Getting back to Paris was easier said than done. The supply boat pulled into the island once a week, bringing the guests from the mainland. Otherwise they came by helicopter.

‘And the hire chopper’s out of action,’ the manager said apologetically. By the time Penny-Rose and Alastair reached his office, he’d already made enquiries on their behalf. ‘The engine’s being reconditioned. I’m afraid it’s useless until Thursday.’

‘That’s two days.’ Alastair took a deep breath. ‘You mean there’s no way I can get off the island until then? I can pay the boat.’

‘The boat does the rounds of the islands. It’ll take at least a day to get back here. But if I could make a suggestion…’

‘Anything.’

‘One of the outer islands is owned by a reclusive fisherman.’ The manager gave a deprecating smile. ‘A rich, reclusive fisherman. He’s somewhat of an eccentric. He lives alone and doesn’t socialise. But he owns his own helicopter.’

Alastair frowned. ‘Will he rent it out?’

‘Maybe, but it only holds one passenger.’ The manager cast an apologetic glance at Penny-Rose. ‘And while I might be able to persuade him to make a mercy dash for one, I doubt he’d take kindly to doing more.’

‘That’s fine. It’s only me that’s going.’

‘But…’ Penny-Rose flinched. ‘Alastair, I need to go with you.’

‘There’s no room,’ he said briefly. ‘And no need either.’

He didn’t need her. Of course he didn’t. Penny-Rose’s face tightened. But it was Marguerite she was worried about. Wasn’t it?

Damn it, she was worried about both of them. And if anything happened to Marguerite and she wasn’t by Alastair’s side…

‘I’d still like to come.’

‘I’m afraid you can’t, ma’am,’ the resort manager apologised. ‘At least, not straight away.’ He lifted the telephone and looked enquiringly at Alastair. ‘The plane from Suva to Europe leaves at nine this morning. That means there’s very little time. If I make fast arrangements I can have you on it.’

‘Do it,’ Alastair growled. He turned and found Rose watching him. She looked…

Hell, she looked like she’d been kicked. And like she was expecting to be kicked again.

‘The kids are booked back to Australia on Saturday,’ he told her, his voice gentling. ‘That’s when the boat calls. You can’t cut it short. You know this is the holiday they’ve always dreamed of, and so have you.’

He couldn’t resist then. He put a hand out to trace the outline of her cheek, and if it had been meant to comfort her, then who could blame him if he took a modicum of comfort himself? ‘Have a wonderful time. Come back when they leave.’

‘You don’t want me.’

‘I don’t…need you.’

And that was that.


‘Belle?’

‘Alastair…’ It was early evening in Paris.

Alastair telephoned Belle’s cellphone while he sat in the departure lounge at Suva, and she answered on the first ring. There was a party of some sort in the background. He could hear laughter and voices and the clink of glasses…

‘Alastair, what is it?’

Briefly he outlined what had happened, and she was horrified.

‘Oh, Alastair, that’s dreadful. You poor darling…’

He didn’t want sympathy for himself. That was the last thing he needed. He wanted tangible help.

‘Belle, she’s alone. You know we have no family in Paris, and my only aunt’s in Yorkshire and too frail to travel. It’ll take me twenty-four hours to get there. Please…can you go to her?’

‘Visit her in hospital, you mean.’

‘Yes,’ he said gratefully. ‘Belle, I know it’s a lot to ask, but could you stay with her until I get there? I can’t bear to think of her being alone. Of her being in pain…’

‘Of course I’ll go, darling.’ He heard her pause and speak an aside to someone in the background, and then she came on the line again. ‘Sorry about that. Damn clients. Just tell me what hospital she’s in and as soon as my guests leave I’ll go.’

‘Not now?’

‘Alastair, these are important clients-’

He said something exceedingly rude about the clients.

She didn’t appreciate it. ‘Alastair! There’s no need to be coarse. I’ll go as soon as I can.’

And that was all he could do.

Twenty minutes later, the jet lifted off from the international airport, and Alastair was finally away. The plane circled the islands underneath as it veered to face Europe.

And Alastair stared down at the turquoise sea and imagined his wife. Rose. She’d be practising her swimming, he thought, and wondered if she’d have made it past five strokes by the next time he saw her.

She would-and he’d miss seeing her try.

The thought was suddenly almost unbearable. He stared down into the water, willing himself to see, but it was too far away.

But he stayed looking for a very long time.


But Penny-Rose wasn’t swimming. As Alastair’s helicopter took off for the mainland she sat and watched until the sound had faded to nothing, the seabirds had returned to reclaim the patch of beach where the helicopter had landed and the machine was far out of sight.

Yet still she watched.

Have a wonderful time, he’d said.

How could she do that when Marguerite might be dying? When anything could be happening on the other side of the world.

On her side of the world.

And that was the crux of it. This wasn’t her home. And neither was Australia. Home was where the heart was.

Home was with Alastair.


Fiji. Los Angeles. London. Paris.

The journey was interminable. Each step seemed to take for ever and sleep was impossible. By the time Alastair reached the hospital he was past the point of rational thinking. So much time had elapsed. What if…?

‘What if’ didn’t bear thinking of. At least Belle was with her, he thought again and again. If the worst came to the worst, his mother wouldn’t be completely alone.

But, thankfully, the worst hadn’t come to the worst.

‘She’s had a mild heart attack.’ The physician on duty saw the grey look of strain in his face, and answered his overriding terror straight away. ‘She’s still very much alive and she should be OK-’

‘Should?’ He went straight to the nub of the matter. ‘Why do you say should?’

The physician gave him a smile that didn’t quite reassure him. ‘The attack itself didn’t cause long-term damage, but we’ve had to operate. One of her arteries has become too thin to allow safe passage of blood. The way it was, it was a miracle she hadn’t had an attack earlier. I’m sure she’s been suffering angina for some time. She wanted to wait until you arrived but we daren’t. In fact, she’s in Theatre right now.’

The physician’s voice gentled as she tried to ease his strain. ‘She’s having what’s called a coronary artery bypass, and there’s every reason to hope she’ll come through it with flying colours.’

‘But…’ Alastair’s eyes were searching the doctor’s face. ‘She mightn’t?’

‘Your mother is seventy. She’s been ill, and it’s a major operation. There’s always a chance that things won’t go well.’

‘She could die on the operating table?’

‘Yes,’ the doctor said frankly. ‘There is that chance. But there’s every reason to hope that she won’t.’

‘I wish I could have been here-before she went in.’

‘We couldn’t wait,’ the physician told him. ‘I’m sorry.’

Alastair put his hands up and raked his hair, then closed his eyes. ‘At least she had Belle.’ He opened his eyes again, forcing himself to practicalities. If his mother was in Theatre, there was nothing to do but find Belle. ‘Where’s she waiting?’

‘Belle?’

‘My…our friend.’ As the doctor looked confused, Alastair explained further. ‘Belle will be here somewhere. I rang her…’ he glanced at his watch ‘…twenty-four hours ago.’

‘As far as I know, there’s been no one with your mother.’

Silence.

‘You’re kidding.’

‘I’ve spent a lot of time with your mother,’ the physician told him. ‘I’ve been on duty in Coronary Care for the last twelve hours.’ She gave a rueful smile. ‘We’ve had an epidemic of heart attacks and I’ve hardly had a break. I would have seen anyone with your mother.’

He couldn’t believe it. ‘Belle said she’d come.’

‘Maybe she’s been delayed,’ the doctor said gently. She, too, glanced at her watch. Her time with Alastair was over. ‘It may well be a couple of hours before your mother’s out of Theatre. Can I show you where you can wait, or would you prefer to find yourself a hotel, freshen up and come back when the surgery’s finished?’

‘I’ll wait,’ Alastair said grimly. ‘Of course I’ll wait.’


He waited for four hours. The surgery went on for ever, and Alastair paced the waiting room as if somehow expending energy could help. It didn’t.

‘There are complications.’ The physician popped in to find him before she finally went off duty. ‘I’m sorry, but it’s taking longer than expected.’

‘But-’

‘There’s still no need to panic,’ she reassured him. ‘Not yet. It’s just been a more extensive repair job than they thought.’

‘She’ll never make it,’ Alastair groaned, and the doctor looked at him and then pushed him gently into a chair.

‘Sit,’ she ordered. ‘I’ll ask the staff to bring you sandwiches and coffee.’ And then she paused. ‘Is there anyone you want us to contact? You mentioned a name before. Belle? Would you like her to be with you?’

‘No!’

And suddenly he was very sure of it.

And he was also sure who he really wanted to be by his side.

He wanted his Penny-Rose.

And he wanted her so badly it was as if his heart were as injured as his mother’s.


Belle arrived half an hour later, breezing into the waiting room with her arms full of flowers as if she were there to visit a mother with a newborn babe. She looked gorgeous. Chic and immaculate in a tiny black suit that must have cost a mint, not a hair out of place, her face immaculately made up…