An archway led to the restaurant and dance floor, and Autumn could hear the two brightly plumaged parrots in their huge aviary calling stridently to one another. These two birds had proved a great attraction to the children and their vocabulary seemed to increase by the day.
As she relaxed in one of the cane lounging chairs and watched the soothing, almost hypnotic motion of the waves, Autumn reflected that St John’s really was a dream tropical island paradise come true.
Alan had wanted to create a luxurious and yet unrestricted holiday atmosphere for people who wanted to get away from humdrum normality, and Autumn felt that he had succeeded, or would succeed if he could persuade their visitor to invest in the venture.
The hotel boasted two pools and had five hundred bedrooms, but as these were located in small blocks of eight double rooms, or in some cases, luxuriously equipped chalet bungalows with two double bedrooms, a sitting room and even a small kitchen, spread over fifty acres of beautiful gardens, there was no sense of overcrowding.
For the amateur sportsman the tiny island had everything his heart could desire, from tennis courts and golf, to scuba diving and every known type of water sport, all with expert tuition. Alan’s design for the complex had been on a grand scale, every tiny detail carefully considered so that guests would lack for nothing, whether it was French cuisine, or the ability to buy their own food from the small supermarket and eat al fresco should the mood take them. Every room or bungalow had a veranda or balcony, with a superb view of the sea and the gardens, and behind the main hotel block rose the magnificent backcloth of the volcanic mountain from which the island was formed, clothed in tropical rain-forest.
‘Hello there! Alan said I’d find you here!’
Autumn smiled lazily at the small brunette walking towards her. ‘Hello, Sally. Has he sent you to soften me up?’
Sally Ferrars laughed, sympathetically.
‘Poor Autumn,’ she teased. ‘But it’s your own fault for looking so fantastic!’ She eyed Autumn’s tan enviously before glancing at her own slender limbs. ‘I hope we stay here long enough for me to get a bit of colour. Rick has a weekend off coming up soon, and I want to look my best.’
‘Made any plans for the wedding yet?’ Autumn asked her.
She and Sally had known one another for two years. They had met at night school classes where they had both gone to learn German, and when Autumn had mentioned that she was looking for a job and had had previous hotel work, Sally had suggested that she apply for a courier’s job that had fallen vacant.
‘Some time before Christmas,’ she replied in answer to Autumn’s question. ‘But we don’t know when yet. It all depends when the builders finish the house.’ She yawned and sat down. ‘Tell you what, I could get fatally used to this slower pace of life. I’ve only been here three days, and yet already I’m quite accustomed to being waited on hand and foot!’
‘Umm, it does grow on you,’ Autumn admitted.
The hotel had only been open for three months and she had been there from the start. Because of the setback with the hurricane many things were still not properly finished and Alan had relied on her a good deal to liaise between the work force on the island and his London office. In many ways Autumn had been relieved when he announced that he was coming out to see how things were progressing and she had been glad to hand the responsibility of dealing with the contractors back to him. As the island was so small, with no landing strip, everything had to be brought in by boat, and this was an expensive and protracted business.
‘Alan’s gone out to meet our visitor,’ Sally said unnecessarily. ‘I don’t think he expected the negotiations to blow up so suddenly, otherwise he wouldn’t have left London.’
‘Well, I expect the investor would have wanted to see the set-up here anyway.’
‘Umm. I wonder what he’s like?’
‘Not thinking of trading Rick in already, are you?’ Autumn teased.
Sally shook her head reprovingly, eyeing her friend’s slender, tanned body with envy.
‘It’s probably just as well you didn’t go with Alan. Dressed like that you’d have given our visitor a heart-attack! That bikini is practically an incitement to rape!’
Autumn sat up quickly, frowning. ‘It’s nowhere near as brief as some.’
Sally laughed. ‘I know, but it’s what’s inside it that makes the difference,’ she teased. ‘I’m surprised you’ve never tried modelling, with your figure.’
‘I’m not flat-chested enough,’ Autumn replied matter-of-factly, contemplating the softly swelling curves partially concealed by the scarlet cotton. ‘Besides, I’ve heard it’s dull, hard work.’
‘Umm, but think of all those gorgeous, exciting men you’d get to meet!’
‘I am,’ Autumn responded, her voice so bleak that Sally glanced worriedly at her.
‘I thought we’d agreed that it was time to put the past behind you. You’re only twenty-two. You’ve plenty of time to start again.’
Autumn grimaced slightly. ‘A broken marriage isn’t exactly something you can tie up in blue ribbons and push away at the back of a drawer. And it isn’t an experience I want to repeat—ever.’
‘Not even if the right man came along?’ Sally coaxed.
‘There isn’t any “right man”, Autumn said in a very dry voice. ‘Only plenty of wrong ones.’
Although they had been friends for some time and Sally knew about Autumn’s broken marriage, she knew very little about the man to whom Autumn had been married, or the life she had led prior to their meeting, except that it had left Autumn withdrawn and bitter. Autumn had always made it plain that she didn’t want to talk about the past, and Sally had respected her wishes, but now she said softly.
‘My, my, you did get burned, didn’t you? Care to talk about it?’
‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ Autumn told her, with a smile that robbed the words of their brusqueness. ‘I made a mistake…’
‘About marrying him, or loving him?’
Autumn’s smile was bitter. ‘Neither. My mistake was in thinking that he loved me.’ She got up, brushing sand from skin which had the soft, warm bloom of a ripe peach.
‘Do you realise that some folks would give anything for that sunbleached look your hair’s got since you came out here?’ Sally complained, tactfully changing the subject.
‘Yes. Do you realise how much conditioner I need to use? The sun and salt are fatal. Actually I’ve been thinking of having it cut, it’s beginning to become a nuisance.’
The hotel boasted an international class hairdressing salon and she fingered the fluid strands of blonde hair curling on to her shoulders, contemplatively.
‘If I were a rival, I’d be dragging you to that salon myself,’ Sally assured her with a grin. ‘But as I’ve already hooked my man, let me give you a piece of sisterly advice—leave your hair as it is. It suits you—and it’s sexy.’
Autumn pulled a face, her eyes clouding faintly. Sally had meant the word as a compliment, but that wasn’t how she saw it. To be called ‘sexy’ was like someone touching an exposed nerve and implied that she was deliberately seeking to attract the attention of the opposite sex. Nothing could be farther from the truth. She had already endured enough of the humiliation that followed sexual bondage to last her a lifetime. The lessons she had learned during her brief marriage would last a lifetime. They ought to do, she reflected bitterly, they had been taught by an expert, but at the time she had been too naïve to know that; just as she had been too naïve to see so many things that had only become obvious with maturity. No man was ever going to be allowed to have any sort of hold over her again, and to that end she had ruthlessly suppressed