might be broken into even when you’re in it.’
‘My plants…’
‘Can be watered by a friend. You have got a couple of those lurking around, haven’t you?’
‘Of course, but…’
‘No buts, Mel.’ He had sat back in the chair and regarded her with fatalistic calm. ‘Truth is, I never expected to get hold of this land, but I have and I’m going to need you there with me. You know the way I work and you can handle all the faxes and communications from London and New York without me having to hold your hand and explain things. You’re single, unattached…’ His voice had drifted speculatively into silence. ‘Aren’t you? No boyfriends hovering somewhere in the background, clamouring for tea at seven-thirty and sex every other night?’ There had been a thread of insulting amusement in his voice when he said that.
‘Why not every night?’ she had snapped, instantly regretting her outburst when she saw the glitter of interested curiosity that lit up the deep blue eyes at her unexpected response to his needling. ‘You can’t leave the office for months, anyway.’
‘I can do precisely as I like. I own the whole damn show or had you forgotten?’
And so every twist and turn she had tried had resulted in a dead end and she had found herself grudgingly and resentfully agreeing to his request.
Ten days to buy as much light clothing as she could find in shops that were fully stocked with coats, jackets and woolly jumpers, to arrange with her neighbour for her plants to be watered and the flat to be checked every so often, to sort out the distribution of work between the two girls who reported to her who seemed panic-stricken at the prospect of working on their own, until she reminded them that she would be calling twice a day to make sure that there were no problems.
The arrangements, she thought now, staring absentmindedly through the airplane window to a bank of grey nothing outside, had been remarkably smooth. Robert had been right. She could shed her life for weeks on end without any difficulty whatsoever. There was no one who would miss her, no children to consider, parents to consult, lover to soothe. Not even a cat to fret over.
It gave her ample time to worry about the whole traumatic exercise of returning to her past. It also provided a wonderful springboard for a new and equally disturbing line of thought which involved being in the presence of Robert Downe twenty-four hours a day without the respite of her private time away. True, the hotel would afford her a certain amount of protection but the thought of eating lunch and dinner with him made her feel a little ill.
He hadn’t given her a schedule of his work timetable while out there, but she quickly decided that whatever it was, she would subtly alter it to ensure that business meetings with his lawyers and contractors and designers and architects and all the other people who would be turning his land into a hotel, took place over lunch and dinner. During which time she would either be present, taking notes whenever necessary but basically sliding happily into the background, or else in her hotel room, away from him completely.
By the time the plane landed at a little after six-thirty in the evening at Piarco airport, nerves had been joined by a healthy curiosity about the place she and her mother had left behind fourteen years previously, stripped of all their possessions, fleeing like a couple of thieves in the night while her stepfather remained on the island with the latest in his line of outside women.
There was growing familiarity as she made her way through passport control, lining up behind all the other non-Nationals. She collected her luggage and made her way through customs, to find a sea of people crowding the barriers outside.
The heat was thick and furnace-like. The navy-blue slacks and blouse she had worn for the journey adhered themselves to her body like cling film while she anxiously cast her eyes around for her lift to the hotel.
Robert Downe was nowhere to be seen.
A short, black man asked her if she wanted a taxi and she abstractedly refused, still holding out some hope that her wretched boss would appear even though she knew him well enough to realise that if he had become involved in a phone call five minutes before he was due to leave for her, it was more than possible that he wouldn’t show up for a good while yet. She had dragged her cases to the side and resignedly sat down for an indefinite wait on one of the benches, when a skinny, middle-aged man with coffee-brown skin approached and asked her if she was Melissa James.
‘Yes!’
‘Mr. Downe sent me for you. The car’s over there.’
‘How did you know who I was?’
‘He said that if I arrived late, I would find you waiting somewhere at the side with a long-suffering look on your face, Miss James.’
Remind me, she thought sourly, to murder my boss as soon as I see him and scatter his body parts to the four corners.
‘And where…is…Mr. Downe?’
‘Back at the Kiskidee. He was hard at work when I left.’
They had reached a dusty saloon car parked at an angle in the No Parking zone. He slung her cases in the trunk, opened the back door for her, and as soon as he had settled into the driver’s seat, they sauntered slowly off. It was a relief that the driver was uninterested in making conversation. It gave her time to settle back and watch with a mixture of nostalgia and unease as the landmarks of her past unfolded before her eyes.
Lots seemed to have changed, yet nothing much. The roads were better, at least so far, and as they entered Port of Spain, she could see all the old familiar buildings still there, rubbing shoulders with a few new office blocks. Dim memories of childhood friends stirred at the back of her mind and she wondered what they were up to now. All ties had been severed when they had returned to England and now she could only vaguely recall names and faces.
The drive, stopping and starting and finally moving smoothly as the city was cleared, then the outskirts, then the mountainous winding road along the rocky, lush northern coastline, took over an hour and a half. By the time they hit the first beach along the route, one she remembered very clearly, it was too dark to see anything and she was too tired to be disappointed.
She just wanted to get to the hotel now, have a shower and put her feet up in the privacy of her room.
She must have nodded off because when the car shuddered to a stop, her eyes flew open to see the indistinct outline of her boss peering through the window at her.
‘Here in one piece!’ he said, pulling open the door so that she nearly fell out of the car and had to regain her balance. ‘Sorry I didn’t make it to the airport to collect you myself.’ He held her by her shoulders at arm’s length and stared down at her. ‘I’ve missed you! There’s a pile of work waiting inside.’
‘Thanks,’ Melissa answered drily, shrugging out of his grasp. ‘Nice to feel wanted.’
She fell into step alongside him, while ahead of them, their driver carried her suitcases as though they weighed nothing. All around them the noises of the night, crickets and frogs and the rustle of small animals in the undergrowth, were like a background symphony. She could hear the night breeze sift through the trees and bushes and the sound of the ocean like steady, even breathing, rising and falling and forming a soothing lullaby with the other sounds of the night.
‘Where’s the hotel?’ she asked, perspiring profusely
