The Takamaka Tree (17 page)

“Would it be safe to bring the ship in closer?” Ralph Fellows asked. La Petite obviously looked very inviting, with its long stretches of white sand and dipping palm trees.

“It would be safer to stay anchored out here,” said Daniel. “The gap in the reef is very narrow.”

“We’ve a dinghy. We could come ashore to fetch some fruit. Wouldn’t mind stretching my legs on dry land for a change. I can tell you this is the last cruising holiday I’ll have for many a long year.”

Daniel steeled his emotions. If Ralph came ashore, then he would meet Sandy and it would be all over. He was a likeable person, there was no doubt about that. He was just the right kind of young man for Sandy, open and honest and pleasant.

“You are welcome to come ashore on La Petite and to stay for supper. It will be a simple meal, but I can assure you no biscuits or gin. By the time we’ve filled the water containers and ferried them back to
Sun Flyer,
it will be getting dark, so you’ll not be wanting to sail on to Mahé tonight.”

“That’s very kind of you indeed,” said Ralph, jumping at the invitation. “Will we be able to return to the ship once it gets dark?”

“Leon will be able to guide you. He knows every inch of these reefs.”

Leon grinned and nodded. He was all for an evening with some pals to talk to. It would be like the many evenings they had spent telling tales by the old jetties in Port Victoria.

“Hey! And what about me? Don’t I get invited out to supper? It’s very rude of you to ignore a lady.”

The voice was followed by the face and then the body. A slim, willowy, long-legged woman with a mane of raven black hair held back with a bright pink bandeau appeared from below deck. She was wearing the smallest white bikini Daniel had ever seen, the bra cups joined with gold links, the same gold links joining the brief material over her hips
.
Her skin was tanned the deepest of browns, oiled and shining, gold bracelets on her arms, gold earrings in her ears. And her face was beautiful—oval shaped, with large violet eyes and the blackest of lashes that swept her cheeks like little wings.

She smiled openly at Daniel, obviously relishing his arrival at
Sun Flyer
and his invitation. Her mouth was wide and curvaceous, her teeth perfect and creamy.

“Will it be formal?” she laughed. “Shall I dress for dinner?”

Ralph looked momentarily disconcerted. “Is that all right, old chap? There’s two of us, you see. Meant to tell you.”

“Of course,” said Daniel. “But…”

“Sorry. Forgot. May I introduce Miss Webster? Miss Gabrielle Webster, my fiancée.”

Chapter Eight

If Daniel had not been sitting in the boat at the time, he might well have fallen backwards and overboard. Gabrielle took his look of blank astonishment to be one of admiration for her appearance.

“Miss Webster?” he said formally.

“You are Robinson Crusoe, of course. And this is your Man Friday. How nice.” She even had dimples. Dimples, beauty and money, but Daniel did not care. If this was Gabrielle Webster, then his sea waif was someone else, and the relief was so great he could have hugged the gorgeous Miss Webster there and then.

The gorgeous Miss Webster obviously got the message and leaned over the rails, her cleavage deep and tanned. Not a strap mark in sight. Even at this distance, her perfume was sheer Fifth Avenue.

“My name’s Daniel Kane, and this is Leon. He helps me on the island. The island is La Petite, part of the Seychelles bank.” Then Daniel remembered that there should be a third person aboard the yacht—her father, Paul Webster. “Are there just the two of you?” he enquired.

Gabrielle nodded. “Ralph and I. The crew can decide for themselves who goes ashore. Obviously someone will have to stay aboard.”

“How about your skipper? Won’t he join us?”

“He’s part Seychellois. He can eat with your Leon,” she said carelessly, letting slip her good humour momentarily. She obviously resented any intrusion on the evening ahead with Daniel.

Daniel decided to return to shore immediately to warn Flora of the extra mouths to feed, and to prepare Sandy for their visitors. As he expected, Gabrielle elected to come later when all the work of ferrying food and water was over.

He knew Sandy would hide if she saw the dinghy following him ashore, and he was right. She had sped over to Flora’s hut and was watching the old woman prepare a chilli sauce for the crayfish.

In his turn Daniel stood and watched Sandy for a few moments, wondering now who she really was. After believing her to be Gabrielle Webster for so long, it took some adjusting to realise that Sandy had another identity.

He stopped in his tracks. He had forgotten Ralph Fellows’ portrait in Sandy’s drawing, and the life jacket that he had found her wearing with the initials, RAF.

“Hello,” she said, smiling. “You said to wear a tablecloth so I am.” She had wrapped the material around her, tucking the free corner into the fold at the front.

“You look very fetching,” he said gravely.

“Don’t look so worried. It’s only a joke. My clothes will be dry soon.”

He wished he could share his apprehension, but he dare not say a word. Sandy was quite likely to take off to Bird Cliff and refuse to return until the visitors had gone. Or even more alarming, run into the sea, tormented with vague memories of her experience.

He took her hand, which startled Sandy. He rarely took her hand unless it was to help her over a rock.

“The people on the ship have run out of fresh food and water. I’ve invited them to come ashore and then to have a meal with us.”

“Oh no, Daniel. How could you? People on La Petite. People we don’t know,” she stammered, aghast.

“There’s nothing to worry about. Flora will do all the cooking and we’ll have some kind of barbecue on the beach. They will appreciate anything we can offer them, although they won’t want too much fish.”

Sandy looked so desolate, Daniel almost laughed. Then she saw his amusement and relaxed a little.

“Oh, all right. I suppose I must get over this silly frightened feeling every time you want me to meet people. How many will be coming from the ship?”

“Four, I think, but only two will eat with us, a young man called Ralph Fellows and his fiancée, Gabrielle Webster.”

He watched her closely, but there was no reaction. In fact she seemed to show a little more interest on learning that it was a young couple.

“I can’t let Flora do all that extra work,” she said, suddenly starting to bustle around. “And if you say they’ve had enough of fish—we were only having crayfish. I’m certainly not going to let Noah kill off one of our poor little chickens, so it’ll have to be George Webb’s tins of corned beef. Perhaps we could make some kind of hash with breadfruit, or fritters to cook on the beach fire. There’s rice for a change. I’ll make lots of fruit salad and we can open some of his tins of evaporated milk to whip up to pour over. And perhaps Flora will make a batch of her lovely coconut cakes.”

He left Sandy superintending her first supper party, relieved that she had taken the news so well. Meanwhile Ralph Fellows had come ashore with one of the deck hands and they were filling their water containers from the fresh water stream.

“This
is some island,” he said. “What do you do with yourself here?”

“Watch birds, mainly.”

“That’s a cushy number. I’m an accountant. Doing very nicely. I work for Gabrielle’s father, Paul Webster.”

“Oh?” said Daniel cautiously.

“He started out on this trip with us,” said Ralph, obviously glad to have some male company for a change. “But we ran into a spot of bother, and the upshot of it was that he flew home. But Gabrielle didn’t want to call off the trip, so we carried on.”

“Sounds as if you have had a rotten time,” said Daniel, hoping Ralph would continue.

“Pretty rough, especially running out of food and water. But so long as the alcohol didn’t run dry! Gabrielle was determined to get a tan that would be the envy of her jet-set London friends. In fact we may even carry on a few more days before returning to Mahé, now that you are so kindly re-stocking us. It really is most awfully kind of you.”

Daniel refused any money for the food, but suggested that Ralph should liberally tip Leon and Noah for their assistance. He knew that Flora would be too proud to take any money for the extra work, and wondered if Gabrielle would think to bring a suitable gift.

“I’ll tell Gabrielle to hunt out a scarf or some beads,” said Ralph, as he set off on the last journey back to
Sun Flyer. “
See you in about half an hour. We’ll bring a bottle of wine.”

“Great. And some glasses, please. We don’t run to wine glasses on La Petite.”

Ralph laughed and waved. Why was his face in Sandy’s drawing, Daniel wondered for the hundredth time.

It was all taking far longer than Sandy expected. She had had to hunt out extra plates and forks, and she had insisted on picking masses of flowers for the bungalow. She was still running around, arranging things on the veranda when the dinghy put out from
Sun Flyer.
At her first sight of it, the usual panic rose in her throat, but she fought it down. She must be cool and collected for Daniel’s sake. These were his new friends. She must be a good hostess so that Daniel would be pleased.

She had meant to change into her blue dress before they arrived, but now there wasn’t time if everything for the meal was to be ready. And she would want to wash first. She would greet their visitors and seat them with glasses of fresh orange juice, and then go and change.

She ran her hands through her hair, hoping to tame the tangles. A smile of welcome hovered on her face. She was going to try so very hard.

Daniel waded into the shallows to pull the dinghy up on the sand and help Gabrielle ashore. But before he could grasp the rope, Ralph had stood, rocking the dinghy wildly. He leaped out, running through the shallows regardless of splashing his white shorts, over to Sandy. He flung his arms around her in an affectionate embrace.

“Marion! Marion! Oh, my dear girl—you are alive and well! Oh my dear, how marvellous. I’m so relieved. So glad.” He hugged her vigorously. Fear flashed into Sandy’s eyes and she pushed him away.

“Don’t frighten her,” Daniel shouted. “She’s lost her memory.”

“Well, what a surprise. So this is the woman I’ve brought some beads for,” Gabrielle drawled. It was impossible to read the expression on her face. She dropped her cigarette into the sea and stepped elegantly out of the dinghy onto the white sand. “Hello, Marion. So you’re safe and sound, after all. That’s a relief. We were so worried about you, despite the fact that you tried to ruin our entire holiday with your wicked ways.”

“Daniel, what does she mean?” Sandy asked, dazed. She was trembling so much that the tablecloth began to loosen. Swiftly Daniel tightened it around her shivering figure. She was staring at the two strangers.

“Sandy has lost her memory. She was in some kind of accident. She doesn’t remember who she is or anything that happened,” he explained.

“She’s Marion Elliot. She was washed overboard
Sun Flyer
in a gale only a few days after setting out from Port Victoria. We all thought the poor girl had drowned,” said Ralph, amazed. “It was terrible.”

“But I thought Gabrielle Webster was the only woman aboard.”

Gabrielle strolled over to the group, so glamorous in narrow-cut yellow trousers and a brief matching halter sun-top. Her mane of raven hair was tied back with a gold edged chiffon scarf.

“No, there was another woman aboard
Sun Flyer.
This young troublemaker, Marion Elliot, the cook we had employed from England,” she said coolly. “She’s quite a girl.”

Daniel’s arms tightened around Sandy’s shoulders. The cook. Of course, the cook; he had taken it for granted that the cook would be Seychellois. But a rich family like the Websters would employ their own cook on holiday.

“And a fine way Marion repaid us for our generosity,” Gabrielle went on, casually twirling the necklace she was carrying. “We paid her air fare from England, and the first thing she did was to set her tiny sights on Ralph, my fiancé. She was oh so clever and so innocent looking. When I put a stop to her little game, she set fire to
Sun Flyer.
Then before we could hand her over to the port authorities, she jumped overboard and disappeared.”

Gabrielle walked up to Sandy and insolently dropped the necklace over her head. It fell onto Sandy’s bare shoulders.

“Do you always walk around half naked?” Gabrielle said with some amusement. “Or have you gone native? Though this outfit is quite modest compared to your usual bikini.”

Sandy tore herself out of Daniel’s protecting arms and stumbled across the sand. She wrenched at the necklace, the thread breaking and all the beads flying like coloured raindrops into the air. She ran into the bungalow and slammed the door behind her.

“There must be some other explanation,” said Daniel grimly. “Sandy is not like that. Setting fire to a yacht? Never. You are describing some other person. I’d better go after her and see if she’s all right.”

“But Marion Elliot
is
that some other person,” Gabrielle insisted. “This Sandy, as you call her, may have a different personality.”