THEY dropped anchor in Deadman’s Cove about twenty minutes later. Charlotte had done as Logan suggested and determinedly kept her eyes on the steady line of the horizon, and by the time they moored in the cove she was able to view her surroundings with more enthusiasm. The waters of the cove were too shallow to sail closer to the beach, she heard Logan explaining to Manoel, but it was possible to swim ashore without difficulty.
It was a little before eleven, and Carlos opened up one of the lockers and extracted cans of lager from a cold box. Manoel decided that he would like coffee instead and Charlotte agreed that she would prefer something non-alcoholic.
‘Why is it called Deadman’s Cove?’ Robert was asking now, and Logan pointed to the steep, tropically foliaged cliff which backed the semi-circle of sand across the remaining expanse of water.
‘It’s said that pirates used to maroon men here,’ he remarked knowledgeably. ‘There’s no escape. The cliffs are unscalable, and as there is no fresh water supply …’ He grimaced mockingly, his previous impatience with the boy apparently dispersed. ‘Make sure you’re back on board before we sail!’
Robert grinned, and Charlotte guessed he was relieved to be back on good terms with Logan again. ‘I will, don’t worry.’ He looked over the side. ‘Can we swim?’
‘That’s what we’re here for,’ declared Elaine irritably, obviously not appreciating being ignored. ‘Logan, help me on with this harness. I can’t wait to get into the water.’
Logan glanced round at her resignedly, wiping chilled lager from his mouth with the back of his hand. Put that cylinder down, Elaine,’ he said in much the same tone he had used to Robert earlier. ‘If you want to swim, go ahead, but you’re not to go diving alone.’
Elaine dropped the cylinder with a thud on to the deck, and Logan’s mouth tightened. But he said nothing, merely continued to drink from the can of lager he had opened . Manoel had come to join Charlotte where she was standing near the stern, and he pulled a face at his daughter’s show of temper.
‘Elaine will learn that she cannot control Logan as she manages to control me,’ he observed softly. ‘But generally they get along very well, don’t you think?’
Charlotte ignored the uncoiling core of jealousy inside her. She had to admit that was what it was, but she also knew she had to overcome it. Even so, Manoel’s words, like his daughter’s, were chosen for a purpose, and she wasn’t altogether sure she liked his way of coupling them together; both parents—but different generations, she thought frustratedly.
Now she sipped the mug of coffee Carlos had given her, and said cautiously: ‘I really don’t know them—well enough to judge.’
‘No, perhaps not.’ Manoel was not perturbed. ‘But Elaine needs someone like Logan to keep her in order. A weaker man would have the devil’s own life with her.’
‘As you do?’ inquired Charlotte wryly, unable to resist the retort, and he chuckled good-humouredly.
‘Indeed. As I do,’ he agreed, without rancour.
Logan appeared at her side. ‘You are wearing a bathing suit, Charlotte?’ he asked curtly, and she turned to him with unwilling eagerness.
‘I’ve—brought a bathing suit,’ she admitted reluctantly, ‘but I’m not wearing it.’
Logan’s irritation was evident. ‘You’re going to get wet if you don’t,’ he observed. ‘I suggest you change.’
‘Here?’ Charlotte was horrified. ‘Now!’
‘As soon as Carlos and the others are in the water, yes.’ He turned to her companion. ‘Manoel, I have something I’d like you to see.’
The two men moved away together and Charlotte looked round frustratedly. Elaine had apparently taken Logan at his word, and she and Robert were already in the water. The Brazilian girl had shed her cotton jacket and the bra of her bikini was as scanty as the briefs.
Carlos was preparing to use a snorkel. He had already put on the face mask and was adjusting the breathing tube before lowering himself into the water. Rubber flippers flapped noisily as he stepped over the side, and he raised a hand in salute to Logan as he disappeared.
Charlotte sighed. Three down and two to go, she thought irritably. How could she get changed here? It was far too exposed. She had expected to be able to change in Logan’s bungalow, not on the deck of the sailboat.
Logan turned from the chart he had spread out on the engine housing and which he and Manoel had been studying to regard her impatiently.
‘You can go ahead,’ he remarked. ‘Get changed! I promise we won’t look.’
Charlotte’s face burned. ‘I don’t think I want to go in the water,’ she said.
Logan’s mouth compressed. ‘Don’t be foolish, Charlotte. That’s the whole point of the exercise.’
‘Your exercise, perhaps,’ she replied, speaking as pleasantly as she could, aware of Manoel watching their exchange. ‘I—really, I’m fine—–’
‘Charlotte!’ Logan’s voice had that harsh ring about it now, but Manoel intervened.
‘I think perhaps—Charlotte? May I?’ He smiled ingenuously; ‘I think perhaps Charlotte would prefer to be completely alone, Logan. That’s understandable, isn’t it? Come.’ He began to unfasten his trousers, and Charlotte’s momentary fears were stilled when they revealed navy blue swimming trunks beneath. ‘I shall enjoy a swim myself.’
Logan’s smouldering stare moved from Charlotte to the other man. He seemed about to make some further comment, but changed his mind at the last minute. With a brief word, which even someone who did not understand his language could apprehend as being far from complimentary, he folded the chart, thrust it away in a locker and accompanied Manoel to the rail. But when the older man performed a neat dive into the lucid green waters of the cove, he stepped back again and Charlotte was confronted by his tight-lipped disapproval.
‘Such a fuss!’ he snapped sharply. ‘You really do enjoy annoying me, don’t you?’
Charlotte held up her head. ‘Just because I’m not prepared to do a striptease for your benefit—–’
‘A striptease!’ Logan was scathing. ‘I doubt if you’d know how.’ Then, as she recoiled from him, he added: ‘Do you want me to take your clothes off myself?’
She gasped, but now was not the time for trepidation. ‘Oh, yes,’ she exclaimed. ‘You’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you? No doubt you’ve had plenty of experience!’
‘With you?’ His lips twisted. ‘Not as much as I’d like, believe me!’
Charlotte’s brief spasm of aggression was rendered useless. However she tried to fight him, he had an innate ability to disarm her.
‘So?’ he went on. ‘Must we waste any more time?’
Charlotte’s fingers moved obediently to the tied fastening beneath her breasts. The tapes pulled loose quite easily, but she held them in her hands, keeping the two sides of the blouse in position. For a moment Logan seemed mesmerised by her actions, and then with a muffled oath, he turned away, vaulting over the gunwale and into the water without a backward glance.
Charlotte’s two-piece bathing suit could hardly be called a bikini, but she had lost weight since coming to San Cristobal, and the belted briefs hung low on her slender hips. The bra fitted better, its cleavage exposing the swelling contours of creamy white skin. She removed the chiffon scarf which confined her hair, and immediately the weight of honey-brown hair tumbled about her shoulders. She thought how wet it would become in the water, and guessed that was why Elaine wore such an easy-to-manage style.
Robert’s hands came to grip the side of the boat, and the top of his head appeared. ‘Are you coming in the water—hey! You look super, Mum!’
Far from reassuring her, Robert’s words made her doubtful. ‘I might just sunbathe—–’ she was beginning, when Carlos swung himself back on board.
‘You ready, Mrs Derby?’ he inquired easily, and with a sigh, she nodded.
Carlos’s gleaming black body dripped water over the bleached boards of the ketch as he handed her a pair of flippers and told her to put them on her feet.
‘Have you ever swum with rubbers?’ he asked, and she shook her head. ‘You’d better get used to them first, then,’ he suggested, and she stood looking at him doubtfully, feeling ridiculously like a stranded penguin.
‘What do I do?’
‘Well, you get in the water,’ he told her dryly. ‘Do you need any assistance?’
‘Oh, no. No!’ She shook her head, and under Robert’s amused stare, she clambered over the side and practically tumbled head-first into the soft clear water.
It was difficult surfacing. Her feet kept wanting to be where her head should be, and she realised what Carlos had meant about getting used to the flippers. She came up spluttering to find Logan beside her, and he grasped a painful handful of her hair to keep her afloat. Her eyes stung, but he seemed immune to her discomfort.
‘Kick your legs,’ he told her. ‘That’s right. Not too hard. Get a rhythm, and you’ll find it’s easy.’
And it was—but Charlotte was more conscious of his nearness than anything else. She stared at him tormentedly and when he released her hair to turn her back to him, his hand firm on her midriff, she thought he had guessed what she was thinking.
But when his name spilled from her lips, he merely tightened his hold on her, saying half impatiently: ‘Kick your legs and let your body relax. Now, can you hold your breath for a while, and I’ll show you how to keep just below the surface of the water?’
Despite Elaine’s chiding ridicule and Robert’s well-meaning interference, Charlotte soon mastered the technique of allowing her legs to propel her forward. Instead of threshing about wildly with her arms and defeating her object, she learned to keep them by her sides, and glide smoothly through the water. This achieved, Logan taught her how to open her eyes underwater, and the sun-warmed world which opened up beneath her displaced all lingering traces of self-consciousness.
She had been afraid she might feel sick, as she had in the boat, but there was so much to see she forgot to even think about it. The water wasn’t deep, no more than six to eight feet, but it teemed with life. Waving banks of turtle grass gave way to rocky formations, where every crack and cranny harboured sponges and sea urchins, snails and anemones, and small corals clinging for survival. She had imagined the colours would be muted, but she sunlight was so strong, the patterns of the vivid creatures they passed stood out in bright relief. There were tropical fish of every kind, as well as worms and starfish, and armoured shellfish that withdrew inside their defences with the touch of a finger.
As soon as Logan was satisfied she was at home in the water, he swam back to the boat and collected her a face mask and snorkel, introducing her to the technique of breathing through a tube. The mouthpiece seemed huge to begin with, but Logan was patient and soon she could handle it without choking.
‘Are you going to spend the whole day playing about in the shallows?’ Elaine was demanding of Logan, when Charlotte emerged from an exhilarating spell in the cathedral quiet below the surface, and he shook his head.
‘Once Charlotte has mastered using the snorkel, we’ll go out into deeper water,’ he promised her indulgently, and Charlotte guessed he meant to use the oxygen tanks.
‘Don’t concern yourself about me,’ she said at once, pushing the mask up over her hair. ‘Robert and I can manage quite satisfactorily on our own.’
Logan’s reaction was not entirely unexpected. ‘I shall decide if or when you can satisfactorily be left alone,’ he stated, raking back his wet hair. Unlike her, he had not worn a mask and breathing tube, relying instead on his experienced control of his breathing, surfacing only to fill his lungs before plunging underwater once more. ‘And as it is after twelve, I suggest we have lunch before venturing further afield.’
It was too hot to put on any clothes, and Charlotte contented herself with the thought that so long as Elaine was around, no one would pay much attention to her. That she was wrong soon became obvious when Manoel insinuated himself beside her, although it crossed her mind that Elaine might be encouraging her father’s interest, pairing off Carlos with Robert, and herself with Logan.
Lunch was a delicious meal of cold chicken and potato salad, ham rolls, lettuce, tomatoes, and cheese. There were lobster patties, and mushroom vol-au-vents, savoury sausages and stuffed eggs, as well as cherry meringues and chocolate icecream, that melted before it was consumed. There was plenty of fresh fruit for those who wanted it and two bottles of champagne, which Manoel confided he had provided. It was delightful relaxing after the morning’s activities, and in a facile way, Charlotte was enjoying herself. It was strange to think that until recently she had found nothing unusual in spending a whole day in idleness, when now, after only a little under three weeks, she already appreciated the privilege.
Logan lounged on the deck with Carlos, while Elaine stretched her length beside them, lying on her stomach and unfastening the bikini bra so that the heat of the sun should not leave a mark across her already bronzed back. Charlotte was dismayed at her own reactions to this deliberate display of provocation, but she was unaware she was staring until Logan intercepted her gaze and shrewdly guessed the reason for it. The palm of his hand descended on Elaine’s smooth flesh, and Charlotte was hotly resentful when what he said drifted easily on the still air:
‘I think you had better make yourself decent, pequena. You are embarrassing my guest.’
Immediately, Elaine sat up and looked defiantly across at Charlotte, making no attempt to cover herself. ‘What is the matter, Mrs Derby?’ she demanded carelessly. ‘Haven’t you ever gone—how do you say it?—topless, no?’
Robert’s reactions were to gather up some shells he had collected and carry them to the rear end of the boat, but before Charlotte could make any protest, Logan thrust a towel into Elaine’s unwilling hands.
‘That will do,’ he told her flatly, and she made an angry face at him before pushing the towel aside and snatching up the bra and putting it on again.
‘Such a fuss!’ she muttered sulkily. ‘No one else is complaining. Just because she’s a prude—–’
‘Caluda!’ Logan lapsed into Portuguese, and judging from Elaine’s expression, Charlotte did not think that what he was saying was particularly favourable to her. Manoel raised his eyebrows, but made no complaint, and with a pang she realised that he was prepared to countenance Logan’s censure because he approved of their relationship.
After a while they all relaxed, physically at least, although Charlotte’s mind was far from inactive. She contemplated Logan through half closed lids, relieved to see that his eyes were closed. He was lying flat on his back and her eyes moved over his supine form, lingering on the taut skin covering his rib-cage, his flat stomach, and the powerful muscles of his thighs. His legs were long and darkened with hair, his feet narrow and well formed. She gained a certain amount of satisfaction from the knowledge that Robert had inherited his father’s lithe indolence, and in a few years would no doubt be equally attractive to the opposite sex. Even so, it was incredible to think that she and Logan had once shared such an intimacy, had once lain in one another’s arms without even the barrier of a bathing suit between them. And yet was it so incredible, when only days ago she had experienced a similarly wanton sensation on the beach?
Elaine was lying beside him, and every now and then she inched a little nearer to him, and Charlotte, suppressing her real feelings, turned her head to look at her son. Unlike the others, he was not sleeping. On his stomach, he was examining a snail he had found, intent on the fluted formation of its shell. He looked so much like Logan at that moment that she glanced round almost guiltily, sure that her secret must be evident to all eyes. But fortunately, no one else was looking at him just then, and she expelled her breath on a sigh.
Observing Robert brought other considerations to mind, and she tried to put her mind to sorting out what she would do when this month was up. She would go back to London, of course, that much seemed certain. It would be easier to lose herself there, and there was bound to be some kind of employment she could take up. Robert was a problem, but not an insurmountable one. If it was at all possible, she would find another housekeeping position where Robert’s presence would not be frowned upon, but if not, he was old enough to be left alone during school holidays and such like.
Just for a moment she allowed herself to imagine what their life might have been like if Logan had not abandoned her, if they had got married, and Robert had been born out of love and not bitterness. She wondered if she would have liked living in Rio, and then chided herself for her foolishness. She could have been happy anywhere with the man she loved, and Logan had always been that man. Even now …
She had not been aware of Logan moving, and when his weight was suddenly lowered beside hers, she looked up at him in alarm.
‘Relax,’ he told her softly, indicating Manoel’s sleeping form. ‘I just want to talk to you.’
Charlotte glanced anxiously towards Robert, but he had shifted so that his back was to them, and as even Elaine seemed unconscious of Logan’s departure, they seemed suddenly isolated.
‘Wh-what do you want to talk about?’ she ventured.
Logan’s arm rested along the back of the seat behind her. ‘Us,’ he answered quietly.
Charlotte pressed a hand to her throat. ‘Us?’ she echoed.
‘Yes, us. You and me—and Robert.’
After her thoughts of the last few minutes, his words were too perceptive, and in an effort to avoid a direct answer, she exclaimed: ‘I have no intention of staying on. with Lisette after the month is up, so there’s no point in you—–’
‘Did I say I wanted you to stay on with Lisette?’ he interrupted her harshly, and she coloured.
‘No …’
‘So don’t jump to conclusions.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Oh, Charlotte!’ His use of her name was frustrated. Then, as if aware that they might be overheard, he went on more evenly: ‘What do you think of San Cristobal?’
Charlotte was surprised, and a little disappointed by his question. ‘I—it’s all right,’ she replied.
‘Is that all? All right? Don’t you think it’s a beautiful island?’
Charlotte hesitated. ‘Yes, it’s beautiful,’ she agreed at last without enthusiasm.
Logan heaved a sigh. ‘Don’t overdo it!’ he remarked. ‘I might get the wrong impression.’
‘You asked me what I thought of the island and—–’
‘—–and you told me. Yes.’ Logan paused. ‘What about Robert?’
‘What about Robert?’
‘Is he happy here? Or is he bored?’
Charlotte looked down at her toes. ‘You must know that since he started visiting the beach house, he’s been in seventh heaven!’ she told him, half resentfully.
‘And that annoys you?’ he demanded, in an undertone. ‘That Matthew’s son enjoys my company? And Carlos’s too, of course.’
Charlotte refused to meet his gaze. ‘I—no. Why should it?’
‘That’s what I ask myself—but it seems to.’
She sighed. ‘You’re imagining things.’
‘Am I?’ His fingers touched her bare arm, trailing a path from her wrist to her shoulder. ‘Would you like to hear what I do imagine?’ He bent his head deliberately so that his breath was fanning her cheek. ‘I imagine you in my bed every morning. I imagine I am the only man who has ever possessed you. And I imagine Robert is my son!’
Charlotte had to steel herself not to spring to her feet and put the width of the deck between them. Why was he saying these things to her? Did he suspect something? Or was this just another of his ways to torment her?
‘You—you seem to have a vivid imagination,’ she managed, at length. ‘No doubt you always did.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
She shivered. ‘I see no point in re-hashing old scores, Logan.’
‘Don’t you? Why not? I should have thought you owed me that, at least.’
‘I owe you!’ She stared at him then, ignoring the assiduous temptation to lift her hand and touch his face, so close to hers. ‘Your arrogance is incredible!’
‘Why? Because I made love to you?’ Logan’s fingers insinuated themselves beneath the strap of her bra. ‘As a married woman of some eleven years, you’re not still harbouring grudges about that!’
Charlotte shifted her shoulder irritably, but it didn’t dislodge his probing fingers. ‘You would consider that ridiculous, wouldn’t you?’ she snapped, endeavouring to control emotions that were threatening to get out of hand.
He bent his head, his teeth catching the lobe of her ear. ‘You were untouched—I had no right to do it,’ he conceded, no doubt aware of the trembling flesh beneath his lips. ‘But what you did was worse—and I see no reason to apologise for what was undeniably a delightful experience.’ His fingers caught her chin, turning her face to his. ‘Wasn’t it?’ he insisted, the sensual curve of his mouth awakening all the wanton desires she had so long suppressed.
‘You—you’re completely amoral, do you know that?’ she cried, trying to push his hands away, and his expression changed.
‘If we’re talking about character references, there was nothing particularly moral about marrying a man old enough to be your grandfather, was there?’ he drawled coldly. ‘Derby was determined to get his hands on you, one way or the other, but I never thought you’d let yourself be bought! How mistaken I was!’
Charlotte put both hands to her hot cheeks. Elaine was stirring, disturbed no doubt by the angry tenor of Logan’s voice, but for a few moments longer they were unobserved.
‘I don’t know why you keep bringing this up,’ she said carefully, ignoring the craving to justify herself. ‘As a matter of fact, I married Matthew because I owed him, not the other way about.’
Logan’s eyes narrowed. ‘What did you owe him?’
Charlotte shifted uncomfortably. ‘I—surely that’s obvious! He—I—without him, I’d have been brought up in a children’s home.’
‘No great hardship, I should have thought.’
‘You don’t understand, do you?’ she exclaimed painfully.
He shook his head. ‘No. Unless …’ His eyes were frankly assessing as they moved over her scantily-clad figure. ‘Unless … the real thing was too much for you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘God help me, I don’t know,’ he muttered angrily, pushing back his hair with a careless gesture. ‘I’ve tried to work it out. I’ve lain awake nights trying to understand why you did it, and even now, I’m no further forward. God, Charlotte, you had Robert! You must have slept with him! Oh—–’ With a stifled oath, he got to his feet and left her, walking towards Carlos with a curious lack of vitality in his step.
During the afternoon Logan, Carlos and Elaine put on the scuba-diving equipment and somersaulted off the boat to explore the deeper waters that lay at the base of the cliffs that formed the headlands on either side of the cove. Robert was disappointed that he was not allowed to join in such an expedition, but Charlotte comforted him with the suggestion that they should swim to the shore, which was as yet unexplored.
It was further than Charlotte had anticipated, and she was tired when they finally walked up the unblemished stretch of beach. The sand was a dazzling oyster white, disturbed only by delves here and there, which she guessed had been made by crabs or some other sea creature.
While she stretched out to sunbathe, Robert sauntered off to explore, and the peaceful isolation soon made her drowsy. The only sounds came from the seabirds crying overhead, their raucousness muted by distance. The silky lap of the water as it creamed on the shoreline was soothing, and she felt her eyes closing almost against her will.
When she awoke, it was to the discomfiting realisation that she had been too long in the sun. Her arms and legs were bright red and painful to touch, and she dreaded to think what her nose must be like.
She got quickly to her feet, momentarily dizzy as the sea cast back its brilliance in a thousand blinding prisms. She blinked, trying to see more clearly, and was relieved when her vision began to clear.
Only then did she look about her. Where was Robert? How long had she slept? If only she had a watch to give her some indication of the time. The sun was lower, it was true, but not so low that she could imagine she had slept longer than an hour. An hour! She looked down at her limbs exasperatedly. So much damage could be done in an hour, and after all she had said to Robert about guarding against sunburn, she had to go and do something foolish like this!
But where was Robert? She looked all about her, and felt a stirring sense of panic at the realisation that he was not in sight. But then, she told herself impatiently, he would hardly be standing about waiting for her to notice him. Knowing Robert, he was likely to be among that tangle of bushes bordering the cliffs, searching for some shells or rock samples, or simply playing a game of hide and seek with her.
Brushing the sand from her arms and legs with careful fingers, wincing as her muscles objected to the unnatural dryness of her skin, she turned and began to walk up the beach. It was quite steep, due no doubt to the shelving of the cove, and she was almost unaware of a huge sand-crab until it scuttled out from beneath her feet, startling a shocked gasp from her lips. She took a moment to gather her composure, and used the time to call Robert’s name.
There was no answer and with some misgivings she pushed between the corrugated trunks of a clump of palm trees. Insects whirred noisily about her, protesting at being disturbed, and her bare feet probed every inch of sand before setting down. There could well be spiders and scorpions lurking among the greenery, and she called Robert’s name again, more aggressively this time.
It suddenly occurred to her that he might have swum back to the boat, and reaching the cliff face she was about to give up the search when she saw the wide crack in the rock wall. Curiosity made her go on until she could see through the crack, and she frowned into the cave beyond. Sunlight shafted through the opening, but beyond the circle of illumination was a shadowy interior, echoing to the hollow sound of the sea. Perhaps some cavern lay beneath the cliffs, some underground chamber worn into the solid wall of rock by the ocean.
‘Robert?’ she called, taking a tentative step through the cleft, refusing to think about spouts and pot-holes, and bottomless wells. ‘Are you there, Robert?’
There was no reply, and she was about to abandon the search, realising there was little she could do without a torch, when she heard a curious cry, not unlike that of a child in distress. Immediately she turned back, staring helplessly into the dim recesses of the cave.
‘Robert?’ she said again, more urgently now. ‘Robert, is that you?’
The muted thunder of the ocean masked any response, but she sensed rather than heard that something was moving about in the darkness beyond her sight.
‘Robert!’ Her utterance of his name was anxious. ‘Robert, can’t you answer me?’
There was no further sound and she looked back desperately over her shoulder. Oh, for a match, she thought despairingly, wondering whether it was possible for Robert to have gone into the cave and injured himself in some way. She knew the most sensible course of action was to swim back to the boat and enlist Manoel’s help, but the idea of leaving the boy if he was there filled her with reluctance.
She stepped further into the cave, trying to adjust her eyes to the gloom and succeeded in glimpsing the shadowy wall at the back. There seemed to be something lying on the floor of the cave and convinced it must be Robert, she rushed towards it, only to be thrown backward aghast, as a thousand stars exploded inside her head.