Crowned: The Palace Nanny (15 page)

He smiled at Elsa. She was all fire and pleading and pure adrenalin, wide-eyed with excitement. He put his finger to his lips and then he placed his finger on hers. ‘Let's do this together,' he said and he smiled. ‘If only because I really want to see you in that dress. And I'm so sorry I upset you. Okay, everybody, let's go save some turtles.'

I
T TOOK
half an hour of phone calls and arrangements before he got to the beach himself—and when he did the sight before him almost blew him away.

Lagoon Tempio was a sheltered cove about fifteen minutes from the village. He'd heard stories about turtles hatching here in the past, but he'd only ever known it as a clear felled, barren stretch of land.

But gradually the land had been recovering. The beach was surrounded by thick vegetation again, a horseshoe cove protected from winds and tides, a perfect place for turtles to come to breed.

Because of the clear felling, it had fallen off most of the islanders' radar. Until now.

He looked down to the beach and there were people. There were so many people his heart sank. Uh-oh. Had he been guilty of overkill?

If Elsa was on a turtle saving mission, maybe bringing this many people here was hardly helpful. Maybe he'd done more harm than good.

He'd encouraged every islander to come, thinking some would take up his invitation. Obviously everyone who'd heard of it had come.

But, even as he thought he'd created chaos, he emerged from the narrow track that led onto the beach—a track that looked as if it had just been created this afternoon by people
pushing through—and he saw that he hadn't. Or Elsa and Helena hadn't let it happen.

The adults were in lines, forming corridors from the top of the beach to the water. They were standing like sentinels. Or maybe windmills would be a better description.

For overhead were birds. Hundreds of birds, many of which he didn't recognize—ocean feeders, migratory birds, birds who knew that here was a feast for all.

At the top of the beach were sandy mounds, and from each mound came a stream of hatchings. Tiny turtles, two or three inches across, struggling out of their sandy nests and starting gamely towards the water.

With the mass of seabirds above they'd stand no chance. But now…There were corridors of people from each mound.

He recognised Helena—she was in her eighties, one of the island's stalwarts. She didn't sound eighty. She was booming orders in a voice to put a sea captain to shame—but beaming and beaming.

Alone, she couldn't have saved more than a tiny proportion of these hatchings. But now…

Where was Elsa? Where…?

Finally he saw her, up to her waist in water, in the midst of a group of children. Then, as Helena called out to her, she was out of the water, darting up the beach, pulling people from one corridor to start another.

Hatchlings were coming from beyond the trees at the end of the beach. More mounds? Within moments, Elsa had more adults formed into more corridors. There were islanders arriving all the time and she was using them all.

With her new corridors in place she was off again, back into the shallows, whooping and yelling at the birds above and encouraging the kids to do the same.

Amazingly, Zoe was in there with them, whooping as if she was just one of the kids. The little Crown Princess was yelling and laughing and gloriously happy.

And so was Elsa. She was soaking, dripping with water, laughing at something someone said and then flying up the
beach to lift a tiny hatchling which had turned the wrong way, lifting it with a base of sand and then setting it safely near the water's edge so it could meet the waves the way it should.

‘Are you here to help?' she called out to him, and he realised he'd been spotted.

‘Where do you need me?'

‘In deep water,' she called. ‘If you don't mind getting wet. I can't get protection deep enough. There are so many turtles. For all the mounds to hatch together…'

‘We need boats,' he said and lifted his phone.

‘Yes, but meanwhile…'

‘Meanwhile I'll do it.' He snapped a command into the phone, tugged off his shirt and shoes and headed for the water.

 

What followed was an extraordinary evening and night, and at the end of it hundreds—maybe thousands—of baby turtles were flippering their way into the deep, thanks to the islanders' turtle saving skills.

Elsa had moved constantly, working her corridor teams in shifts, making sure no one stayed in the water for more than twenty minutes, a miniature drill sergeant in action. She and Helena had formed a formidable team. Helena was frail, though, and she was almost weeping with joy to have this help.

By dusk Elsa had sent Helena home. ‘You've done so much,' she'd told the old lady, and Helena had gripped her hands and wept openly.

‘This is thanks to you. To you and your prince. I thank you.'

Embarrassed, Elsa had headed back into the water and stayed there.

As the afternoon turned to evening, as Phillip's barbecue faded to cinders, as the mass of turtle hatchling eased and finally it could be left to a dozen people taking turns, he finally dragged her off the beach. He made her dry herself, almost force-fed her a steak and an apple and watched over her while she ate.

‘I should be back helping,' she muttered, impatient.

‘You can be. But not now. Not until you've had a break.'

Someone had brought a vast mound of pillows and blankets. Zoe and a couple of other island children were lying cocooned in blankets, watching the flames, giggling sleepily to each other. He recognised one of the children as Phillip's daughter—a child about the same age as Zoe. They were lying side by side. It seemed Zoe was making a friend. She looked…happy.

So was Elsa. She was flushed and triumphant and glowing.

The scene was weirdly domestic. Family? In his mind was suddenly a piercing stab of what he'd once had. A longing…

‘Did you see them?' Elsa said softly, speaking almost to herself. ‘We saved thousands. They face so many dangers in the water but now…Thanks to Helena, they have a chance.'

‘Thanks to you.'

‘Helena was on her own,' she whispered. ‘She's been watching the mounds. If one mound had hatched she would have had a chance to save some. She hadn't realized, or she'd forgotten, that Kemp's Ridley turtles lay their eggs in synchronisation so they all hatch together. There'll be another hatching in twenty-five days—that's set as well. I've worked it out—that's before your coronation so you'll still be here. Kemp's Ridleys lay in synchronisation twenty-five days apart. Isn't that amazing? Aren't we lucky?'

She looked up at him then, and she smiled. ‘But it's you,' she said on a note of awe. ‘You're a prince. The islanders moved today because you asked them to. If they'd thought about it—if Helena had had the time to individually plead—then maybe she'd have got half a dozen people to help her, but you said come and they came. They came because of you and I can't thank you enough.'

‘There's no need for you to thank me.' He was watching her and he was feeling…weird. She was slight and feisty and sand-coated and bedraggled.

He'd hurt her today. He hadn't meant to but he was starting to realise how he'd got it so wrong. And why. She was tugging his heart strings in a way he didn't recognise. Or maybe…in a way he did but until now he'd been afraid to face.

‘Do you know how rare these turtles are?' she said softly. ‘I can't believe it. They're so endangered. To have a breeding site on this island…I so wish Matt was here.'

That set him back a bit. Pushed what he was thinking to the side.

It didn't completely obliterate it, though.

Even if she didn't tell him about Matty…He could compete with someone who'd died four years ago, he thought, and then realised where his thoughts were taking him and thought who cared; they were going there anyway.

‘This is wonderful,' she said softly into the firelight. They had the fire almost to themselves now. The children were nestled in their beds on the far side of the barbecue but the rest of the islanders had either gone home to rest or were back on the beach on their shift. ‘I can stay here,' she said. ‘I can do so much work here.'

‘What about your starfish?'

She looked startled. ‘What about my starfish?'

‘Have you really lost your enthusiasm?'

She looked at him as if he were a sandwich short of a picnic. ‘Enthusiastic about starfish?'

‘According to Zoe, it's what you love.'

‘I love Zoe.'

‘You don't love starfish?'

‘As opposed to Kemp's Ridley…' Her voice was awed. ‘Kemp's Ridley turtles on an island where my Zoe needs to be. This is awesome.'

‘But your research…'

‘I can work around that, too,' she said. ‘I've already handed over my initial starfish research—there were any number of students just aching to take it on. But if I can do this and keep Zoe happy…There's so much. Helena says there are plans for development of this beach. Something about moving the town's refuse station close by. She's worried.'

‘We can protect this beach.' He hesitated. ‘And…I hope we can get tourism going. The island's desperate for income.'

‘It's hardly touched,' she whispered, looking out through the trees where the lights of a score of torches showed the turtles still had safe passage. ‘It could be the best eco resort. Matt and I had such plans…'

There it was again. Matt.

Maybe this was going to be harder than he'd thought.

Maybe what was going to be harder? He knew. More and more, he knew. He watched her face and he thought he wanted this woman so much…

It was too soon. Way too soon. Stupid, even?

‘Okay, we have that settled,' she said, not noticing his silence. ‘I'll stay here and love Zoe and save turtles. You'll have to figure your own direction, but I have mine.' She rose and wiped her hands on her shorts—a gesture he was starting to recognise. ‘Let's move on. If you'll excuse me, I have work to do.'

‘I'd be honoured to help,' he said. ‘And…I will be here long-term. I will be part of this island. Elsa…' He reached out and took her hands.

She stood, looking down at them in the firelight. The linking of fingers.

‘Not a good idea,' she whispered.

‘We could work this together.'

‘Sorry?'

‘It's just a thought.'

‘I'm quite happy for you to help with the turtles any time you want,' she said and he knew she was deliberately misunderstanding him. ‘But for now…Your patients and the islanders need you, and the turtles need me. Zoe needs me. That's enough for one girl, wouldn't you say, Dr Antoniadis?'

‘Steve.'

‘Prince Stefanos,' she retorted, still watching their linked hands. ‘My employer.'

‘I'm not your employer.'

‘Why, what else would you be?' she asked and she carefully untangled their fingers. Separated their hands. Took a step back and looked at him with eyes that were carefully
watchful. ‘I need to go back to the beach. Will you stay here and watch over Zoe?'

‘I'll go back to the water. Your hip must be hurting.'

‘My turtles are important,' she said. ‘They're my job. Let me have that at least,' she retorted and, before he could respond—before he even knew how to respond—she turned and headed back down to the beach.

Leaving him to try and figure where to take things from here.

He stared down at the fire—and then focused. Heading for the flames were three tiny turtles.

How had they made their way back here? They'd built this fire purposely far back from the beach, out of sight of the mounds, so the light couldn't distract the hatchlings from their course. Maybe these three had been distracted by a torch, had deviated from their course and ended up here. He scooped them up before they could get close enough to the fire to harm themselves.

‘Elsa?' he called into the night and in seconds she was back. Looking straight to Zoe.

But Zoe slept on. Elsa's face slackened in relief, and he thought how much had she worried? How many infections, dramas had she endured during these four years of getting Zoe back to health?

‘It's just turtles,' he said swiftly and she looked down at his hand. He had one hand cupped over the other but tiny flippers were peeking through. They felt weird. A handful of flippering.

‘They were just…here,' he said, in case she thought he'd collected them from the beach, done something less than noble, he didn't know what, but he was starting to suspect she thought he wasn't exactly hero material.

Hell, he wished he could be.

‘What in the world are they doing here?' she asked, opening his hands and taking them into her smaller ones with all the tenderness in the world. ‘Hey, guys, the ocean's this-a-way.'

‘I guess, if they walked far enough, the ocean is that-a-way,' he said.

‘Yeah, but changing direction's easier,' she whispered. ‘I ought to know. Come on, guys, I'll take you where you need to go.'