Chapter Six

It was simple enough for Daniel to pack Sandy’s few possessions while she was downstairs in the hotel having the ragged ends of her hair trimmed by the resident hairdresser. Their flight took off in late evening and flew through the night to arrive in London soon after breakfast.

They spent the day exploring more of the island and visiting the doctor’s mountain home again. Sandy was certainly much more relaxed after her second talk with Dr. Lefanue, and while she was with him Daniel took one of the old footpaths over the mountain. Each twist and turn of the path brought breathtaking views of the sea and the luxuriant slopes swept with plantations of palms, small tea bushes, old cinnamon trees and vanilla.

Soon they would be leaving all this. Daniel stored all the sights in his mind. The teeming land birds delighted his heart, so free and wild and unafraid, their bright plumage providing a kaleidoscope of changing patterns of light. Green geckos slid up branches of trees, stopping to bask in the sunlight, regarding Daniel with unflickering stares.

His work on La Petite had revealed that the Seychelles were visited by many more migrating birds than previously recorded. Many ornithologists believed this was due to the shifting icecap and that the birds could be silently informing the world of changes in weather patterns. It was an interesting theory and Daniel did not disbelieve it. He had long ago come to the conclusion that mankind could be blind.

But it saddened him that he might never visit the islands again. He thought wryly that it was a pity the Seychelles were not available on the National Health. They might save many a prescription for Valium or Tryptizol.

How much Sandy would enjoy a real holiday here, he thought, with all the freedom and relaxation available for holiday-makers. He would have liked to take her across to Praslin to see the famous coco-de-mer trees in the Vallée de Mai, and to walk in the primeval forest of giant palms. Perhaps they might even have caught a glimpse of the rare black parrot that lived high in the branches above the exotic bamboo trees. Perhaps they might even have stayed at the luxury Paradise Hotel, a few steps away from the powdery white sand of the Cote D’Or…

Daniel pulled himself up for daydreaming. He was thinking about sharing time with Sandy, and he knew that it was impossible. Perhaps when she recovered her memory, she might return alone to the Seychelles. As Gabrielle Webster, she would be able to afford it.

“Do I look more presentable now?” Sandy asked pertly, returning from the hairdresser’s. Her hair was shoulder length, brushing her skin like a silky curtain, the ends relieved of the weight and slightly flicking upwards.

Daniel assured her, “You look fine and I’m sure you now feel a little less conspicuous without your ragged chop.”

A cloud passed over her face. She was trying hard to remember but there was just nothing there. “I wonder how it got like that,” she said carefully. “Surely it’s not some sort of outrageous punk fashion? Perhaps it’s the latest thing in Vogue.”

Daniel considered this remark for a moment and then asked, “And how would you know about Vogue magazine? It’s not published on La Petite.”

Sandy brightened. “Ah, you’re trying to catch me out! No, it’s not a crack in my silly memory. There was a copy at the hairdresser’s. And very interesting it was too. I discovered a lot. I began to get the feeling that my wardrobe is distinctly inadequate.”

Now that sounded exactly like Miss Gabrielle Webster talking, thought Daniel. He hoped she regained her identity and her bank balance before she went on her next shopping spree.

As soon as the smartly uniformed bellboy began loading Daniel’s luggage into a taxi, Sandy realised what was happening. A surge of panic rose in her breast, and she went quite pale beneath her tan. She looked around wildly, wanting to escape, but there was nowhere to go. Her fate was to be beside Daniel, wherever he took her. She only felt safe here in surroundings that she knew, with people who were kind—the good doctor, the helpful Hamish Macarthur, even Bella and Leon.

But then she looked at Daniel and his darkly steadfast expression as he dealt with all the financial side of checking out of the hotel, and she knew why she was afraid of regaining her memory. Once she knew who she was, then Daniel would no longer take care of her. It was not so much London and England that she was afraid of, although the idea of a strange new place was frightening. She was far more afraid of the clever men who would know what to do with her mind, and in giving her back her identity, would take away the only person she wanted to be with.

As waves of this feeling washed over her, taking away her strength and leaving her bones as weak as flower stalks, she wanted to be very close to Daniel, so that some of his iron will and courage would uphold her for whatever was in store. So that perhaps he would feel her dependence on him, her love for him. For she knew now that it was love.

Sandy went to his side and put her arm through his. Her heart was beating rapidly in her throat.

“We are so sorry to be leaving this lovely hotel,” she said, her voice husky with emotion. She hoped the manager would think it was because of their departure. “It’s been wonderful, hasn’t it, darling?”

She looked up at Daniel, hoping he would know she was playing her part as Mrs. Kane. He looked momentarily surprised, but then swiftly planted a light kiss somewhere in the region of her ear. “Marvellous, darling,” he agreed.

Strange how that kiss settled Sandy for the drive to the airport. True, Daniel had only been playing a part too, but he need not have kissed her. She followed him through the formalities at the airport. He was a good travelling companion. He knew exactly what to do, quietly and without any fuss.

She walked like an automaton into the small waiting lounge. Nothing was real. The huge British Airways jetliner stood shimmering on the tarmac being fussily reloaded with fuel and provisions. Would they eat millionaire’s salad for their in-flight meal? Bella had told her that a whole palm tree was cut down just for the heart which was finely shredded and served with a delicate dressing. How long would it take to fly to London? Thirteen hours? She did not want to be in an aeroplane for so long, even with Daniel. And what would happen to her once they were there?

She caught sight of Leon standing among the small crowd of people waiting to see off friends. His face was crumpled like a child’s about to lose a favourite toy. There was nothing she could do to help him. People always got hurt. Suddenly she wished it was time to go aboard the plane, then at least the journey would have started.

But they were still waiting. Interminable waiting.

Daniel made her sit. “Keep calm,” he said. “I’ll go and see if there are any London newspapers for sale. They may have brought some on the incoming flight.”

“Don’t be long.”

“I’m only going to buy a newspaper.”

She nodded, but it did not still her pounding heart. Despite the fading heat of the evening, she was cold with perspiration. Civilisation was already too complicated for her. She wanted none of it if fear and anxiety were part of that life.

 

The plane had brought in a small selection of London daily newspapers, although they were already a day old. Daniel bought a Daily Telegraph and a Daily Mail. He thought Sandy might be interested in the tabloid. It might take her mind off flight nerves.

Daniel stood reading the headlines. His face did not move a muscle. His eyes devoured the disturbing news with a kind of speed-reading he had developed over the years. He turned to the Daily Mail and re-read the same leading news item and immediately made the decision. He really had no choice. He could not return to London now.

He went over to the check-in counter and smiled apologetically at the uniformed girl.

“I’m sorry but something very urgent has come up and I shall have to cancel our two flights. Is there still time to get our luggage off the plane?”

The girl, a more sophisticated Seychellois, was not at all put out. She looked as if she was quite used to passengers changing their minds at the last moment. She picked up a telephone.

“I don’t think the baggage has gone out to the plane yet, sir. I’ll make some enquiries for you.”

“Thank you. I would appreciate it. I do need certain equipment for my work.”

He then wandered over to Sandy as if totally unconcerned and gave her the newspapers to read. She gave him one of her sudden quick smiles, and for a moment he was appalled at the trust she had in him.

“Here you are,” he said. “Take a look at the big wide world. Don’t worry, there’s some sort of delay.”

“We seem to have been here ages.”

“That’s air travel for you.”

He knew that one of the outbuildings housed a small charter company. They mainly flew tourists out to Praslin, a twenty-minute flight, or to Bird Island, which was one of the rare bird sanctuaries. It was a gamble whether they had what he wanted, or whether it was already getting too dark.

Sandy turned first to the fashion pages. It was strange how unconsciously her hands sometimes did things that her mind was unaware of. How did she know where the fashion pages were? She looked at the line drawings of the sleek models and knew instinctively that once she had drawn such willowy creatures. But where? And what for? She took a pencil from her pocket and began to copy the models in the margin of the newspaper. The flowing lines came easily to her. Birds, shells, Bella—now fashion drawing. What kind of person was she?

She was just about to say something to Daniel, holding out her drawing to him as he approached, but he suddenly seemed in a hurry and preoccupied. He took her arm, hardly giving her time to fold the paper. She hung on to it because she wanted to show him her discovery.

“Come on,” he said. “We’re ready to go. But there’s not much time.”

“All this waiting and now there’s not much time,” said Sandy, relieved to be moving at last. “If that’s modern air travel then I’d rather go by boat.”

“At one time that was the only way to reach the Seychelles,” said Daniel, almost pushing her through the doorway.

Out on the tarmac he strode along and Sandy had a job to keep up with him. He was not going out towards the jet, but had turned left and was making towards a small silver helicopter. Astonished, she could see their crates and Daniel’s leather bags being loaded onto it.

“Daniel, I don’t understand…”

“Trust me, Sandy. Trust me, and don’t ask any questions until I say you can,” he said in a low, urgent voice. “It is important, believe me, or I would not be doing this to you.”

“Aren’t we going to London now?” she asked breathlessly.

“No, I’m sorry, Sandy. London is going to have to wait. I know how awful this must seem to you, but something has come up and I can’t go to England yet.”

Sandy’s heart soared with happiness. They were not going to London. She did not care where Daniel was taking her now, so long as it was not to England.

The pilot of the helicopter, a short stocky Welshman called Dave Watney, helped Sandy up into the machine. Then he gave her a hearty kiss on the cheek.

“I hope it’s all right to kiss the bride,” he grinned at Daniel.

Daniel climbed into the cockpit and took the passenger seat beside Sandy. He helped her strap herself in, and after fixing his own seat belt, settled back with his arm around her shoulder.

“I’m sure my wife doesn’t mind at all,” said Daniel. “It’s all part of a very happy day. I hope we don’t leave confetti strewn everywhere.”

“It’ll soon get blown out of this machine,” the pilot shouted as he started the engine and the blades began to rotate. He spoke to the control tower requesting clearance for takeoff. “Hold on, here we go.”

Sandy felt as if her stomach were being left behind as the helicopter lifted off and immediately veered right, taking a wide sweep clear of the airport. Daniel’s arm tightened around her as he felt her body tense. He knew he was subjecting her to appalling discomfort, but he thought that physically she could stand it. Her weeks on La Petite had restored her health, if not her memory.

“You’re being marvellous,” he said in her ear. Then his mouth brushed her cheek like a butterfly.

“Can’t wait for the honeymoon, eh?” Dave Watney winked. “Mind now, you’ve found a tidy little hideaway. And I don’t blame you. Mahé is getting too crowded. All these package tours and tourists.”

Dave Watney was a talkative chap and pursued a conversation, if the shouting involved could be termed a conversation. Sandy said nothing, only aware of Daniel’s arm firmly around her and the breathtaking views below as they flew over the scattered islands. Dave Watney kept them informed as to the names of the islands, and they could see that many of them had a few houses, with boats tied up at small jetties. They passed over chartered schooners returning to Port Victoria for the evening, and Daniel thought of his unfinished enquiries about Sun Flyer. It was all going to have to wait.

They flew low over the sea, the sinking sun tipping the waves with an eerie light, the sleeping lagoons and reefs still visible despite the lengthening shadows.

“Will you be able to set us down?” Daniel asked. “There’s only one clearing.”

“I can put this thing down on a penny piece,” said Dave Watney confidently. “Just so long as there’s enough light. Taking off again is no problem, so don’t worry about that.”

“You could stay the night.”

“You’re joking, man. And spoil your honeymoon? I’d have it on my conscience. Besides, we’ve people coming to play Scrabble this evening. We’re great Scrabble fans.”

“Scrabble?” asked Sandy innocently.

“You remember, darling,” said Daniel quickly. “You’ve been asking me to teach you to play the game.”

“Oh—oh, yes, of course.”

 

Although La Petite looked so different from the air, Sandy recognised it immediately. All its beloved features: Bird Cliff, Fish Beach, White Sands, where Daniel had found her. His thatched bungalow looking like a dolls’ house, and Bella’s hut almost too small to see. She knew the clearing that Daniel referred to. It was where the palms had been felled to build his house, and it had been kept clear.

She did not understand for one moment why they were returning to La Petite, but it did not matter. Nor why she was suddenly a bride again. She touched his arm tentatively.

“Are you going to teach me Scrabble on our honeymoon?” she could not resist teasing.

The birds began to be disturbed by the approach of the machine. A flock of terns rose into the air, alarmed, and shrieking warnings to the others. It was like a cloud of snowflakes being blown into the air by a snow plough.

“Damned birds. Hope they keep away from my blades.”

He keeled the machine away from Bird Cliff and left them behind, still wheeling and protesting. It was light enough to see the clearing among the palms and he set the machine down in it as gently as if it were a feather.

The noise had been terrible, and as the sounds died away, Sandy felt as if she had been stricken deaf. The silence swelled in her ears. She hardly dared to say anything in case she could not hear it.

“This is going to give George Webb a surprise,” said Daniel.

Sandy’s happiness fell away. She had forgotten that odious man and that he was on La Petite. Her face was so readable that Daniel had to smile as he unstrapped his belt.

“Don’t worry, Sandy. George Webb will be only too pleased to be offered a holiday in Mahé. I don’t think he’s exactly dedicated to his work, once the novelty has worn off. I have an idea he will have been feeling the heat.”

Sandy scrambled out of the helicopter, and with a quick smile to the pilot, she ran, half stumbling through the trees down to the shore. White Sands, where it had all begun for her, where Daniel had found her. Somehow she was sure that her memory would come back to her where she had lost it, and not with the aid of advanced hypnosis or anything Dr. Lefanue had advised.

“You can keep your intravenous sodium amytal,” she cried out to the waves lapping around her feet. The sand was cold to her toes, but it felt good. Perhaps as soon as Daniel had got rid of the skinny George Webb, he would come for a walk with her along the shore.

It seemed Daniel was right about George Webb. His first intoxication for the place had rapidly worn off and he was melting away. In fact he was pathetically grateful at the prospect of being relieved of his post.

“Most kind,” he kept saying as he packed his few things. “Really is a job for a younger man. The heat, you know. All right on the Shetlands. That’s the place for me. Be back, though. Shan’t let you down. Couple of days. Right as rain. Can taste that iced beer,” he muttered, almost echoing Daniel’s own words.

He waved vaguely in Sandy’s direction. “Mrs. Kane, most kind. Old couple, hopeless. Too old—send ’em back.”

Sandy suddenly remembered it would not be quite the same. It would not be Bella and Leon, but that old crone and her husband, with his shock of white hair and moustache looking so strange with a shining black face.

“I shall be doing the cooking,” said Sandy.

This reminded George Webb of his stock of tinned foods. His mouth set into a waspish line. “What about my stuff? My corned beef and tinned soup? Cost a lot, you know.”

“I doubt if we’ll use it,” said Daniel, humping the man’s belongings onto the veranda. “But if it’ll set your mind at rest I’ll pay you for them. How about twenty-five pounds sterling? Then you can always bring some more provisions if you return.”

Sandy noticed Daniel said “if” and not “when”. Daniel had a lot of explaining to do, but it could wait. She helped to carry George Webb’s haversack out to the helicopter and wondered if he had been feeding his sweeties to the old cook.

“Is this thing safe?” George Webb asked anxiously as he climbed into the machine.

Dave Watney winked at Sandy. “Sleep tight.”

Daniel and Sandy ran clear, then watched as the blades started up, flattening every blade of grass within the compression area. The noise was deafening and Sandy pressed her hands over her ears, though she could not wipe the smile off her face.

The helicopter lifted effortlessly into the air, rolled a circle in a kind of farewell salute, then suddenly swerved away towards the mainland. In moments it was out of sight. Sandy turned to Daniel and flung her arms around him, pressing her head hard against his chest. She felt she could no longer contain her joy or her love for him.

“Oh Daniel, Daniel, thank you so much,” she whispered. “Thank you for bringing me back here, to this lovely island. I know I shall get better here. I was getting better, remember? Little things…”

Daniel’s hands gripped her shoulders. For a moment Sandy thought he was going to push her away, but with a sudden groan he pulled her close, holding her with a strength that almost pressed the breath from her body.

“Sandy, Sandy, what are you doing to me? You are turning my world upside-down.”

He tipped her face towards him and kissed her mouth with infinite gentleness. When Sandy opened her eyes, his face was very dark and close, but the sky behind his head was darker still with the bright stars of the Indian Ocean a celestial backcloth. There were bright lights in his eyes too, glowing with warmth.

He smoothed her hair away from her face, tracing the softness of her cheek and the downward curve of her neck.

“Perhaps I don’t want you to change, my little sea waif,” he said. “Perhaps I want you to stay like you are now, sweet and innocent and unworldly. Perhaps I’m a little afraid of the person you might be.”

“How could you be afraid of me? I won’t change. How could I? I must be the same as I am now,” she insisted.

Daniel would say no more. How could he tell her of the different kind of life Gabrielle Webster would lead, when he had just torn her away from that world? She was too close, too lovely, too warm and soft in his arms. He could only think of the lovely young woman he was growing to love.

They began to walk along the beach as Sandy had hoped, Daniel taking her hand. They did not talk much, for the evening was so peaceful and quiet after even the moderately busy Mahé. They were content to be back on La Petite and to be together.

Daniel cut a ripe coconut, bananas and paw-paw for their supper. It seemed a long time since their last civilised meal at the Reef Hotel. They turned their steps towards the bungalow, their pace slowing as they neared the end of their walk.

“Of course, some time, I would like to know why we have come back to La Petite,” said Sandy carefully.

He walked on without answering, and Sandy was beginning to wonder if she had angered him or if he had heard her at all.

“Sandy, I’m going to have to ask you to trust me,” he said at last. “I can’t tell you. At least, not yet. It isn’t safe for me to tell you, and I use that word deliberately. Something has happened which made it impossible for me to return to London just yet. There was nothing I could do but come back to La Petite. But you don’t have to stay. Telling Dave Watney that we had just got married was a ruse to get his help to fly us out here tonight. But I can arrange for you to go back to Mahé—perhaps you would like to stay with Dr. Lefanue and his wife. They were such nice people.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you,” said Sandy stubbornly. “If you are going to stay here, then so am I. I won’t be any trouble, I promise you. Just let me stay. Don’t send me to the doctor.”

They had reached the bungalow, and Daniel swung Sandy up onto the steps. He cupped her face with his hands and kissed her gently again.

“I want you to stay,” he said simply.

Sandy ran through the bungalow, afraid that her happiness would overflow and frighten off this new feeling between them.

“Oh, pipe smoke,” she exclaimed, throwing open the windows. “That horrid man smoked. It’s all over the place. I shall have to springclean everywhere tomorrow.”

She threw cushions and bed sheets out onto the veranda.

“One thing I have discovered from my brief stay in civilisation is that I cannot stand cigarette smoke.”

“I’m sure you were a non-smoker,” said Daniel, remembering her pale fingers when he found her on the shore.

“But where shall we sleep tonight?” she asked, unconsciously using the collective noun. “I can’t sleep on that mattress after old skinny legs has slept on it.”

“We can wash the cover tomorrow and refill it with fresh straw. It’s only a stuffed mattress,” said Daniel, amused by her sudden domesticity.

“But where shall we sleep tonight?” she insisted.

“Out on the veranda. These basket chairs are quite comfortable. I should know.”

Sandy crept up to him and slid an arm around his waist.

“But I thought this was supposed to be our honeymoon,” she murmured.

Daniel knew all along she was going to say something like that. He should not have kissed her. It had been a weakness, and yet there was something tangible that he would not admit to, did not want to admit to, after years of trouble-free bachelorhood. He struggled to retain his freedom and his independence. But this waif with her amber-flecked eyes and sturdy courage was twisting strings around his heart.

“You have been stargazing a little too intently tonight, young lady,” said Daniel, pulling the chairs out onto the veranda. George Webb had obviously been unable to stand the heat and had taken them indoors. “The chairs will do nicely.”

“But don’t you want to make love to me?” she said, summoning all her courage. She did not know how she managed to say it, but she had to. She had to know where she stood with this man who dominated her every thought and action.

“My dear Sandy,” he said. He seemed quite shattered. “It was only a ruse, I told you. A ruse to get Dave Watney to bring us out to La Petite tonight.”

“But don’t you want to?” Her voice was very small. He knew he could hurt her terribly.

She stood very slender and pale in the gathering darkness, the gold strands in her tawny hair turned to silver by the moonlight. The hollows from her cheekbones had gone, and her face was shining with health and pure living. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and love her through the warm night.

“Of course, I do, Sandy,” he said quietly. “I care for you very much, you know I do. But how do I know that you are not already married?”

“Oh!” said Sandy, almost angrily. “All these scruples suddenly. But I don’t feel married. I know I’m not married. I have this feeling somewhere inside me that I would know if I were married. And I don’t have this feeling. I just feel empty and let down and alone. Daniel, please…” She was confused and hurt.

He shook his head. He leaped down from the veranda and began to walk purposefully across the sand, his heels kicking up the fine grains.

“I’m going to see if the old couple are all right. They probably thought the helicopter was attacking the island.”

Sandy made her few preparations for the night. She was not hungry anymore and the fruit Daniel had cut went unheeded. Perhaps he was right to wait, if waiting was what he meant. He had said he cared for her. But was caring the same as loving? It had a more restrained feeling to it. He cared for her welfare and had shown that all along. But did he love her?

She curled up on the basket chair and let sleep drift into her mind. At least she was still on La Petite and not hurtling through the air at several hundred miles an hour on her way to London. Even if she never found out who she was, she intended from now on to give herself a new identity—Sandy Kane. Married or not married to Daniel, she was going to take his name.

When Daniel returned, Sandy was already asleep, although she looked uncomfortable, curled around like a kitten. He watched her flickering lashes.

Events had brought him to La Petite as a refuge, and events had washed this woman onto the shore. Two people from totally different streams of life, but once shorn of the pretences and ugliness of civilisation, they were completely happy together.

He had had a tear-off calendar in his office in London, with little sayings for each day of the week. He remembered one of these sayings now:

Visions of the future are better than dreams of the past.

He wondered what was passing through Sandy’s mind in her sleep. Was she dreaming of the past, or seeing visions of the future?

But Sandy seemed to want the future to include him and Daniel knew this could not be so. He sighed deeply; it was almost a groan. La Petite had suddenly become more tangled and complicated than any tropical paradise should be.