Tahitian Wedding

As the front door finally closed behind the older woman, Alain gave Claire a long, piercing look.

‘That was considerate of you,’ he said in a faintly puzzled tone.

Claire returned his gaze with undisguised resentment.

‘You sound as if that surprises you,’ she remarked.

‘It does,’ agreed Alain bluntly. ‘But never mind that now. Come and sit down before the coffee gets cold.’

In spite of her annoyance Claire joined him at the table and was soon enjoying an excellent breakfast. The croissants were warm and flaky and rich with butter, the raspberry jam was deliciously fruity and the hot coffee was fragrant and reviving. As they ate Alain began to talk about his new hotel on Moorea where Marie Rose would be living after the wedding and Claire found herself listening with unexpected interest.

‘It sounds heavenly,’ she admitted. ‘And, of course, we’ve heaps of cousins on Moorea, so Marie Rose certainly won’t feel lonely when she moves.’

‘You’re fortunate to have such a close family,’ remarked Alain. ‘I suppose you’ve missed them while you were away.’

‘Yes,’ replied Claire. ‘Of course, it was rather a blow when my grandfather died last year.’

Her face shadowed at the thought. A severe ear infection had made flying impossible for her at the time, so she had not even been able to attend his funeral. That was one occasion when even the risk of meeting Alain would not have kept her away from the island. As it was, she had spent the day of her grandfather’s funeral in tears, finding her exile more painful than ever.

‘I was sorry to hear about it,’ said Alain.

‘Oh, well,’ continued Claire, shaking her head. ‘He had a very happy life and lived to be eighty-one. It would be wrong to mourn him.’

‘He was French originally, wasn’t he?’ asked Alain.

‘Yes,’ replied Claire, brightening suddenly. ‘He came out to Tahiti to do his military service, fell in love with a local girl and lived happily ever after. Rather a romantic story, really. Although very common in the islands, of course.’

‘I’m not so sure about that,’ replied Alain. ‘Not every Frenchman who falls in love with a Tahitian girl manages to live happily ever after.’

Claire winced at the bitterness in his tone. Was Alain talking about himself? she wondered. But before she could say anything, he continued abruptly.

‘And your parents?’ he quizzed. ‘Do you think they’re happy?’

Claire frowned thoughtfully.

‘I think so,’ she said. ‘Although Papa does have some health problems now. But he has a new business venture going too and he seems very pleased about that. He’s taking four-wheel-drive tours to the interior of the island. I don’t know if you’ve heard about them.’

‘Yes, I have,’ said Alain. ‘Many of the guests at my hotels have been going on them. They’ve been very popular. My sister Louise went on one when she was here last year.’

There was a sudden deathly silence and Claire’s coffeespoon clattered loudly off the saucer and fell to the floor. For a moment she sat rigid, feeling as sick and shocked as if she were about to faint, then she bent down to retrieve it. But Alain was ahead of her, his fingers closing over the silverware before she could even reach it.

‘You look very pale,’ he said deliberately as they both straightened up. ‘Does the thought of my sister really upset you so much?’

Claire stared at him with a stricken expression, but his face was as cruel and pitiless as a Spanish inquisitor’s. His blue eyes seared through her like jets of flame.

‘Well?’ he taunted.

She drew in a long, agonised breath.

‘I asked you a question!’ he shouted, slamming his open hand on the table.

Claire leapt to her feet, feeling her legs shake beneath her, but she stared back at him defiantly. Then she let out her breath in a ragged gasp.

‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘It upsets me.’

Suddenly Alain too was on his feet, staring at her across the barrier of the table.

‘Oh?’ he challenged. ‘Really? It didn’t upset you six years ago though, did it?’

‘That’s not true!’ cried Claire.

She broke away, felt tears stinging her eyes and stumbled across to the window. Relentlessly Alain pursued her and his powerful hand closed on her wrist.

‘Isn’t it?’ he insisted, hauling her up against him, so that she could feel the tension in his hard, muscular body. ‘Well, if thinking about Louise upset you, it was never obvious. It didn’t stop you from going to bed with her husband, did it?’

‘Stop it!’ cried Claire wildly.

Snatching herself free from Alain’s grip, she covered her face with her hands. A violent shudder went through her. But Alain was totally merciless. Seizing her hands, he pulled them away and glared down at her. He was so close that she could feel his swift, thudding heartbeat through his thin shirt, smell the spicy odour of his cologne, see the muscle twitching in his left temple.

‘You didn’t care how much you hurt Louise, did you?’ he insisted savagely. ‘Did you? All you wanted was to have a wild roll in the hay with Marcel and to hell with the consequences!’

‘That’s not true!’ protested Claire.

‘Isn’t it?’ sneered Alain. ‘You seem to forget that I found you in bed with him in my own house, you lying little schemer!’

Claire’s face flamed.

‘I haven’t forgotten,’ she choked.

‘Neither have I!’ growled Alain. ‘Every detail of that day is burnt into my mind like acid and I wish to God it weren’t. Because then I wouldn’t have to recognise you for the heartless, destructive troublemaker that you are.’

‘You’re being totally unfair!’ cried Claire.

Alain gave a harsh laugh and thrust her aside contemptuously. Striding across the room, he came to a halt and turned on her with uncontrolled vehemence.

‘Am I?’ he demanded. ‘So you deny that I found you naked in my own bed with Marcel, do you?’

Claire let out a low groan.

‘No, I don’t!’ she cried. ‘How can I? You know perfectly well that it’s true, but you’re still being unfair, Alain! I didn’t know that Marcel was married, I swear to God I didn’t! I never even knew that Louise existed.’

‘I’m sure!’ jeered Alain disbelievingly.

‘Look,’ insisted Claire, ‘whatever you say, that’s the truth, Alain! And you couldn’t possibly feel worse about what happened than I did. But I never intended to hurt anybody. You know what Marcel was like as well as I do—handsome, glamorous and full of charm. And a film director into the bargain. And I was nineteen years old and very, very gullible. I believed him when he told me he was in love with me, I even believed him when he said he wanted to marry me. But he certainly never told me he had a wife already tucked away in Paris!’

Alain’s only response was an incredulous lift of the eyebrows. That small, contemptuous gesture goaded Claire into action. With an inarticulate cry, she flung herself at him and seized him by the arms.

‘It’s the truth!’ she cried. ‘You must believe me, Alain!’