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BOOK 4
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Being Yours BOOK 4
'You're surely not going to sit on that?' Amy asked. 'It can't be comfortable.''It is very comfortable.' Aminata spoke matter-of-factly, as if used to having to explain this preference. 'It is exactly what I like. Paul, 'e bring it from the shop specially for me.'So Paul kept an item of furniture here just for his beautiful assistant, friend, and. . . mistress? Amy had to crush down a wave of the purest, most painful jealousy.Aminata had returned to the unwanted armchair to drop her cloak over it. The complex garment beneath turned out to be three garments, a kaftan-like robe whose sea-green silk was shadow-striped with indigo and gold, a long skirt of the same material, and a scarlet silk shirt. The copious sleeves of the kaftan dropped in supple folds over the long scarlet sleeves of the shirt, and the whole effect was so brilliantly exotic that Amy found herself staring again.'You like?' Aminata stroked the kaftan complacently, making its shadow-striping ripple like water. 'Mam
Being Yours BOOK 4
'I see.' Amy nodded, spreading pate. 'So modern carvers try to make their work seem old.''After they've carved them out of bits of packing crates,' he confirmed, 'they stain them and drill worm-holes.''And they succeed? I mean, the things end up seeming old?'Paul nodded, his mouth full. 'Tourists and dealers buy them as antiques,' he explained when he had swallowed, 'take them back to Europe or America, and sell them for a huge profit.''Having bought them for peanuts?''Just about. And for those peanuts, all that marvellous talent -' he nodded down at the figure by Amy's plate - 'gets pinned down copying the past, instead of finding its own way.'Amy stared at him in admiration. What a wonderful way he had found to spend his father's money. Not only was he providing employment in a poor country - she was sure Mali must be poor - he was also helping craftsmen. No, she corrected herself, he was helping artists find the best way of using their talents.'So in Les Gemaux,' she began,
Being Yours BOOK 4
'You don't look old enough to be anybody's mother,' she blurted out before she could stop herself.'Nice of you to say so.' Betty, who had bent to greet Jim, straightened to accept the compliment. 'I sometimes feel a hundred. . .do come in out of the cold.' She stepped back through a glass inner door, adding over her shoulder as they followed, 'Marie's expecting you.'So she's called Marie then, Amy thought, and wondered why the name seemed vaguely familiar. Surely she had heard it before, quite recently?The outer lobby led into a big square hall, itself windowless but with doors leading off it to rooms bright-lit by the late-afternoon sun. A wide, handsome staircase rose to one side, and at the end of a short corridor another glass door showed through its frosted pane the outline of kitchen cupboards. Scents of coffee and baking drifted through the warm air.Paul commanded Jim to sit and the dog obeyed, though with a beseeching, walk-hungry stare. While Betty took their coats and hu
Being Yours BOOK 4
'Nice to have somebody to make them for,' Betty said. 'Marie eats hardly anything, and the men would demand sausage rolls.''Paul too?' Amy asked, reflecting again how little she knew of these small details of his everyday life.'They're ready in the kitchen for when he comes back,' Betty answered.The talk continued at that level, comfortable, undemanding, leaving Amy's mind free to wrestle with what she had just heard and try to make sense of it.Carol. Somewhere in Paul's life was a woman named Carol.Yet Grand'mere's absolutely positive that he likes me, she reflected. It was difficult not to draw hope and strength from the old lady's certainty, but she must be mistaken. Surely if it were true Paul would by now have shown his . . . his liking . . . one way or another?Whereas he avoids touching me, she thought, except for that one time when he was sorry for me . . .'. . .in zose days,' Grand'mere was saying, l Le Mali was French Ouest Africa. Zey were terrible, colonial times, bu
Being Yours BOOK 4
'You know what kids are,' he went on evenly.Yes, she knew. 'But why?' Remembering her thoughts of a moment ago, she glanced again at the little figure on the desk. 'I can see now that you do look Malian in some ways . . .''Peule,' he put in absently.Amy stared at him in bewilderment. 'Pearl? What on earth . . .''Or Fulani. It's the name of our particular African race.''I see.' She nodded sideways at the statue. 'Like that?''That's a stylized version of how a lot of us look, yes.''But not you, or only in -' she paused, looking for the right phrase - 'in sort of secondary ways. And you're no darker than many Europeans,' she added, remembering what he had just told her, 'so why Darky?''My father came to visit me once, early on.''And?''He's ... he was,' Paul corrected himself, 'much darker than me.''Little beasts. And Owen?' she asked. 'Inky?''From the day he started, he was Chinky.'Amy silently contemplated the boundless cruelty of children.'So we got together and worked ou
Being Yours BOOK 4
For a long time they lay like that without speaking. Then he shifted his weight off her and lay beside her, still close, still without speaking, and raised himself on one elbow. She put a finger on the hard, wonderful curve of his shoulder, and traced a line down to the swell of his biceps, which moved and rippled as his hand played some delightful game with her navel.'I thought you didn't like me,' she said at last.His hand stole from her navel to her breasts. 'I . . . like you very much.''I thought after you met Robert . . .''Amy, darling, living is making mistakes. I've made them too.''With women?'He didn't answer, but his hand left her breasts and pushed her damp hair away from her face.'Grand'mere,' Amy said, 'told me to ask you about someone called Carol.'He turned abruptly away from her and sat up against the old-fashioned mahogany bedhead. 'She was nobody. It was a long time ago.'Amy lay back, staring up at his straight, strong profile. Something had happened to her i
Being Yours BOOK 4
'So you won't make it?''I will. Luckily this lot were blank, or it would be more complicated.' She gestured uncertainly down at the phone. 'I hope you don't mind . . .''Of course not.''Thank you,' she said, meaning it. 'I've been ringing round the staff, finding who's got blanks to spare.''And?''Sue Norman at Faversham has, and Jane Gordon at Whitstable, and Dennis Hirst at Grove Ferry.' She paused, working out the best way to make the journey. 'If I drive to Faversham first, then to Whitstable, then to Grove Ferry . . .''That's some drive. Can I do any of it for you?'Amy shook her head. 'Thanks, but there's still my place to be checked.' She paused and glanced up at him, accepting that his day as well as hers had been wrecked. 'Would you mind going to Stribble on your own again?'She could have wept for their bright plans. She had so much looked forward to the time when, reports safely written and packed away, she would go back to her cottage with Paul late in the morning. The
Being Yours BOOK 4
So he's up there, she thought, whoever he is, and wanting the place dark so as to get away without being seen.She tried the lights a third time. Nothing happened; she presumed that whoever was in the lighting booth had turned off the master switch. From now on, the studio would stay dark.How huge it felt, a whole lightless world of space. Somewhere in the vast limbo she heard a quiet click which must be the lighting booth door opening. Then came a patter of feet on the steps, and with them a weird rustling and slithering like the movements of a giant snake. The smell of mothballs and linseed oil and vinegar was suddenly overwhelming.The coat, Amy thought. He has Paul's coat.The pattering and the slithering went on, coming lower and nearer while adrenalin-fuelled ideas zigzagged across her mind like lightning flashes. She must get some light in here somehow. Apart from this main entrance where she stood, the studio had several other ways out, she must get a look at this person befo
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Being Yours BOOK 9
Lohano Tiki drove his bright yellow Ferrari up the long gravel incline and parked in front of the huge pillared portico that was the entrance to the Black Orchid Palace.He climbed out of the car, and quickly ducked down to check his hair in the wing-mirror.Good. Nicely wind-ruffled and carefree.A handsome, square-jawed face looked back at him, tanned a deeper colour by the desert sun.By the Nevadan desert sun, to be exact.His shirt was dazzling white and casually opened at the throat to reveal a strong dark column of neck and the first few wisps of dark chest hair.His jacket was white linen, faultlessly tailored, his slacks a dark green. His loafers came from Rome. His only piece of jewellery was a modest, leather-strapped watch from Switzerland.He was dressing to impress Koki’Hana as much as his rebellious and strong-willed granddaughter.He sprang lithely up the four rounded steps, that were spread out like a fan and led to the huge, impressive, carved oak doors of the palace
Being Yours BOOK 9
George Dixon watched the large crocodile of people emerge from the intermediary house by the east wall.As the owner of fifteen per cent of the Orchid House, he’d been asked to attend the full day’s festivities, of course, but he’d only just decided to put in an appearance.It was three-fifteen p.m.The extra waiters and waitresses hired for the lunch had been circulating in the grounds all afternoon, laden with trays of champagne, fruit juice and little nibbles. He hijacked a waiter and grabbed a glass of cold Moet et Chandon and a few smoked salmon pastries that melted in the mouth.He was lounging against the fountain that was the centre-piece of the outer grounds. Round, made of stone, and full of fish and water-lilies, it shot a fountain of water nearly thirty feet into the air.It was cooler there.George didn’t much like the heat. He was a small but very fat man, with a round belly and short, stocky legs. He could only imagine what the heat must be like inside the hot-houses.G
Being Yours BOOK 9
King Koki’Hana reached the end of the welcoming line, and finally shook hands with the last person to be presented - a tall, thin Portuguese man, whom Electra had introduced as their head groundsman. It was his job to keep the gardens outside the glasshouses looking good.Koki’Hana quite liked meeting the people who made businesses tick. Oahu, like all the islands, was a large ethnic mix of people - Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Filipino, Polynesians, Portuguese and American. Here at the Orchid House, he was pleased to see that Electra Stapleton’s only criterion for picking her staff was their having the right qualifications for the job. He operated a similar policy where his own business affairs were concerned.‘Well, Alii Koki’Hana, I’m sure you can see now why the Orchid House is such a success,’ Electra said quietly. ‘My staff are simply the best in the world.’ She said with it quiet pride but total sincerity.King Koki’Hana nodded. ‘So I see. And you are rapidly expanding, I underst
Being Yours BOOK 9
Bevis expertly aligned the small light aircraft with the portable runway lights Electra had lit ten minutes ago, and lightly touched down. He taxied neatly to the end of the runway, turned, and then parked the plane near a stand of hua trees, where it was partially hidden.He went through his checklist, making sure all the systems were shut down, then locked the cockpit, grabbed his overnight bag, and jumped lithely to the ground.At thirty-eight, he looked a good ten years younger, and still retained the well-built but fat-free body that would be the envy of many men his age. His short hair was still as dark as a raven’s wing, with not a hint of grey at the temples.He gathered up the landing lights, turning them off as he went, and stowed them away in their small wooden shed, hidden in the small copse of trees, padlocking the door after him.During the short walk to Electra’s luxurious bungalow, ‘Makai Hale’, he ran a tired hand through his hair. It was good to have a break from the
Being Yours BOOK 9
Electra stroked the damp copper hair off his forehead and looked around desperately. There was only the diminishing storm, darkness and fear. She couldn’t move him - she wasn’t strong enough to get him into her car. Besides., she didn’t know if she should move him, and wished she knew more basic First Aid.She felt as if she’d been cradling the stranger in her arms forever, but it had actually been less than five minutes since the lightning strike.The rain had been gradually dwindling, and now had stopped altogether, but she could still hear the distant rumble of thunder, away to the east, as the storm headed out to sea.Suddenly another sound began to impinge on her mind, and she looked up hopefully as a small set of lights dipped and disappeared in the distance.A car! At last!Coming from the same direction as she had been. Somewhat belatedly, she realized her own car was still blocking the road, and she carefully lowered the stranger’s head to the ground and got to her feet.Her
Being Yours BOOK 9
Hawaii, or the Big Island as it was known to the locals, played host to fewer tourists than its sister island Oahu, but boasted similar moutainous lush greenery, great surfing and multi-cultural dining, all with the added bonus of spectacular black beaches, courtesy of the volcanoes.A mountainous land of plantations, myth and Polynesian mystique, it slumbered like a giant emerald in the vast blueness of the Pacific ocean.However, Hilo, its major city, was as big, busy and cosmopolitan as any city in the developed world.The Big Island, like all those in the chain, also had its fair share of hotels and tourist resorts, but, unlike Oahu, it still relied heavily on the more traditional sources of money, such as fruit plantations and coffee, to fill its coffers.Near the pretty village of Kailua, set well back in the coolness of the hills, away from the hustle and bustle of hotels and shops, lay the impressive and sprawling edifice of the Black Orchid Palace.No higher than two storeys,
Being Yours BOOK 9
Electra Stapleton turned the last page of the contract she was reading, and initialled it in the right-hand corner. She’d made a few important changes, and she made a mental note to herself to get one of her lawyers to draw up a revised draft.Not that Nationwide Flowers Inc. would complain. She’d given them all they wanted, but had cleverly slipped in a few little goodies that would be beneficial to the Orchid House too.For instance, ensuring that their chain of florists used one of the Orchid House’s flowered wrapping sheets whenever they sold one of their orchids. The free publicity that would generate would save her hundreds of thousands of dollars. And cost Nationwide Flowers not a penny.She was a bit worried about the shipment date, though; it was rather tight. She reached for her computer keyboard and punched up the details on the company’s regular transporters. Before she’d taken over, the Orchid House had had only one - a privately owned aeroplane company that had shipped a
Being Yours BOOK 9
Haldane Fox glanced up as the oddly melodious 4 ping 5 echoed around the cabin.‘Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. We are now beginning our descent to Honolulu Airport. Please observe the “No Smoking” signs, and “Fasten Seat-belts” signs. Your cabin crew will be around to help anyone having difficulty with their belts. I trust you enjoyed your flight with us, and wish you all a pleasant stay on Oahu. Aloha'Haldane sighed wearily and reached for his seatbelt. It had been a long flight, from London to New York for a short stopover, then on to LA for yet another stopover before the long haul across the mighty Pacific Ocean to the fabled Hawaiian Islands.He yawned widely, trying to shrug off the fast-approaching affects of the dreaded jet-lag.A stewardess, the same one who’d been serving him throughout the flight across the pacific, lingered by the side of his seat.‘Everything alright, sir?’The soft voice made him spin his head and look up. The stewardess’s smile caught in her th
Being Yours BOOK 8
By the time they arrived at the hotel, the security gate had been forced open, and a fire engine and two police cars were in the parking area. Apart from the fact that the firemen had broken down the main door, to all other outward appearances the Alcaszar appeared to be untouched. It wasn’t enough to stop Matt from leaping from the car and running across to the main doors where a group of firemen was standing, though.By the time Alex joined them, however, he appeared to be calm. “It’s only damaged the courtyard,” he told her. “Apparently it started among the wood that was stacked there, probably caused by a careless cigarette butt. They say it’s probably been smoldering for hours.”From the tone of his voice Alex knew immediately that he didn’t believe it was accidental but that he wasn’t prepared to talk to the police about his suspicions. She glanced up at him. His eyes had darkened to the steely gray that she now knew from experience was a sign that he was very angry. She took hi
