Taking out her phone she took a series of pictures, although no photograph could reproduce the feel of the sea breeze on her face, the colours of the palm trees and glorious flowering bushes, or the sound of waves on the sand. Her pictures would serve as souvenirs, something to cling to when her recollection faded. Over the past few weeks, so many people had assured her that the memory of her pain would fade in time. It was true. Here on this beautiful morning she had barely given Darren a thought. Frothy white water raced up the beach. As each wave drew back, the sand appeared to dry instantaneously. She was not sure if that was due to the heat drying out the sand, or if the water seeped down rapidly to leave the surface dry.
She could have stayed there all day, lazing in the shade, watching the ocean, but she had told her parents she would be back for lunch and she knew her mother would fret if she was late. Reluctantly she gathered up her belongings and started on her slow trek back to the hotel. It was too hot to hurry. Instead of walking along the edge of the sea where she would be exposed to the sun, she kept to the dappled shade of ancient trees that formed a backdrop to the beach.
Reaching the stretch of massive grey boulders she picked her way between the smaller ones, again avoiding looking at the dead fish. She lost her footing on the smooth surface of a boulder and nearly slipped over. Her heart thumped as she regained her balance. Placing her feet with care and advancing laboriously, she stepped out from the rocky terrain onto soft sand. This was too beautiful a setting to abandon to memory completely. As she rummaged inside her bag for her phone, the rhythmic crashing of waves breaking against the rocks was disturbed by a loud thud. Spinning round, she saw a large boulder lying on the sand only a couple of inches away from her. It had not been lying in her path a few seconds earlier. If she had not stopped to find her phone, her blood would now be seeping into the yellow sand, her bones crushed by the huge lump of granite. Her phone slipped from her hand. She took a step back on trembling legs, as though the inert rock was threatening her.
Shading her eyes with one hand she stared up at the huge wall of rock, but could see no signs of disturbance. It must have been a random boulder that had fallen in her path. She wondered if the vibrations from her footsteps could have dislodged it from some precarious perch high above her. It was hard to believe the rock had fallen by coincidence, exactly in the spot where she was walking. Dazzled by the light and dazed with shock, she thought she saw the silhouette of a person outlined against the sky. In the time it took her to blink, the outline had disappeared. A few seconds later she spotted a figure loping away towards the road. No sooner had it appeared than it vanished, leaving her wondering if her eyes had been playing tricks on her.
Terrified that the boulder at her feet could be followed by more, she stuffed her phone back in her beach bag, and tottered down towards the sea. Kicking off her sandals, she splashed through the shallow water, making her way back to the hotel as quickly as she could. She seemed to be walking forever. Her shoulders were turning red and slightly sore to the touch as she drew near the hotel. She expected her parents to be on their feet demanding to know where she had been all that time and was surprised when they both just smiled up at her from their sun loungers as though they had not missed her at all. Lucy smiled, relieved, although her face felt strangely taut. She did not want to upset her parents on their dream holiday. She kept her sunglasses on, afraid her eyes would reveal her consternation.
‘Are you all right?’ her mother asked, sitting up. She stared closely at Lucy, frowning. ‘You look a bit red. Did you get burned?’
‘No, I don’t think so. I’m fine, really. I think I’ll go up to my room for a bit.’
‘What about lunch? We waited for you.’
Lucy shrugged. She was no longer hungry.
‘I just want to lie down for a while.’
‘Are you sure you didn’t get too much sun?’
‘No, I’m just tired, but I’m fine, really. You go ahead and have lunch and I’ll see you later. And stop worrying. I didn’t get too much sun.’
‘Too much ice cream, more likely,’ her father grinned.
‘Yes, I think that’s it,’ Lucy lied and turned away, relieved to have escaped further interrogation.
Back in her room she wondered whether to report what had happened. If there was a serious risk of rock falls along that part of the coast, perhaps the authorities should be alerted. But away from the beach she was no longer convinced a rock had actually fallen in her path. It might have been there all the time without her noticing it. There were so many granite boulders lying around on the sand. The sound she had interpreted as a thud could have been a wave crashing against the shore. And the figure she thought she had discerned on top of the rock could have been a creation of her overactive imagination, like the fish woman she had imagined the previous day. She closed her eyes and tried to block out the disconcerting thought that she was imagining dangers where none existed. With shock and distress over her failed relationship distorting everything, she was starting to lose confidence in her own sanity.
An alternative occurred to her, equally disturbing: someone on the island was attacking her.
8
THAT EVENING LUCY AND her parents went to the buffet for dinner. Once again, the food was superb: a long table covered with mounds of fresh seafood, dish after dish of colourful local vegetables, a bewildering variety of curries, different rice dishes, and more fruit than could possibly be eaten in one evening by the residents and staff of the hotel. It was like returning to the market in Victoria, and frustrating that there were too many wonderful dishes to sample everything. Lucy tried a tiny fat banana. Not as sweet as the ones she had at home, it was far tastier, moist and almost lemony in flavour.
‘The bananas are gorgeous, but it’s all too much,’ Lucy groaned, smiling.
‘At least it’s all healthy,’ her mother replied.
‘I told you the food would be sensational,’ her father said complacently, as though he was personally responsible for the catering.
Lucy felt a little awkward when Adrian approached their table, remembering how dismissive he had been the last time she had seen him.
‘Adrian, nice to see you. Come and join us,’ her father greeted him effusively.
Adrian glanced at Lucy before taking a seat. The conversation flowed easily between the two men and before long Lucy began to relax, watching her parents enjoying themselves. Her father leaned back in his chair and roared with laughter over some reminiscence of hotel life while Adrian protested that a new system had been introduced to improve the running of the hotel. Her father was sceptical about the progress, Adrian defensive, and they sparred good-naturedly for a while.
‘How about you, Lucy?’ Adrian turned to her civilly.
Describing her return to the cove where they had gone swimming together, Lucy held back from telling him about the rockfall, so as not to alarm her parents.
‘Just enjoying the weather,’ she replied vaguely, and Adrian turned back to her father.
After dinner, Adrian invited Lucy to accompany him on a stroll outside. Catching a smug expression on her mother’s face, Lucy felt herself blush but it was a beautiful evening and she could not resist the allure of the floodlit gardens. She wanted to follow up on her resolution to apologise properly to him and clear the air. It would also give her an opportunity to mention the rock fall to Adrian without worrying her parents. She did not really care if he thought she was barmy, but if there was a chance it could be dangerous to walk along that stretch of beach, she ought to mention it to someone.
They walked in silence for a while, the night air cool on her bare arms. Reaching the edge of the garden they sat on a bench and gazed at the ocean, rippling in the moonlight.
‘It’s so beautiful here,’ Lucy said at last.
At her side, Adrian murmured assent.
‘Adrian . . .’
She paused, aware that he had turned to look at her. He did not speak and she was grateful for his pat
ience, or perhaps it was indifference. Either way, it was not important. Before confiding what had happened that morning, she needed to apologise. In ten days’ time she would be leaving and they would never see one another again. Her apology was for his benefit, but also to make her feel better about herself. She wanted to behave like her old self, and not like a sour cynic.
‘Adrian, I owe you an apology.’
‘An apology? What for?’
Lucy gazed up at the stars piercing the darkness, clear and bright. Palm trees swayed above her, silhouetted against the sky. She listened to the soft swishing of waves against the shore. Behind her faint noises drifted out to them from the hotel: voices, laughter, music.
‘Thank you, but you know very well what I’m talking about. I behaved like an idiot yesterday when we went swimming, and I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me but I – well, I got a fright in the water. I thought I was going to drown, and I just lost it. But I had no right to take it out on you and I’m sorry. I overreacted and I’m sorry.’
In the darkness it sounded as though he was chuckling.
‘OK, I get it, you’re sorry,’ he said. ‘Enough apologising. It’s not necessary.’
‘And,’ she ploughed on, ‘I want to thank you for saving my life.’
‘Like I said, it could easily have been the other way round. Forget it.’
‘But—’
He interrupted, and his voice sounded warm, as though he was smiling. ‘You’re on holiday. Relax and enjoy it.’
Adrian stretched his arms above his head and brought them to rest crossed behind his head. He leaned back and heaved a contented sigh staring up at the sky.
‘Take it from me, this place is perfect.’
‘Nothing’s perfect. There must be a downside. What if there’s a hurricane?’
Adrian explained that the Seychelles lay outside the cyclone belt and consequently avoided the hurricanes that struck the region.
‘Tropical storms then?’
‘It certainly rains a lot. That’s why it’s so green here. But it’s nothing like rain in England. It’s never cold here so when you get wet you just dry off again. It’s no big deal. Actually the rain can be quite a relief from the heat and the humidity.’
‘What about rock falls?’ she hazarded, trying to bring up the subject of the rock that had nearly crushed her. She might love the island, but it did not seem to like her very much.
Adrian laughed. ‘Must you really insist on talking about imaginary dangers?’
Haltingly, Lucy told him about the rock that had fallen in her path. ‘The thing is, I think I saw someone on the rocks above me—’
‘Is this your mystery assailant again?’
‘You’re laughing at me.’
‘Not at you, but at your imaginary dangers. Look, Lucy, you’re perfectly safe here. Watch out for pickpockets in the capital, and don’t go swimming on your own, and you’ll be perfectly safe. Give yourself a chance to relax. It’ll do you good.’
Lucy had wondered whether to mention the rock fall to her father when her mother was not around to panic. Adrian’s scepticism decided her. While her father would no doubt dismiss her fears as unfounded, he might tell her mother, who would almost certainly be thrown into a tizz over something Lucy had imagined. The incident was best forgotten. Grateful for Adrian’s common sense, she was pleased she had confided in him before speaking to her father.
‘You’re right,’ she said, smiling at him in the darkness. ‘Thank you.’
After a short walk around the gardens they went back past the pool to the hotel. As they approached the patio they saw an old man in a straw hat sweeping the floor tiles with a large flat broom. His hunched shoulders might have been the result of years of some particular physical activity distorting his posture or it could be a congenital developmental defect that caused his spine to curve in that way. A cigarette hung off his bottom lip. He glanced up at them and Lucy recognised his weather-beaten face.
‘I’ve seen that man before,’ Lucy muttered.
Adrian told her that was hardly surprising. The old man was often seen around the hotel, sweeping the paths.
‘He doesn’t talk much but he’s willing to work, which is more than you can say for most Seychellois.’
They watched him for a few seconds as he carefully swept fallen petals into a small white heap in a corner of the patio.
The old man glanced up. Seeing them watching him he nodded across the pool, calling out in a strong Creole accent.
‘You taking good care of the English girl?’
Adrian called back that he was.
‘But can you take care of yourself?’
The old man seemed to be addressing Lucy, peering at her from beneath the brim of his tattered straw hat, before he turned back to his sweeping.
‘Who is he?’
‘Just one of the locals who hang around the place sweeping. They’re everywhere. You’ll see them raking seaweed off the sand in the mornings. That’s why the beaches look so clean.’ He nodded at the old sweeper. ‘He’s completely batty but quite harmless, and very willing to work in exchange for beer and food.’
‘Doesn’t he get paid?’
‘He gets a pittance, but it’s not as if he spends much time here. It’s not a bad way to live, sweeping in the hotels, with no responsibilities and no worries.’ He heaved a sigh.
‘Where does he sleep?’
Adrian shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea. He just comes and goes. He’s a bit of mystery really.’
Lucy looked round, interested. ‘What do you mean, mystery?’
Adrian laughed. ‘I wouldn’t let your imagination start running wild again. There was some story about him, some tragedy in his life, but I don’t know what it was. Anyway, he seems to like sweeping the patio. He’s harmless.’
9
THE NEXT DAY, GEORGE and Lucy went for a trip in a glass-bottomed boat with a group of Americans. It was a half-day trip but they would be gone for most of the day, embarking in Victoria.
‘The fish are spectacular!’ George enthused. ‘You’re going to love this, Lucy.’
To her parents’ surprise Lucy had lost interest in snorkelling, although she had been looking forward to it before the trip. When it came to it, she seemed nervous of going in the water, but she was very keen to view the multi-coloured marine life from a boat, and George was happy to accompany her.
‘I haven’t been out in a glass-bottomed boat for years,’ he grinned.
Angela had decided to stay behind and spend the day reading by the pool. She did not admit as much to George and Lucy but she was keen for the two of them to spend time together. Like his wife, George had spent hours listening to Lucy agonise over the breakdown of her relationship with the rat she had planned to marry. It would do them both good to spend time together just having fun. Angela reached for her chilled lemonade, lingering over the feel of the glass, cold against her fingers. There was no doubt the holiday was doing Lucy good, and George seemed more relaxed than he had been in a long time. Already the experience of the past month was drifting away; they would return home revitalised and ready to move on. She picked up her book, tossing the thought aside. She did not want to think about England yet. The end of their holiday would come around soon enough. In the meantime, she wanted to enjoy every moment on the island.
She must have dozed off because although she had no recollection of time passing, her glass was no longer cold. Glancing at her watch she saw that the morning was not yet half over. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she strolled back towards the hotel. Pausing on a narrow pathway between dense bushes of purple-flowering hibiscus and frangipani trees with delicate white blooms, she breathed in their perfumes, closing her eyes to shut out any other sensation.
George and Lucy would not be back until late afternoon. Fully awake now, Angela wandered back to the air-conditioned bedroom and looked around for the book she had been reading. Realising she had left it in the pool area, and too lazy to ve
nture out in the heat again, she decided to lie on the bed and read something on George’s Kindle instead. He was unlikely to have taken it with him on the boat trip. Not seeing it anywhere in the room, she opened his case to check if he had left it in there. It would be just like him to hide his Kindle, so none of the hotel staff could be tempted to pinch it.
‘I’m not suspicious, just careful,’ he would say, whenever she laughed at his caution.
Rummaging through his shorts and shirts, she found his Kindle and put it on the bed before going to shower. Returning to the bedroom, she noticed an envelope on the floor just inside the door. She was sure it had not been there a few moments earlier when she had gone into the bathroom. Wrapped in her towel, she opened the envelope and was surprised to see a letter in George’s handwriting. She was intrigued. He never hand letters by hand. As she sat on the bed reading, her curiosity turned to disbelief.
Dear Veronique
I hope my last letter reached you. It’s been a long time, but I promised you I’d return to see my dark angel. I’m back on the island, staying at the Garden of Eden. Please send a message if you’d like to meet.
I’ve not forgotten our time together.
It was signed ‘G’.
A second sheet of paper had a note scribbled in capital letters.
Meet me on the beach today if you want to know the truth about George. I’ll be waiting for you.
It was signed ‘the dark angel’.
As Angela re-read the letter her shock gave way to fury while her mind raced through the implications of the message. Lucy had been unhinged when she discovered Darren had been cheating on her for two years. George had been keeping a secret from her throughout a twenty-five year marriage. She read his letter again. Clearly George had been having a relationship with a woman called Veronique when he had lived on the island over thirty years ago. He had promised to return, and now he was back, ready to resume their affair. He had ‘not forgotten’ their time together, indeed! Leading Angela to believe he was bringing her to the Seychelles for a romantic holiday, in reality he had come back hoping to hook up with a former lover he called his dark angel. It was unforgivable. After tearing up the note from Veronique and throwing the tiny scraps of paper in the bin, she thrust George’s letter in her beach bag, packed her make up and purse, slipped her phone in her pocket, and left the room, slamming the door behind her. George had returned. She would not.
Journey to Death Page 6