Вайолет Уинспир: Dragon Bay

The scene was almost Greek, and Kara thought of the long letter she had written yesterday to Paul and Domini, describing all she had so far seen of the Isle de Luc — but she had not mentioned Lucan Savidge.

She had a feeling that Paul — with his business contacts in most parts of the world — would make inquiries about the Savidges of Dragon Bay, and that what he learned would not be to his liking.

Kara sat down on the side of one of the shrimping boats, and her fingers played nervously with her string of coloured beads. She adored her brother Paul, and never before had she kept anything from him — but her friendship with Lucan Savidge was something she didn’t want to write about, or think about. In a few days she and Lucan would say good-bye. He would return to Dragon Bay, and she would continue with her tour of the Caribbean. This strange interlude on the Isle de Luc would be over, and Lucan would be but a memory. …

‘Oh—!’ The exclamation broke from Kara as her necklace suddenly broke and the beads scattered and rolled to the sands. She knelt and began to pick up the beads, as distressed as if she had broken a string of pearls. The beads were a memento of her visit to the Isle de Luc, their value lay in their future ability to bring back vividly to her senses all the colour and vitality of the waterfront market this morning, and the Creole houses.

She was absorbed in her rescue work when someone leapt the sea-wall and came loping down the sands to where she was on her knees. A large pair of sandalled feet planted themselves in front of her, and she glanced up startled at the tall figure in a matelot shirt and slacks, his hair sun-fired above amused green eyes.

‘ ‘Tis a big girl ye are for shell hunting,’ he said in a mock Irish brogue.

‘I–I broke a string of beads.’ Her earlobes tingled and gave warning of a blush, and she jumped quickly to her feet and thrust the handful of beads into her jacket pocket. ‘How did you know where I was?’ she asked diffidently.

‘A market mammy saw you crossing the old slave-square, and I guessed you would make for the shore. Why did you slip out alone?’

‘Because I wanted to be alone.’ The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she and Lucan stared at one another, the sea behind them awash with gold from the sun. The palms bowed gently, and small bright birds fluttered in the green crests.

‘There are two kinds of women so honest, Kara, the artless, and the heartless. I know which you are — here, catch!’ he tossed something and she caught it with the dexterity of a girl who had been a tomboy. It was a mammy apple, whose fruit had the mixed tartness and sweetness of an apricot.

‘Do you know what the islanders say about this fruit?’ His teeth were white against his tanned skin as he took a bite of his own mammy apple. ‘They say it is the forbidden fruit that Eve gave to Adam to tempt him.’

‘Are you reversing the procedure and trying to tempt me?’ Kara’s voice was lighter than her spirit, which felt curiously weighed down. Come carnival time, come Sunday, and Lucan would take a raft out of her life. That was why she had come out alone this morning, to ‘ see how it felt to be alone after almost a week of swimming with Lucan, of touring Fort Fernand by his side, and dining at colourful places in the evening and being held in his arms when they danced.

The attraction she felt could not be love. She told herself with panic in her heart that she loved Nikos. She had loved him all her life, and it was hurt pride that made another man seem so terribly attractive….

‘Would you like me to tempt you?’

‘Yes, to breakfast.’ She darted away from him, up the sloping shore to the sea-wall. She scrambled over and with the wall between them laughed at him, the sun catching the tiny rings in her earlobes. ‘Let us go and eat at that little place like a kafenion.’

‘Are you homesick for Greece?’ With a lithe bound Lucan was beside her and they began to walk up the cobbled street to the town.

‘I miss my second love, my Dominic’ She felt the flick of green eyes. ‘He will be three in June.’

‘And this is May,’ drawled Lucan. ‘The cane is young and green at Dragon Bay, and the cocoa valley is rich with spicy scents and cool with shadows.’

‘You sound homesick yourself,’ said Kara, and when she glanced at him she saw the look he had, a flare to his nostrils as though he took a deep, imaginary breath of the scents in the cocoa valley.

‘I suppose I am,’ he admitted. ‘The need to get away is never as strong as the urge to get home again. I’ve been to France — to visit a friend.’

His voice seemed to linger on that final word, and Kara wondered if he meant a woman. She thought it more than likely, for this was a man who was alive from his fiery crest of hair to the soles of his feet, with the look of ancient Ireland when chariots thundered over the ruts of the wild roads, and harps played in the smoky halls of Tara, where the warrior princes and chieftains gathered.

‘Here we are.’ She felt his hand rest lightly on her waist as they paused outside the little harbour restaurant that looked so much like a Greek coffee-shop, with its sun-faded tables and chairs set out under an arbour of vines.

They chose a table near a mass of pink pandoras, and ordered langouste caught in the surf that morning, brown bread, lashings of butter, and big cups of island coffee.

‘I am hungry.’ Kara clasped her hands on the table top and blinked her dark lashes as a shaft of sunlight cut between her and Lucan like a blade. He leant to one side, plucked a pandora blossom and handed it to her with a sideways smile that mocked the gesture even as he made it.

‘Pandora,’ she murmured, stroking the petals, ‘why did you give your husband your wedding casket, so he could let out all the tears and troubles it contained, and then shut the lid on hope?’

‘You are an odd child.’ Lucan was gazing across at her, a half amused glint in his eyes — green this morning as the Greek sky at evening time.

‘I daresay I am different from the chic sophisticates you must be used to,’ she said lightly. ‘I hope I don’t bore you?’

‘If you did that, you wouldn’t be sitting here with me,’ he said flatly. ‘I don’t roam around with you, telling you all the old Creole stories of this island because I’m kind, Kara. Because you’re a stranger nursing a bit of heartache. What do I care about your heartache — not that!’ He snapped his fingers. ‘You happen to intrigue me. You’re a little Greek riddle I can’t quite fathom — there, does that satisfy your curiosity about why I bother with you?’

‘I never thought you kind,’ she said quietly, ‘so why I bother with you is a mystery to me.’

‘Touché,’ he laughed. ‘It’s that bit of spirit, and those eyes like peaty pools on an Irish moor that I like, Kara. The blush, too, and the fingernails curling and wanting to dagger my cheek.’

She whipped her hand off the table and the pandora blossom fell to the ground. She let it lie there. She didn’t want his flower, nor his careless Irish compliments. She wished the week-end was over. Wished she had the courage to walk away now and deny herself these last few days of his tormenting company.

‘Our langouste,’ he drawled, and as the waiter unloaded his tray on to their table, Kara saw Lucan finger the whip-scar on his cheek and smile cynically. Her heart beat like the hidden wings of the cicadas. To her dismay she wanted to pull his hand away from the mark and shield it with a kiss!

The carnival spirit was infectious, and Kara asked Nap to take her to a shop where she could hire a fancy dress. She wanted to surprise Lucan — to stun him, if possible — and was delighted to be able to hire a real Creole costume complete with a madras, a winged turban of bright silk, and hoops for her ears.