boutiques,
topping it with a loose shift in a swirling jungle print. She collected
her sketching things, and sun oil, before making her way
downstairs.
She was frankly nervous about encountering Roche, or Elvire,
unable to decide how she should react. But the decision was
postponed, when she found no one about but one of the maids, who
told her cheerfully that 'Mist' Roche' had gone into St Laurent to the
casino, just like always.
Business as usual, Samma thought, and something she would have
to get used to. Roche had warned her he spent little time at home.
She stifled the troubling twinge of regret which assailed her. After
all, the last thing in the world she wanted was Roche's
company—wasn't it?
The pool lay at the rear of the house, masked by high, flowering
hedges. To Samma's surprise, Solange was there ahead of her,
sitting on one of the cushioned loungers, undressing her doll. Her
face intent, she made a delightful picture. Samma sat down quietly,
and opened her sketching block.
'What are you doing?' Solange demanded eventually and
suspiciously.
'Drawing your portrait.' As Solange came to her side, Samma
demonstrated. 'See, I put a line here—and a curve here, and some
shading—and, voila, we have Solange.'
'It is like me.' Solange gave an endearing hop of excitement. 'And
yet it is not. The hair is wrong,' she added, pointing to the feathery
bob and softly flicked fringe which Samma had created.
'Not wrong, just different.' Samma touched one of the braids. 'Have
you never thought of changing your style?'
'Maman wanted my hair like this. She said it was suitable.'
Samma trod carefully. 'Well, I'm sure it was—then. But you're so
much more grown-up now. You can't have pigtails for ever.'
Solange stared down at the sketch, her brows drawn together, then
jumped as a smiling voice called out, 'Bonjour.'
'It is Tante Liliane,' Solange announced, and ran to the new arrival.
Samma's own feelings were mixed. She had agreed to this, she told
herself, but she hadn't expected Madame Duvalle to put in an
appearance quite so soon. She fastened on a polite smile.
'But where is Roche?' Madame Duvalle enquired, as she sank into
the chair next to Samma's, under the multi-coloured sunshade. She
sent Samma an engaging smile. 'Surely he cannot be neglecting you
already?'
Samma bit her lip. 'Neglecting' had too many connotations of
Madame Augustin, she thought with distaste.
She said evenly, 'He has businesses to run.'
'And very successfully too,' Liliane said gushingly. 'Grand Cay is
becoming quite a mecca for wealthy tourists, and Roche has been
the moving force behind much of the island's development.'
'Were you born here?' Samma asked.
'Helas, no. But my husband and I visited here many times. My
happy memories brought me back here.' Madame Duvalle gave a
faint sigh. 'It was Francois who inspired my interest in the island's
history to begin with.'
Samma wondered whether the older woman was widowed, or
simply divorced, but did not feel equal to enquiring.
'And Roche has always been so kind,' Liliane continued. 'He has
rented me the former overseer's house at the plantation at a nominal
sum.' She smiled. 'He may not agree with my researches, but he
allows me every facility to proceed with them.'
'Is the plantation still in operation?' Samma asked, and Liliane shot
her a surprised look.
'Mais oui, although it is run as a co-operative these days, and not
controlled solely by the Delacroix family.' Her laugh tinkled. 'Has
Roche not discussed the extent of his business interests with you?
But how wicked, in these days of equality!'
'There hasn't really been time,' Samma said evasively.
'A whirlwind romance, hein ? And just when one thought he would
never . . .' Liliane paused, then shrugged, turning her attention to
Solange, much to Samma's relief. 'You look a little pale this
morning, mon tresor.'
'A disturbed night,' Samma put in neutrally.
Liliane compressed her
topping it with a loose shift in a swirling jungle print. She collected
her sketching things, and sun oil, before making her way
downstairs.
She was frankly nervous about encountering Roche, or Elvire,
unable to decide how she should react. But the decision was
postponed, when she found no one about but one of the maids, who
told her cheerfully that 'Mist' Roche' had gone into St Laurent to the
casino, just like always.
Business as usual, Samma thought, and something she would have
to get used to. Roche had warned her he spent little time at home.
She stifled the troubling twinge of regret which assailed her. After
all, the last thing in the world she wanted was Roche's
company—wasn't it?
The pool lay at the rear of the house, masked by high, flowering
hedges. To Samma's surprise, Solange was there ahead of her,
sitting on one of the cushioned loungers, undressing her doll. Her
face intent, she made a delightful picture. Samma sat down quietly,
and opened her sketching block.
'What are you doing?' Solange demanded eventually and
suspiciously.
'Drawing your portrait.' As Solange came to her side, Samma
demonstrated. 'See, I put a line here—and a curve here, and some
shading—and, voila, we have Solange.'
'It is like me.' Solange gave an endearing hop of excitement. 'And
yet it is not. The hair is wrong,' she added, pointing to the feathery
bob and softly flicked fringe which Samma had created.
'Not wrong, just different.' Samma touched one of the braids. 'Have
you never thought of changing your style?'
'Maman wanted my hair like this. She said it was suitable.'
Samma trod carefully. 'Well, I'm sure it was—then. But you're so
much more grown-up now. You can't have pigtails for ever.'
Solange stared down at the sketch, her brows drawn together, then
jumped as a smiling voice called out, 'Bonjour.'
'It is Tante Liliane,' Solange announced, and ran to the new arrival.
Samma's own feelings were mixed. She had agreed to this, she told
herself, but she hadn't expected Madame Duvalle to put in an
appearance quite so soon. She fastened on a polite smile.
'But where is Roche?' Madame Duvalle enquired, as she sank into
the chair next to Samma's, under the multi-coloured sunshade. She
sent Samma an engaging smile. 'Surely he cannot be neglecting you
already?'
Samma bit her lip. 'Neglecting' had too many connotations of
Madame Augustin, she thought with distaste.
She said evenly, 'He has businesses to run.'
'And very successfully too,' Liliane said gushingly. 'Grand Cay is
becoming quite a mecca for wealthy tourists, and Roche has been
the moving force behind much of the island's development.'
'Were you born here?' Samma asked.
'Helas, no. But my husband and I visited here many times. My
happy memories brought me back here.' Madame Duvalle gave a
faint sigh. 'It was Francois who inspired my interest in the island's
history to begin with.'
Samma wondered whether the older woman was widowed, or
simply divorced, but did not feel equal to enquiring.
'And Roche has always been so kind,' Liliane continued. 'He has
rented me the former overseer's house at the plantation at a nominal
sum.' She smiled. 'He may not agree with my researches, but he
allows me every facility to proceed with them.'
'Is the plantation still in operation?' Samma asked, and Liliane shot
her a surprised look.
'Mais oui, although it is run as a co-operative these days, and not
controlled solely by the Delacroix family.' Her laugh tinkled. 'Has
Roche not discussed the extent of his business interests with you?
But how wicked, in these days of equality!'
'There hasn't really been time,' Samma said evasively.
'A whirlwind romance, hein ? And just when one thought he would
never . . .' Liliane paused, then shrugged, turning her attention to
Solange, much to Samma's relief. 'You look a little pale this
morning, mon tresor.'
'A disturbed night,' Samma put in neutrally.
Liliane compressed her
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