Wreckers Island (romantic suspense) (3 page)

That night, Dan volunteered to cook the evening meal and was
alone with his ingredients and his thoughts in the lighthouse kitchen. He was feeling
somewhat left out so far this holiday, much as he was enjoying it. Dan, with
his brooding, slightly nerdy good looks didn’t have the ready charm and gift of
the gab like John. Nor did he have Louise’s steely self-confidence and poise.

He was unquestionably a quieter, more
reserved individual – a valued member of any social circle but not exactly its
life and soul. That was perhaps in part why he had become so fond of Emma, for
he saw much of himself in her.

He had watched Emma in French classes at
university, her fair skin reddening when called upon to speak the language in
front of the others. He understood her diffidence and her slightly wobbly,
unsure manner, as if she didn’t quite believe in herself. But Dan believed in
her, he saw the qualities of intelligence and personality that she possessed. He
also saw an attractive woman – an impression confirmed by the sight of her in a
swimming costume.

He had appreciated the way she seemed
self-conscious of her body and not seeking to flaunt it. He had noticed
Louise’s arch, faintly exhibitionistic behaviour in her tight-fitting swimwear.
Emma had been modest, hunching her shoulders over her breasts to minimise
rather than display them and often draping her hands nervously over her crotch.

Dan warmed to Emma for that. So often at
Oxford, he had made up his mind to ask her for a date the moment never quite came.
He would have to seize his chance during this holiday, it was the perfect
opportunity, especially as John was so obviously seeking to woo Louise.

Yet something troubled him slightly. Emma
seemed far more attentive to John than to him. She would hang on his every word
as he told daft stories and laugh generously at the weakest jokes. And he’d
spotted her frowning every now and then when John and Louise shared moments
together. Either way, mused Dan as he chopped an onion, he felt somewhat set
apart, as if little tendrils of friendship and romance were threading their way
around the three of them, but excluding him.

‘Ouch,’ he cried, as the onion slipped and
the knife plunged into his finger, which welled with blood.

The merriment in the lounge stopped and the
other three burst into the kitchen.

‘Are you ok?’ asked Emma. ‘Oh look at your
finger, you poor thing. Come and bathe it under the tap.’

Emma took Dan’s hand and ran cold water over
it, washing away the blood. ‘Let’s get you a plaster. Louise? Where are the
plasters, don’t tell me you haven’t got any!’

Unfortunately, Louise hadn’t, so Emma did
her best to bandage it with a hanky.

‘Don’t worry, it’s clean!’ she said.

Dan’s face winced with pain as she tied the
handkerchief tight against the wound.

‘Right you clumsy thing, I’ll come and help
you, let me finish off that onion.’ Emma’s tone was mumsyish and slightly
patronising, as if she was helping nurse a child who had grazed his knee. But
Dan was grateful for her efforts.

Louise and John, having satisfied themselves
that Dan hadn’t severed any major arteries, made use of their visit to the
kitchen to grab lagers from the fridge, then returned to the lounge.

‘You go and join them and relax,’ said Dan,
half-heartedly, ‘you cooked the meal last night.’

‘No I’m staying to help you,’ insisted Emma,
‘I think you need looking after tonight, you’ve been distracted all day. Your
mind keeps wandering off to a different place – no wonder you chopped your
fingers instead of that onion.’

As laughter and giggles rang out with great
gusto from the lounge, Emma and Dan busied themselves making the curry – with
the help of jars of madras and tandoori paste.

‘Mmm, this smells delicious,’ said Emma, ‘I
love the aroma of onions and garlic frying. You’re quite a good cook on the
quiet, aren’t you Dan? I think you’re a bit of a dark horse anyway to be
honest.’

‘Please don’t come out with the line that
it’s always the quiet ones you’ve got to watch and that one day I’ll end up
being a murderer or something,’ said Dan, touchily, nursing his finger.

‘Don’t be so insecure, Dan, you know I
didn’t mean that,’ retorted Emma, her pale eyes boring into his. ‘Honestly,
you’re like me sometimes, you need to have more confidence in yourself. Come
here.’ She put her arms around him. ‘You’re a silly thing aren’t you?’

Dan reciprocated the gesture, spontaneously
embracing her and a second later, recoiling, worried it wasn’t appropriate.

Emma smiled as if some invisible barrier had
fallen away. ‘Come on, cheer up, let’s open a bottle of wine while the curry is
cooking and enjoy it round the kitchen table. Chefs’ privilege!’

Dan did cheer up, pleased to have cut his
finger after all – a small price to pay for the chance to be alone with Emma over
a bottle of wine!

He didn’t know it but Emma had an ulterior motive
for staying with him – she was listening to the increasingly animated
conversation going on in the lounge and guessed, with a chill to her heart,
that John and Louise were flirting with each other.

‘You’ve gone quiet, Emma,’ said Dan,
noticing her changed mood.

‘No I’m fine, I’m just curious what those
pair are up to in there,’ said Emma, trying to sound reasonably bright. ‘I’m
going to go and have a quick peek.’

She nudged open the lounge door and, to her
dismay, saw Louise and John sprawled on either end of the sofa –their legs
criss-crossing. Emma returned to the kitchen, sat down and toyed
absent-mindedly with her wine glass.

Dan topped it up. ‘Come on, he said, ‘I
thought you were supposed to be cheering me up.’

‘Oh Dan, am I really such a useless person?’
Emma wailed.

‘Of course not, why do you say such things?
We are kindred spirits you and me, we don’t have any self belief, do we?’
replied Dan.

‘I did have, Dan, at least I was acquiring
some, and then . . . oh I can’t possibly explain.’

‘Are we talking about your feelings for
someone – feelings which you thought were reciprocated but now your hopes have
been dashed, or something like that?’ enquired Dan.

‘Yes and no, well not exactly. I had
feelings for this person and I had hoped that he might feel the same way or at
least that I could work up to having a chance. Seemingly, no longer. I don’t
think I stand much if any chance with him.’

Dan winced. It was an easy guess who Emma
was talking about: John. And she now suspected that John was keen on Louise and
she on him.

‘Oh well,’ ploughed on Dan. ‘Looks like you
and me both have had our hopes dashed, so why don’t we raise a glass to being a
pair of losers!’

He lifted his in a mock toast. Emma stared
at him and left hers where it was.

‘What are you talking about?’ she said,
brushing her tears away and looking hard at him.

‘Well,’ said Dan, uncertainly, ‘your hopes
dashed with some man and mine with . . .’ he paused, ‘it doesn’t matter, some
woman.’

‘Funny you’ve never mentioned this before – what’s
suddenly made you realise that your hopes are dashed?’ she asked him.

Dan wouldn’t say anything further, but
reddened and started twiddling the stem of his wine glass nervously.

‘Stop playing with that glass, you’ll spill
it,’ scolded Emma. ‘This woman whom you’ve suddenly decided you’ve got no
chance with, is it – I’m not trying to be bigheaded or anything – but is it
me?’

Dan’s soft grey eyes looked deeply into
hers. He shrugged.

Emma imitated him. ‘What does that mean? I’ll
take that as a “no”, shall I?’

There was no going back now. ‘Yes of course
it’s you. Emma, I’ve liked you for ages. I’ve even started going to the college
library to be near you because I knew you’d often be in there, and, erm, one of
the reasons I wanted to come on this lighthouse holiday was because I knew you
were coming too.’

Emma took his hands into hers and gave them
a squeeze. ‘You silly thing, if you’d plucked up courage to ask me for a date
during term time, I might have said yes, but you never gave me any clue.’

‘I’ve left it too late, I suppose, since
you’re clearly besotted with John.’

‘I’m not besotted,’ replied Emma. She
scowled as Dan grinned at her, realising she’d given his identity away. ‘Ok,
you might as well know, it’s John. I’m not madly in love with him, I fancy him
that’s all, and my mind is all over the place as a result. Like I say, I don’t
think he’s interested in me. I thought he was a bit, last term, but now I don’t
get any vibe from him at all. In fact, quite the contrary, he seems keen on Louise,
unless that’s just my subconscious fear.’

‘I’m sorry Emma,’ Dan said, slowly. ‘I’ve
known for a while that John held a candle for Louise. He’s mentioned it a
number of times at uni. It’s just he’s never had it in him to ask her before
now. John’s like that you know, extrovert in many ways, but with women he often
falls at the final hurdle. I have no idea whether his feelings are
reciprocated, however.’

Emma thought inwardly that the ongoing good
cheer in the lounge eloquently answered that point. Her face looked pained but
then she seemed to brighten up, as if it had suddenly sunk in that Dan, at
least, did like her.

‘Listen,’ she said, clasping his hand, ‘I’m
pleased you’ve told me – about your feelings and you know more about what’s
going on in my head.’

Dan opened his mouth to clarify whether he
might still stand a chance with Emma when Louise and John walked into the
kitchen.

‘Come on, you pair, how long does it take to
cook a curry?’ joked Louise.

Emma pulled guiltily away from Dan, as if
anxious not to blow any faint chance she might still have with John. John wasn’t
much good at interpreting body language in any event but Louise realised that
they seemed to have interrupted something. For a moment an awkward silence
prevailed.

Then it occurred to Dan that he had spilt blood
to provide them with supper that night. ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘let’s eat, the
curry is ready and waiting.’

The four of them sat down to their meal,
with the hint of a subdued atmosphere in the air. John and Louise could sense some
sort of tension between Dan and Emma but neither wished to broach the subject.

‘Look,’ said Louise, as they scraped their
plates, ‘we’re all a bit tired and naggy. Why don’t we knock today on the head,
get an early night and get up feeling refreshed tomorrow, and hopefully with no
hangover.’

It was barely nine o’clock and the evening
sun still slanted brightly through the lighthouse windows but that sounded a
good plan. Emma badly wanted a conversation with Louise but not in front of
John and Dan, and they in turn wanted to do some men-talk.

After clearing away and replacing the cork
in the half-drunk bottle, they trooped slowly up the winding metal rungs of the
staircase to turn in for the night. Louise closed the bedroom door behind her
and Emma. She walked to the window and looked out at the rippling sea,
bluish-purple under the waning light, save for a flickering line of golden
sunset across its surface.

She watched the seagulls swooping and diving
for a minute and wondered what it would be like to be a bird, living such a
free, uncomplicated life.

‘You seemed tense earlier, Emma,’ she said,
slowly. ‘Is everything all right with you and Dan? It sort of felt like we were
interrupting a deep conversation when we walked in, but then you backed away
from him like he was a leper. The pair of you barely spoke to each other during
the meal, or to us, for that matter.’

‘Us? By “us” you mean you and John? It
sounds like you pair are an item these days,’ replied Emma, a touch sharply.

‘What makes you say that?’ asked Louise. ‘We
were having a perfectly innocent chat and a laugh on the sofa, at either ends
of it and enjoying our beers. What’s wrong with that?’

‘With your legs crossed over each other.’

‘Only because both of us wanted to sprawl
out. There’s nothing going on between John and me – I’d say if there was. I
mean, we’re all adults, why should I be coy about it?’

‘Exactly, that’s fine. I just think if
you’re having a relationship while we’re together on holiday, then it’s best
that the rest of us know. Personally, I had hoped we could be here as platonic
friends, rather than trying to get off with each other.’

‘Personally, I think we should go with the
flow,’ said Louise, turning her gaze away from the sea and a sky now pricked
with a handful of bright stars. She looked askance at Emma. ‘Isn’t it slightly hypocritical
of you, bearing in mind how cosy you were evidently getting with Dan before we
came in, to object to John and me bonding a little?’

‘I wasn’t getting cosy with Dan,’ snapped
Emma. ‘He does like me, if you must know, but I am not after him and more or
less told him so. Anyway, you carry on bonding with lover boy.’

‘I get it,’ replied Louise. ‘I’ve worked out
why you jumped back from Dan like you’d had an electric shock when John and I
walked into the kitchen. Of course! You fancy John and you didn’t want him to
see you with your hand in Dan’s – whom you were trying to comfort after you
spurned his declaration of love for you. Meanwhile, you resent me getting on
well with John. Only like I said, John and I are nothing more than flirtatious
friends – ok? I’ll be honest, I am keen on him but I don’t think he feels the
same way. I think he sees me as someone to have a cheeky giggle with and
nothing more.’

Emma nodded. ‘Ok. Please don’t let’s fall
out, Louise. I’m sorry for getting jealous. You and John would actually make a
lovely couple I feel – if you did get it together. Either way, he’s not
interested in me and I might as well stop pining for something I am not going
to have.’