, and took her hand in his as they descended the steps. ‘Does the family know you’re up here?’ he added apparently inconsequently.

  ‘No. I mean—why do you ask?’ she enquired, sensing some kind of a trap.

  ‘No reason,’ he said idly as he steered her on to the pathway. ‘It’s just that this is a very sophisticated holiday resort. And not generally the kind girls of your sort choose for a holiday on their own. Unless …’

  He let the word hang in the air tantalising.

  ‘Unless what?’ she asked resignedly.

  ‘Unless they’ve come here to snare a wealthy husband,’ Heath said with a grin.

  Sasha stumbled slightly and his hand tightened on her own. But she said lightly, although with a curious blaze in her grey eyes, ‘Oh. .Oh well, I don’t suppose that’s true in my case, is it? After all, I’ve knocked back t … one of those already, haven’t I?’

  There was a strange silence and she refused to look at him as she wondered whether he’d noticed her slip. At the same time as she wondered why he hadn’t mentioned Brent at all so far.

  Then he said dryly, ‘Touché, Blossom. Not that I really thought it of you. Nevertheless you might find that you’ve bitten off more than you can chew here.’

  Secretly, she couldn’t help wondering if he was right.

  But she said casually, ‘I can look after myself. I’ve had a bit of experience at it lately—I mean over the past year. I don’t need a nursemaid,’ she added with a touch of cynicism in her voice.

  Heath stopped walking and swung her round to face him. ‘So I noticed,’ he murmured wryly with a movement of his head back towards the hotel. ‘Back there you looked like a little girl who’d just had a nasty shock.’

  ‘I … well, I wasn’t expecting it, that’s all,’ she said wearily, and added, ‘Look, Heath, I’m nearly twenty now!’

  ‘Is that so? he said easily. ‘Nearly twenty? Why, sometimes it only seems like yesterday when you were telling me you were nearly nineteen. And all set on that occasion to embark on something … also foolhardy, if I recall.’

  She stamped her foot and felt her face flood with hot colour again. ‘I hate you, Heath Townsend!’ she muttered through gritted teeth. ‘And I hate the way you keep treating me like a child!’

  Something glinted in
his eyes then, something that warned her to run from him, but she stood her ground angrily. Until he said meditatively, ‘If I treat you like a child in some ways perhaps it’s because you are still a child in some ways. And perhaps that’s why, whenever I’ve offered to treat you like a woman, you’ve— speaking metaphorically—run a mile?’

  Sasha wrenched her hand out of his with a gasp and turned to flee up the path. But it was that bewitching hour between daylight and dusk and the lamps beside the path were competing feebly with the last rays of light and the dense ranks of foliage about them, so that she mistook a trailing creeper for a shadow and tripped, to sprawl headlong into the soft earth.

  She groaned dismally. Not because she’d hurt herself but because almost immediately she could feel Heath’s hands on her, helping her up and then swinging her up into his arms and wordlessly resisting all her struggles.

  It wasn’t far to the bungalow, and he kicked open the door and strode through the living room to the bedroom to deposit her none too gently on to the broad double bed.

  He flicked on the overhead light and then came back to stand over her. ‘Still running, Sasha?’ he said coolly as his eyes roamed over her, taking in her dirt-streaked face and heaving breast.

  Then he disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a sponge and a towel and sat down beside her and proceeded to wipe her hands and face quite impersonally and as if she was a child of two.

  Sasha suffered these ministrations mutinously; then when he had finished she closed her eyes and brought her hands up to cover her face. ‘Please go away!’ she begged huskily.

  She heard him laugh softly and felt his fingers on her wrists and tensed, but with an easy strength and one hand, he bore her own hands away from her face.

  ‘Not until I’ve sorted something out, Blossom,’ he said, and she cringed, not only on account of that faint emphasis but the air of menace his voice conveyed.

  ‘What?’ she whispered, and studied the ceiling rather than look him in the eye.

  ‘Why you’re here; And don’t give me the holiday bit, because I don’t buy it.’

  She shrugged awkwardly. ‘That’s your problem,’ she said quietly, and thought miserably that only a few short hours ago she’d been frightened by Heath’s air of distance from her. Now there was something equally frightening about his proximity and not only physically.

  ‘Then tell me about this second wealthy husband you’ve spurned,’ he said silkily, and grinned tightly as her eyes flew back to his face. ‘Yes, you were going to say two, weren’t you, Sasha? Which leaves me to assume—by his absence as well and the lack of engagement rings or wedding bells—that you’ve given Brent his marching orders. Now I wonder why?’

  ‘It’s none of your business, Heath,’ she said flatly.

  ‘I’ll decide that,’ he said curtly. ‘Are you up here to find a replacement for him, perhaps? Maybe I wasn’t so far off the mark after all …’

  With a superhuman effort she twisted beneath his hands and managed to scramble to her knees beside him but with her wrists still imprisoned in his hand.

  ‘How dare you, Heath!’ she breathed, her grey eyes sparking furiously and her face white with rage.

  ‘Tell me, Sasha,’ he said very quietly.

  ‘I’d rather die than tell you anything,’ she spat at him. ‘Let … me go!’ she panted.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Yes!’ she cried. ‘Or I’ll … I’ll …’

  ‘Hit me?’ he asked coolly, and smiled briefly.

  Sasha closed her eyes in futile exasperation and took a deep breath to steady herself. ‘Heath—you’re hurting me,’ she said stonily, because she would have rather died again than admit that just then.

  ‘All right,’ he said unexpectedly, and let her go.

  She subsided on to her feet and rubbed her wrists resentfully as she eyed him warily.

  ‘So you don’t want to talk about Brent,’ he said abruptly. ‘You said that once before, didn’t you? At least, that it was hard to talk about him because he was such a special person.’ He looked at her narrowly. ‘What made you change your mind?’

  ‘I didn’t. Not about that—he is a very special person.’

  ‘But not good enough to marry? Then you led him a fine dance, didn’t you, Sasha?’ he said contemptuously.

  She stared at him and something inside her seemed to shrivel as she thought of what he was accusing her of— playing fast and loose with Brent. And she thought bitterly of Edith’s suppositions which had proved so false and her own conviction of it which she had so foolishly ignored.

  And she said coldly, because suddenly she didn’t care what she said any more. ‘You’re a fine one to talk, Heath! All this sentiment on Brent’s behalf is very touching, but it didn’t stop you from asking me to marry you … or … when you knew I was …’ She said the last words hurriedly and then stopped uncertainly, already regretting her words and afraid again of something in the deep blue of his eyes.

  ‘What did I know?’ he said very quietly. ‘I’ll tell you what I knew, Sasha. That there was something not quite right about your professed devotion for Brent. Somehow it just didn’t ring true, and it appears now that I way right. What I can’t work out is why you’re here. Particularly,’ there was a curious emphasis on the word that sent a trickle of added apprehension through her, ‘as it was your own father who urged me to come here to this very island for a holiday to … put the final touch to my convalescence, as he said.’

  Sasha’s eyes widened incredulously.

  ‘Oh yes,’ he said softly. ‘So can you honestly tell me you didn’t know I was here, Sasha?’

  She licked her lips and tried not to squirm beneath his gaze at the same time as she mentally cursed her father and Edith … and her employer, she thought with a start. He must have been in on it too. But how could they have put her in this intolerable position? On the line like this, with her credibility in doubt and with only one explanation that could redeem it. That old explanation …

  She closed her eyes and swallowed painfully. Say it, Sasha, something from within urged her. But how can I? she thought resentfully. Why should I make a fool of myself again? So how are you going to get yourself out of this then? that inner voice replied. More lies … lies … lies!

  The word seemed to pound in her head and she dropped her head into her hands, only to raise it almost immediately, and with her face white and set, she said distinctly, ‘Very well, I did know you were here. And I came to tell you that I loved you and that it was no delusion either. Because loving you seems to be a part of me, like all my senses. It’s as if,’ she shrugged, ‘as if I wouldn’t be Sasha Derwent if I didn’t love you. But I’m sure you don’t really want to hear it …’

  ‘Then why did you come to tell me?’ Heath interrupted swiftly, his voice low and harsh and his face now almost as pale as hers.

  She caught her breath. ‘I … I don’t know,’ she whispered, and felt her throat constrict. ‘You’d have thought I’d learnt my lesson, wouldn’t you?’ she added, her eyes bright with tears. ‘I wish I had, believe me, because if it’s an uncomfortable thought for you—for me, it’s like a thorn in my flesh I can’t get rid of however hard I try. But I will one day,’ she vowed, and moved her head defiantly. ‘So don’t think you have to say anything or do anything!’ she tossed at him, and her eyes were defiant too, daring him to dispute this or offer her any pity or platitudes.

  Only he wasn’t looking at her but staring across the room with narrowed eyes and a curious tension visible in the line of his shoulders. As if he was warding off a blow of some kind. And when he spoke it was huskily as if he was having difficulty with his voice. ‘Tell me about Brent, Sasha.’

  Her shoulders sagged and the tears she had been trying so desperately to keep at bay flowed down her cheeks until he turned his head and said in a strangely tortured way, ‘Don’t.’

  She rubbed her eyes futilely. ‘I can’t help it. And I didn’t… lead Brent a fine dance, as you pu
t it. At least not intentionally ever. But that night, the first night at home after you came back, when you said what you did to me I … I …’ She found it almost impossible to go on.

  ‘You made it all up—about Brent?’

  She nodded wordlessly.

  ‘Why did he go along with you?’

  ‘Because, he said, it was only what he’d wanted to do. I’d just … pre-empted him, sort of.’ She shivered, and Heath noted it with a faint movement of his eyelids.

  ‘So you decided to let it stand?’

  ‘Only … because it seemed the best way—to deal with the situation. But he knew that because he knew, without me even having to tell him, how I felt about you.’ A tiny frown knitted her forehead and she added desolately, ‘I didn’t mean to be so transparent and I’m sorry if I have been. Otherwise you might have been spared this embarrassment—again. It seems everyone knew and knows. But it will be different from now on.’ She fiddled with the bedspread, not looking at him, then she raised her tear-streaked face and tried to smile.

  Heath reached out a hand to push a gleaming strand of hair off her face, but there was no answering smile on his face as he said, ‘Yes. It will be different from now on, Sasha. But not that way. Because as soon as I can arrange it, we’ll be married, and then you won’t ever have to worry again about who knows.’

  She froze and her breath came in a great gasp that tore at her throat as she tried to speak. ‘… No! No, Heath. If I’d been prepared to marry you knowing you didn’t love me, I’d have done it the first time you asked me!’

  ‘Listen to me, Sasha,’ he said, and captured her wrist as she tried to scramble off the bed.

  ‘No!’ she cried desperately. ‘I’ve done with listening to … to everybody. If I hadn’t listened I wouldn’t be here now. Don’t you understand?’ she added wildly.

  ‘Yes,’ he said very quietly. ‘And if you won’t listen, I’ll have to show you. Then you might understand.’ And he pulled her into his arms and silenced her protests with his lips.

  And when she finally lay dazed and still in his arms, he lifted his head and traced the outline of her throbbing mouth with one finger. ‘You remind me of a flower, Sasha. A perfect blossom.’ His arms tightened about her as she moved convulsively. ‘God help me,’ he went on his voice deep and uneven, ‘I’ve been wanting to do this for so long, but now all I can think of is that I’ll hurt you—as if I haven’t hurt you enough already.’