True Colours (The You Don't Know Me Trilogy Book 2) (27 page)

As we come to a halt in the car park, my pulse begins to splutter.

‘A lighthouse?’ I falter.

He nods.  ‘Gibb’s Lighthouse.’

‘You’re not … We’re not going up it?’

He nods again.  ‘It’s a day for facing fears.  You said so yourself.’  Placing a palm on my thigh, he leans in towards me.  ‘Flying.  Swimming in the sea.  You’re on a roll.’

I take another peek.  My lungs threaten to explode out of my ribcage.

‘And I’ll be with you every step of the way.’

‘Seriously, I can’t do this.’

‘Wrong.  You can do anything.’

Unbuckling my seatbelt and then his own, he’s out of the car before I can complain any more.  Coming quickly round to my side, he opens the door and encourages me out into the heat.

The lighthouse rises above me like a huge white Dalek, and I stare up at it, reminding myself that if I can manage to stay sane on a Lear jet, then I can definitely drag my sorry backside to the top of this thing.  It’s entirely my choice whether I take those steps or not, but if I am going to do it, then there’s definitely going to be some sort of payback.

‘Okay,’ I murmur at last.  ‘I’ll do it … on one condition.  You’ve got to give me something in return.  You face your own fears.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Take a guess.’

‘Sisters,’ he mutters.

I watch silently as he chews at his lip, glances up at the lighthouse, then back to me.  My sudden attack of bravery seems to be catching because he holds out a hand, and I interpret it the only way I can.  I’ve thrown down another gauntlet, and I can only suppose he’s picking it up.

‘One hundred and eighty-five steps,’ he says quietly.  ‘Then we come out onto the observation deck.  You get a full three hundred and sixty-degree view of the island.  It’s worth it.’

‘Fine.’  I hold out my own hand in return.  ‘Let’s do it.’

Without letting go of me, he pays for our tickets and leads me inside.

And so … we begin to climb.

Taking one step at a time and ignoring the porthole windows, I tell myself that I’m absolutely fine.  I’m really not bothered at all.  And why would I be?  The top floor of Fosters is higher than this.  It’s just that I’ve never been on the outside.  As we come to each landing, we take a rest, allowing me to get my breath back while Dan gently strokes my arm.  Finally, we arrive at the eighth landing.  No more steps.  No more rests.  This is it.

I face an open doorway.

‘Why don’t you close your eyes for a start?’  He places a hand on my back.  ‘I can hold you, then get you into position.’

‘Okay.’

As my breathing grows increasingly shallow, I lower my lids and immediately, his arms are around me, manoeuvring me slowly through the doorway from behind.  I know I’m outside now.  I can feel the sun on my face.

‘Keep them closed,’ he whispers into my ear.  ‘I’m just moving you a little further.  Trust me.’

I’m gently urged on and then I come to a halt.  With his arms clasped around my stomach, he pulls me back against his chest.  His chin comes to rest on my shoulder.

‘Maya?’

‘Yes?’

‘Are your eyes still closed?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ve got you.  You’re not going to come to any harm.  It’s perfectly safe up here.  Understand?’

I nod.

‘There’s a railing in front of you.  The body of the lighthouse is behind you.  I’m here and I’m not letting go.  Open your eyes when you’re ready.’

For a few seconds more, I cower in the darkness.  And then I make the move.  At first, I see nothing but my own eyelashes and through them, the glare of the sun.

‘Breathe slowly.’  His arms tighten around my midriff.  ‘Deeply.  I’ve got you.’

I do as I’m told, raising my lids a little further.  Slowly, my eyes begin to focus.  Another breath and I can see it all: the island laid out below me, virtually flat, with only the hint of a hill in places.  From up here, we can see right down to the far end.

‘What do you think?

‘It’s beautiful.’

And it is.

To the right, the coast curves around on itself, neatly defined.  To the left, it’s a ramshackle collection of outcrops, islands and inlets.  Everywhere I look, I see the same white roofs – a sprinkling here, a thicker collection there – scattered in amongst patches of grassland and the deep green of tree foliage.  I raise my eyes to the dark strip of the horizon.  Above it all, the sky’s a cobalt blue today, touched by feathers of cloud.

‘Feeling okay?’

I swallow, looking down at the lawn below us and the sharp features of cedar trees beyond.

‘I might fall.’

‘No way.  I’ve got you.’  He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.  ‘About twenty miles long and two miles wide.  Over six hundred miles away from the nearest land mass.’

What’s he trying to do now?  Distract me from my fear with a few choice facts?

‘We’re in the middle of nowhere,’ I comment, going along with it.

‘Pretty much … And we’re on top of a volcano.’

Now, I’m not entirely sure he should have added that bit.  As my body stiffens, I hear him chuckle.

‘Don’t worry.  It’s extinct.’  He points straight ahead.  ‘To the right, that’s the South Shore.’  He pauses, suddenly noticing a tiny but distinctly important fact: I’m not breathing.  ‘Take a breath, Maya.’

One consciously drawn breath follows another until my lungs finally seem to remember what they’re supposed to do.  Leaving the matter of breathing behind, I’m aware that my legs have turned to jelly.  If Dan wasn’t holding me up, I’d be flat on the floor by now.

‘Nice and slow,’ he whispers.  ‘Keep it going.  You’re doing brilliantly.’

‘I’m shitting myself.’  I glance down at my hands.  They’re shaking.

‘I should hope not.  Enough?’

‘No.’  I may be malfunctioning in just about every possible way, but I’m not ready to give up on being brave, not just yet.  I can hear the pride in every word he speaks, and I want more.

‘Okay,’ he goes on.  ‘Hamilton to the left.  The North Shore.  That’s where we’re staying.  Spanish Point.’  He raises a hand, motioning vaguely.  ‘No sharks.’

I hear myself laugh.  And then the laugh fades.  We stand in silence for a few minutes, taking in the view.  My heartbeat slows, my breathing settles back into a normal rhythm and all the time his arms remain clamped around me, keeping me safe.

‘Take me to the other side,’ I say at last.

‘Really?’

‘Really.’  I squeeze his forearm.  ‘Before I chicken out.’

Slowly, he guides me to the other side of the lighthouse.

‘Docklands.’  He points.  ‘Right at the end.  There’s not so much to see on this side.’

I gaze at the ocean, the smattering of islands, and realise that I’ve lived with fear for too long.  Chained up by its constrictions, it’s kept so much hidden from me.  But now those chains are slipping away.

‘It’s stunning.’

‘You think?’

‘I do.’

He kisses my cheek and we stand in silence for a little longer while I enjoy the view.  Held tight in his arms, I’m loving it.

And more than that … I’ve stopped shaking.

Light dances across the scene, fairy-like, hopping from lily pad to lily pad, and in amongst the swirling mass of water, a clutch of delicate white lilies float just beyond the reach of the shadows.  I stand in awe, transfixed by the colours, examining each and every brush stroke.  I can barely believe what I’m looking at.  If I’m not very much mistaken, this is a Monet.

‘Do you like it?’

I turn to face Bill.  Looking slightly ridiculous, he’s sporting another pair of Bermuda shorts, matched with a white shirt, open at the collar.  But it’s the socks and sandals that really do it.  Biting back the urge to giggle for the umpteenth time, I decide to press on with a conversation.

‘It’s amazing.’  I aim my wine glass at the picture.  ‘It’s real, isn’t it?’

‘No.’  He smiles knowingly.  ‘I don’t believe in keeping beautiful works of art to myself.  The real one’s in Belgium.  This is a very good fake.  I’m a sucker for the Impressionists.  How about you?’

‘I’ve got broad tastes.’

‘The best kind to have.’  He takes a sip of wine.  ‘Dan tells me you’re a gifted artist.’

‘Oh, I don’t know about that.’

‘He’s pretty insistent.  Landscapes?’

‘Mostly.’  I’ll leave it at that.  I’m not about to share the fact that I’m currently working on a strange nude triptych, desperately trying to figure out my new-found obsession with kink.  ‘I’m influenced by the Impressionists.’

‘Then I must see your work.’  He slips into silence for a few seconds, his eyes shifting with thought.  ‘He’s a good man,’ he says at last, gesturing towards the veranda where Dan’s reclined on a wicker chair, watching the sunset.

I sense a rush of warmth in my chest.

‘Yes, he is.’

‘The pair of you seemed on edge this morning.  Maybe you’d had a row?’

‘A misunderstanding,’ I half whisper.  ‘It’s sorted now.’

‘Good.’  His lips pucker into a satisfied smile.  ‘You know he had a rough start in life.’  It’s a statement, not a question.  I nod.  ‘And then there was the blow of John and Lydia.’  He checks my reaction.  I nod again.  ‘It hit him hard.  All of it.  But every single time, he picked himself up and got on with it.  Just look at what he’s done with Fosters.’  He watches me.  ‘And now he’s got you.  He’ll make you very happy, Maya.  I know that.’

‘He already does.’

He holds up his glass, raising an index finger at the picture.  ‘You scrape back the layers on this thing and pretty soon you’ll find out it’s not authentic.’  And then he turns slightly, pointing at Dan.  ‘The real thing.  Whatever misunderstandings you have, promise me now you’ll sort them out.’

I give him a smile, wondering why it is that everyone in Dan’s life feels the need to argue his corner.  It’s as if they all know it can’t be an easy ride.  But they all seem to be utterly determined for us to see it through.

‘Good.  Now, let’s go and sit down.  Dinner’s about to be served.’

He leads me through the vast living area, out onto a veranda that looks over the sea.  All around us, garden torches have been set.  Flaring up against the shadows, they cast a magical, dancing light across the table top.  And the sun’s dipping now, the bright colours of day changing to deep reds, coppers, bronze and gold – soon to disappear altogether.

‘It’s cooler now, Dan,’ Bill remarks, jolting him out of his daydream.

‘Wonderful,’ he murmurs.

‘The cockroaches have been pretty bad this year.’  The old man motions for me to sit before he takes his own place.  ‘Hey, you remember that time you brought Clive over?  You must have been fourteen or fifteen.’  He bites back a laugh.  ‘We had an infestation, Maya.  Cockroaches everywhere.  And those little buggers can fly.  We were sitting right here, having a meal, and a big daddy of a cockroach flew straight at Clive’s head.  It near on knocked him out.’

Dan laughs.  ‘He ran inside and wouldn’t come out again all evening.’

Bill calms himself.

‘How’s Clive doing?’

‘Fine.  He’s got a new girlfriend.  Maya’s friend, Lucy.’

‘Looks like you’re both settling down.  You know, Dianna never took to Clive.’  He laughs again.  ‘Always moaning, complaining, scared of cockroaches, funny with his food.  He wouldn’t eat fish.  That’s what did it.  This is an island, Maya.  You’ve got to like fish.’

‘He’s alright now,’ Dan assures him.  ‘He’ll eat anything.’

‘Then you must bring him back out here.  And bring his young lady too.  And when you have kids, bring them all!’

Dan smiles.  ‘We will.’

‘Who’s Dianna?’ I ask, quickly brushing aside all mention of children.

‘My wife.  I came out here for a holiday, fell in love and we married a few weeks later.  I lost her five years ago.  She was the love of my life.  We never had any children, not for lack of trying.  Just couldn’t.  It would have been nice too, seeing the kids, the grandkids.  But no.  It’s just me and my fake Monet.’

While Bill gives out a loud laugh, Dan seems to be lost in thought.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t come out when it happened,’ he says quietly.

Bill’s laugh is silenced.

‘It’s okay.  You didn’t have time.’

‘I could have made time.’

‘No need to worry.  You had your reasons.’  He studies Dan.  ‘We all go through periods when we forget about our friends, when we obsess over things that do us no good.  And most of us manage to snap out of it.  I think you have.  Perhaps Maya here has made the difference.’

‘Maya
has
made the difference.’  He runs a finger around the base of his wine glass.  ‘And from now on, I’m going to find time for all the important things in life.’  He looks at me, his eyes glimmering in the torch light.

‘Hey!’ Bill calls.  ‘Here comes the food.’

Charles and Kathy appear in the doorway, each carrying a silver platter.  Unsure of what to do, I simply watch as Dan and Bill spring to their feet and lend a hand, taking the platters and laying them on the table.

‘It’s pretty simple,’ Kathy explains.  ‘I didn’t have time for no fancy stuff.’

I gaze at the food.  It doesn’t look that simple to me.

‘You got fresh tuna and salad.’  Kathy points to the platter in front of me.  ‘And you got Hoppin’ John.’  She waves a hand at the second platter which seems to be piled up with rice, mixed in with a selection of black-eyed peas, onion and some sort of meat.

‘Aren’t you eating with us?’ Dan asks.

‘Not tonight, Danny boy.’ Charles shakes his head.  ‘There’s a storm coming on.  We’ve got to get home and batten down the hatches.  Tomorrow maybe.’  With a touch on Dan’s arm, Charles takes himself back inside the house, and Kathy follows behind.

‘A storm?’  I turn my face to the sky, my stomach clenching.  I haven’t noticed the clouds creeping in overhead.

And, for once, Dan doesn’t seem to pick up on my unease.  Running his thumb across his bottom lip and gazing into the night, he’s preoccupied with something else.  We’re both startled into action by Bill’s voice.

‘Eat!  That storm’s not coming yet.’

Half-soothed by Bill’s words and suddenly aware that I’m ravenous, I push all thoughts of bad weather to one side.  Piling up my plate with fresh fish, salad and Hoppin’ John, I finish off the entire lot and dive in for more.  This might be Kathy’s idea of simple food, but it’s incredible.  While I clear my plate for the second time, I listen in as the men chat amicably between mouthfuls: Dan sketching out the last few years at Fosters; Bill telling stories of his life on Bermuda.  At last, with the meal finished and a comfortable silence descending between us, I sit back, noting that the wind is getting up now, that the torch flames are beginning to veer to one side.

‘I need to ask you something,’ Dan says at last.

It’s not aimed towards me.  I wait for Bill’s answer.

‘Anything.’

‘You knew my parents well.  You helped them with the business.’

‘I did.’

‘What would you think …’  He dries up, swallows hard.

‘If you sold it?’

I gape at Dan.  Suddenly, my pulse seems to be racing and I don’t know whether it’s because of the sudden charge in the air or the turn in the conversation.

‘How old are you now?’ Bill asks.

‘Thirty-six.’

‘And you’ve been running for Fosters for how long?’

‘Fourteen years.’

The old man considers his words for a minute or so before he finally gives his verdict.  ‘From what Norman tells me, the company consumes you, and that’s not good.  John and Lydia would have been proud of what you’ve done, but Fosters is … a different animal now.  And more than anything, they would have wanted to see you happy.’

The two men watch each other, neither giving away anything much.  At last, Bill moves things on.

‘Are you happy, Dan?  Having your energy sapped by this beast of burden?’

I’m thoroughly surprised when Dan shakes his head.

‘Then I’d say it’s time to think of yourself.  You owe nothing to no one.  And if you ever thought you did, you’ve paid your dues.’

I hear a distant rumble, notice that the air has cooled a little more.  Sitting bolt upright in my chair, I grip the arms and look up at the sky.  It’s darkened further.

‘The storm, Maya,’ Bill smiles.  ‘It’s coming in a little faster than I thought.  It’ll be cleared by morning.  Don’t you worry.’

Don’t you worry?  Tightening my grip, I glance at Dan, relieved to see that he’s now fully alert to the situation.

‘We have to go back to the guest house,’ he says, suddenly rising to his feet.  ‘I’m sorry, Bill.  We’d like to stay longer but …’  He clamps his lips shut and widens his eyes at me.

‘Of course,’ Bill nods.  ‘I’m sorry.  I forgot.  Maya’s not too good with storms.’

‘And it’s best that we go back.’  Holding out a hand, Dan beckons for me to move.

With an apologetic smile, I get up.

‘I’m sorry, Bill.’  I shrug.  ‘It was a lovely meal.’

‘No worries, Maya.  I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Leaving Bill to clear up the dishes, Dan leads me down the steps, back to the guest house.  Within a couple of minutes, we’re inside the bungalow.  Closing the French windows, Dan takes me straight to the bedroom and draws the shutters.

‘Get into bed.’

Struggling out of my clothes, I do as I’m told.

‘No tent?’ I ask.

He glances round the room, at the over-sized antique furniture.  Making a tent in here would take a serious amount of effort and probably cause a hernia.  Instead, shaking his head, he strips off and joins me under the sheet.  I’m wrapped in his arms, trembling like an idiot when the first real crash of thunder arrives.

‘Shit.’  I squeeze my eyes shut.  Adrenalin begins to pump.

‘It’s okay,’ he whispers, smoothing my hair.  ‘Thunder can’t hurt you.’

‘No, but lightning can.’

I hear him chuckle.

‘By the time you hear the thunder, the danger’s already gone.  Light travels faster than sound.’

Another crash resounds through the house.  The tremble mutates into a judder.

‘I don’t need a fucking physics lesson.’

Shit.  I’m swearing again.

‘But there’s no danger anyway.’  Ignoring the petulance, he pushes on, still smoothing my hair.  ‘Lightning hits the highest point.  The trees are far more likely to cop it.’

Through the shutters, I catch the flash of a lightning bolt.  The crash comes almost immediately.  It’s deafening.  My body convulses.

‘Jesus,’ Dan breathes, tightening his grip.  ‘That was close.’

‘This isn’t working,’ I wail.

‘I know.  I’m moving on to plan B.’

I have no time to ask what plan B involves.  I’m manoeuvred onto my back.  Moving on top of me, he leaves my hands free, rests on one elbow and coaxes my legs apart, positioning himself between them.

‘You’re not going to fuck me?’

‘No.’  He plants a gentle kiss on my lips.  ‘I’m going to make love to you.’

‘That won’t distract me.’

He grins.

‘It might take the edge off a little.’

Another flash of lightning spills through the shutters.  Tensing every muscle, I close my eyes, waiting for the thunder clap.  Again, it’s almost immediate.  Letting out a quiet sob, I feel a finger at my clit.  Slowly, he parts the folds of skin, finds my spot and sets about working me up into a mess down below.

‘Oh, Jesus,’ I groan.  ‘I’m telling you, it won’t work.’

‘Open your eyes.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Do as you’re told, woman.  This is sex.  I’m in charge.’

Reluctantly, I comply.  Watching me tenderly, he slides the finger inside, easing me open.

‘I’m here with you,’ he informs me.

‘That’s pretty fucking obvious,’ I cry.  ‘But you know what it’s like.’

‘It’s a day for conquering fears, Maya.  I’ve got you.  You’re perfectly safe.’

Slipping an arm beneath me, he nudges my legs further apart and enters me, pushing inwards, filling me completely.