Life's a Beach and Then... (The Liberty Sands Trilogy Book 1) (14 page)

The rain stayed for the rest of the afternoon. After making
love in the shower they had an encore on the bed before falling asleep cuddled
up like spoons, with the rhythmic patter of rain acting as a lullaby. Perhaps
that was what woke Holly, the silence once the rain had stopped, or maybe it
was the orange glow from the brooding sunset.

She turned to face Philippe with the intention of waking him
but he was already awake and staring at her admiringly. She covered her
nakedness with the sheet, feeling embarrassed now that the heat of passion had
subsided.

‘Why didn’t you wake me? We’ll be late for dinner with
Rosemary and Robert,’ she said.

‘I’m always late anyway, so I won’t need an excuse. You on
the other hand....’ his voice trailed away teasingly.

Panic-stricken Holly looked at the clock on her bedside
table. It was 7.15 p.m. She could still be on time to meet with their friends
if she showered straightaway.

She rolled off the bed taking the sheet with her, averting
her gaze from Philippe’s nakedness just a moment too late to notice that he was
hard again.

‘You need to go, Philippe. You have to go home for a shower
and a change of clothes. You’ll only be a few minutes late if you leave now.’

‘Or I could shower here with you,’ he said. ‘I like your
shower.’

‘And wear what to dinner,’ Holly demanded. ‘One of my
dresses?’

They both laughed.

‘Even I couldn’t pull that off,’ Philippe said. ‘Although I
don’t mind trying if it gives me an extra twenty minutes with you.’

‘Out now,’ she said, pointing to the door. ‘Or do I need to
phone security and tell them an intruder has broken in?’

As she watched Philippe pull on his soaking shorts and shirt
and head for the door she realised that an intruder had broken in to her heart
and she fervently hoped that he felt the same towards her.

Robert was still feeling decidedly fragile even though he had
spent most of the day in bed recuperating from the excesses of the previous
day. Rosemary had snuggled into the bed beside him for a cuddle shortly after
she got back from lunching alone. He had asked why she hadn’t invited Holly to
have lunch with her but Rosemary had dismissed his question, saying that she
probably had better things to do on the last day of her holiday.

He had finally dragged himself out of bed around 5 p.m. and
sat on the covered terrace watching the rain and breathing in huge gulps of the
freshness that heavy rainfall always brought. Rosemary had made them both a cup
of tea and they had sat like an elderly couple from the days of the Raj in
India, the only thing missing was the servants. It was so sad to think that
Rosemary, his beloved Rosie, was never going to grow old.

He turned to look at his wife now, as they sat waiting for
their dinner companions in Waves restaurant. She was still a beautiful woman
despite the ravages of her illness. Her eyes lit up and Robert turned to follow
her gaze. On the dot of 8 p.m. Holly was being shown to their table by the
waiter. She had minimal make-up on and her still damp curls were twisted up
into the beautiful jewel-encrusted hair clip that she loved. She looked
radiant. He rose to greet her.

‘My goodness, Holly, you look even more stunning than
usual,’ he enthused, kissing her on each cheek.

‘Are you feeling better now, Robert?’

‘Much better thanks, but I think I’ll stick to mineral water
tonight.’

As he spoke the wine waiter, Pritesh, arrived carrying a
champagne bucket with a bottle of Bollinger cooling on the ice within it.
Robert started to tell the waiter that he had brought it to the wrong table but
Rosemary interrupted him.

‘I ordered champagne, Robert, to celebrate a wonderful week
with old friends and new.’

‘What a lovely idea, I wish I had thought of it,’ Holly
said. ‘You will have one glass won’t you Robert when Philippe gets here?’

Pritesh cleared his throat.

‘Excuse me,’ he said. ‘The champagne is from Mr Philippe. He
told me to cancel any other arrangements that may have been made for tonight. I
hope this was the right thing to do?’

Robert was puzzled. Philippe was not known for ostentatious
gestures. Maybe he was celebrating something? Just then the man himself arrived
at the restaurant entrance looking only slightly less groomed than usual. He
accepted Rosemary’s warm hug and patted Robert on the shoulder.

‘I hope you’ve recovered from yesterday?’

‘No thanks to you,’ said Rosemary reproachfully but Philippe
was too engrossed in kissing Holly’s hand while maintaining eye contact to
respond.

‘Good job it was raining really,’ said Robert. ‘We probably
wouldn’t have got up to too much anyway. It’s a shame the rain came on your
last day here though Holly but hopefully you managed to amuse yourself?’

Holly shot Philippe a warning look but it was Rosemary that
spoke.

‘Well it was only this afternoon really and I expect you’ve
been packing.’

Holly was grateful for the interjection but she also noticed
the twinkle in Rosemary’s eye. She knows, thought Holly, picking up her menu to
hide behind before a customary blush could give her away.

Pritesh had been busying himself with the champagne cork and
at that moment it popped, spewing a tiny amount of froth onto the table before
he could reach for the first glass. Philippe mopped it with his napkin while
Pritesh poured the sparkling liquid into the four flutes and then raised his
glass.

‘To special friends and a special place. If only it could
last forever.’

Philippe had meant his toast to communicate how much he
cared about the people around the table so he was confused by the reaction.

Robert was acutely aware of how little time he had left with
his wife and Holly was wondering if Philippe was ending any chance of a
relationship before it even got started. Once again it was Rosemary who spoke.

‘Nothing is forever, Philippe, so let’s just enjoy tonight.’

They chinked glasses each feeling slightly less comfortable
than they had moments before.

Fortunately good food, animated conversation and a second
bottle of Bollinger helped get past the awkwardness and by the time they moved
into the bar area to enjoy the evening’s entertainment they were all feeling
mellow. Holly had wanted to sit by the beach but there was still a spit of rain
in the air so they sat by the open side of the bar area, sheltered but still
within earshot of the waves gently lapping the shore.

There was no show featuring local dancers that evening,
instead the band were playing songs from movies and encouraging the guests to
dance. Rosemary was in her element performing the quickstep and tango with all
the grace and passion you would expect from a former professional dancer, so
much so that people applauded as ‘Por Una Cabeza’ from
Scent
of a Woman
came to an end. The moment the first few notes of the next
song began Philippe pulled Holly to her feet and said, ‘Come on let’s join
them.’

‘But I can’t dance,’ Holly protested.

‘Everyone can do the waltz,’ Philippe persisted. ‘Just
follow my lead.’

Holly had drunk just enough champagne to relax in his arms
without feeling self-conscious, allowing him to guide her around the dance
floor while the band played ‘Moon River’. For the second time that day their
bodies were in perfect harmony. Having been a reluctant dance partner initially
Holly was sad when the song finished and the band leader announced they were
taking a fifteen-minute break.

The four of them made their way back to their table.

‘You should dance more often, Holly, you move beautifully,’
Philippe said.

‘I just needed reminding of the steps,’ she replied, ‘and
you were an excellent teacher.’

‘Beautiful song “Moon River”, but I can’t place the movie,’
Robert said.

The other three chorused, ‘
Breakfast At
Tiffany’s,’
and Philippe added, ‘My favourite film.’

‘Ours is
Gone With the Wind
, isn’t
it, Holly,’ Rosemary said. ‘We discovered we both have the same favourite film
over dinner the first night.’

Holly wasn’t listening.
Breakfast At
Tiffany’s
had been her dad’s favourite film too, in fact she had been
named after Audrey Hepburn’s character, Holly Golightly. Her dad had told her
that after her birth her mother had suffered terribly with the ‘baby blues’ and
refused to give their little daughter a name. After a week of being referred to
as ‘baby Wilson’, during which time he had made several suggestions, she had
simply said, ‘Call her what you like. I couldn’t care less.’ Years later when
Holly had told them that she was pregnant with Harry her mother had said,
‘That’s what you get naming your daughter after a prostitute in that stupid
film you like.’ Her dad hadn’t even tried to argue.

Holly realised the other three were looking at her. Had
someone just asked her a question? She had no idea.

‘We were just wondering if you were named after Holly
Golightly,’ Rosemary prompted.

‘No,’ she mumbled. ‘I think it was probably something to do
with Christmas. Would you excuse me a moment? I just need the ladies’ room.’

Rosemary was holding Robert’s hand as the two couples walked
along the sandy path towards their respective rooms. Philippe’s arm was draped
casually across Holly’s shoulders and she occasionally glanced up at him to
respond to his conversation.

‘They make a lovely couple, don’t you think?’ Rosemary said
in a hushed voice.

Robert looked at his wife’s radiant face but he was
troubled.

‘You don’t think it’s all moving a bit too fast, do you? I
mean she has only just lost her husband, it could be a rebound thing. I don’t
want either of them to get hurt,’ he concluded.

‘They fit,’ said Rosemary, feeling guilty that she knew
Holly’s real situation when her husband didn’t. ‘And, as I said at dinner,
nothing lasts forever. We should all make the most of each moment.’

Robert couldn’t argue with that sentiment but he still felt
uneasy as they reached the bottom of the steps leading to Holly’s room and the
two of them said goodnight to Rosemary and Robert, clearly intending to spend
the night together.

‘Will we see you at breakfast, Holly?’ Rosemary asked.

‘Of course’ she replied, ‘although it will be quite early as
the car to take me to the airport is due here at nine thirty.’

‘We’ll see you around eight then.’

‘Perfect,’ said Holly rounding the turn in the steps and
wondering, not for the first time, exactly when she was going to do her
packing.

Rosemary and Robert continued on to their room in silence,
each remembering the excitement of being young and in love in Mauritius.

Holly opened the door to her room feeling ridiculously
nervous. This was the first time they both knew what would happen next. She
reached for the switch on the bedside lamp but Philippe put his hand over hers
to stop her. It felt like she had been struck by a lightning bolt.

‘Let’s open the curtains instead,’ he whispered, his mouth
so close to her ear that she could feel the warmth of his breath. ‘It’s a
beautiful moon, it would be such a shame not to enjoy it.’

They moved over to the window together, Holly feeling
strangely shy but full of anticipation for a repeat performance of the pleasure
that she had denied herself for so long. He drew back the curtains then stood
behind her allowing her to lean back into him as they looked out at the inky
ocean with the path of the moon leading directly to them. Holly could feel
Philippe’s desire pressing into the small of her back as he began to kiss her
neck, gently flicking his tongue into her ear and then sucking softly on her
lobe, sending shivers through her whole body. He traced the outline of her
shoulder blades with his tongue before easing the narrow straps of her dress
down with his teeth, revealing her naked shoulders and exposing her breasts.
She stood semi-naked in the moonlight not sure if anyone could see her but not
caring if they could. This was a different Holly, one that had been locked away
for nineteen years. She closed her eyes to fully appreciate each flick of the
tongue or gentle bite, every nerve ending on full alert sending messages to the
depths of her belly.

Philippe placed his fingers lightly on her shoulder to turn
her to face him then let his hands drop again. He nibbled along her collar
bones, then traced her breastbone with the tip of his tongue moving down
towards her belly button, still without touching her with his hands. Her dress
had caught on her hips so he reached behind her to unzip it, allowing it to
fall to the floor in a graceful pool. He moved away from her slightly to drink
in her curves and the triangle of champagne-coloured lace that was her only
protection from nudity.

Holly’s eyes were still closed, willing him to touch her in
her most intimate place.

‘Open your eyes, Holly.’

She did as instructed and caught her breath as he stood
before her naked.

‘Do you want this?’ he asked. ‘Do you want me?’

‘Yes,’ was all the affirmation she could muster and all the
confirmation Philippe needed. He swept her off her feet and laid her on the bed
and as she arched her back his lips closed around her hardened nipple. Moments
later he slid into her, unable to resist any longer.

Afterwards, Holly lay on her side, her head resting on
Philippe’s chest while he played with the jewel-encrusted hair clip that had
worked its way loose during their exertions.

‘It’s pretty,’ he said. ‘Was it a gift?’

‘Yes, Harry treated me to it for Christmas last year.’

‘Was Harry your husband?’

Holly’s throat tightened as she realised what she had said.
She wanted to tell Philippe that she had been lying about having a dead
husband, and that she had a teenage son called Harry, but this wasn’t the right
moment. She nodded.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ he asked. ‘You already know
I’m a very good listener.’

She shook her head.

‘Are you sure?’ he persevered. ‘Were you thinking about him
earlier in the evening when you rushed off to the loo?’

Holly took a deep breath. ‘No,’ she answered truthfully. ‘I
was thinking about my dad. I lied when I said I wasn’t named after Holly
Golightly. I was. It was my dad’s favourite film too.’

Philippe was looking at her questioningly . ‘So why didn’t
you just say that?’

‘Because... because I don’t like being named after a
high-class hooker,’ she replied.

‘She wasn’t really a hooker, Holly, she just accepted gifts
from wealthy gentlemen. You should be pleased that he wanted to name you after
the lead character in his favourite film. Have you spoken to him about the way
you feel? You could always get your name changed you know.’

‘It’s too late,’ Holly said wearily.

‘Of course it’s not, people would soon get used to calling
you by a new name.’

Holly allowed herself a wry smile. People already knew her
by a different name, Liberty Sands.

‘I don’t mean that it’s too late to change my name, I mean
it’s too late to talk to my Dad about it. He died. It wouldn’t feel right
changing the name he gave me.’

‘I’m so sorry, Holly,’ Philippe said, genuine concern in his
voice. ‘You haven’t had much luck with the men in your life have you?’

She looked up at him. ‘I’m hoping my luck might change.’