The Impossible Dream Page 6

  Megan stared at the man standing there. Three years since she had last seen him. Now he looked taller, was much thinner, his blond hair cut in a modern style, huge circles of sunglasses hiding his expression.

  He frowned, looking puzzled. ‘Can I . . .’

  Megan’s eyes stung suddenly. He didn’t even know her!

  ‘Patrick, it’s me, Megan. Don’t you remember me?’

  His surprise was evident. It was as if seeing her had jolted him, because, for a moment, his mouth sagged open and it was obvious he found it difficult to greet her normally.

  ‘Why, Megan, this is a surprise!’ he exclaimed, and the words suddenly died, as if sliced, for he saw Craig Lambert, standing there, looking at them both thoughtfully. ‘What on . . .’ Patrick began to say, his voice harsh, but Craig Lambert lifted his hand.

  ‘I’ll fetch you at five o’clock, Miss Crane,’ he said and, turning, walked to the waiting car.

  Patrick stared at him and then turned to Megan. ‘What the devil are you doing out here?’ he asked, sounding annoyed. ‘And how did you get mixed up with that . . . that . . .’ Then he seemed to realise that Craig Lambert must be able to see them, so he stepped back. ‘You’d better come in,’ he told Megan.

  The hall was lofty and cool. Georgina came running out of a room. She was even more beautiful than Megan had remembered—tall, slim, dark hair piled high on her head, dark eyes, a full rather sulky mouth.

  ‘What’s that man doing here?’ Georgina asked angrily, then stopped dead. She had obviously not seen Megan, who must have been just out of sight of the window. ‘Megan? What on earth . . ?’

  ‘That’s what I want to know,’ Patrick said angrily. ‘Come in and sit down. Just why are you here?’ he demanded.

  It was hardly the welcome of a sister he hadn’t seen for several years, Megan thought, glad that Craig Lambert was not there to make a sarcastic comment. She looked round while Georgina rang a little silver bell and told the Creole servant when she came to bring in the ice.

  ‘We must have a drink to welcome you here, Megan,’ Georgina said almost cheerfully, frowning at Patrick who was standing glowering down at Megan. Patrick was wearing a smart silk smoking jacket, Megan noticed, and wearing white trousers. He didn’t look desperately poor, she thought. Nor did Georgina in her lush red silk trouser suit.

  ‘Just what are you doing with Lambert?’ Patrick asked. ‘And why are you here?’

  ‘I thought Dad would have written to tell you,’ Megan said, after thanking Georgina and saying she would prefer a cold drink but no alcohol. ‘It’s a bit early,’ Megan said, but Georgina laughed.

  ‘I haven’t heard from Dad for . . . for ages,’ Patrick told her.

  Megan wondered if he was lying. After all, that desperate, pleading letter had arrived only three weeks before and her father was sure to have written to reassure his beloved son!

  ‘Dad’s gone to live with Aunt Lily in Dorset,’ Megan said.

  ‘He must be mad!’ exclaimed Patrick. Megan felt furious, for her father was sacrificing his freedom for Patrick. Surely Patrick must know that? ‘But how does that bring you out here?’ he added.

  Megan sipped her ice-cold orange squash and looked round. The room was tastefully and expensively furnished. She liked the lilac shade of the walls, the deep red silk-covered armchairs, the polished floor with the beautiful rugs. It certainly didn’t look like the home of a man so desperate for help that his father had to sell his own house! She stifled a sigh. Perhaps Patrick had been writing all these years for financial help when he didn’t really need it and she and her father had sacrificed many things they enjoyed in order to help him.

  ‘How did I get out here?’ she said slowly. ‘I’ve just told you that Dad has gone down to Dorset to live. That meant I had no home. I had to get a job, and. . .’

  Georgina laughed. ‘I bet you were glad to be free of the old man. A real hypochondriac, that’s what he was.’

  ‘He suffered a lot of pain,’ Megan said quickly.

  ‘Maybe, but he made use of it,’ Georgina said. ‘He adored being made a fuss of and you and Aunt Lily completely spoiled him. There was absolutely no need for you to stop your dancing just because he was lonely when you weren’t there—and when you were, was he a real companion? His nose buried in the newspaper or his eyes glued to the telly,’ Georgina went on, her voice sarcastic. ‘You were so soft, you fell for it. He didn’t need you—he just wanted to have someone around. Now he’s got Aunt Lily.’ She laughed. ‘Aunt Lily is growing old—it won’t be long before they send for you.’

  Megan twisted her fingers together. So much of what Georgina said was true, but also so much untrue. Her father did like attention, but he needed help. He didn’t need her—that she knew, now, and that was what hurt her so much. No one needed her. And to live a full life, you must be needed by someone.

  ‘For crying out loud,’ Patrick said impatiently, ‘could we drop this cross-talk? Give Megan a chance to tell us what made her come out here.’

  ‘Okay, okay, big brother.’ Georgina curled up on the couch. ‘Fire ahead, Megan. What are you doing here? Snooping on us?’

  Megan coloured. She had been afraid they would think that—it seemed she was right!’

  ‘Actually—and I know you won’t believe me, but it’s the truth—I got the job just by chance. I was teaching for Mrs Arbuthnot and she had had enquiries from the Lambert School who were looking for a teacher. This was quite a while ago.’

  ‘Why . . . well, why should they go to a miserable little school like hers?’ Patrick asked.

  ‘It isn’t a miserable little school,’ Megan told him quickly. ‘It’s getting a very good name, because a lot of our pupils do well. Anyhow, the Lambert School did. Mrs Arbuthnot said nothing to me, because she knew I’d never walk out on Dad, but when I went to her and said I simply had to find a job, and I didn’t see how I could for I’d had no proper training in teaching dancing, she notified the Lambert School.’

  ‘What—wrote out here?’ Georgina lit a cigarette slowly.

  ‘No. They have a representative in London—Miss Wilmot.’

  ‘And then?’ Patrick was pacing the room, hands clasped behind his back, his head stuck forward, rather like a giraffe’s, Megan thought, grateful for a moment of amusement, for she was not enjoying her afternoon. As she had feared, they didn’t believe her.

  ‘Then I was interviewed by Mr Lambert. Apparently he had watched me teaching—you remember Mrs Arbuthnot had that special kind of mirror.’

  ‘To make sure the teachers were doing their stuff properly,’ Georgina said nastily. She had taught in Mrs Arbuthnot’s school for a short time, Megan remembered. A very short time, and that was where she met Patrick and married him.

  ‘Well, it was while Mr Lambert was interviewing me that I learned where the school was.’

  ‘Mrs Arbuthnot hadn’t told you?’ Georgina asked, her voice disbelieving.

  ‘No. I knew it was an exclusive school and that it was abroad. I’d hardly had time to think of asking where. Then when Mr Lambert told me, I realised it was here on the same island as you.’

  ‘You told him?’ Patrick snapped.

  ‘Of course.’ Puzzled, Megan looked from Georgina to Patrick and back to Georgina. ‘Naturally I told him. It seemed such a coincidence.’

  ‘Coincidence my foot!’ Patrick spluttered. ‘It’s all part of his plot to get rid of us. He’s got you out here to use you against me, Megan. I’d have thought you’d have had more sense and decency to stay away.’

  ‘I never thought of it. Why should I?’ Megan asked. It was obvious that Patrick and Georgina were both being careful—they were wondering just how much her father had told her about Patrick’s plea for help. After all, for all they knew, she might not have even seen the letter, much less have read it. In fact, unless they knew she had read the letter, they had no means of knowing that she had read what Patrick had said: that Craig Lambert was determined to ruin him.

&nb
sp; She decided it was wiser to avoid involvement of any kind, so she looked at them with an innocent smile.

  ‘I don’t understand. I’d no idea you would mind me coming out. After all, I am your sister and it was a very good job, and as far as I could see, there was no reason at all why I shouldn’t take the job.’

  Georgina leaned forward. ‘She’s right, Patrick. After all, she’d never heard of Craig Lambert, had you?’

  ‘Of course not. Is he famous or something?’ Megan looked her sister-in-law in the eyes. ‘What is all this about, Georgina? Patrick’s making me feel I’ve done something to hurt him in coming out here. After all,’ she added bitterly, ‘we needn’t meet. I’m on the other side of the island.’

  Patrick stormed out of the room, banging the door. Georgina shrugged. ‘Poor Patrick! He’s going through a difficult phase just now. Life here isn’t being as rewarding as we had hoped, Megan. What made your father decide to sell the house so promptly?’

  Sell the house, Megan thought instantly. So her father had written and, no doubt, sent them the money. She had not said anything about selling the house, only that her father had decided to live with Aunt Lily in Dorset! So they were both of them hiding the truth from her? Obviously they believed she knew nothing about Patrick’s plea for help!

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said, deciding to pretend she hadn’t noticed Georgina’s slip of the tongue. ‘He suddenly told me that Aunt Lily had asked him to go down to Dorset with her as she found it isolated and a man about the house could be a good defence.’

  Georgina grunted. ‘Fat lot of good he’d be as a defence! I know you’re loyal, Megan, but honestly you were a fool to throw away your chance to become a good dancer. Mrs Arbuthnot had trained you well, and then . . .’

  ‘Well, what else could I do when Aunt Lily walked out?’

  ‘Couldn’t your father have had a housekeeper?’

  ‘A housekeeper!’ Megan said scornfully. ‘How could he afford it?’

  She was so angry she made herself get up and go to the window, staring out blindly. When she thought of how Patrick had got money from her father—money they needed so badly themselves, and all the time he had been living in a house like this, with a maid and goodness knew what else . . .

  ‘You like the house?’ Georgina asked.

  Megan forced herself to smile. ‘Very nice. I like your view, too. It’s a bit scruffy by the hotel.’

  ‘Yes.’ Georgina yawned. ‘Bad management, there. I tore strips off Gaston for being such a fool as to leave it to the Piggots. Of course you don’t know them. You never will unless you come and visit us,’ she added. ‘We live on the wrong side of the island, according to Craig Lambert. What’s he like?’ Georgina asked suddenly, her voice changing, becoming almost wheedling. ‘He’s certainly not handsome.’

  ‘No, but . . .’ As usual, the need to defend whoever was attacked rose in Megan. ‘Actually he can be kind, but he can also . . .’

  ‘Be horrid? I’m surprised he engaged you. How did you tell him you were Patrick’s sister?’

  Megan returned to her chair and curled up in it. ‘I told him as soon as he said the Lambert School was on an island near the Seychelles. I said at once that I had a brother out there somewhere, but I wasn’t sure which island.’

  ‘No.’ Georgina pulled a wry face. ‘I’m afraid we’re not very good at writing letters, Megan.’

  Only when you need money, Megan thought, and clenched her hands tightly.

  ‘Was he angry, Megan?’

  ‘Angry? Oh, you mean when I told him? No, I’d say he was startled.’

  ‘You don’t think he knew?’ Georgina’s voice had changed again; now it sounded cautious.

  ‘I certainly don’t because he didn’t look at all pleased—nor was Miss Wilmot when I told her. I got the impression that Mr Lambert didn’t like you being on the island.’

  Georgina laughed. ‘He lives in the past—or else he’s crazy about money. He wants the whole island to himself. He can’t open his eyes to see the possibilities here. It could become a great tourist centre. All he thinks of is himself.’

  Here, Megan felt inclined to agree, but before she could say anything the door opened and Patrick walked in, followed by the most handsome man Megan had ever seen. He was the sort of man you saw on television and if you were that sort of person you swooned or shouted excitedly, for he was tall, lean, and dark, with long sideboards and thick hair and the most charming smile.

  Now he came towards her, his hand held out in greeting.

  ‘Ah, but this is wonderful! Patrick’s young sister. I am delighted to meet you.’ He shook her hand, his fingers curving tightly round hers as if desiring to pass on a message. His eyes shone. ‘I am Gaston Duval. You have, it may be, heard of me, no?’

  Megan caught her breath. Now she knew why Miss Wilmot had warned her to watch out! Anyone could fall for a man as attractive as this.

  Not only was it his looks but his manners. He sat by her side, twisting round so that he could stare at her, letting his eyes seem to go slowly over all of her he could see, and then smiling at her with that secret look that told her that what he had seen, he had liked very much.

  ‘Gaston came along,’ Patrick was saying to Georgina, who was looking angry about something.

  ‘But a coincidence,’ Gaston said now, and laughed. ‘It is too strange, is it not? A coincidence,’ he repeated. ‘That you should be offered—ah, a very good position—in the island where your brother is.’ He laughed. ‘A strange coincidence, is it not so? Of all the islands, and there are many, in the world, fate chose this. There must be a reason.’ He looked at the silent Patrick and Georgina. ‘There can be nothing done but with a reason. We will find it.’ He took Megan’s hand in his, turning it to look at her palm. ‘I tell fortunes. I am very good. Yes?’ He looked at Georgina with a smile, but she didn’t return the smile. ‘Ah, Miss Crane—or may I call you Megan?’ He said the name slowly, almost as if it was a caress. ‘A beautiful name for a lovely girl,’ he said, then looked at her hand. ‘I see you have a character that is strong? That you are—how is it said— loyal to those you love, and even to those you do not love. Is it not?’

  He smiled at her. Megan tried to concentrate on what he had said, and what it had meant. Loyal to those you love and even to those you do not love.

  She wished as she had so often wished during the afternoon that Craig Lambert had left her alone, never brought her here to Patrick. She managed to remove her hand from Gaston’s grasp without doing it too obviously and then looked at her watch.

  ‘Mr Lambert is picking me up in ten minutes. Could I go and wash my hands, Georgina? It’s very humid.’

  ‘Of course. This way.’ Georgina led Megan down the corridor. Through half open doors, she saw two bedrooms, a very modern kitchen, and then she was in the bathroom. ‘Do you like him?’ Georgina asked as she showed Megan into the mirror-walled bathroom.

  ‘Like him? Oh, you mean Mr Duval?’ Megan turned on the water so that she could talk over her shoulder without letting Georgina see her face. ‘He’s very handsome, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so. But I said did you like him?’

  Megan turned. Now she could laugh. ‘I’ve only known him for half an hour, Georgina. How can I know if I like him?’ she asked.

  Which wasn’t true, of course. For she did know if she liked him! She liked him a great deal too much for her own comfort, that was the trouble.

  * * *

  Craig Lambert smiled as Megan joined him in the car. She didn’t glance back, for she knew that neither Patrick, Georgina nor Gaston would be in sight. They had said goodbye to her and left her at the front door, closing it as soon as she moved outside.

  ‘Enjoy yourself?’ Craig Lambert asked, and there was an amused twinge in his voice she disliked.

  She looked at him defiantly. ‘Very much. I met Gaston Duval.’

  If she had expected to surprise or anger Craig Lambert, she was disappointed, for he looked
amused.

  ‘I guessed he’d turn up. I trust you didn’t fall for him as most females do. A bigger rogue I’ve yet to meet.’ His voice was suddenly harsh.

  ‘He has perfect manners,’ Megan said quickly.

  ‘Of course.’ Craig Lambert’s smile this time was cynical. ‘That’s part of his trade. His favourite line is to make some old lady think he adores her, then she leaves him all her money when she goes. He also has a devoted mother he drains. She, at least, has sense enough to avoid scandal, so keeps a firm hand on him.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound like him.’ Megan turned to glare at her companion. ‘Are you suggesting he kills the old ladies off?’

  Craig Lambert laughed. ‘Of course not. He’s much too clever. He sees them as investments. He’s a man who is completely amoral in every way. Your brother was a fool ever to have trusted him.’

  ‘I . . .’ Megan began, but stopped herself in time. She wasn’t sure just how much she should say, so decided to say nothing.

  There was a silence and then Craig Lambert spoke on his phone to the chauffeur, who nodded twice. No more was said for ten minutes and Megan was beginning to feel more and more uncomfortable. Craig Lambert’s silences were always ominous. Was he annoyed because she had defended Gaston Duval? Would he tell her he found she was unsuitable for her position at the school?

  She noticed they were going inland now, having left the coast road. That puzzled her, for that wasn’t the way they had come. The road was winding and slowly rising, with trees on either side and large creepers of purple bougainvillea on every support, be it a house, fence or arch.

  The car turned sharply to the right and Megan caught her breath. It couldn’t be true . . . but it was. Her dream house was there . . . standing in front of them. A single-storied house with a thatched roof and a wide verandah, with flowers growing up the walls and a wide lawn stretching in front of it. Behind, the mountain grew larger, covered with trees, but here there were palm trees, upright as could be, and huge bushes of scarlet flowers.

  ‘My house,’ Craig Lambert said quietly.