True Colours:The You Don't Know Me Trilogy Book 2(47)

***

When I wake up, I remember no dreams. Just a solid wall of sleep  separates me from yesterday. Rolling over onto my back and finding an  empty space next to me, I spend a minute or two watching the fan rotate  above the bed before I gaze at the window. The wooden blinds are still  closed, but here and there, a glimmer of sunlight winks through the  slats. Feeling distinctly lazy, I'd love to stay here all day, but  there's a whole new world to discover outside and at least one person  waiting to meet me. With a yawn, I get up, find my suitcase and open it.  After the manic, last-minute packing session, everything's creased  beyond recognition, but never mind. Putting on a pair of shorts and one  of my old strappy T-shirts, I freshen up in the bathroom, fix my hair  into something that passes for an up-do and wander out into the day,  bare-footed.         

     



 

The living room is empty, and so is the kitchen, but the French windows  are open wide, framing a scene of brilliant sunlight and vibrant colour.  Edging my way forwards, allowing my eyes to accustom themselves to the  light, I begin to take it all in: the deep green of a lawn edged by  flower beds, a slight incline leading down to a clump of trees, an azure  blue sea in the background.

'Wow,' I whisper, completely overwhelmed by the view.

The slow murmur of conversation leads me out onto the covered veranda.  With his back to me, dressed in dark blue shorts and a white T-shirt,  Dan sits at a wooden table, opposite a grey-haired old man. As I  approach, the old man notices me. His pale blue eyes twinkle with  delight. He takes off a pair of steel-rimmed spectacles, placing them on  the table top.

'Here she is,' he announces.

Dan looks up.

'Maya.' He smiles warily. 'Come and meet Bill.'

Both men stand and while I'm clasped on the arms and kissed on the cheek  by Bill, Dan pulls out the chair next to him and gestures for me to  sit. When I've taken my place, I turn to Bill.

'It's good to meet you.'

'And it's good to meet you.' He nods his approval at Dan. 'You're a lucky man.'

'I know.'

'He told me you're a beauty.'

'Really? What else did he say?'

'Oh.' Bill touches the side of his nose. 'There are some things I can't  divulge. Let's just say that I'm certain we're going to be good  friends.'

And I know exactly what that means. Mr Rush-it just can't help himself.  In spite of everything else that's going on, he's clearly already  informed his old friend  –  in no uncertain terms  –  that I'm the future  ball and chain. Resisting the urge to slap my apparent fiancé around the  back of the head for his impatience, I settle for a demure smile and  something fairly non-committal.

'I'm sure we will.'

'Tea?'

'Yes, please.'

Bill picks up a silver teapot and pours me a cup. I take the opportunity  to examine him in more detail. At least as old as Norman, he's lean and  trim and sprightly. On the surface, he's nothing more than a kindly old  gent, dressed in a ridiculous pair of Bermuda shorts and a pink polo  shirt, but I get the distinct feeling that there's much more to this  man. His keen eyes flick between us, his face wrinkling into a smile  every now and then, and he has the look of someone who's seen and done  it all, someone who knows plenty, but doesn't feel the need to broadcast  the fact.

'Maya, I've sorted a little brunch for you. You must be hungry.' He  waves a hand at a silver platter, laid out with French toast, crispy  bacon, grilled tomatoes and mushrooms. 'Take whatever you want.'

While the two men chat, I help myself to a selection of everything and  finish it off. I'm washing it all down with a second cup of tea when my  attention is lured back to the sea, casting me away into a world of  colour. For the most part, it's glass-like and calm, a giant blend of  gemstones: from zircon and aquamarine at the shore, through sapphire  where the waters deepen, to lapis lazuli along the horizon. In a trance,  I watch as the colours merge and mutate in the light, wishing that I  had my oils with me.

'That's impressive,' Bill remarks.

His words jolt me back into the real world. I'm in the middle of a conversation.

'What is?' I ask.

'Flying. Dan was just telling me about your fear of flying.'

'Oh that.'

'It's good that you've faced it head-on.' He laughs. 'And my God, you  don't get any more head-on than six hours on a Lear jet. Quite some  accomplishment. Are there any other fears we need to know about, Maya?'

'Heights,' Dan answers absently, running his fingertip across the table top. 'And storms.'

'We've all got fears,' I mutter.

The fingertip stops mid-movement. He squints up at me.

'Not Dan.' Bill smiles. 'Dan's afraid of nothing.'

Apart from his own past, I'd like to add. And believe you me, I'd like to see him face that head-on.

'So what are your plans for today?' Reaching forwards, Bill offers to pour me a third cup of tea.

'No plans.' Clearly relieved that the conversation's moving on, Dan  leans back, resting an arm across the back of his chair. 'We just need  to relax. De-stress a little.'

The old man places the teapot back onto the end of the table. 'So, this is your first time on the island, Maya?'

'Yes.'         

     



 

'It's a beautiful place. Dan used to visit a lot, but I haven't seen him  since he was eighteen. Can you imagine that? All those years and he  never bothered.'

Dan looks down, seemingly sheepish.

'I'm teasing him,' Bill laughs. 'We've talked on the phone. I've tried  to get him to come back, but he was always too busy. Always.'

And now my apparent fiancé shifts about in his chair. Suddenly, he  doesn't seem quite so relaxed. 'Running that company isn't easy, Bill.'

'I know that, but you could have taken a holiday every once in a while. Maya, have you met Norman?'

'Yes.'

'An old friend of mine. He hasn't been out here for a few years now. Too  old for the flight, he says. But me and Norman talk. And I know what  goes on with this boyfriend of yours. I know he works too hard. Why did  you never take a holiday, Dan?'

'I've travelled all over the world with Fosters. There's been no need.'

Bill shakes his head. 'You've been punishing yourself.'

I watch as Dan bites back a scowl, realise that Bill's managed to hit  the nail right on the head, and resolve to change the course of the  conversation.

'How did you know Mr and Mrs Foster?' I ask.

'John and Lydia? I lived near them. We were good friends. John did some  work for me on my house. I was in banking. I had a pretty big house in  Surrey, but it was falling to pieces. John helped me put it back  together again. I moved out here about twenty-five years ago. They used  to come out every summer. And then Dan arrived.' He shoots a questioning  look at Dan.

'It's alright,' he says quietly. 'She knows.'

Bill nods. 'I first met him when he was thirteen. Those were good holidays, eh, Dan?'

'They were.' He smiles.

'I know I've said it on the phone, but I'm sorry about what happened. They were taken from us too soon.'

While Dan goes back to trailing his fingertip across the table, Bill watches him carefully.

'Well,' he says at last. 'I'll leave you two alone for now.' Standing  up, he touches Dan on the shoulder. 'I want you to come up for dinner  tonight. Seven o'clock. Shorts and T-shirts. We don't stand on ceremony  here, Maya. Have a relaxing day.' He leans down and kisses me on the  cheek. 'And make sure he takes you for a swim.'

'But I don't have a swimming costume.'

'I'll have a quiet word with Kathy. She'll go into Hamilton and pick something up for you and Danny boy.'

I catch a wince from Dan.

'Seven o'clock. Be late if you like.'

With a laugh, Bill makes his way up the path, back to the big house,  stopping off here and there to smell a flower or take a look at the  ocean. When I turn back to Dan, he's gazing at me.

'So,' he begins.

'So?' I bat the word right back at him.

'I'm sorry. I'm sorry I lied to you. It was stupid and I'm an idiot.'

'You can say that again.'

'I just didn't know how to tell you. I was terrified of losing you. I still am.'

'You're not going to lose me.'

'But now you know what I've done.' He frowns. 'I caused a woman to kill herself.'

'You've got it all wrong,' I inform him. A good night's sleep has  clarified matters for me, and with the clouds of shock and exhaustion  finally lifted, I'm as clear-headed as they come. 'You've had it wrong  for years.'

He's clearly confused now, and I really don't blame him. After all,  while he's been busy preparing to ask for my forgiveness and  understanding, I've been slowly coming to the conclusion that he's not  the guilty party at all.

'You didn't mislead her?' I ask.

'No.'

'Then she's the one who caused the situation. She trapped you. You just  reacted the same way anyone else would have done. Whatever decisions she  made, that was her business, but you're not responsible for her death.'

He lowers his head.

'It all makes sense now,' I press on quickly. 'Why you closed yourself  off. Why you worked yourself half to death. It was because you didn't  want to hurt anyone again. It was guilt. You punished yourself for what  happened  …  only it wasn't your fault.'

He takes in a breath, but says nothing. And he doesn't have to. I can see it in his face: I've finally got to the truth.