Life's a Beach and Then... (The Liberty Sands Trilogy Book 1) (13 page)

There was a thundering in Robert’s head almost like a horse’s
hooves pounding incessantly on his temples. He opened one eye very gingerly and
peered through the dim light towards the motionless form of his wife lying next
to him in the bed. She must have sensed the slight movement as she turned her
head towards him.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Pretty rough if I’m honest,’ he replied. ‘I’ve got a
thumping headache.’

‘I’ll get you some paracetemol,’ she offered, rising from
the bed and making her way towards the bathroom before her husband could argue.

She returned moments later with the pills and a glass of
water. Robert eased himself into a semi-sitting position to enable him to
swallow the tablets and the water without choking and then rested back onto his
pillow.

‘What time is it?’ he asked.

Rosemary glanced across at the travel clock on her bedside
table. ‘It’s not quite six,’ she replied, gently stroking his head. ‘You should
try and get back to sleep for a couple of hours.’

‘Don’t be nice to me,’ Robert said. ‘I’ve brought this on
myself. I don’t know what I was thinking trying to keep up with a man twenty
years my junior.’

‘Don’t beat yourself up about it, Robert,’ Rosemary said
soothingly. ‘You needed to unwind and enjoy yourself after the eighteen months
we’ve had. You just didn’t realise the potency of the local brew and combined
with the strong sunshine it’s no wonder you’ve got a sore head.’

Robert smiled weakly, glad of his wife’s understanding and
closed his eyes. He had a slight sensation of movement but nothing like the
‘whirling pits’ he had experienced on numerous occasions when he was a student
at university and had had a heavy night out with his mates. Within moments he
had drifted back to sleep.

Rosemary waited for a few minutes to make sure he was
sleeping then noiselessly slipped into the sundress she had worn the previous
day, which she retrieved from the chair where she had left it after helping her
husband to bed seven hours earlier. She picked up the room key and quietly let
herself out of their room just as the first rays of sunlight were beginning to
appear in the morning sky.

Robert was blissfully unaware of the many mornings she awoke
early and laid silently staring at the ceiling so as not to wake him. At least
this morning she could spend her time in a more pleasurable way, she thought as
she strolled barefoot across the grass, wet from the early morning sprinkler
system, towards the sea. It was calm this morning with the rumble of the reef
very distant.

Looking out at the ocean with the orangey-pink sky beyond as
the new day dawned, Rosemary acknowledged that she had been incredibly
fortunate to live the life she had. In some way she felt as though the
trade-off for her happy life, particularly since she had met Robert, was that
it couldn’t last forever and that was why she had been afflicted with
leukaemia. I wonder how many more sunrises I will witness, she thought, before
I’m too ill to appreciate them. The idea that Rosemary had been toying with
surfaced in her consciousness again. She knew it was the right thing to do but
she would never be able to convince Robert.

A movement further along the beach caught her eye. It was a
horse and rider heading in her direction. She didn’t feel like getting into a
conversation with anyone so she moved as swiftly as the soft sand would allow
to the top of the beach and stood behind a palm tree. From her vantage point
she watched the horse approach at a gallop.

As it got closer she realised there were two riders astride
the magnificent beast and she immediately knew who they were. The woman was
leaning back into the man’s chest an expression of pure joy on her face as he
masterfully guided the horse and protected her from falling at the same time.

A smile spread across Rosemary’s face. Holly must have
stayed with Philippe the previous night. She hoped it was the start of a new
phase in Holly’s life, one where she received the love she deserved.

It was one of the most exhilarating things Holly had ever
done. She was still smiling broadly as she allowed the hot water from the
overhead drench shower to wash down over her. There was no denying that she had
been terrified when Philippe had spurred Helios into a gallop but he held the
reins in one hand, freeing his other arm to wrap firmly around her waist. It
had only been for a few minutes but it had been a complete adrenalin rush. The
warm air had rushed to meet her face and she could feel the power of the
horse’s shoulder muscles as he extended his legs into his enormous stride. All
Philippe had said was grip with your knees and she had done as she was told.

Philippe had slowed Helios to a walking pace and then turned
him back along the beach stopping near the water’s edge in front of the hotel
block where Holly’s room was. He dismounted first and then formed a stirrup
with his hands so that Holly could dismount properly and not spook Helios by
swinging her leg over his head. As her feet hit the hard sand her legs felt
wobbly enough but as Philippe cupped her face in his hands and leant down to
kiss her softly on the mouth a total collapse was on the cards. She pulled away
from the embrace, acutely aware of how it might look to any hotel guests who
believed she was recently widowed, although, as Philippe pointed out, they were
so early that no one was around yet, not even the hotel gardeners.

They made arrangements to meet in the same spot at 10 a.m.
Holly said she had a couple of things she needed to do, one of which was eating
breakfast. By the time she had emerged on her hotel room balcony to wave him
goodbye he was already halfway down the beach towards Tamarina Bay, Helios’s
hooves kicking up a mix of sand and sea-spray.

Freshly showered, Holly switched on her computer to write
her latest blog. She had the foresight not to write too much in her previous
post so that there would be something left to write about this morning that
didn’t involve the time she had spent with Rosemary, Robert and Philippe
yesterday, apart from mentioning all-day fishing excursions. Although Holly
hadn’t gone herself she had picked up enough information from the boys to
enable her to give it a personal touch and she had done a bit of research on
the best companies to recommend as not everyone has a fisherman friend called
Billy. Somehow her blog didn’t seem so vitally important to her today, but she
still wanted to do a good job. She hit the publish button and then checked for
emails.

There were two from Harry, which panicked Holly initially
until she opened them up. He was simply concerned that he hadn’t been able to
get hold of her on Facetime or her mobile. She checked her phone, and sure enough
there was a message from him on there too:

U ok mum? No word in 3 days - not like u. U haven’t run off with
some1 have u? xx

Holly smiled. She and Harry were so close that they often
knew when something special was happening in each other’s lives, even if they
were separated by thousands of miles and a couple of continents.

She checked her watch. It was 8.30 a.m. Mauritius time so
4.30 a.m. in the UK. Some uni students regularly stayed up until that hour but
Harry was conscientious about his studies and he had a part-time job so he
needed his sleep. Facetime was out of the question so she dropped him a quick
text:

All gd here Harry - u wd luv it. Busy writing & enjoying new
friends. Tell all when back. Mum xxxx.

Holly’s stomach rumbled ominously. Time for breakfast, she
thought, and to check that Robert hasn’t got too much of a hangover.

Rosemary had watched ‘the kiss’ from the privacy of her
hiding place and although it hadn’t been long and lingering the body language
from both looked encouraging. She had waited for a few minutes after they had
parted before heading back to the shoreline for the gentle pre-breakfast stroll
she had promised herself.

Now she was sitting sipping black coffee at her favourite
table on the verandah of the restaurant, facing the entrance so she could see
if Robert roused from his sleep in time to join her. There had been no sign of
him and she was just getting ready to leave when she spotted Holly in the queue
of the now busy restaurant. She waved and called out, ‘Holly, I’m over here,’
as though she had been waiting for her friend to join her.

Holly made her way past the crowded tables and gratefully
sank into the chair opposite Rosemary.

‘That was lucky,’ she said. ‘I’m a bit later than usual this
morning and I was beginning to think I would have to skip breakfast if a table
didn’t free up. Is Robert at the buffet?’

‘Robert is slightly indisposed this morning,’ Rosemary
replied with a wink. ‘I don’t mind breakfasting alone but it’s much nicer now
that you are here. Go and get some food and I’ll order some more coffee and
then you can tell me about last night... if you want to,’ she added hastily.

Minutes later Holly returned followed by a waiter carrying
her bowl of fresh fruit and her plate of toast, poached eggs and tomatoes.

Rosemary allowed Holly to savour a few mouthfuls of
pineapple and papaya while she sipped her replenished coffee.

‘So how was your evening?’

Without hesitation Holly responded, ‘I really like Philippe,
in fact we’re meeting on the beach at ten to spend the day together. And yes I
did stay over at his house but we didn’t get up to anything because I fell
asleep, although I’m not sure we would have got up to anything anyway,’ she
rambled realising how her previous statement had sounded. ‘Then this morning we
woke up early and Philippe brought me home on horseback,’ she continued, unable
to hide her excitement. ‘All that was missing from the fairy tale was a suit of
shining armour.’

‘I think armour would be a little warm in Mauritius,’ Rosemary
laughed, deciding not to divulge that she had seen them on the beach earlier.

Holly nodded her head in agreement as she took the final
mouthful of fruit before swapping her plates over so that she could tuck into
her cooked breakfast.

‘Is that all you’ve had?’ she asked, indicating the
half-eaten croissant with a yolky fork.

‘I wasn’t very hungry this morning,’ she replied truthfully,
‘but I’ll probably share some of these with Robert later,’ she said less
truthfully, pulling back her napkin to reveal an assortment of Danish pastries
and croissants. ‘So what are you and Philippe planning today?’ she asked,
skilfully changing the subject away from food.

‘Just a lovely lazy day on the beach like proper holiday
makers,’ she replied. ‘And then we’ll meet up for dinner as planned, if that’s
still okay with you and Robert?’

‘It’s more than okay, we’re looking forward to the last
supper,’ Rosemary said, delighted to see Holly looking so relaxed and happy.

‘It won’t be our last supper,’ Holly corrected. ‘I’m planning
to visit you lots when you get home from here and remember you’ve promised to
take me to see a West End show, which I would hope will include supper
afterwards.’

‘Absolutely,’ Rosemary confirmed. ‘We’ll go to Joe Allen’s,’
she continued, while wondering if that occasion would be a table for three or
four.

Holly felt warm inside watching the admiring glances of
women, from behind the safety of their oversized sunglasses or wide-brimmed sun
hats, as Philippe walked past them looking very handsome with his golden hair
still damp from the shower, wearing his knee-length, floral-patterned swim
shorts, slightly transparent linen shirt and Havaiana flip flops. It felt a
little surreal... she was usually one of the ones watching from afar, but today
the object of their admiration was on his way to meet her.

She had arrived on the beach ten minutes early to reserve
two sun loungers under a straw parasol and although she had her book in her
hand she hadn’t read a word.

‘Good book?’ Philippe said.

She glanced down to realise that she was holding the book
upside down, immediately instigating the flushed cheeks that always betrayed
her embarrassment. Before she could fabricate an excuse he leaned down and
kissed her, rendering her speechless.

‘We should enjoy the sunshine this morning,’ Philippe said
as he stripped off his shirt and hung it over the strut of the parasol. ‘It
feels like rain to me.’

Holly looked up at the clear blue sky in disbelief.
‘Really?’

‘Trust me – the rain can move in from the mountains in under
an hour when the wind is in this direction.’

‘I hope you’re wrong,’ Holly said. ‘It’s my last day and
there won’t be another opportunity to top up my tan for a few weeks.’

‘If not months, unless you’ve got inside information on an
early heat wave in the UK.’

Fortunately Philippe’s eyes were closed so he didn’t see
Holly colouring up for the second time in a matter of minutes. Think before you
speak, she silently admonished herself, realising that once again his proximity
had almost caused her to give the game away.

Holly turned her book the right way up and tried to
concentrate on reading, which wasn’t easy with a semi-naked Philippe just a
couple of feet from her. After reading the same page four times and still not
getting the gist of it she gave it up as a bad job, closed the book and stood
up. Philippe did not stir. What great company I am, she thought, he’s fallen
asleep!

She wandered down to the water’s edge and idly moved pieces
of coral with her toes. She thought of the little Italian girl, Giulietta,
collecting pieces for her mama. Holly looked up the beach to where they usually
sat but their sunbeds were vacant. Of course, yesterday was the last day of
their holiday and she had missed saying goodbye. She was disappointed as the
little girl’s antics had been very entertaining and she had really connected
with Mathilda. Maybe I will go and visit them in Geneva, she thought.

Her eyes travelled back to Philippe, who still appeared to
be sleeping but was about to be disturbed by a beach seller. Although she had
been on the beach most days during her stay Holly had not succumbed to the
gentle sales pressure from the men and women who made their living from selling
to the tourists. The Plantation House security staff were very good at only allowing
a few of the hawkers to approach their guests before urging them to move on.
Most of the sellers were young or middle-aged but the man approaching Philippe
was old and bent almost double under the weight of the heavy bag of goods he
was carrying. Holly started to move across the sugary soft sand to try and
intercept but she wasn’t quick enough. Philippe was now sitting up shaking his
head at the wizened old man.

‘I have T-shirts and polo shirts in all sizes and colours,’
Holly could hear him say when she was within earshot. The old man looked at
Holly as she approached. ‘Or maybe a colourful sarong for your wife.’

Holly immediately blushed, again, while a smile played at
the corner of Philippe’s mouth, but he was still shaking his head about buying anything.

The old man reached into his bag and pulled out a handful of
brilliantly coloured sarongs. Some were patterned with hibiscus flowers, others
with the dodo, the emblem of Mauritius.

Holly found her voice. ‘I have lots of sarongs, thank you,’
she said kindly.

‘I have something very special that I think you would like,’
the old man said. He reached into an end pocket of the battered old sports bag
and produced a figurine of a dodo made out of jade. Holly had seen lots of
these on her day trip, sculptured from a variety of different semi-precious
stones, when they had stopped at a local market but this one was different.
Instead of being solid it was carved to be open at the sides and inside was a
miniature dodo. It was really beautiful and Holly knew immediately that she was
going to buy it as she ran her hands over the smooth olive green stone.

‘I haven’t seen the dodo carved like this before with the
baby inside the mother. It must be very difficult to do.’

The man shrugged his shoulders. ‘Things are only difficult
to do if you do not have a natural talent. I have been carving stones since I
was a child and it is what I love to do. I don’t like walking the beach and
selling cheap T-shirts and sarongs but I need to put food on the table for my
family.’

‘How much is it?’ asked Holly, still tracing the exquisite
carving with her fingertips.

‘Eight hundred rupees,’ the old man said without hesitation.

Philippe raised his eyebrows but he said nothing as Holly
reached into her beach bag for her purse and handed the notes over.

‘The dodo inside a dodo is a symbol of love and good luck.
Be sure you only give it to someone very special,’ said the beach peddler,
pushing the sarongs back into his bag. He zipped it up and wearily hoisted it
on to his shoulder before continuing down the beach.

Holly cradled the carving in her hands.

‘You know you could have bargained him down on price,’ said
Philippe.

‘Maybe, but I felt sorry for him.’

‘There is always a sob story,’ scoffed Philippe. ‘I’ll bet
he didn’t even carve the dodo. Let me see it,’ he said, holding his hand out.
‘It was probably made by a machine in China.’

Holly said nothing but rather than hand the dodo to Philippe
for inspection she slipped it into her bag along with her purse.

Philippe’s tone softened. ‘You can’t feel sorry for them
all.’

‘I know, but I felt sorry for him because he’s an old man
and I believe he was telling the truth.’

Philippe took Holly’s hand and pulled her down onto the
sunbed with him. He reached up and twisted her ponytail through his fingers
before gently pulling her face close enough for him to kiss the tip of her
nose.

‘You have a soft heart,’ he whispered.

She looked into his eyes. Maybe too soft, she thought, and
maybe too easily broken. She pulled away from him and stood up.

‘Let’s go for a walk along the beach,’ she suggested. ‘If
you are so sure it is going to rain this will be my last chance.’

She was already moving in the direction of Tamarina Bay to
the south and indicated the still clear blue sky as she called back over her
shoulder.

‘I mean just look at those huge black rain clouds!’

‘You’ll eat those words,’ he said, getting to his feet and
quickly making up the distance she had travelled, ‘you’ll see.’

They had walked as far as the undergrowth that separated the
long stretch of beach from Tamarina Bay before the first dark cloud became
visible over the Black Mountains but Holly and Philippe were too engrossed in
each other’s company to notice. They sat on a rock looking out to sea, sharing
moments from their respective pasts, each carefully editing the bits they
didn’t want the other to know. It was only when they heard a distant rumble of
thunder that they became aware of the approaching storm.

‘I’m not one to say I told you so,’ said Philippe smugly,
‘but I told you so. You need to learn to trust me. I reckon we have twenty
minutes at the most before the rain hits. Come on,’ he said, grabbing her hand.

He had been right about the rain and he was right about the
twenty minutes. Unfortunately they had walked for thirty minutes, so even
though they hurried, risking cutting their feet on the razor sharp coral, the
deluge began before they got back to their sun beds. Philippe’s linen shirt,
that he had slipped on to walk in, and Holly’s colourful sarong were drenched
and sticking to their bodies by the time they made it back to the shelter
offered by the straw parasol. Shivering, Holly wrapped the beach towel around
her shoulders.

‘Should we wait here a few minutes for it to ease off?’

Philippe looked in the direction the storm had blown in from
and then up at the drips already starting to leak through the parasol.

‘I think we should make a dash for the hotel. This isn’t
easing up anytime soon. Your room or the restaurant?’

Collecting her bag, book and flip flops, pulling her towel
over head for shelter and gesticulating with her spare hand she said, ‘my room
is closer. Come on.’

They raced across the lawn and up the steps at the side of
the building before reaching the shelter of the verandah that ran along the
back of the first floor rooms providing access for the guests. Holly unlocked
the door and they tumbled in like a couple of drowned rats. Until that moment
Holly hadn’t given a thought as to what would happen next but looking at
Philippe, drenched from head to toe, she realised it would involve removing wet
clothing.

‘I’ll get you my bath robe,’ she said, hurrying into the
bathroom.

Philippe had followed her into the bathroom so that he
didn’t create a puddle on the bedroom floor.

‘We’re going to need a shower,’ he said. ‘Look at the state
of us.’

Holly looked down at his legs and feet, splattered with sand
and mud from running across the wet grass, and then at her own. Without raising
her gaze, she asked in a trembling voice, ‘Do you want to go first?’

‘We could shower together if you like?’

The question hung in the air for what seemed like an
eternity to Holly before she raised her eyes to look into his.

‘It would save water I guess,’ she said, fully aware of the
absurdity of her response as the rain pounded down on the corrugated roof above
their heads, matching the pounding of her heart. She let her beach towel fall
to the floor and untied the knot behind her head which had held her sarong in
place. The thin wet fabric refused to fall to the bathroom floor, instead clinging
to her body and revealing her erect nipples beneath her flimsy bikini.

‘Here let me,’ said Philippe peeling the wet fabric away
from her body like the skin from an orange. ‘You’re cold,’ he said. ‘Let’s get
the warm water running.’

He gently pushed her into the shower enclosure and reached
for the lever with one hand, undoing the clasp of her bikini with his other in
a very practised manner. This did not escape Holly, but right at that moment
she didn’t care. As the warm water started to fall from the overhead drench
shower she turned to face him, nipples still standing to attention.

‘It has nothing to do with feeling cold,’ she whispered,
barely able to speak.

The water flowed freely over them, as did their kisses,
small and exploratory to start with, then deep and passionate. Holly hadn’t
felt someone else’s tongue inside her mouth for the longest time and she had
forgotten the desire that this unlocked in other parts of her anatomy.

Philippe was gentle and measured with his caresses, wanting
to savour every moment of the intimacy. This didn’t feel like his many other
encounters with adoring females. He wanted it to be more than just sex. He
could sense her urgency but selfishly wanted the foreplay to last.

They were both naked now, and very clean from the repeated
massaging of shower gel into a foamy lather.

Holly could hear her voice pleading, ‘No more playing,
Philippe, I want you now.’