The Girl from Lace Island Page 12

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Miami, present day

  Blaise was an expert on South Beach, but soon they headed north on the bike and the marina came into view. When the barrier opened, Blaise drove straight through with a cursory wave at the guy in the white booth.

  But Blaise was that type of guy, Jess sensed. Someone for whom doors always opened, for whom barriers were customarily raised. She felt awed by how comfortable and easy his life seemed to be. It was just about as far away as she could imagine from any of the people she knew back home. Perhaps this was what life was like when you were very rich. She always assumed it would be, but witnessing it like this made her mind reel.

  Jess whistled to herself as she looked over the rows of power-yachts lined up against the jetties. There must be millions of dollars’ worth moored right here.

  Blaise drove along the edge of the marina to the far jetty and then parked the bike. Jess looked back at it as they casually walked away. Wasn’t he going to lock it up? Wouldn’t someone just come and nick it? But Blaise didn’t seem bothered. Perhaps the crime she was all too used to didn’t happen in a place like this.

  Jess followed him as he strode confidently up a little way along the wooden jetty and stopped.

  ‘Here we are,’ he said, holding out his arm towards the power-yacht moored next to him. It was huge, with a gleaming double deck and shiny white and teak steps spiralling between them. A couple of jet skis were on the upper deck with a fancy-looking hydraulic lift. It was clear that whoever owned this yacht was into their boys’ toys.

  ‘You can’t be serious,’ Jess laughed, as Blaise held her hand and she stepped off the jetty onto the white step of the boat. ‘This is yours?’

  ‘Not mine exactly, no,’ Blaise said. ‘It belongs to a friend, but I use it when I’m in Miami. It’s the best way to see the sights. I promise.’

  Jess was dazzled by the shiny whiteness of everything. Like it wasn’t quite real. She saw herself reflected in the mirrored glass as Blaise slid it open and she felt again like pinching herself. ‘Angel, you’d better be seeing this, girl,’ she muttered to herself, feeling a pang of sadness that Angel wasn’t here in person. Jess could very well imagine her squeal of delight and how excited she’d be.

  ‘Come and meet my friend Nacho,’ Blaise called, waving for her to follow.

  She walked awestruck through the sumptuous galley with its cream and grey squashy sofas and cushions. Everything looked so clean and new. It was like being in the centrefold of a glossy yacht magazine.

  ‘Ah,’ she heard, and a small guy appeared from steps going down further into the yacht. ‘How ya doin’?’ he laughed, pulling Blaise into a friendly hug and clapping him on his back. He had white shorts on and very hairy legs, Jess noticed. His face was deeply suntanned, with craggy lines around his eyes.

  ‘This is Nacho,’ Blaise said, with a grin. ‘This is Jess, my friend.’

  Jess shook Nacho’s hand. Was she Blaise’s friend? Surely it took more than a handful of words to be a true friend. But then again, Blaise struck her as the kind of guy who made plenty of friends, easily. It was hard not to with this kind of lifestyle.

  And she liked it. The possibility that she could be friends with Blaise. Did he do this with everyone he met? she wondered. Decide that he wanted to hang out with them and make them drop everything until they did?

  ‘You like sailing, Jess?’ Nacho asked.

  ‘Um . . . I don’t know. I mean, I haven’t really been on board a . . .’ she was about to say ‘boat’ but continued with ‘yacht like this.’

  She saw straight away that she’d passed some kind of test. If you wanted to hang out with the rich, then you had to speak their lingo. Wasn’t that what one of the stewardesses had told her once?

  ‘You’ll love it,’ Blaise said.

  Where the hell were they going? She had no idea, but it felt too late to ask. Besides, she’d be fine, right? It felt weird to surrender herself entirely to Blaise, but she was in too deep now. Was she safe? she wondered, feeling a small pang of worry. She’d always been so cautious before, but no one in the whole world knew where she was, or who she was with. She was on a power-yacht with a multimillionaire in Miami. What could possibly go wrong?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Lace Island, 1990

  Leila could see Rasa in the distance at the end of the jetty, leaning over in the wooden boat and pulling the string to start the outboard motor. Even from here, under the bowing palms, she smiled, sensing the frustration that would be on his face. That motor had always given him trouble, but Rasa was the only one who had the knack to fix it. She had thought that Chan had been planning to buy a new boat to take the guests out scuba-diving, but it clearly hadn’t happened. The boat, which had long ago seen better days, was clearly still in use. It swayed in the water as Rasa balanced in it.

  Leila ran lightly between the flowering mangroves down the sandy path to the beach. The white sand was already hot and she tiptoed lightly in her old leather flip-flops past the palm-covered makeshift beach bar and the rickety plastic sunloungers. This was the main beach where the guests came to enjoy the water, and the beach bar had been Rasa’s idea. BK, one of the shopkeepers from the village, came here in the mornings with sliced pineapple and watermelon when guests were staying, but other than his visits during the day, the long stretch of palm-fringed beach was deserted. Leila noticed a few empty plastic sunloungers that BK had tied to a palm tree overnight. They were brittle with sun-damage. They needed to be replaced too.

  She looked out at the beach, the sand dotted with holes where the crabs had buried themselves, and a few shells glittered in the sun. The gentle white ripples broke onto the shore and she sighed, breathing in the hot breeze, her eyes feasting on that particular jewel hue of bright blue-green that she could never capture on her camera.

  ‘Rasa,’ she called, waving and shifting the string bag on her shoulder. Anjum had loaded Leila up with chapattis and a couple of fresh coconuts, and they bumped against her hip.

  Rasa stood, shading his eyes from the sun as he heard her voice, and she ran along the jetty towards him, smiling and waving. He waved back, and she saw him unwind the cloth from round his head and wipe the sweat from his brow. He hitched up the white dhoti round his waist.

  ‘Hey,’ he said, smiling as she arrived, breathless, at the end of the jetty. ‘I didn’t expect to see you this morning.’

  ‘Parva said you’d be here,’ she said, sitting down and taking off her flip-flops before dangling her feet over the edge of the jetty. Below her, she could see rocks and sea cucumbers and shoals of darting yellow fish dancing in the current.

  She didn’t add that he’d been difficult to track down. That after her run-in with the tuk-tuk yesterday, she’d gone to his hut at the far end of the lagoon but had missed him. All day yesterday, she’d waited for him to appear on the beach, but then her mother had insisted that Leila help Anjum in the kitchen, and by the time she’d finished, it had been dark.

  Leila looked at the scuba vests and tanks piled next to her on the jetty. In the boat, Rasa was bare-chested. His shoulders were slick with sweat and Leila felt an unexpected desire to reach out and touch him. If only they had the day to themselves and could take the boat out alone.

  She looked out to sea to where the white line of surf broke on the reef. It was the most perfect day for diving. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and all the things she’d been planning to blurt straight out – about seeing Chan and that man driving the tuk-tuk – stalled on her lips.

  ‘Oh God, it’s so gorgeous,’ she sighed. ‘Sometimes I forget just how breathtaking this place is.’

  Rasa raised his eyebrows and then continued fiddling with the outboard motor. ‘It would be nice if anything worked around here,’ he muttered.

  ‘Here,’ Leila said, delving into her bag and pulling out the coconut. She handed it to Rasa, who took it gratefully. She took her own and put the straw in her mouth, sucking up the cool, re
freshing liquid inside. It was this taste – this sweet, fresh green coconut juice – that made her feel like she was nourishing her soul. That along with Rasa’s kind eyes, which connected with hers now. She felt so safe, suddenly, so relieved that she was here and alone with Rasa, that she wanted to cry.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Rasa asked, his brow creased with concern.

  Leila put down her coconut and blew out her cheeks, annoyed and embarrassed at this sudden welling-up of emotion. ‘I’m just glad to be back, that’s all. Although nobody else seems happy I’m here. Bibi is so cross with me.’

  Rasa sighed and turned his attention back to the engine. He didn’t say anything and Leila knew him well enough to know that he was choosing his words carefully.

  ‘I’m not sure, but I think they ran out of money. They must have, because nobody has been paid for months.’

  He twisted a screw with a screwdriver, peering over the engine, then pulled the starter motor. This time, the engine rattled into life with a belch of diesel smoke and a thundering rattle that broke the tranquil air. Below the surface of the water, a shoal of fish did an about-turn and swam quickly towards the shore.

  ‘There she goes,’ Rasa said, standing back with a grin on his face. He put the battered white cover over the engine, but the noise was hardly any less deafening. ‘I will keep it on,’ he shouted over the din. ‘Warm it up.’

  Leila frowned, annoyed that the engine had broken the moment. She mulled over the words he’d told her, trying to grasp their real meaning. She’d never even considered Bibi and Chan’s finances before. She’d just assumed that her mother owned Lace Island and that the visitors paid for the upkeep. They didn’t live a lavish lifestyle – not like some of Bibi’s extended family were rumoured to have. They didn’t have fancy clothes or demand banquets and cars. Lace Island didn’t call for such extravagances.

  But Leila had always assumed that they could afford everything they needed – effortlessly. That as long as the guests came, then the money would roll in. She’d thought, too, that Chan must have wealth hidden somewhere. He must have done to marry Bibi. Although she’d always claimed she’d married for love.

  What did it mean if they’d run out of money? For a start, it meant that nothing was getting replaced. Leila could see that clearly enough for herself. But what about the staff? Everyone on the island was like family. Lace Island only ran because everyone felt they were here together. That was what made it so special. The sense of community. Of everyone having their place. And money didn’t matter. Not in a place like this.

  Only now she was realizing it did.

  Maybe it was all her fault. Maybe, just as Anjum had suggested, Leila’s school had cost a fortune. Maybe she really was to blame for everyone being in a bad mood.

  If only she’d never gone away, everything would be different. If only she’d made more effort with Timothy and her lessons with Rasa. If only she’d put her mind to it and shown Bibi how hard she could work, then Bibi and Chan would never have sent her away. She could have done her exams with Rasa.

  And now it was too late. Everything had changed.

  ‘Wait up!’

  Leila turned to see two people approaching from the jetty. It was that American guy Adam, and just behind him, in a flowing kaftan and floppy hat and large shades, was the Frenchwoman who’d been on the flight with the captain. Wasn’t she supposed to be the captain’s girlfriend? So why was she alone with Adam? Had she extended her holiday, while Marc went back to the mainland?

  Adam was wearing blue shorts and a checked shirt, which had a large sweat patch across his chest. He was carrying a rolled-up towel under his arm. He hurried down the jetty and Leila stood. He grinned from beneath his American baseball cap.

  ‘Ah, it’s young Leila, if I’m not mistaken,’ Adam said, taking off his cap. His teeth were dazzling in the sun. ‘I was expecting you to show me the sights.’

  Leila looked down. She felt Rasa staring at her, trying to digest this news. This implication that she already knew Adam well.

  ‘I’ve been busy,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Is this your friend?’ He said it with a horrible insinuation in his tone. As if he knew something about her and Rasa. She could feel Rasa’s hackles rising. ‘So, does that mean you’re coming with us, Leila?’

  She hated the way he said her name. She hated that everything about him seemed to be about causing mischief. The way he seemed to so effortlessly bamboozle her.

  ‘Oh no, I . . . I just came to see Rasa.’

  Feeling trapped, Leila glanced behind him at the French girl, who pouted in the sunlight, as if completely bored by her surroundings. She didn’t want to be stuck on a boat with Adam and this woman, but as she looked at Rasa, she saw a plea in his eyes. Because he didn’t want to be stuck alone with them either.

  ‘Come on. Come with us. It’ll be fun. I insist.’ Adam said it like it was settled and jumped down into the boat. ‘Rasa agrees. Don’t you, old sport?’

  ‘Why don’t you, Leila? I could do with a hand,’ Rasa said. She saw the look pass between him and Adam, and she knew that Rasa hated him as much as she did.

  Leila stared back at Rasa; she knew that if he asked her, she’d go to the moon for him and back. But Rasa’s attention had already been diverted. Leila watched his face as Monique arrived next to the boat, took off her hat and shook out her hair. She was clearly fully aware of how Adam and Rasa were looking at her and Leila felt a part of her shrivel. She was just the same as those girls at school. Rich and snotty – just like Edwina had been. Except this girl was worse, because she was a grown-up. For one moment, Leila pictured pushing the French girl off the jetty and into the sea.

  But then Rasa and Adam both held out their hand and she stepped down into the boat as if she were a queen, and Leila was left to pass out the scuba jackets.

  She braced herself. This was going to be a tricky morning.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Miami, present day

  ‘And that,’ Blaise announced, ‘is the best way to see Miami.’

  Jess giggled as Blaise flung his hand out to show her the view of the whole of Miami Beach, as if he owned the lot. And maybe he did, she thought, gasping at the view. Everything was perfect – the white sand, the blue sea, the huge, glittering hotels, but right now, she was more interested in watching Blaise.

  They were heading out to sea, and the breeze tickled her face as they sipped champagne. She wanted to pinch herself. So far, Blaise had been nothing but charming and funny, and he and Nacho had entertained her with stories of their fishing expeditions as they’d driven out of the harbour.

  ‘You know, I heard the dolphins are around,’ Nacho shouted, as Blaise led Jess to the cushions at the front of the yacht.

  ‘Then let’s go find them, Captain,’ he called back, and Nacho put the throttle down.

  Jess smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from her mouth as the yacht sped up and she shifted backwards in the cushioned seat as the force threw her back. She could see the front of the yacht slicing effortlessly through the waves. Moving this fast, so close to the water was exciting, but Blaise seemed to be taking it completely in his stride and carried on pouring champagne with a steady hand as if nothing was happening.

  ‘Look at me,’ he said, making a joke of it. ‘Would I make good cabin crew?’

  Jess laughed. Of course he would, she wanted to say. He could probably do anything he set his mind to. The only problem would be that the other crew and all the other passengers would probably just drool over him all day.

  Because he was gorgeous. Jess couldn’t stop thinking it. The more time she spent with him, the more attractive he became.

  Stop it! Jess told herself. She was having a brilliant time, but she hardly knew a thing about this guy, and there must be a catch, right? He couldn’t be this rich and funny and handsome and charming and like her. Could he?

  He handed her a glass of bubbles and smiled.

  ‘Bottoms up,’ he said. ‘Is
n’t that what they say in England?’

  ‘Not where I come from,’ Jess laughed, clinking glasses with him. She took a sip of the delicious liquid. Champagne had never really been her thing – not on an empty stomach – and she felt the hit of it almost instantly.

  ‘So, Miss Jess . . .’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s very tempting to interview you,’ he said, in a jokey way. He sat next to her and didn’t seem to notice that his forearm brushed against hers. The contact sent goosebumps rushing through her. ‘I’m so curious.’

  Why would he be curious about her? she wondered.

  ‘About what?’ she asked, enjoying the way he sat next to her gazing at her as if she were the most interesting person in the world. He sank back onto his elbow, lying next to her. She breathed in the delicious scent of his aftershave. ‘There’s not much to know.’

  She liked his feet, she thought, and his slim ankles. He looked like he worked out a lot. She wondered what he’d be like in Tony’s gym, whether he’d be any good at kick-boxing. What would Tony say if he could see her right now? she thought. Her life in London seemed so impossibly far away all of a sudden.

  ‘I don’t know. Tell me about your sisters. About your life travelling around America growing up. I’m intrigued,’ he said.

  Jess was caught off guard and stared at him for a moment, feeling colour rising in her cheeks.

  ‘You told the little girl on the plane. About your sisters,’ he prompted.

  Jess swallowed hard and then took another glug of champagne, stalling for time. This was the moment. Right now. She needed to come clean and confess. She needed to tell him how she made up different versions of her past to keep herself amused – maybe make a joke of it? But even voicing it that way made her sound odd. A phoney. And Blaise wouldn’t understand. Why would he?