Tahitian Wedding

Marie Rose sighed.

‘But what went wrong between you?’ she demanded. ‘What did he do to offend you?’

Claire’s eyes took on a haunted look.

‘That’s my business and I’m not prepared to discuss it.’

‘Well, there you are!’ exclaimed Marie Rose. ‘I knew you’d probably refuse to come to the wedding if you knew he was the best man. And I couldn’t bear to get married without you, so I didn’t tell you before you left Sydney. Anyway, I hoped that if I sent Alain to meet you somehow you’d smooth things over between you.’

Claire snorted derisively.

‘Some chance!’ she exclaimed. ‘Especially when he loathes the sight of me.’

Marie Rose sank down on her own bed and stared at Claire in dismay.

‘You keep saying that,’ she protested. ‘But I’m sure it’s not true. Whenever Alain comes over here, he always asks if there’s any news of you and his eyes take on a kind of brooding look. I’ve always suspected that he was secretly in love with you.’

‘In love with me?’ echoed Claire. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘It’s not ridiculous!’ insisted Marie Rose. ‘Don’t you remember six years ago when he first came to Tahiti and Papa had that restaurant down on the beach below Point Cupid? Alain used to come in every day for lunch. I’m sure it’s because you were working as a waitress there.’

‘More likely because he enjoyed Papa’s cooking,’ said Claire sceptically.

‘I don’t think it was only that,’ objected Marie Rose. ‘His face used to light up whenever he saw you.’

Claire’s eyes took on a faraway look as she thought of those long-ago days at her father’s short-lived restaurant. Yes, Alain had come in nearly every day for lunch. But had his face really lit up when he saw her or was that just more of Marie Rose’s imaginative fervour at work? Struggle as she might, Claire found herself unable to remember anything clearly except for the embarassing schoolgirl crush that she had had on Alain. Every time she had gone near him, she had blushed with embarrassment. Yet Alain had certainly not seemed to return her interest. In fact, he had always struck her as rather stern and disapproving of the girlish giggles that sometimes issued from the kitchen. It was true that his brooding blue eyes had sometimes seemed to follow her around the dining area, but only until his meal arrived. And his rare and unexpectedly charming smiles had always been accompanied by some quite trivial remark about the food. Anyway, if he had loved her, wouldn’t he have listened to her version of what had happened with Marcel?

Her thoughts went back to the smooth-talking, handsome Frenchman who had lured her into his embraces six years earlier. Where Alain had seemed like an unattainable dream, Marcel had been all too ready to share Claire’s company. It had begun innocently enough with a chance meeting on Marcel’s yacht in the harbour, progressed through picnics and visits to discos and culminated in that appalling scene in Alain’s house, which she could not remember without a shudder. At the time it had all seemed perfectly harmless. Marcel had announced that his brother-in-law had gone to Paris for two weeks and asked Marcel to look after his house. What could be more natural than for him to invite Claire to lunch? She had gone quite trustingly, never guessing that she would be plied with far more wine than she was used to drinking. Never guessing either that Marcel’s brother-in-law would return home early and discover them together. It had been the final irony to learn that Alain was Marcel’s brother-in-law. And that he was not, as Claire had supposed, Marcel’s sister’s husband, but his wife’s brother. She winced at the memory.

‘Are you all right?’ asked Marie Rose. ‘You look pale.’

‘It’s nothing,’ replied Claire in a strained voice. ‘I was just thinking that you’re wrong about Alain. He doesn’t even like me. We had a quarrel years ago and he’s never forgiven me.’

‘A quarrel?’ prompted Marie Rose. ‘When? What about?’

Claire bit her lip. For a moment she was tempted to blurt out the whole truth to her sister. She knew Marie Rose would not blame her for what had happened, but Claire had never found it easy to confide her deepest feelings to anyone. And she had a strong suspicion that she would simply break down and howl if she talked about it. Anyway, it was a long time ago and best forgotten.

‘Nothing important,’ she lied. ‘It was just before I left for Aunt Susan’s. That’s what made me bring the trip forward a month, actually.’

‘Was it about another man?’ demanded Marie Rose shrewdly.

Claire squirmed.

‘Sort of,’ she admitted.

Marie Rose smiled triumphantly.

‘Then Alain was probably jealous!’ she exclaimed.

‘Jealous?’ snorted Claire.

‘Yes. You shouldn’t be fooled by that cool exterior, you know. Alain’s a lot like you really, Claire. He bottles things up and smoulders over them and, when he finally does explode, watch out! I’ve worked for him and I should know. Most of the time he’s completely charming and very considerate, but there’s no denying he’s got a hell of a temper. All the same, he’s incredibly sexy, isn’t he? If I were you, I’d really make a play for him.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ protested Claire. ‘He doesn’t even like me.’

‘Then why did he take you to his place instead of bringing you straight home this morning?’ asked Marie Rose.

‘To pick up your china that Aunt Someone or Other had sent you from France,’ replied Claire irritably. ‘Didn’t he give it to you?’

‘Yes, he did. But that was just an excuse, any fool could see it. He took you there because he wanted to talk to you. Obviously.’

‘Oh. Obviously,’ agreed Claire with heavy sarcasm. ‘Or quarrel with me, as the case may be. After all, he could hardly shout at me in the airport, could he? Or kiss me,’ she added unwisely.

Marie Rose’s eyes widened.

‘Wow!’ she said, leaning forward with the sort of absorbed expression she usually reserved for her favourite soap operas. ‘He must really have it bad, Claire! What happened then? Did he tell you he loved you or anything?’

‘Oh, stop it!’ cried Claire impatiently. ‘He wasn’t kissing me as if he loved me, Marie Rose, but as if he hated me. Almost as if he were doing it against his will.’

Marie Rose lay back on her bed, hugging her pillow, and sighed ecstatically.

‘I think that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard of,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll bet it was earth-shaking when he kissed you, wasn’t it?’

‘Oh, do shut up and go to sleep!’ begged Claire, instantly regretting her impulsive admission.

‘All right,’ yawned Marie Rose, dropping the subject with surprising readiness. ‘Listen, one more thing. Are you really thinking of chucking in your TV job and staying in Tahiti or did you only say that to annoy Alain?’

‘I don’t know,’ replied Claire wearily. ‘I’m tempted, Rosie. I didn’t realise just how homesick I was until now. But I couldn’t stay here if I felt Alain was going to keep up this feud with me. Now go to sleep, will you?’

Marie Rose smirked.

‘All right. On one condition.’

‘What’s that?’ asked Claire.

‘That you come across to Moorea with me tomorrow. I’ve promised to take Paul’s parents over and show them the hotel, but I’m really dreading it. His father’s nice enough, but his mother seems to think they’re doing me a tremendous honour by allowing me to marry into the family. And they’ve got this dreadful woman staying with them who’ll be coming to the wedding. Nadine Hugo. I’ll need a bit of moral support to cope with her, I can tell you.’

Claire grinned as she turned out the light.

‘OK,’ she agreed. ‘What are bridesmaids for, after all? I’ll entertain the ogress for you.’

In spite of Marie Rose’s dire warnings, Claire was in high spirits as she prepared breakfast the following morning. She couldn’t wait to visit the island of Moorea again and surely the mysterious Nadine couldn’t be as bad as all that? Well, at least Marie Rose hadn’t asked her to entertain Alain Charpentier for the day! That would really be stretching loyalty too far. Humming, she popped a plate of croissants into the microwave oven and waited for the timer to ring. As she did so, she heard her father’s heavy footsteps behind her.

‘Hello, chérie,’ he rumbled cheerfully, kissing her cheek. ‘Any plans for today?’

‘Yes. Marie Rose and I are going to Moorea so that I can meet Paul and see where she’s going to live after the wedding.’

‘Good idea,’ said Roland, sinking into a chair. ‘I’ll give you both a ride to the ferry. I have to pick up a party of tourists from a hotel near the wharf at nine o’clock anyway.’