Kiss Heaven Goodbye (71 page)

‘Miles wants you all to meet to discuss your position.’

Sasha swallowed. ‘All of us?’

‘Yourself, his sister Grace and Alex Doyle,’ said Michael. ‘He wants you all to come to Angel Cay.’

She felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead. ‘Why on earth would I want to go there?’ she hissed.

‘Would you rather this was first discussed at Nassau’s police station?’

‘I suppose not.’

‘Miles thinks you should all talk about this privately and make a strategy,’ said Michael smoothly. ‘And I think that’s a wise move. We will send his personal jet for you. You’ll land in Nassau and be taken directly to Angel Cay. Can you be ready by first thing tomorrow morning?’

Sasha had the sense of being pushed into something she wasn’t comfortable with.
That’s a feeling I should be well used to with Miles Ashford
, she thought.

‘I need to think about this,’ she said, playing for time. Most of all, she wanted to discuss it with Philip. He would know what to do.

‘Well, call me as soon as you have thought it through,’ said Michael. ‘You’re all in this together, Sasha. And right now, I think you all need to stick together.’

Part Three

76

Sitting at the back of the six-seater plane, Alex gripped the armrest of his seat and watched Angel Cay get bigger and bigger, the white sands growing brighter and more dazzling as the small craft circled the island then spluttered in to land on the tiny airstrip along the south shore. He simply couldn’t believe he was back here. Stepping off the plane, the scented tropical breeze warming his face, squinting at the perfect stripe of sea beyond the dunes, it was as if the summer of 1990 had been yesterday.

He glanced over at Grace and gave her an uncertain smile, knowing she was feeling it too. But Grace had other things on her mind; she had barely spoken on the flight from Heathrow. He experienced a huge wave of emotion for her, feeling the weight of what she had just been through on his own shoulders. After her hysterical phone call three days ago, he’d found her wandering aimlessly along Chelsea Embankment, her face a pink puffy mess, stuttering and shaking. He wasn’t entirely sure whether it was Julian’s affair with her daughter which had destroyed her, or the brutal words Olivia had spoken when Grace had walked in on them. Whichever it was, she had fallen completely apart, and while his first instincts had been to track Julian down and beat the living shit out of him, he had done the grown-up thing and taken her back to his Highgate home to look after her, protect her.

That was where they had been when Michael Marshall had called. A body had been found, he had said. The police wanted to question them. They had to face this together.

Standing on the dusty runway, the pale pink house looking down on him from the bluff of the hill like an imperious maiden aunt, he wondered how Grace had persuaded him to come. He always knew this day might happen, of course; in fact he had somehow known in his gut that it would, but his time in the clinic had forced him to look at his motivations in life, and he had realised that the desire to be rich, powerful and adored was really a desire to be protected, so that he would be cushioned from things like this, hiding away behind an army of expensive lawyers and legal loopholes. If he’d wanted, he was sure he could have paid enough to make this go away, but as always, Grace had broken down his defences.

‘We can’t hide for ever,’ she had said, and there was a certain simple truth in her words. Alex had made himself unhappy all his life because he wouldn’t face things. Maybe now he could find some peace, however painful it was to do. He looked over at his friend with affection.

‘You OK?’ he said, and she nodded.

‘Under the circumstances.’

Alex suspected that from Grace’s point of view, Michael Marshall’s phone call had been a relief. She was the one who had carried this burden around with her, trying to make amends with her good works, by living a good life, but it hadn’t been enough – and now here was a chance to make it right, or at least own up to what she – they – had done. He also suspected she’d much rather be facing a police grilling than dealing with the horrible mess that her personal life had become.

A white Mini Moke appeared through a clearing in the palm-trees, beeping its horn as it approached the runway.

‘Here he comes, the lord of the manor,’ said Grace as they saw Miles in the driver’s seat.

‘You know, even as a lad I knew that having a friend like Miles was trouble.’

‘But he sucked you in anyway?’ asked Grace. ‘He does that. Even now.’

Miles stepped out of the car in shorts and a white open-necked shirt, looking for all the world like a carefree tourist rather than a cornered felon. He strode over and slapped Alex on the shoulder.

‘Good flight?’

‘Good enough,’ said Alex.

Miles grabbed Grace’s bag and pointed to the car. ‘Tight squeeze I’m afraid.’

‘Is Sasha coming?’ asked Grace.

‘Of course. Rejected the offer of the jet and she’s staying at the White Sands resort on Emerald Cay. You know Sasha. Always has to be different. Awkward. Still, she should be here in a couple of hours.’

They clambered into the Mini Moke and Miles gunned the engine, propelling the car up the hill.

‘Benny, the temporary caretaker, is doing a barbecue later for old times’ sake,’ shouted Miles over the roar. ‘No one turned vegetarian as well as teetotal on me in the last few years, did they?’

‘Old times’ sake?’ said Alex. ‘This isn’t a bloody holiday, Miles.’

‘Exactly, but neither does it have to be purgatory.’

They pulled up to the house. Since he had left this place, Alex had been around the world dozens of times and had lived a life of luxury most people only dreamt about, but still, there was something magical about Angel Cay. The view of the island from this elevated position was unmatched for drama and beauty anywhere on the globe. Somehow the sand here seemed whiter, the trees greener, the breeze more fragrant and sweet. It had a more potent tranquillity too, now the hordes of staff had left the island in preparation for the sale.

Benny the caretaker took their bags and they went out on to the terrace where ice-cold drinks and a huge fruit platter, piled high with mango, pineapple, papaya and starfruit, were waiting for them.

‘So what now?’ asked Grace.

‘How about sailing?’ said Miles, picking up a slice of mango.

‘We’re here to talk, Miles,’ said Alex with irritation.

Miles wiped the sticky orange juice from his chin with the back of his hand. ‘No point till Sash gets here.’

‘And when are we seeing Detective Carlton?’ asked Grace.

‘Tomorrow. One of his forensic goons is over the hill on the beach, though. Probably best to avoid that side of the island.’

‘I hope your lawyer’s here,’ said Alex.

‘Michael’s in George Town. Just left. Apparently Carlton and his colleagues are talking about doing a reconstruction of “the night in question”,’ he said, making quotation marks with his fingers. ‘You’d think it was bloody
Crimewatch
.’

Typical Miles
, thought Alex,
still fiddling while Rome burns
. He had expected a little humility to have crept into his personality after twenty years, but it seemed Miles Ashford still saw himself as Superman – bulletproof and unbendable. Suddenly Alex felt clammy and unclean.

‘I think I’ll go up to the room to change,’ he said.

Grace followed him up and they were only mildly surprised to find they had been assigned the same bedrooms they had slept in on the 1990 holiday. Miles’ sense of humour at work, Alex assumed. He changed into a fresh shirt then went down the corridor to Grace’s room.

‘I can’t believe how little this place has changed,’ she said as he walked in. She held up a copy of
Valley
of
the Dolls
, the novel she had been reading that trip, with her bookmark still in the place she had left it. She shook her head. ‘This is going to be hard.’

‘We did nothing wrong,’ said Alex, trying to put a brave face on it, but Grace just gave him a sad smile.

‘You know that’s not true, Alex.’

He put his arm around her and she looked up at him with big blue eyes. ‘You know, all the bad stuff that has ever happened to me in my life – Caro being killed in the car bomb, the collapse of my marriage, the death of my dad, my mum, Julian and Olivia . . . sometimes I think it’s karma. You felt it too, didn’t you, when you were in the clinic?’

Alex gave her a squeeze. He knew that hot summer night in 1990 had damaged them all.

‘I try not to think about it too much. What’s done is done.’

‘But we can always do our best to make amends, can’t we?’ asked Grace.

‘We can try.’

For a moment they stood like that, both enjoying the moment of closeness. Miles might have called them all back saying they needed to stick together, but Alex seriously doubted that he – or Sasha for that matter – was motivated by that sentiment. He and Grace would just have to back each other up.

‘Come on,’ he said, pulling away. ‘For once, Miles is right. No point moping around here; let’s go sailing.’

‘Miles is right?’ she said with a cynical half-smile.

‘About some things ...’ he said, pulling his sunglasses over his eyes and leading Grace outside.

It was time to go. The hotel boat was waiting by the dock and Sasha knew it was now or never. She had to return to the island, or run away, never looking back. At that moment, neither option seemed particularly appealing, but she knew she couldn’t keep running. She was too bloody tired.

Phil walked over, standing behind her, where she was looking out of the French windows leading to their private terrace.

‘You sure you don’t want me to come with you?’ he asked, putting his hands on her shoulders.

She shook her head. ‘I’m grateful for you coming this far but I don’t want you to get more involved than you have to be. I’m just going to go over there and get this done.’

Philip tilted his head to look up at the grey clouds gathering across the horizon. ‘Well you’d better be quick. The concierge thinks there might be some bad weather coming in and you don’t want to stay on that island overnight.’

‘I’ll swim away if I have to.’ She smiled.

Phil put his arms around her and planted a soft kiss on her lips. She relaxed into his body, and didn’t want to pull away. There had been so many places that had just felt
right
over the past twenty years: on Pampelonne beach in St Tropez in the summertime. On a yacht in St Barts on New Year’s Eve. At the CEFA designer of the year awards picking up a gong. But right now, Sasha could not think of anywhere she wanted to be more than here in Philip’s gentle, protective embrace.

‘I should have said yes,’ she said quietly.

He turned to look at her. ‘What do you mean?’

‘That night in your flat. I should have said yes.’

His eyes twinkled with pleasure, but Sasha knew she didn’t have time for this right now.

‘I won’t be long,’ she said quickly, grabbing her bag and striding out of the hotel with a purpose she had not felt in a long time. She had to get this finished. Only then could she get back to Philip and the life she had been searching for all these years.

The boat taking her to Angel Cay was fast and powerful, slicing through the green water with such speed that a journey that should have taken forty minutes took only fifteen.

‘Shall I wait?’ asked the captain as he helped her on to the jetty.

Sasha glanced at her watch. ‘No. I don’t know how long I’ll be, but that journey was so quick I’ll give you a ring when I need to be collected.’

He lifted a finger to his cap. ‘Sure thing, madam. But don’t leave it too long; the weather’s turning.’

‘I’ll be two hours tops.’

She walked along the pier, her heels tapping on the sun-blanched wood to where a man was waiting by a Mini Moke. He was about forty, with weathered skin and a clipped moustache.

‘Benny Law,’ he said, extending a hand. ‘I’m the caretaker.’

‘What happened to Nelson?’ asked Sasha as she climbed into the little jeep. ‘I thought he was part of the furniture around here.’

‘He retired,’ said Benny vaguely. ‘Now let me take you up to the house. Grace Ashford and that musician fella arrived a couple of hours ago.’

‘So everyone’s here?’

He shook his head. ‘Naw, miss, not right now. They’ve all gone sailing. Should be back in about an hour.’

Sasha tutted and looked anxiously at her watch again. She wanted to get this over and done with as soon as possible, and Phil was right – she really didn’t want to spend a night on the island.

Benny took her up to the house, then drove off in a cloud of dust towards the caretaker’s cottage. Left all alone, Sasha wandered from room to room, feeling the years slip away, remembering what it was like when she’d had the run of the house.

God, I really thought I was going to marry Miles, didn’t I?
she remembered with a smile, trailing her hands over the familiar furniture.
I thought all this was going to be mine
.