Anne Mather - Moondrift

Jordan looked down into her glass. ‘Well, contrary to public opinion, I don’t need a stiffener to face Rhys Williams,’ she declared firmly. She looked up at the other girl. ‘That was all over long ago, while you were still in school.’

Mary-Jo shrugged. ‘You’re only five years older than I am, Jordan. I remember what happened at the time. I mean, who wouldn’t? Rhys Williams isn’t like any ordinary tourist, is he?’

‘No.’ Jordan’s tongue circled her lower lip. ‘No, he’s not. But there’s something else you should remember, Mary-Jo. I was only seventeen at the time, little more than a schoolgirl myself. And that’s all it was—a schoolgirl crush on an older man.’

Mary-Jo looked doubtful. ‘You were pretty cut up about it when his wife turned up, weren’t you?’ she protested. ‘And who could blame you?’

‘Mary-Jo!’

‘Well, it’s true. I mean, imagine him not telling you he was married! And having a daughter and everything. You must have felt terrible——’

‘Mary-Jo!’

Jordan’s voice had risen sharply, and as if just realising how personal she was being, the girl muttered a word of apology and sat down. But the looks she kept casting in her employer’s direction were eloquent of her feelings, and Jordan’s nerves felt ragged as she endeavoured to concentrate on the accounts.

She was almost relieved when Karen came back, waltzing into the office with her usual disregard for anyone’s privacy. ‘The avocados are here!’ she announced unnecessarily. And then, with sudden intuition: ‘What’s been going on here? You could cut the atmosphere with a knife!’

Jordan put down her pen and sighed. ‘Mary-Jo and I have just had a difference of opinion,’ she declared shortly. ‘Now, do you mind if we get on? I seem to have wasted half the day already.’

‘All right.’ Karen’s blue eyes took on a knowing expression. Unlike her sister, she was a natural redhead, and in consequence her colouring was that much fairer. ‘But I thought you might like to know, Rhys was in town, with his daughter. At least, I assume she was his daughter. She looks about eighteen.’

‘She’s—sixteen,’ said Jordan slowly, realising, as she did so, how wrong she had been to think of her as a child. Then, colouring, she added: ‘Where did you see them? Did you speak to them? I hope you weren’t rude—they have as much right here as we do.’

‘Hardly,’ exclaimed Karen indignantly. ‘Daddy’s family have lived here for—for donkey’s years. And I was born here.’

‘I wasn’t.’

‘No, but you’re not like Rhys Williams. He’s only lived on the island for a matter of months, not years.’ Karen pursed her lips. ‘Anyway, you don’t have to worry. I didn’t speak to them. They didn’t even see me, and if they had, I doubt Rhys would have recognised me. I was only ten when he went away.’

Jordan allowed her breath to escape unnoticed. ‘You—you could be right. So—where did you see them?’

‘In the market.’ Karen tucked her hands into the pockets of her shorts. ‘He was buying her a sun-hat. One of those hand-made palm things that weigh a ton until they’ve dried out.’ She paused. ‘He hasn’t changed much.’

‘Well, I have.’ Jordan tried to make it sound like a joke, but it didn’t quite come off. ‘I—where did you leave the avocados? Not out in the sun, I hope.’

‘No.’ Karen gave her an impatient look. ‘I’m not stupid. Willy took them down to the cellar.’

‘Good.’ Jordan managed an approving smile. ‘Josef will be pleased anyway.’

She hoped Karen would go now, but her sister hovered in the doorway, evidently wanting to say something else. Jordan’s fingers tightened convulsively round her pen as Karen tried to catch her eye, and she wondered how long her new-found composure would last if it was subjected to these pressures.

‘Do you think he’ll come here?’ Karen asked at last, when it became obvious that her sister was not going to make things easy for her, and Jordan laid down her pen.

‘Why should he?’

‘To thank you, of course.’ Karen hunched her shoulders. ‘You have looked after the house for him, haven’t you?’

Jordan sighed. ‘Tomas and Rosa have looked after the house.’

‘Yes, I know. But you know they wouldn’t have been as diligent as you have.’

‘Oh, Karen!’ Jordan drew an unsteady breath. ‘Can’t we just forget about Rhys Williams? Please? I don’t want his thanks, I just want to get on with my life. Now, can I do that?’

Karen’s lips compressed. ‘Well, I think the whole affair stinks,’ she declared rudely, going out of the room and slamming the door behind her, and Jordan was left to face Mary-Jo’s knowing gaze as the room resounded with the sound.

The remainder of the morning passed without incident, and during the afternoon Jordan had to contend with other problems about the hotel. The shutter on the window in one of the bathrooms had broken, and she had to summon the carpenter to deal with it. One of the guests had trodden on a sea urchin, and the doctor had to be called to remove the spines. And finally, one of the waiters in the restaurant slipped and sprained his ankle, leaving them short-staffed at the busiest time of the day.

By the time Jordan took her evening shower, she was feeling decidedly frayed at the seams. It had been one of those days, she thought, as she towelled her hair dry before picking up the hand drier to complete the process. Ever since Karen had told her about Rhys Williams, her nerves had been on edge, and she had to force her hand to remain steady as she directed the hot air on to her head.

She was applying a pale gold eye-shadow to her lids when the internal phone rang. ‘Mr Ferris is here, Miss Jordan,’ Raoul’s laconic voice announced in her ear, and she acknowledged the news with an emphatic: ‘I’ll be right down.’

Thank goodness for Neil, she thought, as she hurried into a raw silk skirt and a full-sleeved blouse. Without his help and encouragement, she might never have succeeded in carrying on after her father died, and his knowledge of the hotel trade had been invaluable. It had been particularly kind of him, considering he owned the only other hotel of any size on the island, and by supporting Trade Winds he had halved the business he could have done. Jordan had known him for years, ever since her father came back to the island, bringing his wife and young daughter with him. But it wasn’t until her father died that she learned to appreciate his friendship, and the growing bond of affection that was gradually developing between them.

He was waiting for her in the lobby when she went downstairs, tall and tanned and handsome in his black dinner jacket. He was leaning on the desk, talking to Raoul, who took over the switchboard after Mary-Jo had gone home, and Jordan felt a wave of gratitude sweep over her in his warm familiar presence.

‘Hi,’ she said, her sandalled feet making little sound on the tiled floor, and he turned and straightened and came to greet her.

‘Hi,’ he responded, his hands on her shoulders marvellously reassuring. ‘You looked flushed. Have you been hurrying?’

‘It has been quite a hectic day,’ she conceded, as his lips brushed her cheek. ‘Thank goodness you were at the end of it. I can’t wait to get away from the hotel for a few hours!’

Neil regarded her intently. ‘Really?’ He tucked her arm through his. ‘Well, don’t let’s delay. I’ve got some cocktails cooling over ice, and a fillet of beef cooked with herbs and brandy.’

‘Mmm, it sounds delicious,’ murmured Jordan, giving Raoul a wave of farewell, and then Neil was tucking her into the front seat of his sleek convertible, and the cares of the day just melted into space.