Pirates' Lair

by Jane Corrie

  The room was filling up now, and apart from a rush to get served at the bar, the loud chatter and gusts of laughter from the pushing crowd behind them made Thea hope that Timothy would suggest that they move on when they had finished the drinks that were just being pushed towards Timothy, but Timothy's next words took all such mundane thoughts out of Thea's mind. 'Fancy her taking up with old Johnson again,' he commented as he paid for the drinks. 'I guess she's missing Michael,' he added in a low tone as if speaking to himself.

  Thea's eyes went from him back to the girl. 'Did she know Michael?' she asked quickly.

  Timothy nodded as he handed her her drink and picked up his change. 'There aren't many personable young men that our Dulcie doesn't know,' he replied. 'A lot depends on their bank balance and

  how generous they are with it.'

  It took a moment or so for Thea to realise what he meant, and she looked away quickly from the girl and down to the drink in her hand. A vision of Michael then rose before her, and something he had said to her before going out one evening in his newly acquired sports car, after she had asked him to go steady, and complained that she didn't know why he was so addicted to fast cars. 'Not only fast cars, pet, but fast women as well—they go together,' he had said with a wicked grin.

  Timothy gave her a quick searching look before saying quickly, 'Hell! I'm sorry. I ought to have kept my big mouth shut.'

  Thea gave a half-shrug. 'It's all right,' she replied, giving him a twisted smile. 'You're not really telling me anything new. I was surprised, that's all,' she added, as she glanced back at the girl. 'You called her lucky, didn't you? Unless you meant that she's lucky that she's found someone else. As you said, she's probably missing Michael. He had a way with women.' She fixed her eyes on a large wicked-looking cutlass on the wall opposite her. 'I suppose it was because he was generous and good-natured.'

  Timothy offered a cigarette which Thea refused. `I was talking about the crash,' he said, after he had lit his cigarette. 'She was with Michael when it happened, and heaven only knows how she came out of it unscathed. She was badly shaken, of course, but no other injury.' He narrowed his eyes against the smoke of his cigarette. 'She was thrown clear, apparently.'

  Thea's hand shook as she put her glass down on the table they had managed to find in the midst

  of the crowd. 'She was with Michael?' she asked in a shocked voice, and as Timothy turned and nodded towards an acquaintance at the bar, she repeated the question, adding urgently, 'Was she, Timothy?'

  He gave her a surprised look. 'Didn't you know?' he said. 'Well, it wasn't a secret. I don't suppose it was necessary to tell you everything. I mean, hearing about the crash itself was bad enough for you. It was just one of those things. A friend of mine was at that party, and said afterwards that he thought Mike was a fool to take her with him. He saw them leaving, with poor old Mike half propping her to the car—that's the only thing with Dulcie, she gets high on a couple of drinks.'

  `Michael used to be very careful about drinking and driving,' Thea said slowly, 'but as you said, it was just one of those things.'

  `Mike wasn't drunk!' Timothy exclaimed in surprise. 'He wasn't that much of a fool. Besides, he was expecting to be called out by Mr Big.'

  Thea's eyes left her hands that were clenched tightly together in her lap and she stared at Timothy. 'What did you say?' she asked slowly.

  Timothy stubbed his cigarette out before answering her. `Mr Big?' he replied. 'Oh, that's just a name for the man he worked for, Marcus Conan, the property tycoon he was designing some flats for.'

  Thea shook her head in an impatient action. 'No, not that,' she said. 'What did you say about Michael not being drunk?' she demanded fiercely.

  Timothy's eyebrows rose. 'Look,' he said quietly, `let's forget it, shall we? I'm a clot for bringing it up again like that.'

  `Please, Timothy, it's important to me,' Thea said urgently.

  For a split second it looked as if he was not going to oblige, but after taking one look at Thea's earnest expression he sighed and said abruptly, 'Okay. Well, you know how it is when anything like that happens. The whole thing gets chewed over. We were all pretty shaken at the news. I heard about it as soon as I got back from leave. John, this friend of mine—well, friend of both of us, Mike as well, I mean—was at this party and I got the info from him. If Mike was half cut he'd have said so, but as I said, he knew Conan would want to see those plans that night. John overheard him telling Jack—he was the guy who was giving the party—that he would probably be called out during the evening.'

  Thea drew in a quick breath. `So there was no reason why M—Mr Conan should feel partially responsible, then?' she said, more to herself than to her companion.

  Timothy's brows lifted. 'Now where did you hear that?' he queried in surprise.

  `Oh, it was just an impression I got when he told me about Michael,' she replied slowly, and looked up from her glass that she had studiously studied in order not to show her companion how much his news had affected her. 'He met me at the airport, you see,' she explained carefully.

  Timothy nodded his understanding. 'Well, you're wrong there,' he replied firmly. 'Sure, he must have been shaken, we all were, but it's my guess he laid the blame elsewhere.' His eyes rested briefly on the woman he had named as Dulcie, and who was now staring dolefully into her glass.

  `Dulcie?' queried Thea, her eyes following his glance.

  `She didn't get much sympathy from him, I gather,' he replied as he picked up his glass and took a drink from his rye-on-the-rocks. 'Probably overdid the thank-you act later, hoping to cash in on the acquaintance. He was first on the scene,' he told Thea. 'He'd been waiting for Mike at the corner of the drive-in to his place, and he heard the crash.'

  Thea blanched visibly at the thought of Marcus coming upon a scene like that.

  `Look, are you sure you want to go over this?' Timothy demanded.

  `I'm sure,' Thea replied firmly.

  Timothy gave her a hard look, then gave a half-shrug and lit another cigarette before starting again. It was plain that he could not understand Thea's insistence on discussing such a morbid subject. 'As I said, he was first on the scene. If he hadn't heard the crash, he would have heard Dulcie. I'm told she sat in the middle of the road wailing like a demented banshee—half the island must have heard her.' He took another swallow of his drink. 'So Conan takes charge—gets her off to hospital and off the scene.' It was then that an idea occurred to him that made him break off abruptly and stare at Thea. 'I'm only telling you this to show you you must have got the wrong impression from Conan. You've not got a grudge against him, have you?' he asked casually, but with the light of speculation in his eyes, then went on before Thea could reply, 'I've an idea that Dulcie tried on some sort of touch, but he dealt with her fast enough and told her in no uncertain terms to stay off the drink if she couldn't handle it.'

  Thea's eyes widened at the implication behind his words. 'I've no such thing in mind!' she got out quickly, her lovely eyes showing her distress that he should think such a thing of her.

  `Perish the thought!' Timothy replied hastily. `I've put my big foot in it again, haven't I? It's just that I wouldn't blame you if you had. I just wanted to put you straight, that's all. A man like that is no pushover. Great as a friend, but as an enemy— you've got trouble with a capital T.'

  It was hard after this for Thea to concentrate on anything else but the news Timothy had given her about her brother's accident, and she was relieved when some friends of Timothy's joined them and she was introduced to them. Apart from their first condolences over the loss of her brother, other topics were soon introduced and the evening passed quickly by for Thea, who was impatient to get back to Beach House and the privacy of her room, so that she could make some sense of what she had been told, and why Sapphire had given her another version of the story—and above all, why Marcus hadn't attempted to refute her accusation that he was only marrying her to salve his conscience over what had happened to her brothe
r.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THEA got back to Beach House shortly after ten, and after letting herself in with a key Mrs Welling had given her, made her way to her room, answering Mrs Welling's 'Is that you, Thea?' as she passed her bedroom.

  While she took a cool shower, her mind was busy working out the implications of what she had heard that night. It was obvious that Sapphire had not known about Dulcie or that Marcus thought that she was to blame for the accident. She lifted her face towards the welcoming cool spray of water. Perhaps she had known, Thea thought, and had chosen to ignore that part of it in her bid to get Thea out of Marcus's life.

  Her smooth forehead creased in a frown as she thought of Marcus and his refusal to even discuss the matter with her, as if it didn't matter, she thought sadly. It hadn't, of course, to him. He cared so little about her he had let her go on thinking that he blamed himself for Michael's death.

  After hurriedly towelling herself down she went back into her room. If it hadn't been his conscience that had made him propose, what had it been? she asked herself distractedly. Pity? She gave a deep sigh. That was it, of course, and it was a much worse reason than the other one in Thea's eyes. No one likes to be pitied. 'You'll have a beautiful house, lovely clothes. Nothing's going to be too good for

  you,' Sapphire's jeering words pierced through Thea's consciousness, 'but you won't have his love.'

  Thea put her hands to her ears in a vain attempt to shut out these heartrending remarks. It would have been better if she hadn't learned the truth, she told herself; she would at least have been spared this second humiliation.

  A ragged sob escaped her as she got into bed. No, she had had to know, she told herself. That way it was easier to face up to the unpalatable fact that she had been living in a dream.

  Marcus knew that she had fallen in love with him, he was too experienced in those matters not to know, and had not had the heart to push her out of his life. A teardrop slipped down her cheek and she brushed it away angrily. It would have been much kinder if he had. He would know just how to do it; she wasn't that insensible and was bound to have got the message that he wasn't interested in her, not in that way.

  Was that why he had sent Sapphire to the hotel, she wondered, to let her know that he was not suffering from any pangs of rejection? She recalled again the way he had looked towards the reception desk before looking for Sapphire, and Thea was sure that he had known that she was on duty. He didn't have to pick Sapphire up there. He could have arranged to meet her elsewhere. She gave a deep sigh. And wasted the chance of showing Thea that he was not short of feminine company—oh, no, it was too good a chance to miss. Since she had removed herself from his social circle there had been no other way that he could rub the fact in, she thought sadly.

  But why should he bother? she asked herself bewilderedly. Was it his ego that needed soothing? He must have received a shock when she had returned his ring—or tried to, as she thought of the opulent ring now lying in her dressing-table drawer. Sapphire had bitterly pointed out that he was not the marrying type, so why should he plague her with these attentions?

  She leaned over and switched of her bedside lamp. What possible reason could he have for keeping tabs on her? she wondered crossly, and shook her head. It didn't make sense, none of it did—unless her eyes opened wide as a probable explanation hit her. So it was conscience after all! Not through what had happened to Michael, but the way he had led her up the proverbial garden path! She had made no secret of the fact that she knew that he didn't love her, and the rest had not needed spelling out.

  She sank slowly back on to her pillows. It had taken her a long time to get there, but now things started to add up. Marcus must have felt a heel, and was now trying to make up for it in the only way he knew how, by watching over her. Money was no worry to him, hence the appearance of Sam whom he was paying to just hang around the kiosk all day as a personal watchdog.

  Her hand clenched on the counterpane. There was nothing she could do about it except put up with it, whether she liked it or not and she didn't like it. It would do no good to move on. Wherever she went he would find her, she thought, recalling his fury at her for not telling him she was leaving the hotel. It was such a small island that she couldn't hope to simply drop out of sight, and that meant

  that she would have to accept his unasked-for assistance until she either moved on to another island or went back to the U.K.

  Her eyes were dimmed by tears of frustration. She had done nothing to warrant finding herself in such an unenviable position. All she had wanted was to be left alone to try and make another life for herself. She did not need a guardian, or a keeper, and she did not want to move on. She was happy with Mrs Welling, and Marcus's interference had almost cost her her job. 'Stay out of my life, Marcus Conan!' she whispered fiercely in the silence of her room.

  His answering, 'I never make a promise that I don't intend to keep,' echoed through her drowsy mind before she fell asleep, but she was too tired to work out the implication behind this remark.

  During the following week Timothy rang her up on the Tuesday evening. He knew of a party taking place at a friend of his the following evening, and how about it? Thea was apologetic but very firm. She did not care much for parties, but was careful not to expound on this theme, and thanked him anyway for thinking of her. To her relief he accepted her refusal with, 'Guess you're not ready to live it up yet. Don't get yourself tied up for the weekend, though,' he added before he rang off.

  By the time Saturday dawned Thea was actually looking forward to seeing Timothy again. Her feelings had fluctuated alternately during the week. At times she would feel a positive urge to get out and about and at least try to make up her mind about her future.

  It was all very well telling herself that she was going to stay put, but where would that get her? She

  was sensible enough to know that the job she had, although very pleasant, was hardly going to provide her with enough money to live on should she suddenly decide to move on.

  If she was not very careful, she told herself firmly, she would end up as one of the drifters Pauline had told her about, with no particular goal in life, only an odd kind of waiting to see what lay behind the next bend. It was all too easy to adopt such an attitude in this lovely tropical playground, but time would slip by and would erode her determination to pull herself out of her lethargy.

  These thoughts had so frightened Thea that she had made a pact with herself. She would give herself just six months and no more. She knew that Mrs Welling was seriously considering accepting an offer from her nephew to housekeep a flat he had decided to purchase, which would give her a home and would ease the domestic chores she had coped with at Beach House. As for Beach House, it had been suggested that a manager be put in, although as Mrs Welling had confided to Thea, a manager was rather a grand term for such a small boarding house, and ideally it should be a widow like herself, but much younger, of course, and able to cope with the daily routine.

  `But that's all in the future, my dear,' she had ended. 'If Andy had wanted me to sell up and move in with him, then I wouldn't have considered it, as he very well knew,' she had added with a smile. 'As it is, I shall be able to keep an eye on things and make certain that none of my guests suffer from the changeover. We shall keep the kiosk as well, of course, that's been in the family for more years than

  I care to remember.'

  Thea was certain that there had been a message behind these confidences of Mrs Welling, and she had been telling her that she was not to feel obliged to stay on for her sake and should a suitable vacancy turn up then she should go ahead and take it.

  In fact, they were both marking time, Thea thought dryly, and suspected that the first move would have to come from her. She had felt a glow of warmth towards the old lady who while appreciating Thea's company had known that the job was only a stopgap for her.

  As she carried the tray of rolls down to the kiosk that Saturday morning, her spirits were higher th
an they had been for several days, and she resolved to accept any invitation that Timothy threw her way. She had been through a bad time and surely things must look up from now on.

  When she had opened the kiosk and carried the tray of food through, she busied herself by preparing for the rush that was sure to come during the afternoon, and as she worked she hummed a cheerful ditty to herself. First she arranged the food in a tempting display under the glass-covered container, and when this was done she got out a fresh box of straws. She was always running out of straws, she thought as she placed the box within easy reach of the customers.

  Her arms, she noted with satisfaction, had now turned a pleasant honey shade, and no longer gave her away as a raw newcomer to the island. For the sake of coolness she wore a bikini-top type of outfit with matching shorts that fitted snugly to her slim slight figure. It was an outfit that she wouldn't have

  dared to wear during her first week, but she had soon found herself surrounded by the sunbathing fraternity, the men and boys in swimming trunks, and the women in wisps of bikinis that made Thea's suntop look very respectable.

  After a swift glance around her, Thea decided she was ready for business and opened the front of the kiosk, then frowned as the thought struck her that something was wrong but she couldn't put her finger on it. Then she had it: Sam was missing! She gave a quick glance towards the spot he always occupied and lifted her brows in surprise when she saw no sign of him.

  Her first thought was one of slight dismay. She had got so used to his silent but extremely helpful company, particularly when she was extra busy, and she wondered how she was going to cope on her own.

  A moment later she was chiding herself for her thoughtlessness. He might be ill, she thought, then drew in her breath sharply—or had Marcus called off his watchdog?