as seats in Leon’s boat. She could not believe this was happening. But they were leaving. A cloud of sooty terns rose in the sky, dipped and wheeled southwards.
The water was very blue and clear. She could see the sandy floor of the sea, and the purple and green parrot fish swimming slowly into the caverns of the reef. A vague-eyed butterfly fish hovered, not quite sure which way to go. The tiny demoiselles darted in and out with flashes of brilliant blue.
Daniel heaved himself in, rocking the boat. Sandy clutched the side. They were moving, gliding smoothly over the water. They were leaving La Petite. It was already an island, awash with waves, the fringe of palms guarding the lonely sands, their coral paths lost to sight, the bungalow disappearing among the shadows and the leaves.
Someone helped her climb aboard the schooner, and she walked across the simple deck and looked the other way. Somewhere out there was the secret to herself. First Mahé, and then this England.
Bella was already seated on a canvas deck chair, her arms folded, resigned to the journey. Most Seychellois are bad sailors, and moving between their islands was an agony. She closed her eyes once Sandy was aboard. Bella was going to suffer and she preferred to suffer in private.
Daniel came and stood beside Sandy, watching the island shrink. It was much cooler out at sea, and their shirts flapped as the wind filled the sails of the schooner.
“It’s not the only island in the world,” said Daniel, catching sight of her face. “There are other beautiful places. You’re very young. You’ll get to see many of them.”
Sandy nodded, mutely. Desolation swept over her. He put his arm around her waist and gave it a friendly squeeze.
“Cheer up,” he said encouragingly. “Everything is going to be exciting. Think what we may discover about you: you might be rich, or famous or important.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, she said, almost waspishly. “I’m nobody, and anyway I don’t want to know.”
He did not pursue the subject. She was upset about leaving the island. It was the only safe place she knew, the only home. He was wrenching her away to a total unknown and new kind of life. No wonder she was frightened.
“You won’t leave me, will you?”
“No, I won’t leave you,” he reassured her. “Not until you tell me to go.”
She was crying, silently. La Petite was just a low mound of green on the horizon. Tears blurred a last glimpse of the island. She strained her eyes but even the smudge disappeared into the skyline.
“Never. I’ll never tell you to go.”
But he did not hear her. He had moved away to the stern. Leon was fishing, trailing two lines from the back of the schooner. He was catching fish faster than he could haul in the lines. Daniel went to help. He was glad of the distraction. It took his mind off the weeks ahead.
Leon was standing in the stern, stripped to the waist, his arms rhythmically pulling in the line, taking off the fish, tossing the line back into the streaming wake. He was tall and dark and stern. In the last few hours, his face had taken on a maturity which had not been there before. He had a dream princess, a golden princess to take care of,to protect. He would lay down his life for her.
“You’ll be glad to get back to Mahé,” said Daniel.
“Yes, Mr. Kane.”
“What are you going to do? Have you got a job?”
“It’s not easy,” said Leon. “Work is hard to find. My father has not worked for three years. But I am strong. I hope to get work on a building site.”
“I’ll try and help you find something. I’ll make some enquiries before I go back to England.”
“Thank you, Mr. Kane.” Leon digested the news and hesitated. “Is…Miss-Sandy going to England?”
“Probably,” said Daniel, casually. “It all depends. Circumstances in Mahé may mean a change of plans. But for the moment, I expect she will be coming with me.”
Leon nodded, but he did not understand a word.
The water was very blue and clear. She could see the sandy floor of the sea, and the purple and green parrot fish swimming slowly into the caverns of the reef. A vague-eyed butterfly fish hovered, not quite sure which way to go. The tiny demoiselles darted in and out with flashes of brilliant blue.
Daniel heaved himself in, rocking the boat. Sandy clutched the side. They were moving, gliding smoothly over the water. They were leaving La Petite. It was already an island, awash with waves, the fringe of palms guarding the lonely sands, their coral paths lost to sight, the bungalow disappearing among the shadows and the leaves.
Someone helped her climb aboard the schooner, and she walked across the simple deck and looked the other way. Somewhere out there was the secret to herself. First Mahé, and then this England.
Bella was already seated on a canvas deck chair, her arms folded, resigned to the journey. Most Seychellois are bad sailors, and moving between their islands was an agony. She closed her eyes once Sandy was aboard. Bella was going to suffer and she preferred to suffer in private.
Daniel came and stood beside Sandy, watching the island shrink. It was much cooler out at sea, and their shirts flapped as the wind filled the sails of the schooner.
“It’s not the only island in the world,” said Daniel, catching sight of her face. “There are other beautiful places. You’re very young. You’ll get to see many of them.”
Sandy nodded, mutely. Desolation swept over her. He put his arm around her waist and gave it a friendly squeeze.
“Cheer up,” he said encouragingly. “Everything is going to be exciting. Think what we may discover about you: you might be rich, or famous or important.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, she said, almost waspishly. “I’m nobody, and anyway I don’t want to know.”
He did not pursue the subject. She was upset about leaving the island. It was the only safe place she knew, the only home. He was wrenching her away to a total unknown and new kind of life. No wonder she was frightened.
“You won’t leave me, will you?”
“No, I won’t leave you,” he reassured her. “Not until you tell me to go.”
She was crying, silently. La Petite was just a low mound of green on the horizon. Tears blurred a last glimpse of the island. She strained her eyes but even the smudge disappeared into the skyline.
“Never. I’ll never tell you to go.”
But he did not hear her. He had moved away to the stern. Leon was fishing, trailing two lines from the back of the schooner. He was catching fish faster than he could haul in the lines. Daniel went to help. He was glad of the distraction. It took his mind off the weeks ahead.
Leon was standing in the stern, stripped to the waist, his arms rhythmically pulling in the line, taking off the fish, tossing the line back into the streaming wake. He was tall and dark and stern. In the last few hours, his face had taken on a maturity which had not been there before. He had a dream princess, a golden princess to take care of,to protect. He would lay down his life for her.
“You’ll be glad to get back to Mahé,” said Daniel.
“Yes, Mr. Kane.”
“What are you going to do? Have you got a job?”
“It’s not easy,” said Leon. “Work is hard to find. My father has not worked for three years. But I am strong. I hope to get work on a building site.”
“I’ll try and help you find something. I’ll make some enquiries before I go back to England.”
“Thank you, Mr. Kane.” Leon digested the news and hesitated. “Is…Miss-Sandy going to England?”
“Probably,” said Daniel, casually. “It all depends. Circumstances in Mahé may mean a change of plans. But for the moment, I expect she will be coming with me.”
Leon nodded, but he did not understand a word.
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