shrugged and, looking at Nicholas, said, ‘It looks like I’ll be the one driving back.’
Royole nodded and began to clear the dirty dinner plates. ‘I think there’s little doubt about that.’
Nicholas woke twenty minutes later, whilst Royole was busy making coffee in the kitchen. Serena was sitting on the opposite side of the terrace; her hair, freshly washed, hung several inches past her shoulder blades, shining like newly spun silk.
Nicholas was still trying to focus as she slid down on to the cushions next to him, snuggling close to his warm body.
‘So, my darling, awake at last? Royole and I were debating as to whether we should put you to bed here …’
Blinking, he noticed how her skin glowed, and a subtle teasing light danced in her eyes. He touched her cheek, tracing a line with his index finger across her mouth and down to her throat. He was about to tell her that she looked beautiful when Royole walked into the room, carrying a tray containing three steaming mugs.
‘Coffee is served,’ he announced with a flourish, placing the tray on a low table next to them.
Nicholas stood up, a little shaky on his feet. Running his tongue over parched lips, he asked, ‘Could I have a glass of water, please. I’ve got a rather dry throat.’
Serena looked at her dishevelled husband and grinned. ‘I really can’t think why.’
It was almost one-thirty when they said their goodbyes and left Coralita Cottage. Serena drove slowly and sedately back to Mango Bay, whilst Nicholas snored and muttered unintelligibly for the entire twenty-minute journey.
She was pleased to have the time to herself. It allowed her to think about Royole Fergusson, and the fact that in four days’ time her holiday would be over and she would have to leave Jamaica.
‘Do you mind terribly Serena, my darling? Charlie’s such an old chum, I’d hate to miss his stag night.’
Nicholas’s laugh had a definite lecherous undertone, and Serena groaned inwardly, imagining her husband and his best friend drunk and disorderly, in some sleazy Miami bar. But she answered brightly.
‘You know I don’t mind.’
They were sitting at a breakfast table positioned on the very edge of the terrace. This spot was shaded by the overhanging branches of a frangipani tree, yet still afforded expansive views of the sparkling waters of the Blue Lagoon.
‘Fancy, the old rogue decides to up and marry an American model; just like that, completely out of the blue.’ He snapped his fingers. ‘Only met her two weeks ago. God would I love to be a fly on the wall when he takes her home to Atherton Hall to meet the in-laws. They had him lined up for The Hon. Arabella Seymour.’
Oh, not that awful Arabella with the buck teeth and acne?’ asked Serena.
Nicholas nodded, laughing. ‘That’s the one.’
‘Well then, I’m pleased he’s upped and found this American girl. The best of luck to him,’ said Serena, whilst throwing a few crumbs towards a cheeky Doctorbird intent on joining them for breakfast.
Nicholas changed the subject. ‘I thought, since we’re going home in a couple of days, it doesn’t make much sense coming back here.’
Serena, dressed in a simple batik sarong, idly sipped at her orange juice. ‘I shall stay and pack up the house, Nicholas,’ she said in a firm voice. She could sense his disappointment, and knew she would have to tread carefully.
‘But I rather thought you might like to come to Miami with me’ … He paused, then added hopefully, ‘You could do some shopping.’
Her forehead furrowed, dark eyebrows almost meeting above her straight nose. ‘I’ve got lots to do here. I promised to go and see Thomas at Frenchman’s Cove. He’s got some mail for me to take back to England, and there are some outstanding bills to pay. Et cetera, et cetera,’ she sighed.
A playful smile lifted the corners of her mouth. ‘Anyway, what would I do whilst you’re out on the town all night with Charlie and co?’
He glanced at her over the rim of his coffee cup and noted the obstinate glint that flashed through her eyes. It left him in no doubt that if he forced her to accompany him, she would probably be a bloody nuisance and ruin his entire evening.
‘You’re quite right. You can pack up the house and sort the staff out, whilst I get thoroughly smashed with Charlie boy.’
‘Well, just make sure you behave yourself with all those girls on the loose over there.’ Serena chided him, playfully.
‘Steady on darling. I’d never do anything like that. There’s no other woman in the world that could take your place. You know that.’
‘Yes Nicky; but I also know the old West Indian proverb that says “A hot iron will cool in any old dirty water”.’
Nicholas shook his head in mock disapproval.
Serena awoke at six the following morning. Wherever she was in the world, or however tired, she always awoke at the same time.
Nicholas joked about travelling with a beautiful and efficient alarm clock. She had never bothered to explain that the habit had started at the age of seven. After a week at boarding school, she had trained herself to wake early. It had become a ritual, her own space; one solitary hour of peace and privacy before the first bell and the ensuing mayhem.
She was about to slip out of bed for her routine early-morning swim when she felt Nicholas stir, his arms reaching out to encircle her waist. She tried unsuccessfully to wriggle free.
‘Stay with me,’ he whispered into the side of her neck.
She could smell his hot breath, an unsavoury mixture of spicy West Indian pepper sauce and cigarette smoke. The combination was mildly nauseating.
Pulling her closer, hands gripping her hips, he thrust his erect penis into the cleft of her buttocks.
Serena groaned inwardly, and felt like screaming.
‘Nicky please, not now. Later. After I’ve had a swim.’ She tried to make her voice sound promising, at the same time squeezing her thighs together as she felt the tip of his penis pushing, insisting.
He heard the sharp intake of her breath as his fingers struggled to prise her open from behind.
‘Open wide for me, Bunty. Please.’
There was no mistaking the urgent demand in his hushed voice; and she knew that if she resisted it would only excite him more.
Facing her back, Nicholas couldn’t see the expression of resignation on his young wife’s face as she dutifully opened her legs. With an anguished moan he entered her body.
‘Tell me Bunty, tell me please,’ he implored.
His voice, with its childish undertones, grated on her nerves. She knew exactly what he wanted to hear. It was always the same. Slightly sickened, Serena complied.
‘Nicholas has been a very, very naughty boy, and is going to have to be punished.’ She forced her voice to sound stern. ‘I’m going to have to …’
She didn’t finish the sentence. As soon as his thrusting quickened, his whole body shuddered and he shouted her name, before releasing his grip on her hips and rolling away to the other side of the bed.
He lay there on his back; his laboured panting the only sound in the room. After a few moments, he stretched one arm across the bed to stroke Serena’s shoulder gently.
‘That was wonderful,’ he whispered.
‘Not for me,’