It was extraordinary, she thought, how a man who barely knew her, even though he had asked her to marry him within a fortnight of their acquaintance, could be so attuned to her misgivings—and there had been plenty of those when the proposition was put to her.
She felt a light touch on her arm and opened her eyes to meet Julian's grey, enigmatic eyes.
`Do you want some refreshment?' he asked, in his well-modulated voice.
Melanie shook her head.
`No, thank you,' she replied, and glanced at the sleeping form of Celia on her left.
At this point the girl stirred in her sleep, and suddenly woke up, her dark eyes with their astonishing black winged brows twinkling wickedly at Melanie as they went off to sleep again.
Melanie's glance went back to the rings on her left
hand. Rightly or wrongly, she had succumbed to Celia's entreaties, and had agreed to accept Julian Cridell's proposal. As Celia had so saliently pointed out, 'We get on together, don't we? All of us? And Dad wouldn't have asked you if he wasn't sure that we'd all suit. It could well be a permanent arrangement, you know,' she had ended meaningly, to Melanie's embarrassment.
That, Melanie thought with a small ironic twist of her lips, was Celia. At times so grown up it was difficult to realise that she was only thirteen : Melanie had wondered if it was because she had been brought up entirely by her father that she had such an adult outlook on life. The fact that she heartily disliked her mother was sad, but then she had had an opportunity during her earlier years of observing her and making her own judgment on the matter. There was also the fact that she adored her father, and fiercely guarded over his interests, as indeed Julian Cridell did over his daughter's.
Melanie was not too sure that Celia's biased opinion that her mother was still in love with her father, was strictly true, although it did point that way; why else should she bother to make those harrowing visits to Oaklands each time she was in the country? If Celia's descriptive reports on the emotional scenes that occurred were only half true, it was small wonder that the Cridell
´
s went to some lengths to avoid them.
`She would start off by being the long-suffering spurned wife, who still cared for her family,' Celia had said, during one of her persuasive bouts to get Melanie to accept her father's offer, 'and when that didn't work, out would come the fireworks.' Melanie recalled the bleakness in Celia's eyes when she had told her this. 'I was always terrified that Dad would give in to
her, if only to avoid those ghastly scenes, and frightened of all the misery we'd have to put up with if he did,' she had added.
At this point Melanie must have fallen asleep, lulled at last by the inducing throb of the plane's engines, and the next she knew, she was being touched on the shoulder by Julian, who told her to fasten her seat belt because they were landing in Miami.
As Melanie found herself being ushered into a taxi and on the way to the Holiday Inn, where they would be spending the night before taking another plane out to one of the privately owned islands in the Bahamas the following morning, she wondered if she would ever be allowed to come down to earth.
The sudden change from having to count her pennies, and constant worry over her future, had been a little too fast for her to assimilate. She was still in that dream world, but one had to wake up some time, and it wasn't going to be easy after what had happened to her.
The light plane that had taken them out to the island made a smooth landing on a small airstrip and, judging by the size of the island seen from the air by a still jet-lagged Melanie, it was a wonder space had been found for such a feat, for the island seemed tiny, with pink and white dots that denoted houses seemingly crowding all available space. 'Looks like an iced cake, doesn't it?' Celia murmured in her ear, and Melanie had to agree that it was a very apt description.
As soon as they had landed, a car swept into view and drew up beside the plane, and as they got into it, Melanie glanced back at the small runway, then wished that she hadn't, for it was on a high plateau
that looked directly out to sea.
Seeing her look, Julian, correctly assessing her thoughts, said, 'Of course, there are times when the plane can't land. High winds, etcetera.'
Melanie would rather not have known that, and she only hoped that the weather was good when it was time to leave the island, for as the car swept away from the airstrip she got a better look at the landing area perched high above ragged cliffs with the ocean below.
It was only a fifteen-minute run to the hotel, which was more in the nature of a private mansion to Melanie's way of thinking, with ornamental palms lining the long driveway, and balconies from which hung glorious blossoms in bronze urns, the bronze, gleaming in the morning sun, setting off the pale blues and lilacs of some kind of wisteria plant that grew as luxuriantly as daises on an English lawn. A doorman, resplendent in a uniform that would have vied with an Admiral's for splendour, opened the car doors as soon as they arrived.
`Morning, Mr Cridell,' he said cheerily, as he motioned a waiting porter to take their luggage, adding, 'Miss Cridell,' with a nod of familiarity, and favouring Melanie with a glance, as if to place her for future reference.
There was no signing-in to be done here, Melanie found with a slight spurt of surprise as they were ushered in to a lift by yet another employee of the hotel with what almost amounted to a kind of deference by a young man who could well have been the deputy manager. He accompanied them to the penthouse suite, and then left them, saying, 'I think you'll find everything to your satisfaction, sir,' to Julian. From her husband's abrupt nod and dismissal of the man,
Melanie could see that this treatment was not unusual—was, indeed, expected by Julian Cridell. -
The suite was large and roomy, with three bedrooms, and Melanie found herself allotted the one next to Celia's with a communicating door. Julian's room was further down the passage, with a room used as a study in between, and this pleased Melanie, who was grateful for the distance and privacy this arrangement would provide.
The girls left the communicating door open while they unpacked—at least, Melanie started to unpack, while Celia flung herself on her bed, declaring tht she was too tired to bother with that right now, and suggested that they went down to the beach to cool off. But having half unpacked, Melanie said she would finish that first, and join Celia later. 'Go out of the side door, next to the dining-room,' Celiatold her, 'and follow the path round to the left. The beach is hotel property, and you can't miss it,' she added as she gathered up her beach bag and towel and left Melanie to it.
Melanie continued with her unpacking, and as she hung each garment up in the spacious wardrobe, her mind went back to that hectic shopping expedition she had undertaken two days before.
Armed with strict instructions from Julian to put everything on his account, she had shopped with inborn conservatism, feeling like a thief each time she signed a chit from the various departments, torn between her natural inclination to spend as little as possible on each garment, and her wish not to embarrass Julian Cridell by wearing off the peg clothes. Not that that was possible from the establishment she had been sent to, for it was where Celia went. Most of the well-endowed daughters of their social class shopped there, but Melanie had been scanda-
lised by the prices, even though she had no choice but to accept them.
It was perhaps as well that Celia had accompanied her, and Melanie suspected that this had been arranged by the astute Julian, who had surmised that she would put price against need, as indeed she would have done if Celia had let her. But she didn't and, having a good sense of dress, insisted on this and that outfit being bought, regardless of price. Evening gowns were also purchases, as Celia said that they dressed for dinner in the Bahamas, and she insisted on Melanie taking five of the lovely dresses presented for inspection.
By now Melanie had got to the smaller of her cases, the one where she had put things that might be needed sooner than the rest of her luggage, and she took out her sundress and swimming costume. The sundress was the only thing that she and Celia had really fallen out over, 'It's much too old for you,' Celia had said caustically when Melanie had plumped for a sedate navy-blue and white dress with a wide sailor-type collar at the back, and Celia had picked up a skimpy green and sea-blue two piece. 'That's more like it,' she had said, but this was one fight Melanie had won, although she noticed that Celia had flung in the other one when they were wrapping up their purchases, with a comment that she might change her mind. Melanie had given her a schoolmarmish look that caused the unrepentant Celia to giggle.
It definitely didn't look too old for her, she thought, as she studied her reflection in the full-length mirror, and it did suit her, she told herself as she gathered up her beach bag and towel and left to join Celia on the beach, seeing no sign of Julian as she went through the apartment.
Once on the beach, a long strip of glorious white sand, Melanie sank down on to a deep, comfortable beach-lounger with a matching parasol, several of which were scattered around the beach for the use of the guests. No hunting for deckchairs in this establishment, and no ticket collector demanding payment the minute you had accomplished such a feat, Melanie thought with an inward smile as she glanced across at Celia sitting beside her and at that moment searching in her beach bag that contained books as well as the usual paraphernalia one takes down to the beach.
`You're not going to study, are you, Celia?' she asked, as Celia dragged one of the books out.
Celia's dark eyes met hers contemplatingly. 'I get bored, you know,' she said. 'When Dad joins us, I'll have a swim,' she ended, as she settled down to the book.
At that moment, a girl's voice cut across the white sands. 'Celia Cridell! I didn't know you were here!'
Celia and Melanie both glanced up to see a dark, chubby girl of Celia's age bounding towards them, and Celia looked pleased to see her. 'Hi, Podge,' she said disrespectfully, but the girl grinned.
`Thank goodness you've come!' she said. 'I was getting bored stiff on my own.' She glanced back at a blonde woman a little behind her, and who now joined her. 'It's Celia, Mother,' she said. 'Now you can go off to your bridge if you want,' she told her happily.
The mother gave Celia a nod, and looked around. `Isn't your father here?' she asked, as her glance flickered over Melanie.
Celia smiled. 'He'll be around later,' she said. `Business as usual, you know. Oh, this is my mother—well,' she corrected herself, 'stepmother, Melanie Cridell. Melanie, this is Mrs Winsome and Podge—I
mean Diana,' she amended quickly, seeing the look of annoyance this introduction brought from Mrs Winsome.
Celia's offhand introduction had caught Melanie by surprise, and she found herself undergoing a swift and calculating appraisal from Mrs Winsome, who looked as surprised as Melanie felt. 'Good gracious !' she said, then, suddenly collecting herself, murmured something on the lines of it being nice to meet her and took herself off back to the hotel.
Melanie noticed with a touch of exasperation that Celia was very amused at Mrs Winsome's quick departure from the scene. Her guess at the reason was cemented by Celia's light, 'Well, that saves us a lot of introductions,' giving Podge, as she called her, a wicked grin; at Melanie's look of rebuke as she glanced apologetically at Podge, Celia replied, `Oh, Podge doesn't mind, do you, Podge?'
By the answering grin her friend gave her, it appeared that she didn't, and the two friends wandered off towards a group of teenagers watching the preparations of a team of canoeists entering the races that were to be held the following day, according to the notices put up in the hotel lobby.
Melanie, still a little disturbed by the quick introduction and the ensuing results, settled back in her lounger, glad of the parasol over her head, for the rays of the sun were really strong. She would have to get used to that sort of thing, she told herself. Things would soon settle down again, she thought. It was only the initial stage that would be uncomfortable for her. Whether it was her imagination or not, she wasn't sure, but it did seem to her that she was attracting a lot of notice from the passers-by as they went down to the shore for a swim.
She was just drifting off into a sun-soaked doze when Julian's voice awakened her, asking why she hadn't gone in for a dip, and casting an experienced eye over her neat sundress.
Melanie sat up, now fully awake. 'Oh, I'm afraid I can't swim,' she said. 'I never learnt, you know,' she added apologetically.
Julian's grey eyes, half closed because of the sun rays, looked beyond her to where Celia was now in animated conversation with one of the boat crew. `Well, we shall have to teach you, won't we?' he said.
Melanie thought about it. She wasn't sure that she wanted to learn to swim. She had got on very nicely without that particular art so far in her life, and thought that it was a bit late to indulge in it. Besides, she didn't particularly want to look stupid in front of those all too sophisticated people. 'I'd rather not, if you don't mind,' she said firmly. 'I'm perfectly happy just sunbathing.'
Julian glanced down at her briefly, and Melanie had a feeling that her reply had irritated him, and she was a bit puzzled by this. She was, after all, only stating her preference in the matter, not challenging his authority.