LITMIR.BIZ

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down the steps, looking about her eagerly as he exchanged greetings with the coloured man who had come to meet them.

      The airstrip was situated near to a sandy beach, not the beach they had seen from the plane, but the narrower strip of sand that formed the northern boundary. Even so, the sight of the fine white powdered grains bordered by the creaming surf was quite beautiful, and she tugged Rhys’s arm impatiently when he seemed disposed to linger.

      ‘You remember Lucy, don’t you?’ Rhys remarked with a wry smile, and the old man who had had charge of the small airport for the past fifteen years gave him a doubtful look.

      ‘This is Lucy?’

      ‘It is.’ Rhys glanced around as if familiarising himself anew with his surroundings. But the truth was, he didn’t want to get into a discussion about his daughter, and cutting Jacob off, he said: ‘Is the jeep here?’

      The old man looked doubtful, but as he did so, another, younger man, came sauntering across the tarmac towards them. ‘Well, here comes Tomas now,’ he observed, evidently relieved. ‘Late, as usual, but generally reliable.’

      ‘Good afternoon, Mr Williams, sir,’ the younger man exclaimed now, his dark eyes taking in Rhys’s jean-clad figure and Lucy’s Bermudas with one sweeping glance. ‘It’s good to have you back. Rosa’s talked of nothing else for days.’

      ‘Really?’ Rhys introduced his daughter to the man, who with his wife, had stayed on as caretakers at the house. Like Jacob, Tomas had lived all his life on the island, and Rhys realised it had been a futile hope that their arrival here should have remained unannounced. Rosalie was too keen on gossiping for that and, he reflected, somewhat philosophically, it was probably better that way. There was less chance of running into Jordan if she knew he was here. He had little doubt that she would want to stay out of his way, too.

      The pilot had hauled their cases out of the Cessna, and now Rhys hefted Lucy’s overnight bag and his own guitar case while Tomas took charge of the suitcases. Then, together, they crossed the uneven surface of the runway to where an ancient ex-army jeep stood waiting in the shadow of a clump of palms.

      ‘It still runs, eh?’ remarked Rhys, swinging the bags into the back and hoisting Lucy up into the front seat.

      ‘As ever,’ agreed Tomas, joining the cases in the back, and grimacing, Rhys slid behind the wheel.

      The road from the airport ran parallel with the coast for some way, then took a winding track among fields tall with sugar cane. Huge sticks of it had fallen into the road in places, causing the jeep to buck a little as it bounced over the obstacle, and there was the sweet smell of rain in the air, indicating a morning shower.

      ‘You have a good journey, Mr Williams?’ asked Tomas, clinging tenaciously to the back of their seats, and Rhys nodded.

      ‘We only flew from Nassau this afternoon,’ he explained. ‘We came down from Miami on Thursday.’

      ‘Ah,’ Tomas nodded. ‘I thought Miss Lucy looked like she’d been doin’ some sunbathing. Plenty of time for that here,’ he added, as the girl cast him a careless look. ‘Not much else to do, really, less’n you like to swim or sail.’

      ‘I do,’ declared Lucy impatiently, giving her father an appealing look. ‘Is it much further, Daddy? I can’t wait to get there!’

      The roads around the island were delightfully quiet after Nassau. Apart from the occasional bicycle, and one or two cattle-drawn vehicles, they didn’t see another car, and Rhys regretted Lucy’s impatience when he was feeling an unfamiliar sense of identity with his surroundings.

      ‘It’s not much more than a mile now,’ he said, taking his eyes from the road for a moment. ‘You can see the ocean through the trees if you look. Our house is only a few yards from the beach.’

      Lucy strained her eyes to see, and Rhys allowed the little jeep to coast the last few yards to their turning. It was all so familiar, he could hardly believe it was more than ten years since he had driven here. So long as he remembered it was, he reminded himself harshly.

      A narrow drive, overhung with the scarlet beauty of hibiscus, gave access to a gravelled forecourt. Lucy was already exclaiming her enthusiasm before she saw the cream-washed walls of the house, and impulsively she hugged him as he brought the jeep to a standstill.

      ‘It’s beautiful!’ she cried, jumping excitedly out of the vehicle. ‘Oh, I didn’t expect anything like this! You said it would most likely be overgrown with weeds and falling to bits!’

      Rhys cast Tomas a rueful look. ‘I didn’t exactly say that, Lucy,’ he protested, though he admitted he was pleasantly surprised at the condition of the place. Tomas and Rosalie had evidently gone to some trouble to keep the house and grounds in good order, and Lucy’s careless candour grated a little. ‘I just said everything grew like mad, and that termites ran riot in the islands. But apparently,’ he looked at the other man again, ‘you’ve done a good job.’

      ‘Oh, Missy Jordan made sure everythin’ stayed the way it should,’ Tomas responded airily, sliding off the tailboard, evidently unaware of the bombshell he had delivered. ‘And here comes Rosa now. See, they’re here—all safe and sound!’

      In the genuine pleasure of the housekeeper’s greeting, Rhys was able to keep other thoughts at bay, at least temporarily, and Rosalie’s ample arms engulfed him in an enveloping embrace. ‘I couldn’t believe it when Tomas told me you were comin’ back here, Mr Williams,’ she exclaimed, her voice echoing the sentiment that was evident in her moist brown eyes. ‘It’s good to have you back. Ain’t had no one to cook for in ages.’

      ‘You got me,’ put in Tomas goodhumouredly, but Rosalie only sniffed, her round black face wobbling with emotion.

      ‘You’re so thin,’ she exclaimed, her fingers clutching the lapels of Rhys’s shirt. ‘Got to do somethin’ about that, and soon!’

      Rhys managed a faint smile, and extracting himself from her clinging fingers, he drew a reluctant Lucy forward. ‘What do you think of my daughter?’ he demanded, his hand resting proudly on the girl’s shoulder. ‘Quite a transformation from the infant you remember, hmm?’

      ‘This is Lucy?’ Rosalie cast her eyes heavenward for a moment. ‘My, my, hasn’t she grown? And so pretty?’ She subjected the girl to another of her suffocating squeezes. ‘You and me’s goin’ to be good friends, Lucy. Just like me and Missy Jordan, when she was younger.’

      Rhys noticed that Lucy quickly extricated herself from the woman’s hold, and the look she cast in his direction was unmistakable. She didn’t like Tomas and Rosalie’s familiarity, and although he sympathised with the strangeness she must be feeling, he wished she had been a little more friendly.

      ‘Can we go inside, Daddy?’ she pleaded. ‘I can’t wait to see my room. And I want to have a swim before I change for dinner.’

      ‘I guess so.’ Rhys bent to pick up the guitar case he had put down to return Rosalie’s welcome, and gestured towards the house. ‘You lead the way. Just follow the path round to the verandah. It’s not difficult to find.’

      Lucy needed no second bidding, and Rosalie raised her hands in understanding when Rhys 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

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