White Lies

Sara Wood

Book 1 - True Colours trilogy

White lies and dark secrets
Mandy Cook set out for Saint Lucia with high hopes of finding her family. She found Pascal St. Honore, the handsome and impassioned son of the man who held the key to her search. Far from being helpful, he seemed intent on keeping her from his father. Mandy couldn't quite work out why, but his methods were relentless: lies, intrigue and finally kidnapping. But, instead of falling in with his plans, Mandy fell into his arms. The result? She couldn't have imagined it in her wildest dreams!
TRUE COLOURS: Three women are looking for their family--what they find is love. Things are rarely as they seem in Sara Wood's intriguing family trilogy.

'
T
HE
. . .Caribbean?' repeated Mandy incredulously. 'There must be some mistake! I can't possibly have any family there! I thought,' she said, suddenly more subdued, 'that this was an advert from a relative who was trying to trace me. That can't be right, can it?' 'Why not?' The solicitor smiled encouragingly. In a wistful gesture that was almost a caress, her hand smoothed the much read page of the newspaper in front of her and she went over the words of the advert again, even though she knew them by heart.

MANDY COOK, nee Brandon. Born 26.8.71, Sunnyside Nursing Home, Glasgow. Resident of West Hill Children's Home, and St Mary's Children's Home. Married David James Cook, 26.8.89. Last heard of in Devon.

Please contact the office below where you will learn something to your advantage.

Cold facts, simple words. And yet they'd aroused such a disturbing turbulence in her that she'd barely been able to keep her finger steady to dial the number given for the London solicitor, Jack Lacey. Full of excitement and hope, she'd gabbled out her story—that she'd been searching for her natural parents for a long, long time and was hardly daring to hope that she might have a positive lead at last.

And luckily Jack Lacey had understood why she'd been half laughing, half crying and why her words had tumbled out in an unstoppable rush like a river in full spate.

'Come at once,' he'd said. 'Take the next train from Plymouth.'

And here she was in his office, four hours later. She'd sipped tea and nervously chatted to him while he checked the documents she'd brought as proof of her identity.

Then he'd looked up and stunned her by saying that she was to fly to St Lucia in the Caribbean!

'I dearly want this to give me a link with my real parents,' she said earnestly. 'But it's so unlikely—'

Jack Lacey lifted a thick grey eyebrow. 'Is it? The details are correct, aren't they? I can understand your amazement, but my contact in St Lucia said that when I found Mandy Cook his client wanted her to take these tickets and make the trip to the West Indies as soon as possible.' He smiled at her, knowing that she desperately wanted to be convinced. 'I believe quite a few Scots went out to work on plantations in the past. Why not one of
your
relatives?'

Mandy found herself smiling back wryly. 'Because having exotic connections isn't the kind of thing that happens to ordinary people like me!'

A little dazed, she stared at the tickets in front of her. Heathrow to St Lucia. St Lucia to Heathrow. They were genuine; the solicitor had checked them out—and he'd confirmed that the hotel accommodation at the Anse La Verdure Hotel was genuine too.

'I can't think of anyone better,' said Jack Lacey gently. 'Go,' he urged. 'Treat yourself. I'll get in touch with Vincente St Honore once I know your flight plans.'

'I could ring him from home, couldn't I?' she suggested cautiously. 'That would save his client's money.' And save herself a nerve-racking trip. Mandy flipped open the clasp of her handbag and began to rummage for something to write on. 'Do you have his phone number or address?'

'I'm not to divulge that,' Lacey said to her surprise. 'I know; odd, isn't it? But those are my instructions. He wants to contact
you.
If his client is willing to pay for your travel, why argue? I'm sure you'll be told everything when St Honore meets you.'

It seemed very cloak-and-dagger. Why weren't people straightforward instead of being so devious? It could be a huge disappointment. It could be.. .oh, it would be wonderful if St Honore could put her in touch with relatives.

'If he refers to a client, does that mean that Vincente St Honore is a solicitor? If so, surely he would have said something about the purpose of the advert?' She leaned forward eagerly. 'It's worded as if someone's died and the executors are searching for anyone with claims on the estate. What do you think?'

Jack Lacey nodded. 'That's how I read it. But St Honore has told me nothing. He could be just a lay executor, but he keeps referring to his "client" so I'd put my money on him being a solicitor as well. I assume he's acting as a go-between for someone and he wants to satisfy himself that you're who you say you are. However, I'd advise you not to raise your hopes—'

'Why?' Mandy asked quickly.

'Because he hinted that he was making other enquiries. That's all I know.' Lacey hesitated, seeing how her spirits had fallen and that the joy had vanished from her face. 'I wish I could tell you more.'

'I'm not interested in any financial gain,' Mandy said shakily. 'It's... it's the prospect of discovering my roots that's excited me. But if there are doubts...'

All of a sudden her voice became croaky with emotion and her soft hazel eyes grew filmy with unshed tears. Flying to St Lucia only to discover that there had been a mistake would be quite devastating to her. Disappointments had peppered all her attempts to find her family so far and increasingly she was afraid to allow hope into her heart any more—even though her quest was becoming an obsession.

Lacey cleared his throat. 'All I know is that St Honore wants you in St Lucia.'

'For an audition, perhaps?' she asked with a rueful laugh. 'Or some kind of identity parade, where this man's client stands behind a two-way mirror and picks out whoever has the greatest family resemblance?'

'I don't know,' confessed Lacey, giving her a sympathetic grin. 'But if there's any doubt I'm sure DNA testing will be used if necessary, to put everyone's mind at rest. I hope it works out,' he added quietly. 'I'd hate to see you return disappointed.'

'I would be, Mr Lacey,' she said fervently. 'I've longed to know about my mother all my life.' She dropped her gaze for a brief moment. Jack Lacey's sympathetic eyes were encouraging her tears to form, and she knew that she mustn't let herself cry or she'd never feel tough enough to cope with the prospect of failure.

'See it as a holiday, all expenses paid,' he told her. 'I envy you, Mrs Cook. How about taking a personal advisor with you?' he suggested, a twinkle in his eyes.

She flashed him a grateful smile for realising that she needed a touch of humour to lift her spirits. 'I can't afford you! Besides, you'd miss your daughter's school play—and your wife's...what did you say? Her tip-tilted smile and the way she sings around the house.'

Jack Lacey laughed warmly. Unlikely though it seemed, the young woman in the washed-out, demure blue dress and the cheap shoes had totally disarmed him with her admiring exclamations over the photograph of his family and had somehow coaxed him to wax sentimental about the people he loved.

'You're right,' he admitted, feeling an odd affection for Mandy. He frowned. She was so open that she'd be extremely vulnerable. 'Don't get hurt,' he said suddenly, with fervour.

'How kind you are!' she said warmly. Her eyes shone with pleasure through the fine veil of tears. 'I might,' she admitted. 'I'm afraid that happens now and then. I trust people and sometimes they let me down. I've had cranks and opportunists answering my adverts and pretending to be a long-lost parent before, as I told you.'

'But no crank would fund a trip to the West Indies,' reasoned Jack Lacey.

'That's what I'm banking on,' she said eagerly. 'This time the solicitor in St Lucia
could
be acting for a relative of mine and I
might
learn about my past. I know it would be wiser not to get excited, but this means everything to me, Mr Lacey. If I find my mother, or my father, or even
one
relative, I'll come right back and hug you!'

Jack Lacey found himself praying that she would. But as she left, his hand aching from where she had squeezed it so fiercely and a lump in his throat at the quiet joy on her pale face, he thought of the ice-cold tones of the man he'd been told would contact her and he wondered if he should have warned her more strongly. He sighed, knowing that he wouldn't have had the heart.

Mandy Cook might discover that some families were best left divided and that the mother who'd abandoned her at the nursing home had probably had a good reason to keep her baby girl's existence a secret from her relatives.

*

'A Planter's Punch for you too, madam?'

Mandy smiled warmly at the woman who'd come to the table in the spacious, open-air lounge of the hotel. The 'welcome' drink looked long and cool and fruity- just what she needed after the hot and dusty drive.

She checked the name-tag on the frill decorating the woman's crisp white blouse. 'Please, Agnes,' she said gratefully. 'The road was so bumpy! I felt quite shaky when I got out of the minibus.' She took a sip of the drink and detected the faint taste of rum.

'It's bad,' agreed Agnes equably, and shot her a curious glance. 'Are you Mrs "Cook?' And at Mandy's nod she said, 'Monsieur St Honore's been asking after you.'

Mandy glowed with delight. 'Is he here?'

'He's on the beach,' Agnes said shortly. 'Simon will show you. Simon!'

'The
beach?'
Mandy quickly drained her glass and jumped up. She felt a little unsteady, but then she'd been sitting for hours and hours on the plane. She smiled at the young bar attendant who came running up. And she wondered how many St Lucian solicitors received their clients on the beach! 'The beach! It's wacky. I think I'm going to love Anse La Verdure,' she said with a grin.

'Everybody does. It's the best in the Caribbean,' said Simon proudly. He indicated the key in her hand. 'Would you like to unpack and rest first?' he asked thoughtfully, but then, they'd had a long chat already, and she'd drawn out half his family history from him.

She hesitated. Perhaps she ought to take the opportunity to freshen up and wait till her shakiness had gone before confronting the man she'd flown thousands of miles to see. But she was eager to meet him—and she felt sure that her dizziness would pass once her body had realised that it had stopped travelling.

'I'll be all right,' she said. 'I've had time to drop off my hand luggage.' She smiled, thinking happily of the luxurious villa perched higher up the hill. 'Mr St Honore takes priority.'

'We go that way.' Simon pointed to some dark volcanic .steps which led from the terrace of the bar and lounge area.

'OK. I'll see you all later, I expect,' she said warmly to the other guests sitting nearby, and they smiled and cheerfully lifted their glasses in a friendly farewell.

She followed the teenager down the steep hill, occasionally catching glimpses of an impossibly blue sea scintillating like a jewel in the hot sun. The steps wound through a tropical garden of palm trees, hibiscus, great billows of bougainvillea...

In answer to her request, Simon began to give her the names of the plants, shouting them over his shoulder- angels' tears, heart flower, water-well, paw-paw, mango, bottlebrush—till her mind reeled.

But it took the edge off her tense anticipation. Somewhere on the beach below was the man who might change her life. And as she hurried after the white-clad Simon her whole body almost bounced with joy till the thick brown rope of her plait bounced too in sympathy.

'Where is he?' At the bottom of the steps she paused to search the beach expectantly. Yet there was no one remotely like a solicitor in sight. 'I'm looking for a guy in a bowler hat and pinstriped suit with a briefcase,' she said with a chuckle. 'I suppose I've got that wrong!'

Simon grinned back at her. 'No suits here! Only sand and sea, sun and tanned people. Everybody having a good time.'

Mandy beamed merrily at all the friendly faces nearby and was rewarded with a battery of smiles in return. 'It's going to be so lovely staying at this hotel!' she sighed. 'I expected people to be standoffish. But they all look as happy as I feel.'

'Sure they do. This is paradise,' said Simon. He paused, then gave a satisfied exclamation. 'I see him! You follow me, lady!'

Excitedly Mandy strode after his eye-searing, white- clad figure, barely controlling her urge to skip. Her pulses, however, were galloping along in leaps and bounds because all her hopes and dreams were bound up in this moment. Even admiring the dazzling blue sky, the translucent sea and the 'desert island' beach with its leaning palms and sultry, tropical atmosphere came second to her long-term goal. Beaches she could enjoy later. The unbelievable view to the mountains from her balcony could be drooled over some other time. This was her future, after all.