yes, but I'm afraid the other two things you mentioned I've never tried.'
‘You will,’ he remarked, smiling. ‘I'll teach you myself.'
Nassau was teeming with people at this time of day, but Christopher managed to ease his way between the swarms of cyclists, the taxis and the horse-drawn Surreys to swing into the forecourt of a huge hotel. The building was all white, with lots of windows with jalousies, and balconies overlooking the whole of Nassau. Christopher handed the car-keys to a waiting attendant, and then called the boy to take in Emma's cases.
He helped Emma out, and said: ‘Come on, your room is booked. I guess you could use a shower and a change of clothes.'
‘Could I not!’ exclaimed Emma, nodding, and preceded him into the hotel.
She left Christopher downstairs and went up in the lift with one of the boys who conducted her to her room. It was a magnificent place with modern Swedish-designed furniture and cream and green walls and coverings. Adjoining it was a bathroom for her own personal use, and she wondered why Christopher had gone to the trouble of booking her a room like this when they would be leaving after lunch for Sainte Dominique.
She bathed in the deep step-in bath, towelled herself dry, and then sought about in her cases for a change of underwear. Finally she donned a pale blue shift of thin Tried jersey which outlined the rounded curves of her slim figure. She ran a comb through her thick, silky hair which swung against her shoulders and a coral lipstick completed her toilet.
Feeling more ready to face the world, she went downstairs again. It was after one o'clock, and she was feeling quite hungry. To her relief, Christopher was waiting in the foyer, and came to meet her eagerly as she emerged from the lift.
‘Come on,’ he said, grinning appreciatively. ‘I'm starving!'
‘So am I,’ replied Emma, and allowed his fingers to link with hers as they walked through to the restaurant.
Their table, which Christopher had reserved earlier, was situated on a terrace overlooking the harbour. They had Martinis first and then Emma allowed Christopher to choose what they would eat. They ate fresh melon, followed by shellfish and green salad and french fried potatoes, and completed the meal with a fruit salad and fresh cream topped with nuts. Coffee was of the continental variety, and Emma had two cups.
She leaned back, replete, and accepted a cigarette from Christopher. When he had lighted hers, and his own, he said: ‘You enjoyed that?'
‘You know I did.’ She smiled. ‘Did I seem to have an enormous appetite?'
He laughed, and shook his head. ‘No. I like to see a girl enjoy her food, instead of only picking at things which aren't fattening. I should say you had no worries on that score.'
‘Not at the moment, although I'm afraid this life won't be so demanding as my work at the hospital, and I may find myself putting on a couple of inches here and there. I shall have to be careful.’ She smiled.
‘What did you do in England? I mean, I know you were a nurse, but what were your hobbies? Did you go out a lot?'
Emma shook her head. ‘No. Not really. I attended lectures sometimes, and I enjoy the occasional visit to the theatre. I like concerts, most kinds of music, and I adore reading.'
Christopher looked interested. ‘Do you now? And what do you like to read?'
She shrugged. ‘Most anything. I enjoy thrillers, romances, really anything that holds my interest.'
‘Have you heard of Christmas Holly?'
‘Christmas Holly.’ Emma frowned. ‘Of course, he's that private investigator Michael Jeffries writes about.’ She laughed. ‘They're rather good. I think I've read two or three of them.'
Christopher grinned at her. ‘Two or three!’ he exclaimed mockingly. ‘I'v written twenty-seven, I'll have you know!'
Emma was astonished. ‘You're Michael Jeffries!’ She drew on her cigarette incredulously. ‘How marvellous! Imagine meeting Christmas Holly's inventor. What a wonderful name, by the way. Wherever did you think of it?'
‘Well, Christmas is not so very different from Christopher, and Holly has thorns. Rather corny, isn't it, but at least it goes together. And my full name is Christopher Michael Jeffrey Thorne, so that explains the rest.'
‘Well, anyway, I think this is terrific,’ said Emma enthusiastically. ‘Writing after all is the necessary forerunner to reading, and I've never met a writer before. Do you live on Sainte Dominique?'
‘No,’ he shook his head, and she looked disappointed.
‘I live on Sainte Catherine, which is quite close by. Only a couple of miles from Sainte Dominique actually, so we'll be near neighbours. It will be a change to have someone to talk to who is interested in my work.'
‘That's good,’ Emma smiled. ‘Who lives on Sainte Dominique – apart from Annabel, of course?'
He shrugged. ‘Well, there's Tansy, she's Annabel's old nanny. I think you'll like her. She used to be Damon's nanny years ago. Then there's the other servants, of course. And Louisa Meredith, she's Annabel's governess.'
Emma was astounded. ‘But surely, if Annabel has a nanny, and a governess, she doesn't need me!'
Christopher looked thoughtful. ‘I wouldn't say that,’ he replied, shaking his head. ‘Tansy is too old to take a six-year-old very far, particularly one in Annabel's condition. As for Louisa – well, she's a bit useless. Oh, she teaches Annabel to read in Braille, and she has conversations with her. I suppose Annabel is learning quite a lot, but as far as being a companion to the child is concerned, she's no help. To talk to a child, one has to treat them as equals, not talk down to them. Louisa could never forget herself sufficiently to romp with the child. She's far too reserved.'
‘I see.’ Emma sighed. ‘Who has been looking after Annabel?'
‘Brenda Lawson. She was a woman in her thirties. She's married a retired American businessman who has decided to make his home in Spanish Wells.’ He rose to his feet. ‘Are you ready?'
Emma nodded, and allowed him to help her to her feet, and walked with him out of the restaurant. In the entrance hall of the hotel, he paused.
‘How is your room?'
‘It's fine.’ Emma frowned. ‘Are we staying overnight?'
Christopher grinned. ‘That was the idea. Do you mind?'
‘That's not the point, surely,’ exclaimed Emma, involuntarily. ‘I mean, I understood from my instructions that we were leaving for Sainte Dominique after lunch.'
‘Damon's instructions,’ remarked Christopher dryly. ‘Look, he may be the big man back in England and the States, but here he's just my cousin, and I say what goes. Don't you want to stay?'
‘Well, of course my feelings are immaterial,’ Emma said, sighing. It was very flattering to know that this attractive man should be enjoying her company, but she couldn't help but feel that Damon would be furious if he knew.
Christopher was beginning to look a little annoyed. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘You decide.'
Emma bent her head. ‘Please,’ she said, ‘I don't want to cause any trouble.'
‘All right, we stay. Good heavens, girl, no one's going to tick you off here. You're not in your hospital now, you know. Life proceeds at a much more sensible pace here. Besides, I want to show you the island. New Providence is quite a place.'
And so it was. Emma soon forgot her anxiety in the pure enjoyment of the places Christopher took her to see. He insisted she brought her swim suit with her, and afterwards she was glad she had.
First of all they explored Nassau itself. Christopher showed her the Straw Market, and provided her with a huge straw hat to shade her eyes. He bought himself a straw hat, too, but his was much more conservative in design and she laughed when he tilted it extravagantly