Free Spell of the Island by Anne Hampson Page B

other sound or movement.
    ‘It’s eerie,’ said Louise, but Emma did not find it so. Finally they stopped for afternoon tea at a cafe on a glorious, palm-studded beach where the lagoon looked like blue glass, without a ripple as it touched the shore.
    ‘It’s been a lovely day out.’ Contentedly Emma leant back in her seat, while Louise drove back to the chateau, passing a sugar factory and miles of estates with many white villas for the employees. An Indian temple came as a surprise, but it was the flowers that often caught and held Emma’s attention—the flaring hibiscus, crimson, rich pink, orange. The delicate allamandas, the lovely flame trees and numerous others, all lending flamboyant colour and shape and scent.
    It was half-past seven when they arrived back. Dinner was served to them by Kamal, a tall, Creole manservant with a broad smile and dark, happy eyes.
    ‘We are to have company,’ he said by way of casual conversation as he laid down the large tray on which was far more than the girls needed—chicken and lamb, both served with rice, and pastries to follow.
    ‘Company?’ echoed Louise. ‘You mean, someone is coming to stay here?’
    He nodded his head.
    ‘Monsieur’s mother and brother, and, I believe, a distant cousin. They are coming for a week.’ He bowed and went out.
    ‘You never mentioned any relatives.’ Emma now wondered why she should have assumed Paul to have only the one relative, his sister who was in Sri Lanka.
    ‘Oh, didn’t I? Mrs. Winnick mentioned them. He has another sister besides Mrs. Winnick, that is, and a brother. His mother lives in the Seychelles and comes over about once every six months, but she didn’t come while I was with the Winnicks.’
    ‘A week. . . .’ Emma looked at her sister, watching her serve the meats onto the plates. ‘I’m sure I shall feel in the way.’
    ‘This house is large enough.’
    ‘Yes. In any case, you and I shan’t be invited to meet these people.’
    But Emma was mistaken. Paul made a point of introducing Emma to his mother, a woman of elegance and charm, with immaculate blue-grey hair and a clear, dark skin. She seemed interested to know why Emma was here, and so it seemed that Paul hadn’t bothered to explain anything.
    ‘So you’re Louise’s sister? It’ll be nice for her to have you here. How long are you staying?’
    ‘About another week, I think.’
    ‘And how long have you already had?’ They were in the salon; it was three days since the outing, and two, since Louise had taken Emma up to spend the entire day on the most glorious beach on the island, far north, and a little south of Cap Malheureux. Louise was now back on duty, and at this moment on her way to bring Jeremy from school.
    ‘A week,’ answered Emma, and Madame Fanchette frowned.
    ‘So you’ll have had only two weeks! It’s not long enough, my dear.’ She spoke with an accent; earlier Emma had heard her talking in French to her son. She looked at Paul now, standing with his back to the window, watching the two women talking, a curious expression on his face. ‘Can’t you persuade her to stay longer, Paul? I’m sure you agree that two weeks is not long enough.’
    ‘I’ve already exerted my persuasive powers,’ was his urbane rejoinder, ‘but to no avail. Emma is determined to go home at the end of the fortnight.’ The dark eyes held a metallic glint, and Emma lowered her lashes. Undoubtedly he still wanted her to stay, despite his mood of near indifference during the last few days.
    ‘You won’t stay?’ Madame Fanchette lifted an eyebrow in surprise, is there some pressing reason why you cannot stay longer? It’s such a way to come, just for two weeks.’
    ‘I can’t stay longer; it’s not possible.’ She could in fact stay on for another week but now, more than ever, she wanted to get away, just in case Louise should begin having second thoughts about going home.
    The other two relatives were in their rooms, unpacking, and