Victoria Holt - Road to Paradise Island

I felt light-headed, unsure how to act.

Well, here I was, alive and well, and rapidly throwing off the effects of a night of heavy drugged sleep. True, I had a slight headache ... nothing to take much notice of...

On the other hand I might say to myself: You had an eventful evening. You suffered a great shock. You thought the plantation was on fire. You rode over to it in a state of terrible fear. The reaction was tremendous when you saw him there. You accepted the truth. You committed yourself to action which you had been putting off for weeks. It was quite an experience and you exhausted yourself... emotionally. You slept deeply. And the milk? Imagination. Little pieces of coconut might be in the milk. That was your sediment.

It was all imagination.

But the missing pills? That was another matter.

You miscounted.

Ten? And then six? Had it been one less, even two, I might have accepted that. But four.

Yes, there were the pills to account for.

I sent for Maria.

I said: "You brought the milk up to my room last night."

"Why yes," she answered. "I put it by your bed. Mr. Harrington he say you should have it to make you sleep well."

"Did you bring it straight to my room from the kitchen?"

"But yes," she said, with an air of surprise at such a question.

I looked at her steadily and her eyes full of the habitual laughter met mine steadily.

I was sure Maria was innocent of any crime.

"You took the remains of the milk away," I said.

"But yes... this morning. You did not want last night's milk beside you."

"Some of it was spilt."

"It was nothing ... just a little. I wipe up."

"I see."

What could I say? How could I ask her if she had put pills into my milk? She would go down and tell them about it. They would think I had gone mad.

I said: "That's all right, Maria "

I wanted to dismiss the matter from my mind but 1 could not forget the pills in the bottle. 1 took it out and looked at it again. Only six left.

I replaced it and as I did so, I thought: The map was there in the

drawer... and that is missing. Where is the map of the island? Someone must have taken it. And whoever took it would have seen the bottle of pills there, for they were together.

I had another search for the map.

Maria came up to make my bed and do the room. I was sitting there waiting for her.

"Maria," I said, "have you seen a map of mine?"

"A map?"

"Yes ... a map. Not very big. Like this." I showed her with my hands. "I've lost it."

"On the terrace. I saw you show a map to someone once. That was a long time ago."

I thought: They watch us all the time.

"No, I didn't lose it then. I thought it was here in my room and I can't find it now."

"I look," she said.

"I've looked everywhere."

"I find. Mrs. Granville she lose her scarf. Cannot find. Not in her room. I found ... under the bed." She laughed as though that was a great joke. "I find map," she added.

No, I could not suspect Maria.

I left her and went downstairs. I sat there for a while wondering whether I should go to Milton and tell him what I feared.

He would immediately think I had spoken to Raymond and made it clear that I was going to marry him, Milton. If I told him what had happened he would want me to leave the hotel and go to his house. I smiled. Well, I should feel safe there.

John Everton strolled by.

"Good morning," he said. "How are you?"

"Well, thank you. And you?"

"Very well."

He did not stop.

I sat there brooding. What if the pills had dropped out of the bottle? I had taken them out to count them. I could have dropped four of them then. It was hardly likely but such things did happen. Those four pills might be lying in the drawer. How foolish I should look if I said that someone had put pills into my milk—and then they were discovered. And the map? Had I put that somewhere myself?

To say the least I had been in an excited state ever since my experiences at the Granville house. I might have been careless... absent-minded; and now, after having been concerned in an act of violence, was I allowing my imagination to run amok?

Magda was coming up from the waterfront. She saw me and waved.

My first thought was: She has come to see if I am dead.

However she expressed no surprise to see me sitting there. Then of course she wouldn't. If she was clever enough to arrange my death she would certainly be able to control her feelings.

"Good morning. How nice to see you," she said.

"You're very early."

"I came with my cook to shop. He's gone on to the market. I thought I'd call and see you."

"How nice of you!"

"Are you well?" She was looking at me intently and I felt my suspicions rise.

"Yes, thank you, very well."

"I'm giving a dinner party tomorrow night and I want you to come. I'm asking Milton, of course, and I wonder if your friend would feel well enough. I hear you have another friend staying at the hotel. Perhaps he would like to come too."

"He is out now and so is Mrs. Granville. I will tell them of your invitation when they come in."

"It is something of a celebration."

"Really?"

"Yes. My engagement to George."

"Oh." I felt deflated. If she were going to marry George why should she want me out of the way?

"Well, it's the sensible thing to do. I wonder we didn't before."

"He is a very charming man," I said.

"I think so, too."

"I am sure you will be very happy."

"Then you will come?"

"I shall be delighted to."

"And ask your friends. I'm going up to the plantation to ask Milton when we've been to the market. I'd better be off now. I have a good deal to do. I'm glad I saw you. Au revoir."

I went back to my room. Maria had finished and was gone.

So Magda was going to marry George. I saw how foolish I was to have suspected her. Moreover, how could she have put the pills into my milk. There were only two people who could have done that. Maria or Felicity.

I wondered about Felicity. I had always thought she was rather ineffectual. Yet was she? What had really happened on the balcony that night? He had left me and gone down to drink. Then he went in to her. She said she had come to the end of her endurance. She had picked up the gun and threatened to shoot herself. Had she, or had she threatened to kill him?

She had never been able to shoot straight. But perhaps ... My imagination was running on, playing tricks. I could see it all so clearly. Her fear, her loathing... and there he was lumbering towards her ... drunk. I could imagine her rushing to the balcony. Did she shoot? Did she do it deliberately? I could not blame her if she did. But did she?

Whatever the reason, murder was murder and I reckoned that no one who had committed it—however provoked—could ever be quite the same again.

Was that how it had happened?

That shot had saved her possibly from a life of degradation and misery. Just one shot... Now ... four pills could save her from a lifetime of frustrated longing; they could give her a lifetime with Raymond.

He loved her, I knew, in his quiet way.

Oh, it was fitting very well.

I wanted to go to Milton, but something held me back. I did not want to talk even to him of my suspicions of Felicity. My common sense made me reject them as ridiculous fantasy. But Felicity did have a reason to wish me out of her way... just as she had to be rid of William Granville.

There was a difference. He had been bestial towards her. I was her friend. How often had she said she did not know what she would have done without me? But I stood between her and what she wanted most in life.

It was impossible to think of Felicity as a murderess—that quiet, gentle girl. But what do we know of the hidden parts of people's minds. How well do we know each other?