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finally accepted that I couldn't avoid Sarah and what I'd done to her for
ever. So I packed my bags and flew home. It was wonderful.'
'You found her with a husband and ten offspring?' she said, as he grinned.
'Just the opposite. I rang and asked if we could meet, and she invited me to
lunch at the television company where she still worked.' Josh laughed. 'I
went along expecting to eat in the staff canteen, but instead I was shown into
a private dining- room. Minutes later, Sarah rushed in, all power- dressing in
the dark suit with the padded shoulders. She said how nice it was to see me,
but she had an important meeting and, sorry, she could only spare half an
hour. It turned out she'd moved up from a secretary ages ago and was now a
fully-fledged producer and determined careerist.'
Abby's brow creased. 'What had happened to the desperate need to become a
mother?'
'That was dismissed as a youthful whim. She reckoned she would have been
far too immature to cope with children and now she thought kids were
overrated anyway and thanked me for having the good sense to refuse. It
was the best news I'd heard in years.'
'So the sob story has a happy ending,' she said, as a smile broke across his
face.
'Sweetheart, I didn't fly back to Grenada, I tap- danced.'
For a moment or two they grinned at each other, then Abby looked at her
watch. 'It's time I tap-danced off to bed,' she decided, finishing her coffee.
'Any idea when the others are likely to be back?'
'If the place is jumping, they might not wander home until the early hours.
You go and I'll wash the mugs,' he said as she stood up. 'After a day spent
cooking for eight people and listening to guys spill out their life histories,
you must be beat.'
A yawn escaped. 'I am,' she had to agree.
Not much later, Abby was in bed. She heard the creak of the boat, the
indolent lap of waves, and then. . .nothing.
'Abby? Abby?' a voice called.
Deep asleep one moment, she shot head- thumpingly awake. What had
happened? she wondered, lurching upright in the darkness. Who wanted
her? And why? Was the boat on fire? Were they about to sink?
'Who is it? What's wrong?' she demanded feverishly.
'It's me, Rod. I need to talk to you.'
She collapsed back on the pillow. Rod? She groaned. Fancy disturbing her
in the middle of the night! Though maybe it was not the middle of the night.
Maybe she had only been asleep for a few minutes.
'You can talk to me in the morning!' she whispered crossly.
'But I'm feeling real down.'Abby put despairing hands over her face. 'Go
away!' she ordered, through her fingers.
'Just a word.'
Throwing back the sheet, she crossed to the door and flung it open. A light
had been left on at the end of the corridor and its rays illuminated the
photographer. His face was drawn. His clothes were crumpled. He drooped.
'I'm sorry you're not feeling too good, but I happen to be feeling tired!' Abby
informed him in an angry whisper, but then his dejected look touched her
and her tone softened. 'Go back to your cabin,' she entreated. 'Everything
will seem better in the morning.'
'But I can't sleep,' Rod whined, sounding like a fractious child.
'You can if you try. Go and try, please,' she implored, when he began to
protest.
'OK.' Shuffling away, he turned. 'If I don't have any luck I'll come back and
see you again,' he said, over his shoulder.
'No!' she hissed, but he stumbled on.
Abby was wondering whether she should follow and spell it out that he must
not return, when the door opposite opened.
'What's the matter?' Josh asked, peering out. With dark hair dishevelled and
his eyes glazed, it was clear that he, too, had been fast asleep. 'Are the others
home?' he asked, clutching at the waist of what were plainly hastily pulled
on black pyjama trousers.
'No, it was Rod,' she said, and explained. 'I hope he doesn't come back,' she
sighed.
'He won't, not after I've finished with him,' Josh muttered.
'Don't,' Abby appealed, as he made to stride off along the corridor. She
clutched'at his arm. 'He's drunk and unhappy, and if you shout at him you'll
only make him feel worse. Anyway, chances are he'l! fall asleep.'
'And if he doesn't?' Josh demanded.
'If he reappears I'll read the Riot Act, I promise. Look, Rod is a fare-paying
customer--'
'I don't care who the hell he is! He has no right to come knocking at your
door and disturbing you. Hell, next thing you know the bastard'll be wanting
to climb into your bed!'
'He won't. He may have been a bit amorous earlier--'
'Oh, yes?'
' but now he's just melancholy.'
Josh's fist tightened around the pyjamas. 'You think after seeing you in that
outfit he's going to stay melancholy?' he enquired.
Abby glanced down. In celebration of her visit to the Caribbean she had
splashed out on some luxury lingerie-cum-nightwear, and had gone to bed
in a cropped, cut-away black lace top and frilly briefs.
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