pipe-dream, but one very seldom realised.
'And not by me, that's for sure,' Christie murmured aloud, as she dabbled her feet in one of the troughs of salt water in which guests were asked to rinse their feet to reduce the amount of sand going into the Colony's drains.
She found John feeding crumbs to greckels and sparrows, with an apricot-breasted Zenaida dove bobbing about outside the verandah until her arrival made it fly off.
When they returned to the beach, Ash seemed to have disappeared.
Then she saw him far out in the bay, halfway to the deep-water reef where a line of white breakers marked the great barrier of coral between the indigo of the ocean and the lighter colours of the protected water. Even when she had the stamina to swim as far as that and back, she doubted if she would do so. There might be no danger in it, but she had overheard snorkellers speaking of barracuda and kingfish, and she did not fancy the idea of being far from the shore with a large fish close by.
While she inflated John's armlets, she watched Ash returning with the steady, slow-motion strokes of the powerful, experienced swimmer.
With him she would feel safe out there, but she wouldn't be able to keep up with him.
'Here comes Uncle Ash,' she told John, as she put on the armlets.
The little boy ran into the water and, completely fearless, began a strenuous dog-paddle in the direction of the man surging towards him.
His enthusiastic splashing did not carry him far, but he was well out of his depth by the time his uncle stopped swimming and, in a single movement, stood up with the child in his hands.
'Hello, boy. How are you?'
He kissed him and lifted him high before swinging down with a rapid, water-chute motion which made Christie gasp with dismay until she saw that John loved it.
He was shrieking with laughter, and shouting, 'Again . . . again!'
Ash obliged him with three more upswings and rapid descents. The last time, he said, 'Close your mouth and hold your nose,' so that when he let go of the boy, although John was swamped for a moment, he didn't swallow any water and survived the experience still beaming.
'Have you got a mask and some flippers?' Ash asked him.
John shook his head.
'Later on we'll go into town and buy some for you—and for Aunt Christie too, if she likes?' Ash gave her an enquiring look as she came into the water to join them.
'Isn't he a bit small for snorkelling? Shouldn't he learn to swim first?'
'Snorkelling will teach him to swim. Like a ride, John?'
Ash crouched so that John could climb on his back, then set off with a leisurely breast-stroke.
Following a few yards behind them, Christie could not deny that the easy, demonstrative way in which Ash had greeted his nephew had been rather touching. A woman might be able to put on an affectionate manner towards a child, but she did not think men were as adept at playing a part—or not in relation to small fry. Either they were genuinely good with children, or they were not. Clearly Ash was good.
But even if, temperamentally, he might be well suited to the role imposed on him by his brother's death, there remained a problem.
Like her, Ash had his living to earn. He couldn't give all his time to the child, and he didn't have a wife who could do so. Only a succession of girl-friends who, if Bettina was a sample, were unlikely to want a child included in their relationships with him.
'Are your friend's troubles sorted out now?' she asked, as they came out of the water.
He shrugged. 'For a while. Not permanently, I'm afraid. I doubt if anything can mend a marriage as far on the rocks as his is. It's a pity: they're both nice people, just totally unsuited to live together, particularly in the testing conditions of a small yacht. Everyone else could see it wouldn't work from the word go. But they were in love, and love overrules common sense. Or would you disagree?'
'No . . . no, I think love does blind people, not only to other people's
'And not by me, that's for sure,' Christie murmured aloud, as she dabbled her feet in one of the troughs of salt water in which guests were asked to rinse their feet to reduce the amount of sand going into the Colony's drains.
She found John feeding crumbs to greckels and sparrows, with an apricot-breasted Zenaida dove bobbing about outside the verandah until her arrival made it fly off.
When they returned to the beach, Ash seemed to have disappeared.
Then she saw him far out in the bay, halfway to the deep-water reef where a line of white breakers marked the great barrier of coral between the indigo of the ocean and the lighter colours of the protected water. Even when she had the stamina to swim as far as that and back, she doubted if she would do so. There might be no danger in it, but she had overheard snorkellers speaking of barracuda and kingfish, and she did not fancy the idea of being far from the shore with a large fish close by.
While she inflated John's armlets, she watched Ash returning with the steady, slow-motion strokes of the powerful, experienced swimmer.
With him she would feel safe out there, but she wouldn't be able to keep up with him.
'Here comes Uncle Ash,' she told John, as she put on the armlets.
The little boy ran into the water and, completely fearless, began a strenuous dog-paddle in the direction of the man surging towards him.
His enthusiastic splashing did not carry him far, but he was well out of his depth by the time his uncle stopped swimming and, in a single movement, stood up with the child in his hands.
'Hello, boy. How are you?'
He kissed him and lifted him high before swinging down with a rapid, water-chute motion which made Christie gasp with dismay until she saw that John loved it.
He was shrieking with laughter, and shouting, 'Again . . . again!'
Ash obliged him with three more upswings and rapid descents. The last time, he said, 'Close your mouth and hold your nose,' so that when he let go of the boy, although John was swamped for a moment, he didn't swallow any water and survived the experience still beaming.
'Have you got a mask and some flippers?' Ash asked him.
John shook his head.
'Later on we'll go into town and buy some for you—and for Aunt Christie too, if she likes?' Ash gave her an enquiring look as she came into the water to join them.
'Isn't he a bit small for snorkelling? Shouldn't he learn to swim first?'
'Snorkelling will teach him to swim. Like a ride, John?'
Ash crouched so that John could climb on his back, then set off with a leisurely breast-stroke.
Following a few yards behind them, Christie could not deny that the easy, demonstrative way in which Ash had greeted his nephew had been rather touching. A woman might be able to put on an affectionate manner towards a child, but she did not think men were as adept at playing a part—or not in relation to small fry. Either they were genuinely good with children, or they were not. Clearly Ash was good.
But even if, temperamentally, he might be well suited to the role imposed on him by his brother's death, there remained a problem.
Like her, Ash had his living to earn. He couldn't give all his time to the child, and he didn't have a wife who could do so. Only a succession of girl-friends who, if Bettina was a sample, were unlikely to want a child included in their relationships with him.
'Are your friend's troubles sorted out now?' she asked, as they came out of the water.
He shrugged. 'For a while. Not permanently, I'm afraid. I doubt if anything can mend a marriage as far on the rocks as his is. It's a pity: they're both nice people, just totally unsuited to live together, particularly in the testing conditions of a small yacht. Everyone else could see it wouldn't work from the word go. But they were in love, and love overrules common sense. Or would you disagree?'
'No . . . no, I think love does blind people, not only to other people's
Similar Books
