Second Tomorrow (17 page)

‘Why are you crying?’ he asked? ‘You’ve just said you’re not happy at going home, and yet you
want
to go. It doesn’t make sense. I want to know exactly what you meant by the words, “under the circumstances.’”

‘Don’t—don’t ask m-me, Phil,’ she pleaded, drying her eyes and then blowing her nose hard, little realising that the action made her seem very young and vulnerable in her brother’s eyes.

‘There’s no need for me to ask you,’ he said slowly. ‘You’ve fallen in love with Luke—’

‘No! How can you say a thing like that? Would I be so—so st-stupid when it’s obvious th-that he’s in love with Mrs Wesley?’ The handkerchief was at her eyes again but as Phil saw that it was not of much use to her he came across the room to hand her his own. His arm slipped about her and she pressed against him, seeking comfort
against his chest. Sobs shook her for a few moments before she managed to regain her composure. ‘I’m sorry. Phil, I should never have come here in the first place.’

He said nothing to that, merely giving a deep sigh and holding her a little more tightly against him. ‘You and Luke were getting along so well at one time,’ he remarked, and Clare knew by the tone of his voice that her vehement protestations had fallen on deaf ears. He knew she was in love with his friend.

‘Yes, until
she
came.’

‘I cannot believe he’s in love with her.’

‘He was once, and I daresay she’s even more beautiful now than she was then.’

‘Beauty!’ scoffed Phil. ‘What is beauty when it merely forms a veneer for a character like Mrs Wesley’s? I’m very sure that Luke has some reason for paying her so much attention. She’s thinking of buying one of his properties in Miami, you said?’

‘Yes, but that’s not the reason for his being with her so much. You’ve only to look at them together to see that he’s attracted to her.’

‘It could be the property,’ murmured Phil, and now there was a strange inflection in his voice, which was very quiet, as if he were merely speaking his thoughts aloud. ‘But on the other hand, it could be that his intention is to make . . .’ He trailed off thoughtfully.

Clare lifted her head to regard him through eyes swollen by tears. ‘What are you saying, Phil? I didn’t catch it all.’

‘It was nothing,’ he frowned, still thoughtful and far away. Clare knew by his tone that he would not reveal what was in his mind.

‘You now realise that my reason for leaving has nothing to do with Mrs Weedall? Don’t you?’

Phil nodded his head. ‘Yes, I do. Nevertheless, you’ve been made unhappy by her, Clare, and I do think you should consider making a complete break with the woman.’

‘I can’t, Phil. It would be too cruel. I’m the only person with whom she can talk about Frank.’

‘Do you any longer want to talk about Frank—?’ He stopped abruptly on hearing a quiet knock on the door. ‘Come in,’ he said after putting Clare from him. She turned to scan the bookshelves, her back to the waiter who had entered at her brother’s invitation.

‘It’s Mrs Wesley,’ he said, anger in his voice. ‘She ordered a tray on the terrace, and because it was a little while in coming she demands to see you. We didn’t keep her too long, Mr Winter, but there was this cruise ship in and we’re very busy at present.’

‘Don’t worry about it, James. I believe we all know by now just how awkward Mrs Wesley can be. I’ll come at once.’

Clare waited to hear the door close before turning around. ‘How can Luke be in love with her?’ she cried. ‘If he marries her she’ll make him so unhappy!’

‘He’ll never marry her,’ declared Phil, a strange confidence in his voice which affected
Clare with a nebulous puzzlement that set her pulses tingling. It was almost as if Phil knew something which she did not. However, he made no further comment, merely asking her to excuse him while he dealt with Mrs Wesley’s complaint.

Clare waited for a short while but when he did not come back she went out to join Mrs Weedall who was sitting in a chair beneath the shade of an hibiscus hedge.

‘Ah, there you are, dear,’ she greeted Clare. ‘I’ve been thinking about your decision to go home and realise that I’m really looking forward now to being back. Can we go in about three or four days, do you think?’

‘Yes, if you like,’ agreed Clare without interest.

‘We can then visit Frank’s grave next Saturday. That’ll be—’

‘Mrs Weedall,’ broke in Clare, a high-pitched note in her voice, the result of frayed nerves, ‘please don’t let us talk about Frank just now.’

‘I’m sorry, Clare,’ returned Mrs Weedall soothingly. ‘It’s too painful? I know just how you feel—the tragedy has broken both our lives, hasn’t it?’ Her pale eyes widened. ‘You’ve been crying, child. But I cry myself, so very often.’ Clare said nothing, and in any case her brother was coming across the lawn, a grim expression on his face.

‘Was she awful?’ asked Clare, mystified even yet again that Luke could like the girl.

‘Worse than she’s ever been. She ought to have lived when those who gave you a service were
regarded as slaves! She considers everyone here as inferior!’ He paused, looking down at his sister’s face. ‘I’ve just phoned Silver Springs. Luke’s in Miami for a week and so I expect that’s why she’s in this particular mood. Perhaps she expected him to take her with him.’

‘He’s there on business. He’d not want Mrs Wesley.’ Clare’s eyes were dark and tragic, for despite the strained relationship that now existed between her and Luke, she had not thought of leaving Flamingo Cay without saying a final goodbye to him. Now, it seemed, she would never ever see him again, because once he was married to Stella Wesley there would be no question of Clare’s returning to Flamingo Cay, not even for a holiday.

Mrs Weedall wasn’t feeling too well that evening and asked to be excused from dinner. ‘If I can have a cup of milk in my room, Clare—that’ll be all I shall want.’

Clare had the milk sent up at once. She felt mean but the thought of having dinner alone with her brother seemed like a Sunday treat.

Naturally he asked about Clare’s guest and seemed a trifle anxious when told she was off-colour. He and Clare were at their usual table overlooking the marina and even now, when she was feeling so unhappy, Clare was able to appreciate the attraction of a scene that had fascinated her from the first—the lights from the yachts and luxury launches, the little fishing boats bobbing about, the golden glow
from the harbour itself. A crescent moon hung like a hammock, with a million stars around it, shining in a deep purple sky. In the restaurant itself there was chatter and laughter, mingling with music from the combo band. Lights were low, candles flickered; it was a romantic setting, one which Clare would never ever forget.

It was during the second course that Clare asked Phil if it would be all right if she left on the following Friday.

‘Friday—this week?’ he repeated with a heavy frown.

‘Yes, I’ve already had a word with Mary and she’ll be very happy to take over the desk.’ Clare looked apologetically at him, a pallor on her face that was almost unhealthy, shadows in her eyes which he had not seen for a long while until today. ‘I’d like to go as soon as possible, Phil, if you don’t mind.’

‘Luke . . . don’t you want to say goodbye to him?’

‘I’d have liked to, in spite of how we are with each other now, but it’s obviously not to be. In any case, it would have been painful for us both, I think.’

Phil merely gave a small sigh and became thoughtful, and after a space Clare asked again if it would be all right for her to leave on Friday. ‘There’s a good connecting flight from Miami,’ she added and at last saw him nod his head.

‘Okay, if that’s what you want.’ He was brisk all at once, a circumstance that puzzled her greatly. ‘Friday—that’s in four days’ time.’ He
was thoughtful again and presently Clare was impelled to ask, ‘Have you something on your mind, Phil?’

‘Plenty,’ he returned and now there was a hint of amusement on his handsome face. ‘If the hotel—and some of its more awkward guests—aren’t enough, I have you.’

‘Sorry,’ she returned contritely. ‘But don’t worry about me, Phil. After all, I’m the one affected by all this. It was my own stupid fault, falling in love with a man who was so far above me.’

‘Above?’ frowned Phil questioningly. ‘What gave you that idea?’

‘Well, he’s a millionaire for one thing, and for another he’s so attractive that he could have any woman he wanted.’

‘I agree with both statements, but they don’t prove your point. Luke would be very annoyed if he heard you say he was above you.’

‘I consider he is,’ she said, a little catch in her voice.

Friday arrived at last and Clare, packing in her bedroom, marvelled at her ability to hold back the scalding tears that had gathered in a great cloud behind her eyes. Another ten or twelve hours and she would be back home . . . and her parents saddened by her arrival.

She had asked Phil to cable them and he had promised to do so. But there was something strange about him and she half-expected him to have told her before now that he had forgotten to
do what she had asked. However, as he said nothing about it she concluded that the cable had been sent.

She had a suitcase on the bed and was just putting the last of her things into it when the door burst open without ceremony and, startled, she glanced up to see Luke standing there, black fury in his gaze.

‘Luke! What—?’ Clare’s heart lurched painfully and she felt the colour drain from her face as he strode into the room, kicking the door closed behind him. ‘I th-thought you were in—in Miami. Why are you here?’ she asked, managing by some miracle to steady her voice, for her pulses raced madly, completely out of control. ‘You’ve no right to come in here—’

‘What the devil do you think you’re doing?’ he demanded wrathfully, and, without affording her an opportunity to speak, ‘You’re not going anywhere, so you can stop all this damned nonsense—at once!’

Dazedly Clare shook her head. ‘I don’t understand,’ she quivered, simply because she could find nothing else to say, the only thought drifting into her consciousness the fact that Phil, troubled by her decision to leave Flamingo Cay, must have decided to phone Luke in Miami and ask his help in getting Clare to stay. And yet, Phil had appeared to be resigned, and in any case, it was not logical that Luke would take the trouble to cut short his visit to oblige his friend.

‘No, because you’re such an idiot! What the
hell do you mean by telling me that damned lie over the photograph?’

‘I—I—Luke, what is this all about?’ Filtering sunlight caught tears on her lashes and there was a catch in her voice as she added, ‘Phil’s been in touch obviously, but I’m still confused.’

‘God, I could strangle you,’ said Luke and now his voice was soft, like the sinister threat of a jungle beast. Involuntarily, Clare stepped back, her trembling fingers letting go of the scarf she was about to put in the case.

‘Phil
has
been in touch with me,’ he admitted. ‘He’s been trying for three days and managed it only a couple of hours ago. I flew over in a private plane—’ He stopped, a thunderous expression in his eyes. ‘Thank your lucky stars that I caught you in time, because if you’d put me to the trouble of going over to England for you I’d have given you the hiding of your life!’ He stopped a moment, so that she could speak, but all she did was swallow convulsively and shake her head. It wasn’t true she thought, a wild uncontrollable fluttering in the region of her heart. No, how could it possibly be true . . . ? ‘And now,’ he gritted, ‘I suppose you
have
grasped what it’s all about?’

If—you m-mean you lo—Luke, what has Phil said to you?’

Luke drew a breath as if his patience were almost exhausted. ‘He told me you were in love with me, and he got in touch because it dawned on him that I might be in love with you—’

‘Mrs Wesley,’ quivered Clare, raising a shaky hand to her temple in a little bewildered gesture. ‘What about her?’

‘If you had allowed me to finish you’d have known where she came into it. Phil suspected that I was trying to make you jealous, concluding that if he was correct then obviously I
was
in love with you. So he took a chance and phoned me. I wasn’t at my home or my office and so he had this difficulty—and delay.’ He stopped on seeing that Clare was trying to interrupt. ‘Well, what is it?’ His temper was abating but Clare’s happened to be rising.

‘You were making me jealous!’ she flashed. ‘What a rotten thing to do to the girl—you—you loved! I think you’re abominable!’

‘No, you don’t—’

‘I do! You made me suffer and I hate you for it—’ She got no further as Luke, covering the distance separating them in a couple of swift and agile strides, caught her in his arms and crushed her protesting body against the iron-hard muscles of his own.

‘We’ll soon see whether you hate me or not!’ Roughly he jerked her head up; the next moment his lips were hard against hers, masterfully forcing them apart, probing the tempting depths of her mouth. For a long moment she resisted, her brain working furiously in an attempt to fill in the gaps left by Luke, to discover just how this miracle had come about. But his kisses very soon conquered her resistance and she found herself swept into reciprocal passion
as his possessive hands caressed her face and throat and then found the firm contours of her breasts.

A low triumphant laugh escaped him when at last he relaxed his hold and stared down into a face flushed with happiness. ‘Well,’ he said, a glimmer of mockery in his smile, ‘you must admit I didn’t have much difficulty in overcoming the hatred you maintained you felt for me.’

Clare laughed gently and her eyes shone up into his. ‘I
ought
to hate you,’ she could not resist saying.

‘And I ought to beat you,’ was his suave yet stern rejoinder. ‘What a dance you’ve led me! Just when I thought I’d won, and you had come to Silver Springs to tell me you loved me, it began all over again—’

‘It was your fault!’ she flashed indignantly. ‘If you hadn’t tried to make me jealous it would never have happened! And I didn’t come to Silver Springs to say I loved you. Well,’ she amended, ‘not at first!’

‘At first?’