The Girl from Lace Island Page 10

  Leila looked now across the rattan floor mats to where a man was relaxing back on one of the linen-covered cushions beneath the palm gazebo. He had blondish sandy-coloured hair, and his skin was deeply tanned. He was wearing an open loose white shirt and yellow shorts, which showed off the blond hairs on his legs. He surveyed Leila as he pushed the plastic straw protruding from the coconut he was holding into his mouth.

  ‘Leila, this is Mr Lonegan. He’s an important businessman from America.’

  ‘Bibi, please. It’s Adam,’ the man said, getting to his feet and putting down his coconut. He was tall, Leila noticed, with very white teeth.

  ‘This is my daughter, Leila,’ Bibi said.

  ‘Well, aren’t you a delight, little lady,’ he said, taking Leila’s hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed the back of it, his eyes never leaving hers.

  Leila felt a shudder deep inside her. It was his eyes. The way they seemed to devour her. Like Sussman’s had. She pulled her hand away quickly and he chuckled knowingly, his eyes still not leaving hers as he sat back down, spreading out his arms, like he owned the place.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Miami, present day

  It was the middle of the night, and on board the flight to Miami, a soporific hush had fallen over the cabin. Most of the passengers were sleeping under their fluffy blue blankets, and Jess was in the galley, wiping down the units. Now, with a rare moment to herself, her mind flitted briefly to Angel, but it was as if she was testing herself, seeing how close she could get to the pain.

  In the past six months, it had certainly dulled, that was for sure. And the guilt that had been so overwhelming when Angel had died had solidified into a deep sense of injustice about the way she’d been taken. Jess’s efforts to find Weasel had come to nothing, and there seemed to be nobody to blame. Worse, everyone she’d spoken to around the estate seemed to treat Angel’s death as just another everyday occurrence, as if she’d had it coming.

  Jess had had some grief counselling, but it hadn’t stopped her feelings of impotent rage. What’s more, every day she felt guilty, knowing that she should be doing something to stop other people like Angel falling so quickly into such dreadful addiction. It felt particularly galling that someone somewhere was profiting from all this misery. But what could Jess do? Nothing. That was the painful thing. She couldn’t do anything but get on with her own life.

  And – very reluctantly at first – that’s what she had done. Having to retrain with the airline had come as a complete shock, after the initial interviews that Andrew Browning had set up for her, but as soon as she’d started, Jess had felt a profound sense of relief to be part of a team again. She hadn’t told any of her colleagues about Angel, and keeping her grief a secret had kept her sane. Because, up here, she could pretend that she was just like the other crew. That her easy charm was all for real. That her life was normal and that she deserved all of this, when most of the time, when she finished her shift, she felt like a huge fraud.

  ‘Hey.’

  A voice interrupted her thoughts and Jess turned to see a little girl standing shyly by the doorway. She was gorgeous. About six, Jess reckoned, with her brown Afro hair tied up in two bunches. Jess wanted to twirl them round her fingers.

  ‘Can’t you sleep?’ Jess asked, and the girl shook her head. ‘How about I make you a hot chocolate? Would that help?’

  Jess stared a few seats down the aisle from the galley to where the little girl’s mother was. The poor woman looked exhausted. She held up the hot-chocolate sachet and nodded her head behind her, and the woman nodded back and smiled.

  ‘Do you want to have it in here with me?’ Jess asked. ‘You can sit in this special seat if you want?’

  The little girl smiled and Jess lifted her onto the crew seat before making the hot drink.

  ‘I’m Jess. What’s your name?’ Jess asked.

  ‘Lisa,’ the girl said.

  ‘That’s a nice name. My mum was called Lisa.’

  ‘What’s your mom do? Mine is an attorney,’ Lisa said.

  ‘My mum’s not around anymore, but she was a travelling musician.’

  ‘That sounds fun.’

  Jess smiled, amazed at how easily the lie tripped off her tongue. Her travelling-mother-musician background held a certain appeal, and with each retelling, she liked to embellish a little more. Now, she told Lisa about her crazy fictitious sisters and how they’d spent months in America and moved from state to state, and how one of them had run away to join the circus.

  She smiled at the little girl and crouched down as she sipped the hot chocolate. Jess couldn’t help reaching out and stroking the little girl’s head as she yawned.

  ‘You look tired to me, sweetheart.’

  The girl shook her head. ‘I can’t sleep. I’m too excited about the holiday.’

  ‘In Miami?’

  ‘We’re going all over Florida and to Disney World too.’

  ‘Aren’t you lucky,’ Jess said, but the girl just shrugged. Jess had only been in this job a month, but every flight she took astounded her. The people who flew with this airline seemed so civilized.

  And this lot were nothing compared to first class. That was something else. Jess had only glimpsed the enormous first-class seats a couple of times, but they were enough to inspire awe among the other cabin crew. Eleanor, who was on this flight with Jess, had told her that only the best got promoted to cabin crew on first class. You had to get noticed, she’d confided in Jess, and work bloody hard in the meantime.

  Jess had taken the tip-off to heart. Work was all she intended to do for the foreseeable future, for as long as possible. It was only when she was flying that Jess felt alive. Only then that she could put on a mask and be someone that Angel had never known.

  ‘Do you know what I do when I want to go to sleep?’ she asked the girl, who stared at Jess with her wide eyes. ‘I close my eyes and breathe in and out through my nose a hundred times, and each time I have to feel my breath tickling the end of my nostrils right here,’ she said, touching the little girl’s nose. ‘It works, because I never get to a hundred. Shall I take you back to Mummy now and you can get really comfy and try it?’

  She took the mug of hot chocolate from the little girl and held her hand. She returned her to her appreciative mother and did a quick scan of the cabin, but everyone was settled. Jess’s colleague Eleanor was on a break, and the senior steward, Martin, was in with the captain, so she was on her own, but so far, so good. Everything was under control.

  As she got back to the galley, though, she saw that she wasn’t alone. A guy was leaning up against the doorway through to first class. He was wearing jeans and a blue checked shirt, and had dark hair, which he ruffled with his tanned hand. He had the shadow of a beard, which only accentuated his high cheekbones and deep blue eyes, peering intently at her from under his thick, dark eyebrows. His bare feet were tanned too, she noticed, with manicured toenails, but even in such a state of scruffy, middle-of-the-night undress, he had a certain air to him. Of class and wealth. The chunky gold Rolex on his wrist gave it away.

  ‘You were very sweet with her,’ he said to Jess. He had an accent. Australian? Jess couldn’t be sure.

  ‘All part of the service,’ Jess said, realizing that the guy must have been there all the time, just out of sight, and she hadn’t noticed. ‘What can I get you?’

  ‘A beer, I think. I just need to stretch my legs. I might try your sleeping trick.’

  Jess turned away and opened a beer for him; he refused a glass and Jess felt unusually flustered, wondering what to do next. She hadn’t seen anyone this good-looking on a flight – ever. As she handed the bottle over and their eyes met, she felt an unexpected tug of sexual desire that took her completely by surprise. She hadn’t even thought about men or sex since that night with Kai, which seemed like years ago now. Since then, she’d shut herself off, steadfastly refusing to give out any signals that could be misinterpreted.

  Because since Angel had di
ed, everything had been different. Since she’d ripped down the poster of her dream desert beach, Jess had given up on her idea of fate. Of the notion that her dream man might make an appearance.

  Instead, she’d concentrated on taking one day at a time and keeping her head above water. She hadn’t thought once about the future. And she certainly hadn’t entertained the thought of flirting. Which is what this guy clearly was doing.

  ‘I’m Blaise. And you’re Jess, I hear,’ he said.

  Blaise. What kind of a name was that?

  He had a nice smile. Perfect teeth. He didn’t stop staring at her and Jess blushed, wondering if he’d believed her made-up story about her travelling-musician mother.

  ‘You’re going to Miami? On holiday?’ she ventured, tearing her gaze away from his. He was still looking at her over the top of his beer bottle. She turned away and straightened her jacket, trying to come across as professional, but her body language suddenly seemed awkward and wrong.

  ‘Just on business for a few days,’ Blaise said.

  ‘I’ve never been to Miami,’ Jess admitted, although why she felt she had to tell the guy she didn’t know.

  ‘It’s cool if you know where to go,’ he said. ‘You should let me show you around.’

  It was such an openly flirtatious invitation, so presumptuous, as if they’d had a much longer conversation, Jess had to laugh.

  ‘You want to show me around Miami?’ she checked.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because . . .’ Jess trailed off, her embarrassed laugh turning into a blush now as Blaise stared at her. ‘Because,’ she battled on, ‘you don’t know me.’

  ‘That can be changed,’ he countered. She liked the way the corners of his eyes crinkled. ‘Call it a whim, but I know what it’s like to be alone in hotels somewhere far from home; you just want to get the sense of the place you’re in.’ He smiled at her again and Jess noticed a dimple in his cheek. ‘You look like the kind of girl who likes exploring. You have a travelling background, after all. It’s probably in the blood.’

  At that moment, the plane hit a sudden patch of turbulence and Jess was thrown towards Blaise, who caught her, stopping her from falling. The seatbelt signs pinged on and the calm, soothing voice of the captain asked people to return to their seats, but Jess stayed trapped in Blaise’s embrace.

  Up close to him, she could feel his steady heartbeat through his shirt. She stared at his neck, not daring to meet his eyes. He smelt delicious, of an expensive, musky kind of aftershave.

  She coughed and pulled away, embarrassed. ‘You’d better get back to your seat,’ she managed, her voice cracking.

  Blaise smiled. ‘See you around, then, Jess,’ he said. ‘I meant it about taking you out.’ He raised his bottle to her. ‘Think about it.’

  Jess smiled, flustered, as he went back to his seat. She straightened her jacket to go and check the cabin and get everyone’s seatbelts on. She was thrown off course by another dip of turbulence, but nothing could faze her, or wipe the confused smile from her face.

  For the rest of the flight, she could feel Blaise’s presence, even though she couldn’t see him, and she wondered if he was as shaken by their encounter as she was. When the plane landed a few hours later, she tried to take a peek through to first class to see if he was leaving, but she was on door duty, ushering out the passengers.

  As she said goodbye to each of the passengers, she gave herself a reality check. Out of the bubble of the aeroplane, she was just a nobody. Someone a guy like Blaise wouldn’t even notice. Besides, she had never flirted with anyone on a flight, unlike so many of the other crew she’d worked with. Hooking up with Blaise was absolutely out of the question.

  It was a meaningless encounter. End of.

  But still her mind refused to let it go. Rich, drop-dead-gorgeous Blaise. What could he possibly see in her? Nothing, surely. Except he’d offered to show her the sights of Miami. What if he’d meant it?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Lace Island, 1990

  It was dark by the time Bibi summoned Leila for the inevitable showdown. As she entered her mother’s room, Leila knew it wasn’t going to be good.

  Bibi was sitting by her huge mahogany desk on the wooden swivel chair. Chan stood over on the other side of the room, next to the large wooden radio, which hadn’t worked for years, feeding seeds through the bars of the birdcage that housed Bibi’s yellow canaries. Chan had always taken care of himself, but tonight his glossy hair was greasy and unkempt.

  Leila stood in the middle of the rug, not making eye contact with either of them. She’d always thought this room, Bibi’s office, adjoining her bedroom, to be one of the most sophisticated in the house, but now she noticed how shabby everything was. There were water stains on the blue walls and a crack in the ceiling. The filing cabinet overflowed with paper, and the wiring near the light switch buzzed intermittently.

  ‘Go on, then,’ Chan said, stretching his arm out to Leila as if he were indulgently giving her the floor. ‘You’d better start from the beginning.’

  Leila glanced up at him nervously. He’d always been on her side before now, but she could see that, like Bibi, he was tired. And he’d been drinking.

  Leila patiently began her account of everything that had happened. About how she’d been bullied from the start at school, and how the teachers and headmistress wouldn’t believe anything she’d told them about Lace Island. She didn’t elaborate about Sussman, only saying that the PE teacher gave her the creeps and picked on her. She told them how the teachers refused to explain the lessons to her, choosing instead to ridicule her for her bad marks. And that she had no friends. That the girls had been horrible to her. They’d stolen her photos and diaries, and had flushed her head in the toilet and the teachers had done nothing about it. That the food had been inedible. She hardly paused for breath as her grievances came pouring out.

  She saw that she was gaining ground and that Bibi looked horrified by everything she’d been saying.

  ‘You think everyone is so nice,’ she told Bibi, ‘but they’re not. They’re really not.’

  She told now about what had happened at the theatre and how nobody had believed her stories about Lace Island. And how Christopher had pretended not to know her.

  ‘Oh, Leila,’ Chan said, covering his eyes with his hand. ‘How could you?’

  ‘How could I what? I was just being friendly.’

  ‘You embarrassed him. Clearly,’ Chan said angrily, staring at her.

  ‘I didn’t mean to,’ Leila said, feeling tears rising.

  ‘You never think before opening your mouth,’ Chan snapped.

  Bibi held up her hand to stop the argument and there was a moment of tense silence. Then Bibi seemed to crumple into a sigh. She squeezed the bridge of her nose and Leila noticed a bruise on the back of her hand that looked painful.

  ‘Why didn’t you explain then, Leila?’ Bibi asked. ‘At school, I mean. They can’t have been that cruel, or badly behaved. The teachers would have helped you.’

  ‘That’s what I’m telling you. Mrs Grayson-Smith didn’t believe me when I told her what was happening. She refused to listen.’

  Leila stared at the electric fan on her mother’s desk, which was blowing air at a pile of papers held down with a brass elephant paperweight. The edges flickered like a palm branch in the wind. Bibi stretched and turned it off. Leila felt her eyes sting with tears as she watched the dusty blade slowing down.

  ‘I’m telling the truth.’

  ‘Are you?’ Chan said, glancing at Bibi. ‘You always used to tell tall stories when you were young, but we thought you’d grown out of it.’

  ‘Please,’ Leila implored, fighting back her tears. ‘I’m not lying. Why don’t you believe me?’

  ‘I want to believe you, Leila. I really do. But how will you get on in life if you can’t stick up for yourself? That’s why you had to go away to school. To learn about the real world,’ Bibi said. ‘I can’t believe you’re back so soon.
’

  ‘I don’t want to know about the real world if that’s what it’s like. You don’t know how terrible it was,’ Leila choked. ‘I want to stay here and help you. I can be much more useful—’

  ‘I have written to your headmistress,’ Bibi snapped, ‘demanding that she allow you to return.’

  ‘Don’t send me back. Please. I beg you.’ She let out an anguished sob, her eyes appealing to Chan, begging him to listen, and she saw him finally relent. His face changed when he saw she was crying properly. He’d never been able to bear her being upset.

  ‘We can’t have this,’ he told Bibi. ‘She’s clearly not happy.’

  ‘What would you know about happiness?’ Bibi’s head snapped round to face her husband. Both Leila and Chan recoiled at the venom in her words.

  There was a shocked moment of silence. Leila held her breath, waiting for Bibi to back down, but when she didn’t, Leila glanced at Chan and he turned away.

  Leila felt sick. She wasn’t used to Bibi saying something so loaded and hurtful. And judging from the charged atmosphere in the room, she meant every word. What had happened while she’d been away? Why was everything and everyone different? And what had happened to Bibi and Chan? They were solid. Weren’t they?

  ‘Go to bed, Leila. We shan’t discuss this again,’ Bibi said. She fiddled with the gold chain on her neck, as if it could give her courage. ‘The matter is settled. But since you are here, you can make yourself useful and stay out of trouble.’

  Leila nodded, her chin trembling. Was Bibi telling her off to prove a point, because she felt she had to? Still she stared at her mother, waiting for her to crack. Waiting for the telling-off to be over and the hugs to begin. Then she would feel like she was home properly. But Bibi just sighed and Leila realized that it wasn’t going to happen. She turned and shut the door of Bibi’s office.