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.”

“I must speak to her,” said Ralph, quickly.

“You stay here,” Gabrielle snapped. “She’s none of your business.”

Daniel stood on the veranda steps and tried to think calmly. He indicated the wicker chairs, the jug of fresh orange juice and the brave flowers Sandy had put on the table—a spray of wild orchids trailing from a big shell.

“I think we had all better sit and find out exactly what did happen. Help yourselves to a drink and I will see how Sandy is.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Ralph faltered. “Gabrielle hasn’t got it quite right…”

“I didn’t think so,” said Daniel grimly.

“Did you bring the gin?” Gabrielle asked, sitting down. “Gin and fresh orange juice might be quite nice.”

Daniel found Sandy sobbing her heart out on the bed. He lifted her and cradled her in his arms. “There, there,” he soothed her, stroking her hair back from her damp forehead and murmuring words of comfort. She leaned against him, her bare shoulders shaking.

“Daniel, what is that awful woman saying about me? I didn’t do all those awful things. That isn’t me. Please believe me. I’m not the person they say I am. P-please, Daniel, believe me.”

He sat on the bed, knowing he did not care who she was or what she had done. She meant so much to him. He only wanted to hold her and look after her. Her sobs were dying away, and only tremors went through her body.

“Now I want you to be brave and courageous, Sandy, as I know you can be. You are to dry your eyes, put on your pretty blue dress and brush your hair. Then you are to come outside and join us, and show that bossy Miss Webster that you are not afraid of her. Somehow we will get the truth out of both of them.”

“But she said those awful things…”

“Perhaps she will change her tune after a good meal and a bottle of wine.” He grinned, tipping her face and kissing the end of her nose. “There, I said I would never do that again.”

Sandy found a weak smile. “I need to wash.”

“I’ll ask Leon to bring you some water.”

 

Ten minutes later a different Sandy appeared, cool and composed in her blue dress, her feet in gold sandals, her tawny hair swinging loosely around her tanned face.

“My word,” said Ralph, eyes full of admiration, offering her his chair.

“Let’s eat first and talk afterwards,” said Daniel quickly, before there could be another scene.

There was no doubt that the young couple were glad to have some different food. Sandy had been very clever with the corned beef, turning it into curried beef with the chilli sauce. And the crayfish was served instead with a white sauce made from some of George Webb’s tins of condensed chicken soup and with breadfruit chips. The fried rice was laced with small cubes of vegetables. The fruit salad was a mouth-watering mixture of bananas, melon, paw-paw, mangoes and fresh oranges. Sandy had beaten egg whites until they were stiff, then folded in the evaporated milk and grated coconut. It was all so delicious that Daniel could now well believe that she was a professional cook.

“But I’m not,” she whispered to him, reading the look in his eyes.

Ralph refilled their glasses. He had brought a dry white wine from Sun Flyer. He felt full and sleepy and had no real wish to go over events, but Daniel would not let it rest at that.

“Tell us exactly all you know, Ralph,” said Daniel, with a determined edge to his voice which Sandy recognised. Sandy moved away and sat on the veranda steps, looking out to the pale sweep of sand that was home to her. The dipping palms were dark and yet silvery in the moonlight. It was a night for love, not for terror.

“Well, I don’t know where to begin really,” Ralph wavered. “We planned this two months’ cruise in the Seychelles and we advertised for a cook in the personal column of The Times because we didn’t know what it would be like out here. We didn’t know how civilised it would be. Mr. Webster interviewed the applicants in London and Marion Elliot got the job. We three flew out together, then Gabrielle came a day or so later when we had chartered Sun Flyer and got the schooner all ship-shape.”

“I had some appointments,” Gabrielle interrupted.

“Well, then—”

“Go on. Tell them how she made eyes at you.”

Ralph shifted uneasily in his chair. “It wasn’t quite like that,” he repeated. “Marion was very kind to me. I felt a bit seasick when we first put out to sea, and she used to bring me drinks in my cabin. Gabrielle found Marion in my cabin and naturally did not like it.”

“You bet I didn’t like it!” Gabrielle glared at the shadowy blue figure sitting on the steps.

“Then Marion was not very well and had to stay in her cabin for a few days. Somehow a fire broke out in her cabin—we don’t know how. Perhaps it started from the engine room.”

“She was smoking in her bunk,” Gabrielle interrupted again.

“Sandy doesn’t smoke,” said Daniel quite angrily. He was irritated by this woman’s animosity against Sandy.

“Anyway, I got Marion out and put my life jacket on her, just in case. She was a bit overcome by the fumes and I sent her on deck in the fresh air while I put out the fire with an extinguisher. There was a bit of a gale blowing up and I was worried the flames would spread and the whole ship explode. When I got to the deck, Marion had gone. We searched and searched, but we couldn’t find her…” His voice had fallen to a whisper. Even Gabrielle kept quiet for once.

“Did you inform anyone? Did she have any family?”

“Not that we knew of. Her address was some school, and Mr. Webster had left her letter in his London office. All we knew about her was that she had a Cordon Bleu certificate for cooking.”

Ralph was staring out to sea, twirling the stem of his glass. “We should have done more,” he said forlornly. “But by then the gale had really blown up. Our engine was not working properly and we were being blown off course. We had enough trouble on our hands. Eventually we landed at some little port in Somali where we got the engine fixed. Paul Webster flew home. He was too distressed about everything to continue his holiday. He reported to the authorities that Marion was missing, but they seemed to think that it was too late for a further search. There had already been an air and sea search for Sun Flyer. He decided to fly back to London to try and trace her relatives. It was not a happy task but it had to be done.”

“It was in Mogadiscio that some damned trader sold us a load of rotten food,” said Gabrielle, lighting up another cigarette.

“So that’s how Sandy got washed up on La Petite, half drowned. The soles of her feet burnt. That life jacket saved her,” said Daniel, remembering so clearly the moment of finding her, covered in sand.

“We sort of shared the life jacket,” said Ralph. “We were one short aboard, so we decided to have half each.” He looked quickly at Gabrielle. “We even put our initials on the flap. It was a joke.”

Their initials. Of course, now Daniel realised. The MINE were Marion Elliot’s initials.

“There isn’t much more for me to add,” Daniel said. “I found Sandy washed up on the shore in a very bad way. She had several cracked ribs and probably concussion. Then we discovered the disturbing fact that she had lost her memory. She could remember nothing and was in a state of shock. It wasn’t until some time later that I found the burns on her feet and by then they had healed.

“I’ve taken her to a Dr. Lefanue on Mahé, but he thinks she needs deep hypnosis to bring her memory back. Meanwhile she’s been living here on La Petite, helping me with my research, and gradually gaining her health and strength. Except for her memory.”

“Then we shall do everything possible to help,” said Ralph decisively. “I know Mr. Webster will pay for any necessary treatment. He was very upset and will be only too relieved to find that Marion is alive and well. She will have the very best, you can be sure of that.”

“Your fiancé’s story seems to be a little different from your account, Miss Webster,” said Daniel.

“Fundamentally they are the same,” she retorted, undeterred. “But I do agree with Ralph that Marion is now our responsibility and we must take care of her. Of course my father will pay for everything. Well, that was a very pleasant supper, Daniel,” she went on, using his first name. “And the after-dinner stories were all very touching. Perhaps you’d like to go and pack your things, Marion, if you have anything. I’ve decided we may as well spend a few more days around these islands. They certainly are beautiful. But I shall want Marion to come and do the cooking aboard Sun Flyer now, of course. It’s what she was being paid for.”

“I’m not sure whether Sandy should go with you,” said Daniel.

“I shall personally see that Marion gets to London safely,” said Ralph. “She’s been through enough, poor girl. Don’t worry, Marion. You’ll soon have your memory back.”

“I’m not coming,” said Sandy stubbornly. “I don’t know who I am. I don’t know if I’m this Marion Elliot. I’ve forgotten everything.”

“You certainly haven’t forgotten how to cook,” Gabrielle mused.

“That proves nothing,” said Sandy with spirit. “Half of our meal was out of tins. Flora cooked the rest.”

Gabrielle leaned forward and rested her hand lightly on Daniel’s arm. “Can’t you make her see sense? Surely it would be far better if she returned with us. We’d make sure she got the right treatment in London.”

“No, I’m not going to,” said Sandy defiantly. “I’m staying with Daniel.”

Daniel stood and walked to the end of the veranda. The view was so peaceful it seemed impossible that this inner turmoil was churning in his mind. It would seem more sensible to let Sandy go back to London, especially if Paul Webster was a kind and generous employer and would take care of her. But to lose Sandy now; it was unbearable.

“It’s been a traumatic evening,” he said at last. “Let’s sleep on it and make a decision in the morning.”

“I’ve made my decision,” stormed Sandy.

“What a little firebrand—sorry, didn’t mean to use that particular word,” said Gabrielle smoothly. “Perhaps I should say what a young savage.”

Ralph started being polite and shaking hand and thanking everybody. “Marvellous meal, Marion,” he said. “And I’m so glad you’re all right, really I am.”

“Thank you,” she said, touched by his obvious sincerity. Perhaps he did like her a little too much for Gabrielle’s peace of mind. But Miss Webster could keep her fiancé. Sandy wanted only Daniel. She wanted only to stay with him.

 

Later Daniel found her weeping silently by the shore. Their visitors had returned to Sun Flyer. She was standing very still, tears glistening on her cheeks. Her distress was very moving, but Daniel did not touch her. The night breeze had blown a single tendril of hair across her face but she did not seem aware of it.

Wanting her was beyond a single torment now. It was part of breathing, of seeing, of being near her. He no longer thought of himself, of his independence, his separateness. But still he held back.

“It isn’t the end of the world,” he said, hopelessly.

Sandy did not answer. She did not want to go with these people. She turned away from Daniel and walked silently back to the bungalow. The fragrance from her arrangement of wild orchids was delicate and wafted into the room as she opened the door. She knew she would not be able to sleep, and lay thinking of all the days she had shared with Daniel, even those first hazy days when he tended her with such care, and pain was part of those memories.

She could not eat any breakfast the next morning although Flora brought a tempting tray to the veranda. The old woman’s face was concerned and she hovered, pushing the little dish of fruit nearer to Sandy in an effort to attract her attention.

“Why not listen to the takamaka tree?” she said eventually. “Sometimes tree very wise.”

Sandy shook her head. “I don’t really believe all that,” she said. “Thank you for the breakfast, Flora, but I’m not hungry. Has Mr. Kane eaten?”

“Long ago, Miss-Sandy. He was walking before dawn. I know, I saw him. Perhaps he could not sleep.”

Sleep—if only she could sleep and not wake up for a long time. Perhaps then all this fear would have gone and life would be peaceful again. She wanted no more than to be with Daniel, to do the simple daily tasks, to draw her pictures of birds and shells. She remembered the fashion sketch she had copied, but it was of no concern to her why she could do this as well.

Daniel appeared. He was more formally dressed in slacks and an open-necked shirt. It must mean that he was going aboard Sun Flyer. Sandy’s heart sank.

“I won’t go,” she said in a low voice.

“I think you should. My own plans are so uncertain. I think you should take this chance of returning to England. Ralph Fellows will look after you. He seems a very sensible young man and is obviously fond of you.”

“But she hates me,” Sandy whispered.

“She’s only jealous because you are young and lovely. And because Ralph likes you.” Daniel almost groaned on the words. He pushed away his own thoughts, though he felt he could trust Ralph to take care of Sandy.

“But she’s so beautiful. Why should she be jealous of me?” Sandy had no real appreciation of her own wide-eyed beauty. She never looked in a mirror from one day to another.

“It’s like trying to compare one of your orchids to—to well, a primrose. Who is to say which is the more beautiful a flower?” said Daniel, now hopelessly at sea. He poured some tea for Sandy. “Try to have a little breakfast. Then I want you to be very brave, as you always are, dear one. I want you to pack your things and I will take you across to Sun Flyer.”

“Are the clothes you bought me mine?” she asked woodenly.

“Of course.”

“I expect I have other things on board if I am this Marion Elliot. I don’t even like the name,” she said suddenly. “In fact, I think I shall insist on being called Sandy.”

“That’s the spirit,” said Daniel, relieved that she had accepted his decision. “If you want to be Sandy, then you are Sandy. In a matter of days you will be back in London and having treatment. When your memory has returned you can still be who you like. If you want to remain as Sandy, then you can, but you will be a full person, not the shadowy, half person that can only exist now. Courage and determination, Sandy.”

“Sh-shall I ever see you again?” she trembled.

He leaned across and took both her hands. “Yes, be assured of that. Somehow I will find you.”

His words were some comfort, and she drank the tea and nibbled at some fruit to please him. Then, with some shreds of dignity she went into her room to pack her few things and shed a few tears.

 

For Leon, it was the end of the world again. He could not believe that his beloved Miss-Sandy was leaving. She shook hands with him and old Noah, and gave Flora a quick warm hug. Leon insisted on staying with Sandy till the last. He refused to let Daniel take the boat out to Sun Flyer, but paddled them himself with angry, defiant strokes that sent spray flying up into the sunlight. Sandy sat forlornly, holding Daniel’s hand.

Gabrielle was sunbathing on the deck, lying on her stomach, the straps of her bra unfastened, smoke curling from the cigarette between her fingers. She sat up slowly and hooked the straps together, then tied the strings around her neck. It was a brief black bikini, cut provocatively. She smiled at them.

“Hello there. What a lovely morning. So you’ve come after all, Marion. Good. Well, get yourself settled and then when you feel like it, you’ll find the breakfast things in the galley waiting to be washed up. But there’s no hurry. We’ve got all day. Daniel, that was the first decent breakfast we’ve had for weeks. All that lovely fruit,” she added.

She stood and stretched, shaking free her mane of hair. Her fingernails were painted a silvery pink. She pushed one hand through her hair, loving the feel of the warmth of the sun on her skin.

“It’s an absolutely gorgeous day,” she went on. “I think we’ll just stay on here. I’d like to see more of your island, Daniel. Is it open to tourists?”

Sandy stood on the deck clutching her small bundle of possessions. It was all utterly strange to her. She did not know where to go. She shot Daniel a look for help, which he found hard to resist.

“I’m sorry but I don’t know where the galley is,” she said miserably.

“Next to your cabin, of course. Surely you remember where your cabin is?”

“There’s no need to start working,” said Ralph, coming forward. “And Marion had better have my cabin now. I’ll clear my things out.”

“That won’t be necessary,” said Gabrielle, in a voice that immediately gave Daniel misgivings. But he had to let her go. She would only be on Sun Flyer for a few days. They were on their way to Mahé, then they would fly straight back to London. He would have to leave Sandy in Ralph’s care.

“Don’t worry, Marion. We’ll sort things out. But I think it would be a mistake to hang about here too long,” said Ralph, as if he half expected Sandy to take off over the side with a dive into the sea and to start swimming back to La Petite. He took the small bundle from her hands. “We ought to get going just in case there’s another squall.”

“But I want to see over La Petite,” Gabrielle insisted. “Heavens, I’m sick of this boat. We’ve been marooned on it for weeks. I want to swim somewhere on a little private beach.”

“You can swim on Mahé,” said Ralph.

“I mean a really lonely beach,” she said with a wide smile. Her meaning was only too clear. She wanted to swim in the nude.

“You are welcome to come ashore and to swim. I can’t stop you. But I shall be working so you will have to amuse yourself. The island is so small you can’t get lost.”

His voice was abrupt. Daniel knew he had to say goodbye to Sandy now, and the words stuck in his throat. He turned as if to go, but swiftly Gabrielle put herself between him and the rails. Her curvaceous body was so brown and gleaming. She almost stood against him, she was so close.

She slid her hand along his arm, along all the dark hairs, and up onto his shoulder, then she shifted her weight so that she half leaned against him, her body perfume warm and distracting.

“Now that isn’t very polite of you, Daniel. How often do you get a visitor like me?”

The whole scene was deliberate. Sandy could stand it no longer. She ran in the direction that Ralph had shown her; anywhere to get away from the sight of Gabrielle in Daniel’s arms. She thought she had seen a movement from Daniel, and that movement could only mean one thing. What man could resist that beautiful, tantalising woman?

Sandy knocked into some overhanging structure as she ran below. She did not really know where she was going. Somewhere down here was the galley. She would have to work and work to push these tormenting thoughts out of her mind.

She opened one door, but it was some sort of saloon, with upholstered bench seats and a small table. She hurried on, almost blinded by the fresh hot tears that were scalding her eyes.

She pushed at another door, but it was stiff. She pushed hard again and it burst open so that she almost fell into the cabin.

At first it looked as if she had stumbled into a nightmare. The cabin walls were black and charred. Tattered fragments of cotton hung from the porthole. On the bunk were a heap of ashes and bits of blackened mattress. A door swung open from the wall, and from wire hangers hung shreds of burnt clothes.

The mirror was cracked and covered in ash. On the small shelf in front of it were melted lumps of plastic make-up containers, and a hairbrush that was only just recognisable from its charred shape.

Sandy looked around the cabin in horror. She could smell the burning. Waves of heat blew into her face. Her feet began to burn, a blinding pain swept through her head, beginning at her forehead and enveloping her whole skull in searing pain.

She threw back her head and began to scream, and scream and scream.