Angela Devine - Tahitian Wedding

As he came to a halt in front of her there was no hint of a smile on his lips. Nevertheless, his manners were as impeccable as ever. Placing a lei of fragrant frangipani blossoms over her head, he kissed her formally on both cheeks. Claire was shaken by that contact. Alain’s powerful fingers were gripping her shoulders and she caught the whiff of an expensive cologne as his warm cheek touched hers. An odd, fluttering sensation quivered deep inside her. Perhaps, after all this time, we can finally be friends, she thought. Yet there was nothing friendly in Alain’s manner as he released her. His eyes wandered down over her body with a brooding hostility that stung her unbearably.

‘So. After six years you finally honour us with your presence,’ he drawled insultingly.

Claire’s brown eyes blazed.

‘Did you think you could keep me out of Tahiti forever?’ she demanded. ‘I’m not a gullible nineteen-year-old any more, you know. So if you’re planning to order me out of the country again, don’t bother!’

Alain’s bottom lip curled.

‘I see,’ he said with heavy irony. ‘So I am the reason that you haven’t come home for six years, am I? I’m flattered. I didn’t know my desires meant so much to you.’

‘They don’t!’ retorted Claire in a furious whisper, conscious of the interested glances of other travellers. ‘But if I remember correctly, last time we met you told me you never wanted to see me in Tahiti again.’

‘You do remember correctly,’ agreed Alain. ‘Just as I do, Claire. Not one word or one action of yours has been forgiven or forgotten. But for the sake of Marie Rose I am prepared to be polite to you during this visit.’

Claire seethed at the antagonism in his tone, but his words were a nagging reminder of something else. Gazing impatiently round the building, she looked in vain for her sister.

‘Where is Marie Rose?’ she demanded. ‘She promised to come and meet me.’

‘Unfortunately she was not able to do it,’ replied Alain. ‘She asked me to come in her place.’

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Claire in alarm. ‘She’s not ill, is she?’

Alain dismissed that with a shrug.

‘Marie Rose? No! But for your father, it’s a different matter. His heart has been giving him trouble for the last two years, although perhaps you didn’t know or care about that.’

‘I knew,’ replied Claire shortly. ‘And I cared.’

‘But not enough to come home and visit him?’ challenged Alain.

Claire bit her lip, but remained silent. Alain’s barbed comments filled her with guilt. Knowing Alain, that was probably just what he intended. After all, he had never hidden his opinion that Claire was heartless and totally indifferent to other people’s feelings. In fact, her father’s illness troubled Claire deeply, but pride would not allow her to tell Alain the truth—that she had repeatedly tried and failed to persuade Roland Beaumont to visit a Sydney heart specialist at her expense. As for visiting her family, her conscience was quite clear on that score. Fear of meeting Alain had always kept her away from Tahiti, but she had paid several times for her parents and sister to join her in Sydney. Yet why should she have to justify herself to Alain by explaining all this?

‘Well,’ said Alain with a lift of his eyebrow, ‘there will be plenty of time to catch up on the rest of the news in my car. For now, I think we should go and collect your luggage. After that, I will take you to meet Marie Rose and your parents, just as she asked.’

Claire stared at him in perplexity.

‘But why should Marie Rose ask you to do all that?’ she demanded. ‘You hardly knew her.’

‘Six years ago, no,’ agreed Alain. ‘But a lot can happen in six years. Didn’t Marie Rose tell you that her fiancé Paul Halévy is my cousin and the manager of my new hotel on Moorea?’

Claire took a step back.

‘No, she didn’t!’ she replied in a startled voice.

Alain smiled sardonically.

‘Then, in that case, she probably did not tell you either that I am to be best man at her wedding. Am I right?’

This time Claire stared at him in horror.

‘Best man?’ she croaked. ‘That’s impossible! Ridiculous!’

‘Believe me,’ Alain assured her, ‘the thought of being constantly thrown into your company for the next week is just as unwelcome to me as it must be to you. But for the sake of Marie Rose and Paul, we must both put a good face on it. Now come and we’ll collect your luggage. You must be tired after your long trip.’

Claire’s thoughts whirled as Alain whisked her through the building. For one insane moment she was tempted to flee back to the plane she had just left, but Alain was handling her arrival as efficiently as he had once organised her departure. With the ease of a man accustomed to prompt service, he soon had her outside the airport and comfortably settled in the luxurious front seat of his gleaming Citroen car.

‘You travel light,’ he observed. ‘Only one small suitcase on wheels. As if you were always ready for a fast getaway.’

Claire shrugged.

‘That’s truer than you know,’ she agreed. ‘I’ve been on the move so much in the last six years that I’ve reduced it to a fine art. I never own more than I can carry.’

‘That must be difficult,’ observed Alain.

‘Not really. It’s very simple. All you have to do is decide never to get attached to things.’

‘Or people?’ Alain challenged.

‘Or people!’ retorted Claire with a defiant toss of her head.

Settling back into her seat, she folded her arms and stared resentfully ahead of her into the darkness. He was determined to goad her, she thought fiercely, but she wasn’t going to be drawn. Alain Charpentier had made a blistering attack on her morals and her character once in her life, but she certainly wasn’t going to give him a second opportunity.

‘You’ve done very well since you left Tahiti,’ he said in milder voice. ‘You should be very proud of yourself.’

‘Thank you,’ replied Claire coolly.

‘Of course it’s not the sort of lifestyle that would suit everybody,’ continued Alain. ‘I’ve always admired your poise in front of the cameras and your ability to adapt to new countries, but I should imagine that sort of jet-setting must be very exhausting. It’s a good thing you’ve never wanted a settled home or any serious attachments, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, isn’t it?’ retorted Claire with an edge to her voice.

She stared out the window again and an ache like a physical pain filled her entire body. Her throat tightened as she remembered how often she had cried herself to sleep in her first bewildering months in Sydney. How many times had she felt a sharp, nostalgic longing for Tahiti, simply because of some trivial reminder that had sent her thoughts winging back to her home? The scent of warm croissants outside a bakery, the sight of scarlet bougainvillaea spilling over a balcony, the feathery crown of a coconut palm waving against a blue sky had all been enough to reduce her to tears. But worst of all had been the pain of missing her family. Her easygoing father Roland, with his rumbling laugh and his home handyman projects that never quite worked, her mother Eve, who sometimes surfaced from her painting long enough to cook wonderful French meals, not to mention her numerous aunts and uncles and cousins. And, of course, warm-hearted Marie Rose, whose only fault was her well-meaning desire to get Claire married off as soon as possible. How dared Alain assume that Claire’s home meant nothing to her or that she didn’t want deep attachments to anyone? Unconsciously she leaned forward urgently, as if she could make the car go faster.

‘We should be there just as the sun rises,’ she said. ‘I do hope we can reach Point Cupid before it comes up! I always used to love watching it from that bare hillside overlooking the bay.’