Sea Gem (5 page)

‘Here!’ he cried, tugging her a bit lower. ‘Get down below this rock and we’ll also be out of the wind a bit. I take it that is your cycle down there? I left mine
alongside. I didn’t intend to come here in such a wind but I simply had to stop and see who was crazy enough to stand and defy Neptune. Now I know. The water spirit of Sarnia, resident at
Cobo Bay!’ he teased, aware his heart raced as if he had been running.

‘I’m no such thing!’ Mary laughed back at him. She felt infected with his wild spirit. The pulse in her neck throbbed and her legs were unsteady as he held one of her hands.
His were large with strong fingers; not soft but neither were they calloused from hard, manual labour. He stood two feet from her, his presence towering over her, something vital flowing from him
to her which held her enthralled.

‘My name is Mary Hinton,’ she volunteered in a nervous rush of words.

He tipped his head to one side. ‘That’s not a Guernsey surname,’ he prodded.

‘I’m English,’ Mary explained, wiping salty rivulets from her cheeks with one hand.

He released her other hand and gave a grave, courtly bow, sweeping an invisible hat from his head with a flourish.

‘At your service, my fair maid from the sea!’

‘You are an islander?’ Mary asked, amused by his gesture.

‘Correct!’ he said, ‘Guernsey born but Jersey reared, though back in Guernsey now, for a while at least.’ He grinned impishly as his strange coloured eyes flashed and
twinkled at her.

Victor took both of her hands into his and squeezed gently, then felt the thin band on her left hand. He extended it and looked long and hard, then slowly lifted his eyes with silent
question.

‘How long have you been here?’

‘I came yesterday,’ Mary told him throatily. Was it her imagination or had his eyes changed from violet to cobalt blue? She studied them with fascination. It was as if some hidden
desire triggered a colour alteration.

He was astonished. ‘You are new on the island then?’ he exclaimed, puzzled as questions bubbled. ‘Where are you staying? Why have you come here?’

Mary chuckled at his bewilderment as she pointed back down the road. ‘I’m staying with Tante at the Noyen house.’

He frowned. ‘Tante? So you have family here then?’

Mary hesitated, then shook her head. ‘She’s not really my aunt, she just told me to call her that,’ she explained quickly.

His eyes moved away from hers and gazed thoughtfully back down the road while his forehead puckered as his mind raced. It was a most extraordinary coincidence, so where did the engagement ring
fit into this puzzling picture? He had been on the island for a few days now; he had chatted, mixed and learned.

‘Engaged?’ he asked cautiously.

Mary knew she blushed again and furious with herself as she nodded. ‘To Duret Noyen,’ she explained simply.

‘I see!’ he said slowly, his words heavy with meaning. ‘How long have you been engaged? How long have you known Duret? Where did you meet him?’ he shot at her
sharply.

Mary went stiff and withdrew her hand abruptly. ‘I don’t think that’s any of your business,’ she replied tartly.

He realised his blunder and hastily shook his head. ‘I don’t mean to offend!’ he told her quickly, anxious to dispel the sudden frost in her eyes. ‘It’s just
that—’ He hesitated unsure of himself, then he took the bull by its horns. ‘It’s just that I think you are the most incredible girl I have ever met,’ he told her in a
low voice. ‘I would like to get to know you better. An engagement is not a whole commitment, is it? It’s a girl’s privilege to change her mind and I
must
see you again.
Please, Mary?’ he begged.

‘I have to go and get into some dry clothes,’ she told him in a flat voice, alarmed at the look in his eyes, furious with his impertinent questions and very conscious that even as
they talked, Duret could well be in the trenches fighting for his life. Whether she loved him or not was not now the issue. Duret trusted her. So did Tante.

‘I
must
see you again!’ he cried and snatched both of her hands once more. His grasp was tight as he pulled her one step nearer. ‘And you want to see me again too, I
know.’

‘Let me go!’

‘Don’t deny yourself, my wonderful sea witch,’ he crooned. ‘There’s something magical between us. You feel it as well as me and surely there is no harm in walking
and talking,’ he added persuasively. ‘Promise you will meet me again?’

‘
Let-me-go
!’ Mary snapped.

‘Not until you promise to meet me again, please?’ he chanted. ‘I’ll meet you this afternoon, anywhere, anytime!’

Mary dithered. She knew she wanted to see him again, but then a picture of Duret rose in her mind as he appeared to stand before her with his sorrowful, brown eyes. He seemed to plead. She bit
her lip, broke eye contact, tried to pull away from him but was forced to stand in his grasp.

He sensed she wavered and hastened to establish his advantage. ‘You came down the lane from the Noyen house,’ he began nodding backwards once more. ‘Meet me this afternoon but
turn left instead of right. See, over there! That’s called the Lion Rock. Cycle down there and around the corner. There is a tiny headland and path where we can walk and be alone.’

‘I can’t!’ Mary protested.

‘You can!’ he said urgently. ‘I’ll be in place from two o’clock onwards and I will wait until it is dark.’

‘You’ll wait a long time then,’ Mary retorted with an edge to her voice. She had the feeling she was being stampeded in the wrong direction but she knew she wanted to talk to
him again.

He threw her a strange look. ‘I’m prepared to do that!’ he replied with feeling.

He released her hands and Mary turned and ran to her cycle. She lifted it up, futilely brushing moisture from the black saddle with a hand that trembled.

Her breath came in weird, little gasps and she felt crazily light-headed. He had run after her and she turned.

‘Why?’ she asked huskily.

He became serious, his eyes once more violet in colour. ‘We both know why,’ he told her in a low, throbbing tone. ‘It’s because you have bewitched me, which I have always
sworn was impossible. You have done something, touched me here—’ and his right hand rested over his heart. ‘You’ve changed me in a flash of time in a way which I cannot
fight. I
know
you feel the same too.’

‘You mustn’t say silly things like that,’ Mary chided him hastily, embarrassed and fascinated by him. As she straddled the cycle her soaked skirt clung uncomfortably to her
legs. Blinking a little, struggling to ignore the ridiculously painful lump in her throat, she moved away from him. She was furious with herself, more than a little frightened of the emotions he
had aroused and downright apprehensive of the whole situation. If Tante were back, her shrewd eyes would miss little and instinct warned her to keep her meeting with Victor secret.

She regained a semblance of composure as she dismounted near the outhouses, glad to be alone for a few moments. Sam watched her from a discreet distance, a tiny frown puckering his forehead. The
girl was soaked like a piece of sodden paper and this after the warning he had given her. He sniffed with annoyance. Let this soaking be a lesson to her.

Mary hastened to her room and changed into her only other skirt and blouse and carried her other jacket back down to the hall peg. Tante was back and her eyebrows lifted.

‘I presume your wardrobe is scarce, Mary. We will have to remedy that when we can as well as get you some decent footwear instead of those institution boots. I cannot have you going around
this island like a vagabond.’

Mary flushed and had no idea what to say. Lies did not come easily to her. She certainly wanted new clothes but did not like the thought of the Noyens buying them. At the back of her mind was a
fresh wariness about Duret. What if their arrangement came to nothing? She could never stand being beholden to Tante Noyen. She stifled a sigh, conscious she might be heading into difficult
waters.

Emily Ferbrache came into the kitchen and eyed her. Tante came over.

‘This is Emily who comes in as our daily,’ she explained and Mary forced an artificial smile on her face.

The island woman gave a grunt that could have meant anything, then bustled into another room. Mary was surprised and turned to Tante.

Tante grinned and shook her head. ‘Emily is a proper islander,’ she explained. ‘She is highly suspicious of all things English. She will only talk patois, so if you want to
break down her reserve, you will have to learn it and meet her on her terms.’

Mary craned her neck to stare at the large-boned woman, big-breasted who moved around with a duster. She guessed Emily was in her forties; she moved ponderously, with purpose and seemed to be
someone impossible to deflect from a given action.

‘Emily has been with me a long time,’ Tante continued. ‘She runs the house and I know better than to interfere.’ She chuckled suddenly, ‘And you must not either.
Emily would take dire offence and become utterly impossible. That is why there is little to do here really. Emily has this place well organised and she would resent interference which any help from
you would be.’

‘Doesn’t she speak English?’

‘Of course she does! She’s just knuckle-headed and considers only our patois is a fit tongue for her to speak. Duret speaks it very well,’ Tante added carefully.

Mary nodded her head thoughtfully. She had no intention of asking either Tante or the bossy Emily to help her learn but Sam was different. Were all these island women as strong-minded as the two
in this house? There was so much to learn and she guessed her status here would improve as knowledge and skills were acquired.

Her thoughts reverted to Victor. Should she meet him again, was it prudent? If she did not turn up what was to stop him coming here? A chill went down her back as she sensed how Tante would
react to that.

‘I might go for another cycle ride this afternoon,’ Mary told Tante casually. After all, she did not have to go in his direction.

Tante eyed her, not missing her high colouring and was puzzled. Was the girl embarrassed because of her soaked clothing? The drenching would teach her to be careful, so why the stiffness in her
attitude?

‘The tide will be ebbing so you shouldn’t get wet again but remember what you’ve been told about slippery rocks,’ she said quietly.

Later, Mary told herself she was an utter fool. She was quiet during the excellent lunch Emily prepared because Tante’s eyes rested on her often. She was almost sure the old woman could
see through her and it took an effort not to wriggle on the dining-room chair. It was with considerable relief that she escaped outside where the sun glowed.

There was still little warmth but Mary fancied the morning’s biting wind was less keen now and had dropped as the tide turned. She collected the cycle and slowly free-wheeled down the lane
to the coast road. At the bottom she halted and looked around. The handful of cottages appeared to be deserted and her heart thumped unevenly. She knew she should not turn left but could not help
herself.

Pedalling slowly, not wanting to get there but afraid to stay away, Mary felt as if drawn by a magnetic force against her will. She knew she simply must talk to someone and she thought about Sam
again. He had not condemned her for eavesdropping but would he be charitable if he knew she had gone to meet another man?

The slight breeze was at her back and the heavy, black cycle glided effortlessly along the deserted road. She halted at what she thought was the correct spot and stood uncertainly, her steady
hands holding the wide handlebars before she walked over the road and hunted for somewhere to leave the cycle. There was a dip with two bushes leaning together and she picked that spot.

When she straightened again she saw him. A slow smile crossed her lips as she walked to where he slept. His long limbs were relaxed and she was able to study him in detail. His handsome face was
reposed and he breathed lightly with the sun on the back of his head. Mary asked herself why Duret never produced in her the tangled emotions Victor had done so quickly.

He woke suddenly, as if aware he was under observation then, blinking a little, saw her and sat up abruptly, grinning his pleasure. He sprang to his feet and beamed at her.

‘I nodded off,’ he said unnecessarily. He went to grasp her hand then thought better of it. She stood, uncertain and nervous almost on tiptoes as if ready to flee like a terrified
doe. With prescience he understood. She could not deny coming to him but her conscience was in full spate.

‘Let’s walk a bit,’ he offered gently, nodding to one side. ‘The tide is well out now and we can go down to the sand along this track.’

Mary simply nodded and let him lead. She watched the fluid movement of his powerful shoulders and the ripples from his lean waist and hips while his long legs strode strongly but without undue
haste. She followed him along a meandering animal trail, dotted here and there with tiny pats of dung. The grass was stiff and wiry, blunted from wind and salt as the track sloped downwards. There
were small rocks around among the sand which showed savage teeth at the sky and she quailed at any boat’s peril.

‘There are a number of tracks like this,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘They all head down to the sand and the views here can be lovely especially in the evening when the sun
sets.’

Where the track widened Mary was able to walk at his side. ‘You seem to know an awful lot about this island?’ she probed.

He threw her a wan smile. ‘I listened to my father’s stories for years and I came here on a few trips as a boy. Also, during the past week I’ve done a lot of cycling and
walking about exploring though I’ve not seen the south coast yet. There are some magnificent views from the heights on the south, especially where one can see the Pea Stacks. They are some
weird, high rocks out at sea. I intend to cycle and explore everywhere. You should come with me.’

Mary ignored this blatant invitation and he did not press her but looked around, finally selecting one particular portion of shrivelled grass. He turned to her, took one hand and supported her
as she sank down gracefully while he followed suit. In this place they were quite sheltered from any wind and the sun had managed to warm the grass. It was quiet and soothingly pleasant. She felt
his eyes riveted upon her and looked into them. Were they violet or blue now? She could not quite decide.