calls of her own, to the airport, to the mini cab service, and packing her belongings, to give him her undivided attention. She was sorry she had to leave him in the lurch. She knew how he depended upon her. But Pamela depended on her, too, and the apprehension she felt about her sister over-ruled her remorse.
She was so relieved they had been in England when the call came through. For the past four weeks, she had been staying in Aix, at the villa in Provence, which Pierce had rented to write his latest novel. Had he not grown bored with his surroundings, had he not felt the need for a change of scenery, he would not have suggested flying back to London, and there was no doubt now he regretted his decision to return home.
‘You know how much I enjoy our sessions,’ he had protested, when the issue of the dictaphone had been raised. ‘Without your reactions, how will I know if I’m on the right track?’
‘You managed perfectly well before I came on the scene,’ Laura had pointed out swiftly, but in so doing, she had given Pierce the opening he was looking for.
‘So I did,’ he had remarked acidly, folding his arms as he was prone to do in moments of stress. ‘So I did. Beware I don’t decide I can manage without you. There are plenty of out-of-work secretaries simply panting to take your place!’
He was right. Laura knew that; and it had been with a certain amount of trepidation that she had told him she was taking a week’s leave of absence with or without his consent. Pierce could be vindictive at times, and he might just decide to be awkward. She could only hope he would find it less easy to choose a replacement than he imagined, and that absence would achieve what reasoned argument could not.
With a feeling of anxious frustration, Laura abandoned this particular line of thought, and walked back into the bedroom. The hospital, she thought suddenly. She ought to ring the hospital and find out how Pamela was progressing. It had been eight o’clock, San Francisco time, when she last made an inquiry, and despite the doctor’s assurance that her sister would pull through, her mental state was so precarious, Laura couldn’t quite believe them.
The night staff at Mount Rushmore were reassuring. Pamela had had a reasonably good day and she was sleeping. The toxic level of her blood was falling, and if her psychological report proved satisfactory, she might be allowed to go home in a couple of days.
‘There’s no physical danger then?’ Laura persisted, remembering articles she had read about toxic hepatitis and stomach bleeding.
‘It seems unlikely,’ replied the charge nurse smoothly. ‘I think your sister’s mental state is what we need to monitor. You do realise, don’t you, she could always try this again?’
She realised, Laura reflected tensely, replacing the receiver. That was why she was here, in Honolulu. That was why she had agreed to contact Jason, on her sister’s behalf. Naturally, she hadn’t told Pamela of his relationship to Mike Kazantis, but after her sister confessed that Mike was no longer using the address he had put on his letters, there had seemed no alternative but to ask Jason’s assistance. She had reassured Pamela with the conviction that if Jason could help, he would, but she had not really believed it. Still, she was prepared to do anything to take that look of desperation from her sister’s face, and if it meant humbling herself before Jason Montefiore—and his brother-in-law—she would do it.
Unable to stand the inactivity any longer, Laura gathered up her bag and left the room. It was obvious Jason was unlikely to call this evening. Even if he got her message, which was by no means a foregone conclusion, he would evidently be in no hurry to contact her. If Phil Logan’s attitude was anything to go by, he might not even acknowledge her call, and the prospect of having to tell Pamela she had failed was not something she wanted to contemplate.
The coffee shop was crowded and deciding she couldn’t stand to wait, Laura left the hotel and headed towards the floodlit brilliance of Kalakaua Avenue. After the comparative quiet of her room, Waikiki’s main thoroughfare was decidedly noisy, but she welcomed the activity to numb her anxious brain.
Finding a fast-food establishment, she ordered a burger and some coffee, and then carried her tray to a plastic booth and tried to swallow the sandwich. It wasn’t easy. She realised belatedly a bowl of soup or some salad might have gone down more smoothly, but it was too late now to have second thoughts. Picking sesame seeds from the roll, she wondered if Phil Logan would tell her how she might get in touch with Mike Kazantis if Jason’s whereabouts were verboten. Or had he orders to avoid any awkward inquiries? It was always possible that Jason had known of Mike’s involvement with her sister, and obviously he would not want his sister to be upset. Laura cupped her chin on one hand. Whatever happened, it was unlikely that either Mike or his wife lived in the islands. Mike worked for Jason’s father, and so far as she knew, Marco Montefiore’s interests did not encroach on his son’s territory.
Laura’s lips twisted. How on earth had Pamela got herself involved with the Montefiore family? The brief conversation she had had with her sister had not elicited that kind of information. Besides, so far as she knew, Pamela did not know of Mike’s connection with the Montefiores, and it was possible, that as Mrs Goldstein’s private therapist, they could have met socially. Even if her sister had known the truth behind Laura’s own break-up with Jason, she could still have become infatuated with Kazantis. There was nothing to connect him with Laura’s abortive liaison, and if Kazantis had known of the association, he was unlikely to mention it to Pamela, for obvious reasons.
Pushing the burger aside, Laura lifted the plastic beaker containing her coffee and thoughtfully sipped the fragrant brew. American coffee was always so good, she mused inconsequently. Even the unimaginative container could not spoil the taste of its contents.
Gazing blindly out through the open doors on to the busy street beyond, she wondered again what she would do if her efforts to reach either Jason or his brother-in-law proved useless. And why—even if by some chance she did get to speak to Jason—did she think he might be able, or willing, to help her? What did she really expect him to do? What could he do? Mike Kazantis was his sister’s husband. Surely, it was the height of arrogance to believe he might put Pamela’s well-being before that of Irene.
It seemed an insoluble problem, and her brain ached with the effort of trying to solve it. She was not at all convinced that approaching Mike Kazantis was the right thing to do. If Pamela had been more reasonable, if she had been prepared to go back to England, as soon as she was fit, Laura was sure they would have found a way to sort things out. One parent families were not so unusual these days, if Pamela wanted to keep her baby. And if not, there were always adoption agencies eager and willing to find the child a good home.
But Pamela had not been reasonable. Her unwilling return to consciousness to find her sister at her bedside and, it transpired, in possession of all the facts of her case, had elicited an entirely different response. ‘There must be some mistake,’ she had insisted, the faith she had lost so drastically returning now that Laura was there to listen. ‘Mike wouldn’t just abandon me. He wouldn’t! Something must be wrong. Perhaps he’s been taken ill, or had an accident. If only there was someone we could ask. Someone who could give us a clue to his whereabouts. Is there no one you know, Laura? No one you met while you were over here?’
Whether Pamela knew exactly what she was asking, Laura had no idea. Certainly she had never confided the true facts of her relationship with Jason Montefiore to her sister. But perhaps Pamela sensed, or suspected, that there had been more to Laura’s abrupt return to England than the casual explanation that she had grown tired of living so far from London. Whatever, Laura had felt compelled to use what influence she had to try and set her sister’s mind at rest, and that was why she was here in Hawaii, facing the increasing conviction that she was wasting her time.
The situation
