Dangerous Rhapsody

CHAPTER TWO

WHEN Emma returned to the flat which she shared with Johnny, he was waiting for her. Since their parents’ death four years ago, they had lived in this small flat near Earl's Court, for their old home had had to be sold, and they had not been left with a great deal of money.

Johnny rose from the couch on which he had been lounging at her entrance, and stared piercingly at her.

‘Did you see him? Is he going to let me get away with it? Have you managed to persuade him that it wasn't my fault? What did he say?'

Emma shook her head wearily. ‘Johnny,’ she exclaimed. ‘Let me speak. You want to know so many things all at once. Yes, I saw him. No, you won't have to face a court case …'

‘Oh, Em, Em darling!’ Johnny lifted her bodily into the air and swung her round excitedly. ‘I knew you could do it. I just knew it!'

Emma sat down on a chair and lit a cigarette with hands which were not quite steady. Her brain still would not assimilate itself to the proposed change in her circumstances. On top of all her own difficulties there was the added problem of Johnny himself. Although he was twenty-six, a year older than herself, he had always seemed much younger, and it had been Emma who had borne the brunt of of any unpleasantness he had got himself into. To imagine herself leaving him, going to live thousands of miles away from him where she would be unable to see that he ate regularly, that he bought enough clothes that he did not drink too much.

Johnny was also smoking now. He waltzed round the room, holding his cigarette between his teeth. ‘Em, you're a marvel!'

Emma sighed. ‘You haven't heard everything yet,’ she said dryly. ‘Even Damon Thorne wants something for his money.'

Johnny halted abruptly. ‘What could he possibly want? Apart from his money back, of course.'

‘He wants me. At least, he wants my nursing experience. His daughter Annabel requires a nurse-companion. That's his price.'

Johnny shrugged and grimaced. ‘Oh, well, that's not so terrible, is it? I mean, working for Thorne you won't be underpaid, will you? I thought at first you meant …’ He stopped. ‘Why the long looks? Nursing for him will be a darn sight easier than slogging away in that hospital of yours.'

Emma stared at him as though seeing him for the first time. ‘Honestly, Johnny, you really are the limit! You know perfectly well that I enjoy my work, and I was due for promotion. I don't want to give it all up to go play nanny to a small child. But you don't care about me at all, do you? Just so long as you get away scot free!'

Johnny looked uncomfortable. ‘Don't be like that, old girl.'

‘Don't call me “old girl”,’ she cried angrily. ‘Anyway, you may not be so pleased with yourself when I tell you that I shall be leaving England. Annabel lives in the Bahamas. Damon Thorne has a house there, on one of the Cays not far from New Providence.'

‘What!’ Johnny was disturbed now. ‘But what about me … the flat?'

Because the hospital where Emma worked was close by the flat, she had been able to spend all her free time there. She was virtually Johnny's housekeeper, and did all the cooking and cleaning, the shopping and mending. She had not minded; since Damon Thorne there had been no men in her life of any consequence, and Johnny had come to rely on her completely.

‘I'm sorry,’ she said now. ‘But that is the price we have to pay. Either I agree to Damon's request, and go out to Sainte Dominique to take charge of Annabel, or you go to prison, it's as simple as that.'

Johnny clenched his fists angrily. ‘How typical of him to impose conditions,’ he exclaimed pettishly.

‘Johnny! You were the one to get us into this mess,’ replied Emma, unable to prevent herself defending Damon Thorne. After all, his conditions were not exactly stringent.

‘I know, I know. You needn't keep reminding me. But it's typical of him that he should do something so utterly despicable so that I suffer whatever happens.'

‘Oh, Johnny!'

‘Well, it's true, isn't it? Good lord, there are plenty of agencies in London where he could obtain a nurse or companion or whatever he wants with twice as many qualifications as you have for taking care of the kid. How old is she? She can't be more than six. It's positively ludicrous. Why does he want you? Why couldn't he just let me pay the money back and be done with it?'

Emma shook her head. ‘I know nothing more than I've told you. I don't know why he wants me, from his attitude I should say he positively despises me.'

‘There you are, then. He's merely taking you to spite me.'

Emma sighed. ‘Well, whatever his reasons are, we have to accept them. I don't suppose you're prepared to go to prison to spite him, are you?'

Johnny bent his head. ‘No,’ he grunted disagreeably. ‘And how long do you expect to be away? What will I do after you've gone?'

‘I don't know, Johnny, I honestly don't know. It worries me just as much as you, believe me.'

‘What are the arrangements, then? He decided this pretty quickly, didn't he?'

Emma bit her lip. ‘Oh, lord, I forgot to tell you. He already knew what you'd done. He was expecting me.'

‘The swine!’ swore Johnny furiously. ‘I might have known nothing could go on in those offices without his knowing everything about it!'

‘Well, it makes no difference really. It saved me a lot of explanations, that's all. We must just accept it.’ Emma slipped off her shoes, and then glanced at her watch. ‘Gosh, it's almost one. I have to be back on duty at two, and I have my resignation to write out, too.'

Johnny moved about restlessly. ‘When do you leave?'

‘In a little over two weeks, I believe. His secretary is going to contact me and give me all the details. I suppose I'll have to buy some summer clothes – after all, it may be January here, but it's very warm in the Bahamas all year round.'

Johnny made a disgruntled gesture. ‘Just imagine,’ he muttered. ‘I'm stuck here and you're going to be have the time of your life.'

Emma, who had risen to her feet, swung round on him. Without her shoes she was only a little over five feet in height, but as Johnny was only five feet six himself it was not noticeable. ‘You really are the most selfish person I've ever met,’ she exclaimed hotly. ‘I don't particularly care where I'm going; I wanted to stay here – my friends are here, my work is here. Do you honestly imagine some isolated island, even if it is situated in a marvellous climate, can compensate for the things I'm going to give up? And most of all, how do you think I feel about living in Damon Thorne's household, as a member of his staff, subject to his commands?'

Johnny had the grace to look a little embarrassed at last. ‘I suppose it will be pretty grim. After all, the life in Nassau is hardly the life you're going to be leading, is it? I'm sorry, Em. I guess I was a bit callous. I shall just have to get my meals out and take my laundry to the laundromat.'

‘Yes,’ said Emma slowly. ‘So long as you do that. For goodness’ sake, don't go around looking like a tramp, just because I'm not here to look after you.'

Johnny grimaced. ‘I'm not a complete idiot, you know. But what about my job? Am I still employed, or not?'

‘He says you can stay on, although naturally the amount you took will be deducted in weekly instalments from your salary.'

‘Naturally,’ muttered Johnny glumly. ‘Oh, well, that's that, then.'

Emma glanced at him, and then turning away walked into the bathroom. She had to change, and there might just be time to snatch a snack in the hospital canteen before she was back on the ward.

During the next two weeks Emma did not give herself time to dwell on the reasons behind Damon Thorne's demand for her services. Her days were full with her work, and with obtaining the necessary clothes and documents which would take her to Nassau, and at night, if she could not sleep, she took a sleeping pill and refused to consider the consequences.

The staff at the hospital were naturally curious about her sudden resignation, and she had had to let it be known that she was taking up a post with Damon Thorne's household in the Bahamas.

‘But, darling,’ her friend Joanna Denham had exclaimed, ‘didn't you once know him rather well? I mean, his name is certainly familiar. Isn't he that American property millionaire you once ran around with?'

Emma had stifled her embarrassment, and replied airily: ‘He's only half-American, actually. His mother was English. And yes, I did used to know him, but not … awfully well.'

Their relationship, hers and Damon Thorne's, had been in the days before Joanna came to the hospital. She could only have heard gossip and Emma had no intention of illustrating their association. Instead, she made it sound as though they had merely been acquaintances.

‘Well, anyway,’ Joanna continued, ‘I think you're doing the right thing. Working in a hospital is all very well, but I'd give anything for a bit of sunshine myself.'

Emma had let her resignation sound as though it was her decision, and not the result of coercion. Her one regret was that the Matron of the hospital had had such faith in her, and now it looked as though she was ungrateful for all the Matron had done for her. But it was impossible to explain, without involving Johnny, and after all, this was wholly for his benefit.

The night before she left the hospital, the nurses threw a party for her, and afterwards they went back to the flat for a final nightcap. Apart from Emma and five other nurses, there were two medical students, two housemen, Johnny, and Martin Webster, a friend of his.

They were a noisy crowd, and Emma thought regretfully that it would be a long time before she enjoyed herself so much again. They put on the record player, and danced to records, and teased Emma about the kind of life she was going to have. They all seemed to envy her, and Emma was beginning to think that it might not be so bad after all. Damon Thorne was hardly likely to be around much. He was too restless a man, too concerned with the power of his empire. And it was quite a way from London to Nassau, even in these days of fast travel. It wasn't so far from New York, of course, but she doubted his capacity for finding an island entertaining for long.

She was in the kitchen, making coffee, when the doorbell rang. Johnny went to answer it, thinking it might be one of their neighbours coming to complain about the noise. But instead, Damon Thorne stood on the threshold.

Emma had come to the kitchen door, to see what was going on, and when her eyes met those of Damon Thorne's her heart almost stopped beating.

Johnny stepped back, and shrugged his shoulders. ‘Are you coming in, Mr. Thorne?’ he asked sardonically.

Damon barely glanced at him, but stepped past him into the lounge. His bulk seemed to dominate the room, and the girls and boys stopped dancing and watched him.

‘Can I see you for a minute, Emma?’ he asked, his eyes surveying the debris of full ashtrays and empty glasses.

Emma bit her lip. ‘I … well … as you can see, there's a party going on,’ she said awkwardly. ‘Couldn't it wait until the morning?'

‘I'm afraid not. The kitchen will do.'

He crossed the room, the others stepping back to allow him passage as though it was his right, and Emma grimaced to herself and stood back into the small kitchen. Damon followed her in, and firmly closed the door behind him, leaning back against it. Immediately, they could hear the others begin talking and laughing again, and Emma relaxed a little.

‘What do you want?’ she asked, untying the apron which she had worn over her orange pleated dress.

Damon's eyes travelled the length of her body, and then returned to rest on her mouth for a moment, unconsciously disturbing Emma's emotions. Despite his age, there was more power and vitality emanating from him than from any of the younger men in the other room, and beside him they seemed almost youthful and unsophisticated and very inexperienced.

Then he shrugged, and drew out his cigar case. ‘Actually, I came to assure myself that you were keeping your side of the bargain,’ he remarked casually, and in so doing arousing Emma's annoyance. ‘Johnny will have told you his mistakes have all been rectified.'

‘He hasn't mentioned it,’ replied Emma shortly. ‘In any case, I have no doubt that you've kept sufficient evidence to implicate him should I do anything to baulk you at this stage.'

‘You're so right,’ he said mockingly. ‘However, I gather this is in the nature of a farewell party. I called round earlier to see you, and when I could get no reply I happened to bump into one of your neighbours who was only too willing to supply me with the details.'

‘How convenient for you,’ said Emma. ‘Well, is that all?'

‘Not quite. I'm leaving for Hong Kong in the morning. That's why I'm here tonight. I shan't see you again before you leave. Miss Weldon tells me you have all the necessary literature and you know my cousin Chris will meet you in Nassau.'

‘Yes.’ Emma's voice was flat.

‘Good.’ He nodded and straightened. ‘Don't look so miserable, Emma. I guarantee you won't find life boring. Sainte Dominique is near enough to New Providence to provide as much entertainment as you could find anywhere in England.'

Emma's eyes flashed angrily. ‘You won't accept that I might prefer this cold, dull island, will you?’ she exclaimed. ‘To me, London is home. I don't want to go to the Caribbean, however glamorous you make it sound.'

He smiled derisively. ‘What shows your ignorance of such things,’ he remarked lazily. ‘In this, as in other matters, Emma, you think you know best. Do you really believe that still?'

Emma's cheeks burned painfully. ‘Please go,’ she said, in a muffled voice.

‘With pleasure,’ he nodded, and swung open the door.

After he had gone, Joanna came to Emma's side.

‘Is that your new employer?’ she cried in astonishment.

Emma nodded.

‘But, darling, he's marvellous, isn't he? Good lord, if I were in your shoes I'd be whooping for joy. No wonder poor old St. Benedict's had to take a back seat.'

Emma shook her head. ‘Oh, Joanna, it's not like that at all…'

Joanna looked sceptical. ‘My dear, if it's true what they say, that you and he were once like that,’ she twisted two fingers together as she spoke, ‘then if I were you I'd try my darnedest to get the ball rolling again. After all, darling, you are twenty-five, and most girls are married by then.'

Emma managed a smile. ‘I'm a career woman, Joanna. Didn't you know?'

But when she was alone in bed that night Emma found scalding tears rolling treacherously down her cheeks. If only Joanna had known what she was saying; if she were aware of what Emma had turned down. She would never have tormented her by chiding her about her age when seven years ago Emma had had every opportunity for happiness, but had not been able to take it.

CHAPTER THREE

THE arrangements for her flight to Nassau were less than exacting. An afternoon flight to New York brought her down there at four in the afternoon New York time, and a booking had been made for her at an hotel close by the airport where she spent the rest of the afternoon and that night. Then the following morning she flew on to Nassau, arriving there at lunch time.

Most of the passengers on the flight from New York were elderly business men and their wives, on their way to spend a few weeks in the sun, but although they did not know who she was, or her circumstances, they were very kind to Emma, and she was not short of conversation on the flight.

When they landed at New Providence's International Airport, she said good-bye to her new-found acquaintances and emerged from the Customs building alone.

It was a marvellous day, with a clear blue sky overhead, and the white-clad stewards and porters about the airport looked cool and comfortable, which was more than Emma felt. She was still wearing the Donegal tweed suit she had worn when she left England, and apart from changing her blouse that morning she was dressed for a much colder climate. Her llama coat was slung over one arm, and her suitcases had been deposited beside her when she refused the services of a porter.

But, as she looked around her, she could see no one who might conceivably be Damon Thorne's cousin, Chris. If this girl was a relation of Damon's she would most likely resemble him, but there were no dark-haired girls in the vicinity, and only a tall, slim, fair-haired man was standing watching her speculatively.

Becoming embarrassed by his scrutiny, Emma turned away, wondering whether she ought to report to the information desk that she was going for a cup of coffee and would they contact her if anyone came looking for her. There was no point in her taking a taxi into the city; she had no idea where she should go.

Lifting her cases, she turned towards the airport buildings again, but the man suddenly came to life, and walked swiftly towards her. As he approached, Emma wondered who he could be. Dressed in a lightweight tropical suit of a biege material, his almost silvery hair lifting slightly in the faint breeze, he looked about thirty, and was certainly very attractive.

Reaching her, he said: ‘I'm sorry if you were beginning to resent the appraisal, but I've finally decided you must be Emma Harding, am I right?'

Emma stared at him in relief. ‘Yes, I'm Emma Harding. Have you come to meet me?’ At his nod she continued, ‘Oh, thank goodness. I was half afraid … Mr. Thorne's cousin had forgotten all about me.’ She hesitated only a moment over his name.

He grinned. ‘Didn't Damon tell you I should meet you? I mean, I thought at first you couldn't be the girl I was waiting for simply because you never gave me half a glance.'

Emma smiled. ‘Are you Chris Thorne?'

‘Of course.'

She laughed. ‘I don't know why, I was expecting a girl. You know, “Chris” being short for Christine.'

He took her cases, and started to walk across to where a low slung white sports car was parked. ‘It's also short for Christopher,’ he said, slinging her cases on to the back seat, and helping her into the car. ‘And you're not quite what I expected, either. You're much younger, and much more attractive.'

Emma blushed. ‘Why, thank you,’ she said, sliding into her seat. ‘I feel better already.'

The drive to Nassau, with Christopher Thorne, was a memorable experience. He took the coast road, giving her the full benefit of the magnificent scenery. Emma thought she would never be able to describe the place to Johnny, and Joanna, back home, without sounding exactly like a travel brochure. But despite her assertions that the Bahamas held no appeal for her, she was unable to prevent a thrill of purely physical anticipation when she saw the fabulous pink-tinged beaches and creaming coastline. The names of the beaches were inviting too; Love Beach, Paradise Beach; Emma shivered expectantly.

Christopher Thorne glanced at her and indicated a famous golf course on their right. ‘There's plenty to do,’ he said lazily. ‘Swimming, water-skiing, skin-diving. Can you swim?'

‘Oh 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?'