by Kate Frost
He knocked his glass against hers. ‘Cheers. Thank you for organising such an incredible evening.’
Freya sipped the drink. Smooth rich caramel mixed with cooling mint was exactly what she needed. She watched the couples laughing as they returned to their seats and their cocktails. She turned back and met Zander’s smiling green eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Even with the ceiling fan on, Freya was beaded with sweat. It was late, she’d been in bed for at least an hour staring at the ceiling, the whirring fan catching a glint of moonlight from a crack in the curtains. Her thoughts returned to the night before and The Great Gatsby evening. The memory filled her with joy. Flickering candlelight had lit up the happy faces of guests as they’d sipped their mint juleps. Laughter and jazz had filled the bookshop clearing, and as she’d twirled around on the sandy forest floor with Zander, it had felt like she was leading a completely different life to the one she’d left behind. Her heart beat faster as a surge of emotion stole through her; the memory of Zander’s hand through the thin material of her top, his laughter close to her ear, his breath tickling her skin. She stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, her eyes blurring as she blinked away the image of his sparkling green eyes. Usually if she concentrated on thinking about something it would help her to drift off, but not tonight. Perhaps it was because she felt like she shouldn’t be thinking about it. About Zander. The more she got to know him, the more he surprised her. Her initial uncertainty about him had been replaced by a feeling she didn’t quite understand.
A door banging further along the corridor interrupted her thoughts. She gave up trying to sleep. She switched on the bedside light and reached for her book. It wasn’t there. She cursed and sat up. She remembered she’d been reading it at the bookshop earlier. She cursed again. There was no point in lying in bed unable to sleep and getting more and more annoyed and frustrated.
She got out of bed and swapped her pyjama shorts for cropped trousers. Lights still blazed throughout the staff village. It was just gone eleven, not that late and staff would still be returning until one or even two in the morning. She set off along the path out of the village.
She shouldn’t have bothered to go to bed early. Somehow going to bed late made her sleep better; she’d never learn. She reached the main path and went in the direction of the bookshop and Sunset Beach. No one was about this late on this side of the island. Solar lanterns edged the path, casting pools of light over the sandy ground and surrounding undergrowth. Apart from that, it was dark, the moon only a sliver, the midnight blue sky sprinkled with stars. The path forked and she took the bookshop way. The dense trees hid the ocean, but she could hear the surf sliding back and forth on the sand. There was a glow up ahead though. She frowned. Maybe she’d left a light on? It had been dusk when she’d left the bookshop earlier in the evening. But it was a reddish glow, not the subtle honey-coloured lights from the lamps... And there was another crackling noise too besides the ocean and the background chatter of insects. She quickened her pace, her heart thumping. Flickering firelight through the trees made it look like the branches were on fire, but as she got closer it was clear that the flames were leaping from the roof of the bookshop. The reeds curled into smouldering charred lumps, drifting up into the night.
‘Freya?’
She spun round. Aaron was on the edge of the clearing, silhouetted against the gleaming ocean.
‘What are you doing here?’ he shouted, panic lacing his voice.
‘Get help!’
‘Freya...’
It was hard to hear him over the crackle of the flames eating away at the roof.
‘Get help, Aaron!’
Freya pushed the door and wedged it open. Smoke rushed downwards from the roof. She pressed her arm over her mouth. Without a second thought, she ran inside. Flames licked across the ceiling on the far side. She dived behind the counter and yanked the fire extinguisher off the wall. She paced across the wooden floor, pulled the pin and aimed the hose at the ceiling. Foam shot into the air but the flames roared even higher. Everything smouldered. The heat was intense. She coughed and dumped the extinguisher on the floor. The flames were ripping through the dry reeds. She knew it was too late. She backed away and grabbed the edges of the first table she reached and dragged it towards the door and outside. Books tumbled off on to the decking. She went back in, grabbed an armful of books and dumped them outside too. The heat was ferocious and smoke curled towards her. Crackling flames chomped through the roof. The creak of wood splitting. A flaming piece of timber thudded to the floor. Fire engulfed the books on the far wall like kindling.
There was shouting outside. An engine, as something skidded to a halt. Freya gathered another armful of books and dived back outside, colliding with someone in the doorway.
‘Are you okay?’
Strong hands gripped her arms. She looked up at Zander. Worry was etched across his face. She nodded and pushed past him, dropping the books on top of a pile of others.
She turned to him. ‘Help me with the bookcase!’
‘Freya, no!’ He grabbed hold of her in the doorway, locking his arm across her chest.
Flames consumed the other end of the bookshop. The sky was visible through a gaping hole in the ceiling. Smoke billowed towards them as a jet of water shot through from outside.
Zander pulled her back. ‘It’s insured; leave everything else.’
They staggered away from the heat. Black smoke spiralled into the night. The clearing flickered red and amber. Half of the roof was gone but with a hose trained on the flames they were beginning to get it under control. Fire had eaten away at the wood, blackening the cream walls. Staff were everywhere, shouting across the clearing to each other. Zander left her and marched back up to the bookshop to stop anyone else from going inside. Freya could now see a couple of men aiming a hose at the roof from the fire hydrant next to the recycling bins. The flames were abating yet the air was choked with heat and smoke.
Freya ran her hand across her sweaty forehead. There was nothing more she could do. She turned away and walked to the edge of the clearing. She sat with a thump in the sand, her back to the partly destroyed bookshop. The air was filled with people shouting and the thud of wood being moved. She wrapped her arms around her knees and stared past the shadowy trees to the moon-dappled ocean.
A shadow loomed over her and Zander sat down next to her, his arms resting on his knees. Despite the light breeze sweeping in from the ocean, the heat from the fire still smouldered behind them.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked, his face gleaming with sweat.
Freya nodded. ‘I’m so sorry about the...’
‘It’s not your fault.’ He put his hand on top of hers. ‘But you shouldn’t have gone in and put yourself at risk to save those books.’
‘I did it without thinking. It’s the whole reason I’m here.’
‘I’m just glad you’re not hurt. Everything can be replaced. The building can be rebuilt. It will be rebuilt.’
Freya turned to him. ‘You really care about the bookshop, don’t you?’
‘Books were my life growing up. We never had a TV; my parents never cared for any sort of modern technology. They still shun it now. Although I rebelled in my late teens and early twenties and embraced pop culture – I joined a boy band for God’s sake. Yet I’ve come full circle and believe books and art and culture are some of the most important things in life. I’ve embraced social media mainly to help grow my business, but I still don’t have a TV.’
‘You don’t?’
He shook his head. ‘Books, they’ve always been my lifeline. If I wasn’t doing this,’ he said, sweeping his hand in front of them. ‘Then I’d love to have been a publisher like you.’
‘Really?’
‘But I went down the platinum selling boy band lifestyle followed by the luxury island resort route...’ He nudged his shoulder against hers. A grin lit up his face making Freya smile. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m not against popular media a
nd TV; I give guests the choice. The villas have flat-screen TVs, Wi-Fi, all the mod cons. Guests paying the sort of money they do expect and want that – even if they don’t end up watching anything because honestly, there’s no need to let the outside world in when you come here. I mean, why would you want to?’
Freya couldn’t agree more. She hadn’t missed watching TV once. The Indian Ocean was on the doorstep, and there were books to read, interesting people to talk to, the island to explore. She’d made so many assumptions about Zander. Freya frowned; it was an odd thing to supposedly ‘know’ someone through their media persona; it was hard to know what was true and what wasn’t.
The rhythmic sigh of the waves was mesmerising. The noise behind seemed to fade away as a wooziness washed over her. She leant her forehead against her hand and breathed slowly waiting for the feeling to fade.
‘We need to get you checked out.’
‘Really, I’m fine.’
‘You probably are but we both breathed in smoke and I’m not going to take any chances. We’re going to get you looked at.’ He stood, took her hand and pulled her to her feet.
‘What about all this?’ Freya wafted her hand at the books piled haphazardly wherever they’d fallen. The burnt embers of the once beautiful bookshop contaminated the pure white sand. Tiredness swept over her, the late hour evident now the rush of adrenalin had abated.
‘They can stay here; we’ll sort them in the morning. Hassan’s getting some staff to cordon off the whole area. There’s nothing more for us to do right now. You feel up to a little walk?’
Freya nodded, wanting to move her aching limbs and to breathe fresh air. She wasn’t sure if the smell of smoke was stuck in her nostrils but the whole area stank. Zander led the way to the beach. Dizzy, she stopped and leant against the trunk of a palm tree.
‘Are you okay?’ Zander retraced his steps and put his hand on her back.
‘Just stood up too quickly.’
‘I’ll get someone to pick us up in a buggy.’
‘No really, I’m fine. I think I could do with a walk.’
They left the clearing together. The air was fresher on the beach, the moonlight bright enough to see by. As they padded through the cool, soft sand, Freya’s head began to clear a little. And when Zander radioed through for the island medic to meet them at his villa, she didn’t resist.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Freya woke to the sound of waves and call of birds. She’d been so tired the night before she could barely remember anything past the walk to Zander’s villa and the island’s doctor listening to her chest. She vaguely remembered Zander suggesting she stayed. Beyond that, the events of last night had become a blur.
White chiffon curtains billowed into the room. Freya propped herself against the pillows on a bed easily three times the size of the one in her own room. The dominant colour was white, broken up by the subtle grey tones of the driftwood dressing table and stool. The seaside feel of the room was echoed by the view through the open doors that led out on to a balcony. From where she was lying against a mountain of pillows, all Freya could see was the azure water of the reef in front of Zander’s villa.
She glanced at her watch and had a sudden panic that she was late to open the bookshop. Then she remembered. There was no bookshop – at least nothing that could be opened any time soon. She breathed deeply, her racing heart calming with the realisation that she didn’t need to rush. She was in Zander’s villa though and her heart fluttered at the thought.
In a sleep haze, she got out of bed. She was wearing a white T-shirt that was too big for her. It smelt fresh and was wonderfully soft against her bare skin; she presumed it belonged to Zander. She wandered over to the open doors. The view was the focal point and it wasn’t hard to see why, although the bedroom itself managed to be effortlessly luxurious yet homely. In the corner was a bamboo chair in front of a bookcase packed with novels. She couldn’t find her clothes but laid neatly on the chair was a bikini and a pale-grey kaftan, along with a handwritten note that simply said, ‘For you’. She went into the en suite and stopped in her tracks. In front of an open window was a freestanding bath with an unrivalled view of the ocean. There was also a large walk-in shower which Freya was desperate to use. Her hair still stank of smoke and she looked pale with ash smeared down the side of her face. She could barely remember getting into bed, so it was no wonder she hadn’t managed to get a wash either.
Freya emerged from the shower refreshed. She wrapped a large white, fluffy towel around herself and brushed her teeth with a new bamboo toothbrush, while gazing out at the ocean glittering in the sunshine. Next to the sink was a tub of expensive-looking body cream, so she lathered that on along with P20 sunscreen. The bikini was brand new and the right size. She ripped off the tags and put it on with the kaftan over the top. After the coolness of the air-conditioned room, the intensity of the heat on the balcony left her breathless. Or was that the after-effect from the night before? There was a lingering tightness across her chest but it felt good to breathe the clear ocean air.
Freya could only imagine the joy of waking up every morning to nothing but the sound of the Indian Ocean and the call of birds overhead. To be able to step out and soak up an unspoilt view of beach and ocean from a villa hugged by palm trees. Why on earth had she stayed living in a city as big as London for so long? Of course, she knew the reason, but then her desire to make a change in her life had led her to a place like this. Not that she could ever afford somewhere as incredible.
She leant on the faded wood of the balcony and gazed at the ocean. Zander was below, lounging on a reclining chair with a book. She couldn’t tell what it was from this angle. She should really go down and say hello and thank him for his hospitality... He looked so at ease, relaxed in shorts and a T-shirt, his skin bronzed, his bare feet resting on a cushion. She could see a small patch on the top of his head where his hair was thinning. She stood back, aware that she was staring. It was strange to know so much about him, his whole life from platinum selling popstar to multi-millionaire resort owner, documented for all to see and judge. The Zander she was beginning to get to know seemed at odds with his media profile. She knew which version she preferred.
She left the bedroom and navigated her way along a landing with several doors. It opened on to a wider landing that looked over a living area with four large sofas round a coffee table. She couldn’t even begin to imagine living in a place like this. Her shared flat in London was far from glamorous; the idea of being able to buy her own place seemed a long way off... She followed the curved staircase to the ground floor. The villa was beautiful and luxurious but somehow it also felt lived in, with the smell of coffee and something sweet permeating the place.
Books cluttered the bleached wood of the driftwood coffee table. The beach theme continued throughout the villa with the muted sand and sea tones: white sofas with pale-blue and warm-grey cushions. Freya padded across the living area towards the open side of the villa.
Zander entered from outside.
‘Morning,’ Freya said.
Zander glanced at his watch and smiled. ‘Just.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, I know. I think I was dead to the world last night. I remember getting here but can’t remember going to bed.’
‘No need to apologise.’ Zander went over to the large sleek kitchen to the side of the living area and Freya followed. ‘I’m teasing. It’s totally understandable after what happened.’
The smell of coffee was coming from the pot brewing on the kitchen island. Freya’s mouth watered.
She folded the edge of the kaftan between her fingers. ‘I presume I have you to thank for the clean clothes.’
‘I didn’t want anyone rifling through your personal things so I got someone to pick those up from the boutique. Maryam, my housekeeper, is washing your clothes. We both smelt like a bonfire; I was tempted to hose us down!’
‘Well, thank you. You even got my size right.’
Zander laughed. ‘You
told me. You were seriously out of it. Smoke inhalation, adrenalin – I’m surprised you managed to even walk back. Here.’ He took the pot of coffee and poured her a large mugful. ‘Milk? Sugar?’
‘Dash of milk please.’
He slid the mug of steaming coffee across the counter.
‘This is seriously the most gorgeous place. I woke up this morning thinking I was still dreaming.’
‘Thank you. Much like the bookshop, it’s been a labour of love and a dream of mine for many years.’ He poured himself a coffee. ‘You must be starving. There’s food outside. Come and join me.’
The villa had a wraparound terrace with steps leading directly to a large pristine beach, which was empty apart from a white breasted waterhen pecking about in the sand, and another couple of birds dive-bombing down to the beach and swooping high into the sky. The luxury she’d seen inside continued out here with a pool that curved around in a L-shape to the side of the villa. Lounge chairs dotted the terrace and a hammock was slung between two palms on the beach.
Zander sat at a table with an uninterrupted view of the beach and a tray filled with plates of grilled pineapple, chunks of grapefruit, fluffy omelettes and cinnamon swirls.
‘You made all this?’
‘Honestly, I do more than people think, but no, Maryam did. She’s a godsend – she does everything I don’t have time for. She keeps the place looking the way it does. I don’t know what I’d do without her.’
‘She lives here?’
‘Yep, most of the time. She goes home and visits her daughter and grandchildren for a few days every month. She’s widowed. Both her and her late husband have worked with me for years. They’re like family.’ He paused for a moment and stared out at the ocean. ‘They are family.’
They ate in a companionable silence for a while. Freya soaked up the sights and sounds of Zander’s bit of paradise. She started to feel more and more alive as she tucked into sharp and juicy grapefruit chunks and delicious, sweet pastries. It didn’t take long for her to feel refreshed by the ocean breeze, good coffee and the absolute peace.