cast her an apologetic glance. ‘Go ahead, Mr Williams,’ she declared, nodding in approbation. ‘It’s good to know you haven’t forgotten the old place.’
Forgotten? Rhys wondered if he would ever forget, as he followed his daughter along the paved path that circled the colour-washed wall of the house. There were too many things to remind him, not least Lucy herself, but she had no idea of the depths of feeling behind this visit. To her it was just a house her father had bought and which she had visited once when she was a very small child. She didn’t understand her father’s aversion for the place, or the reasons why they had never come back here. She simply saw it as a second home, that her father had chosen not to use.
When he reached the front of the building, Lucy was already on the slatted boards of the verandah, testing the cushioned seat of a bamboo lounger. ‘Isn’t it wonderful, Daddy?’ she exclaimed, gesturing at the view, and Rhys turned to survey the sweep of sun-kissed beach and green-gold water that spread out before them.
‘Wonderful!’ he echoed briefly, climbing the steps with grim determination, and Lucy looked at him consideringly as he paused before speaking to her.
‘I thought you wanted to see your room,’ he said at last, advancing to where folding shutters gave access to the room beyond. He propped the shaft of his guitar case against his shoulder and drew a steadying breath. ‘This is the living room, and that’s the dining room through the arch.’
‘I thought it must be.’ Lucy left her perch to come and join him, linking her arm with his. ‘Is it exactly as you remembered?’
‘More or less.’ Rhys was offhand, but he couldn’t help it. ‘Let’s go inside, shall we?’
Lucy shrugged. ‘What’s the matter?’ She was perceptive. ‘Why are you looking like that? Did I do something wrong?’
‘You?’ Rhys looked at her strangely, then his face cleared and he released her arm to hug her close against his side. ‘No, you didn’t do anything wrong,’ he assured her gently. And then, hearing Tomas and Rosalie’s voices as they came along the path, he drew her into the artificially-darkened room.
The house was comfortably simple in design. There were six rooms on the ground floor and six rooms on the upper one. As well as the living and dining rooms, there was a kind of studio, which Rhys had used as a music room in the past, as well as the kitchen, and bathroom, and Tomas and Rosalie’s bedroom. A cool tiled hallway ran from front to back of the house, with a shallow, curving stairway giving access to the upper floor.
Rhys spent little time showing Lucy around downstairs. ‘You’ll soon find your way about,’ he assured her, leading the way upstairs, and Lucy scampered up after him, matching two of her steps to his agile stride.
There were three bedrooms and three bathrooms on the first floor. Two of the bedrooms overlooked the curve of beach, and the third embraced the sweep of the drive and the glowing hibiscus blossom.
‘Which would you like?’ asked Rhys, allowing Lucy to make her choice. To his relief she chose the larger of the two ocean-facing rooms, thus removing any necessity for him to refuse that particular apartment. Even entering the translucent beauty of the bedroom evoked the most painful memories he had experienced so far, and he was glad when Lucy pushed open the louvred doors and he could step out on to the balcony.
‘Isn’t it unbelievable?’ she exclaimed, leaning on the wrought iron rail. ‘Oh, how could you neglect the place for so long?’
‘I haven’t had the time,’ Rhys responded, keeping his tone purposely light. ‘Besides, there are places I like more. Islands in the Pacific, for example.’
Lucy grimaced. ‘Oh, well, I suppose you have been busy,’ she conceded. Then she turned and rested her elbows over the rail. ‘But are you sure you don’t mind me having this room? It is the biggest room, isn’t it?’
‘The one at the back is just as big,’ replied Rhys quickly. ‘Besides, I don’t need a big room.’ He grinned. ‘I don’t have half a dozen suitcases of clothes to accommodate.’
‘Oh, you!’
Lucy dug him playfully in the ribs, then sighed half impatiently when she heard Tomas labouring into the bedrooms behind them. ‘I’ll leave these in here, shall I, Mr Williams?’ he called, attracting his employer’s attention, and Rhys strolled back into the room to give him his instructions.
‘Those two are mine,’ Rhys said swiftly. ‘Put them in next door, would you, Tomas? I’ll deal with them later.’
‘But isn’t this your room, Mr Williams?’ Tomas protested in some surprise. ‘Seems like I remember, last time you were here——’
‘Not this time,’ asserted Rhys crisply, passing him to reach the landing and walking into the other ocean-facing bedroom. ‘This will do me fine, Tomas. Put Miss Lucy’s cases in next door.’
‘As you say, Mr Williams.’
Tomas’s dark brows ascended with some disapproval, but he didn’t argue. After depositing Rhys’s luggage on the rack provided, he disappeared downstairs again for the rest of their belongings, and Rhys pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans in a gesture of repudiation.
‘Isn’t this cosy?’
Lucy’s sudden appearance from the balcony they both shared interrupted his mood, and forcing a corresponding smile to his lips, he inclined his head. ‘Very,’ he conceded, looking round the comfortable apartment. ‘And if you can entertain yourself for the next few minutes, I’ll go and have a word with Rosa and find out what the form is.’
‘Can’t I come with you?’
Lucy’s face mirrored her disappointment, but Rhys had to speak to Rosa alone. ‘You unpack,’ he advised, accompanying the rebuff with a casual caress to her cheek. ‘Find your swimsuit. There’ll be plenty of time to test the water before dinner.’
Lucy looked mutinous, but she knew better than to argue with him in this mood. There was a certain compression about his mouth that warned of his uncertain temper, and his eyes, which were usually so warm and affectionate, now gleamed like molten amber.
‘All right,’ she said, going towards the bedroom door. ‘But you will swim with me later, won’t you?’
‘I’ve said so, haven’t I?’ he responded, with that clipped edge to his voice, and Lucy dipped her head in acquiescence before making good her escape.
Left to himself, Rhys paused only long enough to cast one unwilling glance at the view beyond the windows before striding after his daughter. But whereas she had returned to the other bedroom, he quickly descended the stairs, walking surely along the tiled hallway to the airy pine-scented kitchen at the back of the house.
Rosalie was at the table, setting cups and saucers on to a polished wood tray, adding a cork stand and a rose-patterned teapot. She looked up when Rhys entered the room, but her eyes revealed no surprise. ‘You want tea or something stronger?’ she asked perceptively. ‘I guessed you’d be coming to see Rosa before too long.’
‘Something stronger,’ said Rhys, gesturing towards the refrigerator. ‘Have you got a beer or some lager? I seem to remember you kept quite a store in the old days.’
Rosa chuckled. ‘Got some in, ‘specially for you comin’,’ she declared, padding over to the fridge and fetching him an iced can. ‘Sit down. Make yourself at home. We got a lot of years to make up.’
Rhys hesitated a moment and then he wedged his hip on a corner of the scrubbed table. Pulling the ring on the can, he watched the beer ooze out in a cluster of fizzy bubbles before saying quietly: ‘What did Tomas mean about Jordan Lucas?’
‘Missy Jordan?’ Rosalie tried to sound offhand and failed. ‘What he tell you ’bout her?’
Rhys sighed, hazarding a guess that Rosalie had heard exactly what her husband said. But, deciding to play it their way,