Windward Crest Read online

  WINDWARD CREST

  Anne Hampson

  There was no way to save their happiness.

  Dominie was delighted when an unexpected legacy enabled her to enjoy a Caribbean cruise—her first real holiday in years.

  But she certainly hadn’t bargained on missing the boat halfway and finding herself the sudden guest of a fellow traveler. Nor had she expected the island’s most eligible bachelor, Rohan de Arden, to fall in love with her.

  Their plans to marry were shattered when Dominie realized that an episode from her past would surely turn Rohan’s love to hate.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Snow lay thick on the hills, glistening like a myriad diamonds under the light of a full moon floating in a clear purple sky. In the garden naked branches threw gaunt shadows across the lawn and the indeterminate borders where in spring and summer flowers and shrubs flaunted their brilliant colours. It was a night of sheer undiluted beauty, but this went unnoticed by the girl standing on the step.

  She had gone to make sure the front door was safely secured, but on impulse had opened it instead, and now she stood there, gazing almost unseeingly at the slumbering white landscape, hushed and still beneath the brilliant winter stars.

  From over a nearby hill there drifted the muted sound of children’s voices and with a swift backward movement Dominie closed the door, turning the key and slipping in the bolt.

  Christmas Eve ... Invitations had come in from anxious well-meaning friends, but Dominie had politely turned them down. Determined not to spoil anyone else’s Christmas, she had said she was going to stay with a distant relative of whom her friends had never even heard, hence the suspicious questioning.

  ‘You’re not just saying this, Dominie?’ from Hilary Fletcher, a friend from the office. ‘You really are going to spend the holiday with this aunt?’

  ‘I really am,’ was the reply, and Hilary, like the rest, had to be satisfied.

  ‘Hark, the Herald Angels Sing...’ The sweet tones of the children were drawing closer and on entering the living-room Dominie snapped off the light, then sank into a chair and stared into the dying embers, her lip quivering tremulously. For two whole days she had wept; she felt she would weep for the rest of her life.

  Minutes passed, and the clock ticked quietly on. Dominie shivered now and then, not with the cold, but at the memory of the ordeal through which she had so recently passed. Every nerve in her body tortured her, rioting madly as the mutilated face of her brother rose before her. Driven almost into a frenzy by it, she desperately began to pray. Peace ... oh, God, give her peace, if only for a few minutes. Her prayer went unanswered; she still saw her eighteen-year-old brother lying there, in the police mortuary. She alone could identify him, for they had no other relatives—except for an aunt about three times removed, whom Dominie and Jerry had never seen for over ten years. Jerry’s face had been almost unrecognizable...

  Shutting her eyes tightly, Dominie tried again to thrust the image out by thinking of other things, of times that had been happy despite the fact of her having been overworked, doing her job as wage-earner and in addition looking to all the household chores as well as being a mother to Jerry who was seven years her junior. Yes, they had been happy, those times she and Jerry had spent together. Dominie’s boss, the manager of the large concern that manufactured electrical goods, had been most patient and understanding when his secretary asked for time off because her brother had to stay away from school owing to illness, or because he had broken his leg during the school sports. For one six-month period Dominie was off work over and over again, but never once did Mr. Woodall stop her any money.

  ‘Perhaps you’d better look for someone else,’ she had said at last, though with fear in her voice. ‘I’m not any good to you at all.’

  ‘Just you attend to your brother, Miss Worthing,’ he had told her kindly. ‘You’re doing a fine job of work, caring for Jerry and coming out as well. Many a one would look to the State to assist. If you can do your part, then I can do mine. I’ll draw on the pool until you come back. Jerry’ll not always be a child; one day he’ll be bringing in money for you and then you’ll find life much easier.’

  And now Jerry was dead, killed instantly by the lorry which skidded on the icy road, careering across to mangle both motor-cycle and rider.

  A great shudder passed through her body and she put her head in her hands, closing her eyes as if to shut out the agony that tormented her. And suddenly she was thinking of something else, something which tormented in a different kind of way. Those lost moments while she was driving home from the police mortuary ... that short blank in her memory. Often she had willed those moments to come back, but always she failed, and the blank remained.

  Two years later she was telling Mavis Townsend about it. Mavis and her husband, James, had come to lodge with Dominie eight months after the accident, and the two young women had become firm friends.

  ‘The only flash of memory is the screeching of brakes,’ she explained as she and Mavis sat over breakfast before going to work. James had already had his and left the house, as he had to be at work by eight o’clock. ‘Apart from this I have a blank in my memory which I would very much like to fill in.’ She was still affected by her brother’s death, and her pallor was almost always in evidence. Although only twenty-seven, she often felt that she looked years older.

  ‘You believe you had to pull up quickly for some reason?’ Mavis obligingly showed interest, but it was plain to Dominie that she attached no particular importance to what Dominie had said. ‘When was this?’

  ‘On my way home from the police mortuary. I can’t remember anything from leaving it until I reached the dual carriageway, which would take about a couple of minutes.’

  ‘I expect such a thing is fairly normal, Dominie. After that shattering experience you wouldn’t be able to think clearly, much less take notice of where you were going. In any case, when I’m busy with my thoughts I myself often have a blank when I’m driving. None of us consciously watches every stop or turn.’

  Dominie was frowning.

  ‘I feel that something happened—something important.’ Her thoughts switched to that mortuary scene again. A kindly policewoman had come to her afterwards with a glass containing brandy. She was driving, Dominie had told the woman, but the glass had been pushed into her hand. Before she could put it to her lips, however, Dominie had been seized with such a fit of shivering that the liquid had spilled all down her coat. The car had reeked all the way home, Dominie recalled, and she had felt nauseated by the smell.

  ‘I shouldn’t worry,’ Mavis was saying, intent on bringing Dominie from her brooding silence. ‘Nothing at all serious could have happened, otherwise you’d have heard about it at the time.’

  ‘That’s true; but it is puzzling.’ Dominie was frowning heavily, deep in concentration. What had happened during those few clouded moments? Mavis said it was nothing serious, and Dominie herself admitted this was probably so. Yet why this nagging worry that persistently recurred at intervals? Dominie sighed impatiently; she supposed the time would come when the matter would fade from her mind altogether.

  ‘We must move,’ said Mavis, glancing from the clock to the cosy glow of the electric fire. ‘Why do people have to work? It looks so cold outside!’

  ‘There’s been a bad frost. I heard them gritting the roads earlier.’ Dominie shivered; frosty days inevitably brought back the accident.

  ‘I hope the buses aren’t held up. I’ve been late twice in the last ten days. It’s a good thing I have an understanding boss.’

  ‘Same here. He was wonderful to me for many years. I was forever having time off when Jerry was at school.’

  Dominie was once again to ask for time off, as the letter informing
her that she had been left a legacy also requested her attendance at the office of the lawyers. She had received the letter a couple of days after she and Mavis had been talking about the accident, and Mavis was far more excited than Dominie.

  ‘I hope it’s a large one,’ she said, having read the letter passed to her by Dominie. ‘Small legacies are neither here nor there. You feel you must either spend the lot on something silly or else be sensible and put it in the bank. With a large one you can do both.’

  ‘I can’t think who has left it to me—unless it’s that aunt I’ve mentioned. But she was always poor, and in any case, she hasn’t communicated with me for over twelve years.’

  It transpired that the legacy had been left to Dominie by a Mrs. Halliday, and it was quite a few seconds before Dominie could recall her.

  ‘The old lady I used to speak to on my way home from work!’ she exclaimed at last. ‘She was always at her gate—weather permitting—and I would stop for a few minutes after getting off the bus. She lived alone and I was sorry for her. She seemed to spend her life standing there, watching the passers-by.’

  The lawyer smiled.

  ‘Well, Mrs. Halliday was obviously grateful to you for giving her a little of your time. She made four such legacies to people who had been kind to her in her old age.’ There followed some talk on the lawyer’s part, about the legacy, and then he said, ‘A thousand pounds is not such a bad little sum to come into unexpectedly, Miss Worthing. Have you any idea how you might use it?’

  She shook her head, still dazed by this gift.

  ‘I shall have to think. The most sensible thing would be to save it for a rainy day.’

  ‘I shouldn’t put it all away. Why not take a holiday? You’ve mentioned that you haven’t had one for a long time.’

  ‘Yes, I did mention that. You see,’ she went on in a burst of confidence, ‘my brother was killed in an accident two years ago and I haven’t yet got over it properly. I’ve been advised by my employer to take a holiday, but I’ve felt I just couldn’t.’

  ‘How old was your brother?’

  Dominie told him, and went further, giving the man a picture of her life after the death of her parents when she was only seventeen. They had both drowned when their small pleasure craft had capsized.

  ‘You’ve had it tough,’ frowned the lawyer, looking into her pale face. Her eyes held the sort of shadows bred by sorrow, and her mouth trembled as memory flooded in. ‘Take a holiday,’ urged the lawyer gravely. ‘Why not try a cruise? Sea air’s a wonderful tonic’

  A cruise...

  Mavis was all for it.

  ‘James and I are going to Mum’s for Christmas,’ she reminded Dominie, ‘so why not go away then? There are some marvellous Christmas cruises. I saw one advertised in Travelscene’s window. It was to the West Indies.’

  Christmas. Dominie dreaded it. Yes, it might be a good idea to go away at that time of the year.

  The band played a rousing march as the huge white luxury liner moved slowly from the dockside at Southampton. Standing by the rail with dozens of other people, Dominie could not help feeling excited at the prospect of the cruise. It was for three weeks, and the liner was to call at several islands in the Caribbean—Barbados, Curacao, St. Thomas and several others. Yes, it was certainly exciting, and Dominie made up her mind not to think of that past tragedy, but to make a determined effort to enjoy her cruise.

  But it was not easy, and she found herself thinking how wonderful it would have been had she been here with Jerry, sharing her good fortune with him. For he had had so little as a child; there had not been the money for presents which other boys had for birthdays and Christmas; there had never been any holidays by the sea.

  ‘I say, I’m awfully sorry! Did I hurt you?’

  Dominie winced but said with a smile:

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘I must have done, treading on your toes with my great clumsy foot.’ The man, tall and broad, with fair hair and blue-grey eyes, spread his hands in a deprecating gesture. ‘Forgive me. I have no excuse other than wanting to see the last of that band. They look so smart in their red and blue and white uniforms.’ The man had an American accent and a pleasing smile. He stared down from his place by the rail and watched the departing band of musicians as they smartly moved along the quay, away from the ship which was now clear of the dock. ‘Well, we’re on our way. I wonder where those kids of mine have got to?’ he added, obviously to himself.

  Dominie watched his disappearing figure, allowing her curiosity to roam as she set to wondering about the children the man had mentioned, and about his wife who, it would seem, was not on the ship with him, since he had made no mention of her when murmuring about his children.

  She was to meet him again very soon, as he was already seated at the dinner table when she was conducted to it by one of the blue-coated restaurant stewards.

  ‘So we are to share a table for the trip?’ He smiled and seemed pleased. The little girl beside him looked long and hard at Dominie, then glanced at her brother, who, sitting opposite to his father, gave a sideways glance, pursed his lips, then looked down, fidgeting with his fingers and softly whistling to himself. ‘My name’s Harris—Jake Harris, and these are my children. Susie’s eight and Geoffrey’s six.’ He glanced swiftly from one to the other. ‘Say hello to the lady.’

  ‘Hello,’ they said in unison, and half-grinned at one another.

  ‘Hello,’ smiled Dominie, taking up her napkin. ‘My name’s Dominie Worthing.’

  ‘Nice,’ Jake then added after glancing at her left hand, ‘Miss, I take it?’

  ‘That’s right.’ She wondered if this were one of the days when she looked years older than her years. It had all been such hustle and bustle at the end and she had become exceedingly tired.

  ‘Are you English?’ ventured Susie after a moment, and Dominie nodded.

  ‘Yes, I’m English.’

  ‘We’re American, but we’ve been living in England, with Mummy. She’s dead now, so we’re going to live with Daddy all the time. You see, they were separated.’

  Swiftly glancing at Jake, Dominie felt herself blush; she was embarrassed because of the child’s outspokenness, and she felt sorry for the man. However, he merely grinned and said that there was no stopping the mouths of children.

  ‘They just blurt out everything,’ he added, taking up the menu. ‘My wife had the custody of them, and as Susie’s said, they lived in England, as she was English. She died three weeks ago, so here I am, bringing the kids to live with me.’

  ‘We used to live with you before, though,’ his young son reminded him, his shyness dissolving the moment Susie had spoken to Dominie. ‘We lived with you for two months of every year.’

  ‘I liked it. It’s warm and sunshiny. England’s cold and it rains a lot.’

  ‘I live on the island of St. Thomas,’ Jake told Dominie, adding that his business was in New York and that he was away a good deal. ‘I’ve to get a nanny for the kids,’ he ended, and seemed not quite so cheerful all at once. Dominie could understand his anxiety and hoped he would manage to get someone suitable, someone who would understand the children, and be kind to them.

  ‘You’ll be leaving the ship at St. Thomas, then?’ she said, and Jake nodded.

  ‘You’re taking the cruise, I suppose?’

  ‘Yes. I’m very much looking forward to seeing a few of the Caribbean islands.’

  Jake gave a laugh.

  ‘And seeing the limbo dancers, and listening to the steel bands?’

  ‘That’s right. Are the steel bands as good as they’re made out to be in all the books one reads?’

  ‘Indeed they are. You’ll enjoy every minute of your visits to restaurants and night clubs. I see the shipping line has arranged quite a number of excursions for you.’

  ‘They have, yes, but I haven’t booked for any.’ The cost had been so high that Dominie had hesitated about buying tickets, which she was urged to do by her travel agent, who w
arned her that she would not have the same chance of buying tickets if she waited until she was aboard.

  ‘You’ve not booked? You should, first thing in the morning, as they soon get sold out.’

  ‘Can you recommend any of the tours?’ she asked, and Jake promised to go into the matter with her later, when the children were in bed.

  ‘We’ll arrange to meet somewhere at nine o’clock,’ he began when Susie interrupted him, protesting that she wanted to remain up later than nine.

  ‘So do I,’ from Geoffrey. ‘I want to go to bed when you go.’

  ‘You’re going at half-past eight. I shall have had quite enough of you both by then.’

  Susie pouted.

  ‘I shall tell Uncle Rohan of you!’ she threatened sulkily.

  ‘And probably get your backside smacked for your trouble, young lady! Uncle Rohan stands no nonsense, you should know that by now.’

  ‘You have a brother?’ It was some five minutes later that Dominie put the question, as they had all been busy with their food, choosing what they would have, and afterwards a small lull had settled on their table. Dominie spoke conversationally and a smile came from Jake in response to her question.

  ‘No. Rohan de Arden’s my nearest neighbour, and as he happens to love children mine are always at his place—’

  ‘He likes little girls best,’ interrupted Susie.

  ‘He likes boys too!’ Geoffrey glared at his sister across the table.

  ‘Yes, he does—a bit. But he told me he likes little girls—not big ones. Only little ones.’

  Amused, Dominie looked across at Jake, a query in her eyes.

  ‘He’s had a few rotten experiences where women are concerned,’ Jake said, becoming serious and faintly thoughtful. ‘However, to get back to what I was saying: he’s my nearest neighbour and the kids call him uncle. He should have children of his own, as I’m always telling him, but he seems to have no interest in marriage.’

  ‘He’s French?’

  ‘Rohan’s a very attractive mixture. His father was French; his mother had an English father and an American mother. The result is that Rohan has a most interesting personality; and he’s every woman’s dream—as far as looks are concerned.’