Beaumont Brides Collection (118 page)

‘And this man Tamblin? Is he the journalist whose cuttings you keep?’

‘Yes. I caught him insider trading a few years back. Instead of exposing him I suggested he find some less tempting form of work. It was a mistake. He used his contacts to get into financial journalism and has been on my back ever since. And now he’s up to his old tricks again, using Richard.’

‘I think it’s possible that Richard is using him, Jack.’ He waited. ‘He’s enormously likeable, bags of charm when he’s getting his own way. But he’s manipulative, too. I’ve seen him pull some strokes with the director when we worked on the same soap, just for a bet, just to prove he could make people do things.’

And she’d let him do it to her, Melanie realized.

He’d known about the post-party clean up. She’d told him about Jack’s call to the office and he must have realized immediately what that meant; why Mrs Graham was so eager to give her a job.

‘I’d forgotten how he liked to do that,’ she said. Then she looked up. ‘But if he held a grudge you should warn your office. You think you’ve been fooling him all this time, but it’s quite possible he’s been fooling you.’ She stood up. ‘Look, do we have to wait for Gus? Isn’t there some other way we can get back?’

‘Not unless you fancy a long, hot hike. Besides, we’re only half way through this session of true confessions. ‘It’s your turn.’

‘I told you, Jack. I was working for a bet. I didn’t know anything about Richard’s plans. And I certainly didn’t tell him I was coming here with you.’

‘If he reads the Courier he knows now.’

‘Well that’s hardly my fault.’ She wrapped her shirt around her a little tighter as the wind began to rise, kicking the sand up from the beach.

‘Will it cause you problems?’ She glanced at him. ‘I had assumed that you were an out-of-work actress who might welcome a little publicity. But you’re clearly something else entirely.’

‘Not entirely. I am an actress and I’m not working. But out of choice, not misfortune.’

‘I should know who you are, shouldn’t I? That’s why you changed your appearance. Who are you, Melanie?’

‘We’ve already covered my life history, Jack. I wasn’t lying about that. I’ve done some television, a West End play. I’m not offended because you haven’t seen me in anything. Tell me about your life,’ she said, eager to change the subject.

‘Oh, you know. The usual story. School. University. The City.’

‘And marriage.’ If they were clearing the decks, they might as well make a good job of it.

‘And marriage,’ he repeated, but he was no longer paying attention. Instead he was staring out to sea.

Melanie turned to see what had caught his attention, shading her eyes from a sun that was suddenly brassier, angrier.

‘What is it?’

‘I don’t know.’ He stood up. ‘But it’s getting very dark over there. I think we might be in for a storm.’

As if to confirm what he said, the wind caught at her hair as she rose beside him and she put up her hands to hold it back from her face. For a moment they stood together, watching the darkening edge of the sky where the front seemed to be coming lower and closer at an alarming rate. ‘Will Gus come back for us?’ Melanie said, grabbing hold of Jack’s shirt as a sudden gust buffeted them and she staggered against him.

‘It’s too late for that, Mel. We’re going to have to make a run for it.’

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THE wind hit the beach like a rocket, tearing the thatched shelter to shreds and tossing the sun loungers aside, streaming out the palm fronds as it came after them. The rain hit before they were half way up the shallow rise behind the beach as they battled to breast it and make the lee. Great drenching sheets of the stuff that ran down their faces, leaving them gasping for air.

By instinct, Melanie had grabbed her bag as she ran, but now it was filling with water, weighing her down and Jack grabbed it. ‘Is there anything important in here?’ he shouted above the almost unimaginable noise. She shook her head and he dumped it. It was immediately caught by the wind and bowled away, spilling its contents as it went. Jack caught her hand, hauling her after him.

She stumbled along the path, barely able to keep up as her canvas shoes too began to fill with water, weighing her down.

Behind the hill, the wind was less of a problem, but it still sucked the breath from them and the rain made breathing doubly difficult. After a few hundred yards they were both struggling for air and Jack stopped while Melanie clung to him for a moment.

‘There’s an old sugar mill up here somewhere. If we can get there, we can get out of this.’

‘It won’t blow down?’

‘It’s stood a lot worse than this in its time.’ He leaned back. ‘Ready?’ But she was staring out at the grey and angry sea. Beau and Diana were somewhere out there. And she was remembering another storm, just as sudden, that had killed her mother. ‘Melanie?’

‘Yes. Come on, let’s go.’

Ten minutes later then almost fell into the old stone sugar mill and it seemed to take forever, battling against the wind to close the door behind them. Eventually it was done and they leaned back against it, their chests heaving in unison as they recovered their breath. ‘The next time you decide to take me on a picnic,’ Melanie gasped out, ‘think again.’

‘I’ll do better than that. The next time you suggest we spend the day in bed, I won’t argue.’ Then he straightened and looked about him. ‘But in the meantime we’d better make ourselves comfortable.’ He looked at her. ‘You’re shivering,’ he said, taking her into his arms.

‘So are you. I can’t believe how the temperature’s dropped.’

‘We might be able to make a fire.’

‘And send out smoke signals so that someone will come and find us?’

‘Not while this wind is blowing.’

Melanie crossed to the old stone chimney. ‘There’s plenty of kindling and wood, but nothing to light it with.’ She rubbed at her arms. ‘I suppose you could try rubbing two sticks together.’

‘You’ve obviously never tried to light a fire that way.’ He reached up to a shelf where there was an old candle stuck in a jar and his hand dislodged a box of matches. ‘I suspect we’ve stumbled on a lover’s tryst,’ he said, looking around. There was a rug on the floor, an old sofa draped in a clean white sheet with a couple of bright cushions.

‘Thank heavens for lovers,’ she said, as he lit the candle and began to pile up small scraps of wood shavings, then bigger pieces of dry kindling and when it was well alight began to place small logs carefully over it.

‘Why don’t you get out of those wet clothes,’ he advised. ‘Wrap yourself in that sheet and you’ll soon warm up.’

Melanie didn’t need a second invitation, peeling of her sodden clothes and draping them near the fire. ‘This is big enough for two of us,’ she said, sitting on the sofa. ‘Come on. Your clothes will soon dry.’

Jack made up the fire and then peeled off his t-shirt and shorts before joining her on the sofa and tucking the other end of the sheet about him. ‘Now we wait.’

‘No. Now we talk. We’d got as far as marriage,’ she reminded him. He put his arm around, easing her onto his lap so that they could lie together on the sofa. ‘What happened, Jack. Are you divorced?’

‘No, not divorced. Lisette was killed in an accident.’

‘Oh, Jack. I’m sorry. If you don’t want to talk about it-’

‘No, it’s all right. It’s time I did.’ But it was still a while before he began to speak. ‘She was killed standing at a bus stop.’

‘A bus stop?’ she prompted after another long silence.

‘I know what you’re thinking. Why on earth would the wife of a relatively wealthy man be standing at a bus stop?’ She didn’t think he expected her to offer an answer. ‘I’ll tell you, Melanie. She was catching a bus because I was so wrapped up in work that I’d forgotten her car had a flat battery. She’d asked me to put it on charge. She never could work out how to do anything like that herself. And I forgot. She didn’t have anywhere desperately important to go. But she wanted me to know that I was neglecting her. So instead of ringing for a taxi she decided to catch a bus. She wouldn’t have complained about the car refusing to start, simply yelled at me for forgetting to do something about it. She wasn’t like that. She would have told me about how she’d waited for hours for a bus, the screaming children, the dirty seats...’

‘What happened, Jack?’

‘A man, a good family man, driving quietly along the road, going about his business, simply collapsed and died at the wheel of his car. He fell against the steering wheel, his foot stuck on the accelerator and three people died. Lisette was one of them.’

‘And you blame yourself.’

‘Wouldn’t you?’

‘Accidents happen, Jack. Stupid accidents. I know.’ She was silent for a moment, remembering. Then, realising that he was waiting for her to go on, she said, ‘My mother was killed in a flash flood a couple of years ago on the way to the theatre. We were all going. It was Luke’s idea.’ He had blamed himself, too. ‘He bought the tickets, called my mother, offered to drive up and fetch her. But she said no, she didn’t think she’d come. Then, at the last minute, she changed her mind and drove herself.’

‘And she died.’

‘It was my father, you see, playing Shylock. No one knew but Luke blamed himself for not realising sooner.’

‘I’m sorry, Mel.’

‘Everything we do has some unforeseen consequence.’ She stirred uneasily. ‘I shouldn’t be here now.’

‘Where should you be, Mel? Doing some old biddy’s ironing?’

‘No. I should be lying on a beach somewhere in Australia. I was going to book the first flight out of London when I bumped into you. But you said, slow down. You’ll hurt someone. And that made me stop and think. Then I met Richard and he...’ She gave a diffident little shrug. ‘You stopped me, Jack and then Richard wound me up like a clockwork toy and sent me on my way again.’ She turned to look down into his face. ‘And I ended up cleaning your apartment. Did you love her very much?’

He didn’t even have to consider his answer. ‘I thought I did when I married her. She was fresh, lovely, she seemed the obvious choice. And I was something of catch I suppose. It didn’t take me long to realize that it was a mistake. Instead of taking the brave decision, facing up to it, I simply buried myself in my work. But she didn’t have a job. She sat at home and brooded. And her bitterness drove her out to bus stop when she could have picked up a telephone and called a taxi.’

‘So that’s why you prefer bed-and-breakfast partners like Caroline.’

‘Is it?’

‘Plenty of style, not much content. You didn’t even have to pretend to stop thinking about work when you were with her, did you?’

‘I suppose not. Now you, my love, in that horrible wig and that ghastly uniform had no style at all, and you weren’t particularly lovely to look at. Yet ever since I came home and found you in my apartment, work has seemed less and less important. In fact I haven’t called my office for days. Poor Mike will think I’ve been swallowed by a shark.’

She grinned, eased herself more comfortably against him as the warmth of the fire made her feel drowsy. ‘Gus would have phoned him if you’d be eaten. It might even have made the front page of the Courier.’

‘You may be right. But he certainly thinks I’m not talking to him.’ She looked surprised. ‘We had a bit of a disagreement. About you. He thinks you’re the Mata Hari of commercial espionage. That you’ve taken me in, body and soul. ‘

‘And what do you think?’

‘I know what you are.’ She waited, expectantly for him to tell her, but instead he pulled her down and kissed her.

When she finally lifted her head, she said, ‘This thing with Mike. Don’t let it fester, Jack. Call him as soon as we get back to the hotel. Make your peace.’ She turned to listen to the wind howling outside the sugar mill and shivered. ‘You should never part on hard words. Always say goodbye as if it was the last time.’

‘That was heartfelt.’

‘It was. One way or another I have a lot of calls to make. And my father and Diana are out there somewhere on a yacht. I wouldn’t want to have to live with the way we parted.’

‘Hey. Come on. This is just a squall. It’ll be over in no time.’ He eased her head down onto his shoulder, put his arm around her. ‘Are you warm enough?’

‘Mmmm.’ He kissed her again as she nuzzled against him and closed her eyes.

Melanie woke to silence. For a moment she couldn’t place where she was, only that she was with Jack, that his arm was around her. And then she remembered the storm.

He was asleep and he looked so sweetly vulnerable that she couldn’t resist kissing him. His chin, the corner of his mouth, the tip of his ear. He stirred. She continued her mouth’s butterfly assault on his temple, an eyelid.

At some point she became aware that although his eyes remained closed he was awake, but she didn’t stop. Visiting his throat, the hollow of his collar bone, easing down his chest with little flickers of her tongue until she felt the unmistakable stirring of his body against her thigh.

‘You know a girl could get into serious trouble that way.’

‘A girl might just be wondering long it would take.’