A Sky Painted Gold Page 7

  I feel my heart stutter when I recognize the figure looking out from behind the wheel. It is Robert Cardew. That tingling angry feeling skitters across my skin and I draw my shoulders back. This time, at least, I have the advantage of being where I’m supposed to be, but still something about his presence leaves me feeling off balance.

  “Hello,” I call from the beach as he comes to a stop in the shallow water, turning the engine off with a sharp click.

  “Hello,” he calls in response. “Caitlin sent me over for you.”

  “Good job she thought of it.” I am frustrated to find I am babbling. “I certainly didn’t and I’ve lived here for ever, well, for my whole life anyway, and you’d think that I would remember to think about the tides but I didn’t, so…” I trail off hopelessly. He is watching me, and his face registers nothing but cool disinterest. “Anyway,” I say, trying to recover some sense of dignity, “thank you very much for coming to get me.”

  “Not at all,” he answers. There is a long pause as I reach for something else to say. “Do you think you might like to get in the boat now that it’s here?” he asks.

  I glare at him, trying to think of a witty comeback.

  “I suppose you could swim?” he muses, turning to look over his shoulder at the house. “It doesn’t look too far.”

  “It’s not,” I snap, nettled. “I’ve done it many times.”

  He raises an eyebrow at this. “Many times, you say. Interesting.”

  “Well, not many times,” I correct myself, hastily.

  We stand for a second, looking at each other, and finally, he shrugs. “Either way, I think swimming is out today.”

  “Yes,” I agree. “I’d already ruled it out, actually. Just think what a mess it would make of my hair.”

  “And your very fetching dress,” he adds. I look at him suspiciously then to see if he is teasing me, but he’s gone back to that blank, polite expression that makes him look quite stern. I slip my shoes off and stuff them into the top of my bag.

  I paddle out to the boat and Robert offers me his hand. Slipping my fingers into his, he helps to pull me on board, and I notice that his grip is firm, his skin warm. I take a moment to admire the boat – it’s a real beauty, obviously the very latest thing, all dark polished wood and gleaming brass. There seem to be lots of buttons, and I want to press them all to see what they do.

  “Do you mind terribly if I have it back?” Robert asks, in that offhand voice of his, and I look up into his face.

  With a start I realize that I am still holding his hand. I feel a blush spilling across my cheeks – and not a delicate, rose-tinted blush either, but something that makes my face look more akin to a ripe tomato.

  “It’s just that I need both of them to start the boat,” he points out.

  I snatch my hand away. “Of course,” I say frostily. “Thank you for your help.” With that I sit back on the polished wooden seat with an unladylike bump, to stew over how impossibly loathsome this man is. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, thinking happy thoughts. I feel a smile spread across my face.

  “What are you thinking about?” Robert asks, and I realize he still hasn’t started the boat.

  “I am thinking about kicking you in the shins,” I say, opening one eye. “It is very satisfying.”

  Robert makes a sound that I would be tempted to describe as a snort if I thought that such an elegant man was capable of making such a noise, and without another word he starts the boat and turns us towards the house. It seems he hasn’t taken my threat of violence seriously, though I had only been half-joking. It is then that I notice he is wearing loose, dark trousers and a blue shirt, open at the collar and rolled up at the sleeves. Not that I am looking at his arms.

  “Oh! You’re not wearing white!” I exclaim. After all the difficulties of finding something to wear, have I misunderstood the invitation? I certainly would have felt a lot more comfortable in my pink bridesmaid’s dress.

  “Pardon?” Robert shouts over the noise from the motor.

  “You’re not wearing white!” I yell, my voice carrying a hint of panic. “I thought the invitation said…”

  He interrupts here. “I’ll change for dinner once we’re home. Although I’m not a big fan of white tie.” He grimaces. “But this evening is another one of Caitlin’s mad themes, and it’s much easier to just go along with them rather than have her wear you down with endless arguments. Trust me,” he says. “I have plenty of experience in the matter.”

  “Oh, OK,” I murmur, wrapping my arms around myself and really feeling the thinness of my dress now that we are speeding across the water with the breeze roaring around us. We’re definitely moving a lot faster than I do in the old rowing boat. I desperately hope that Alice has anchored my hair firmly enough as I brush an errant curl away from my face.

  “I think I owe you an apology.” The words that he speaks next seem to have been pulled reluctantly from Robert’s mouth. My head snaps up in surprise. He’s not looking at me, but still out across the water towards the house.

  “An apology,” I repeat suspiciously, not sure that I have heard him right.

  With a sharp click Robert cuts the engine, and the air stills around us as the boat idles in the clear water. He turns to face me.

  “Yes,” he says awkwardly. “About your story.”

  I feel my body tense. Is he going to make fun of me again? I eye him warily, looking for any sign of teasing.

  “What about it?” I ask, trying to sound as though I haven’t given the matter another thought.

  “I think you misunderstood what I said before,” he says, and he reaches up and rubs his chin. For the first time he doesn’t seem completely sure of himself.

  “Oh?” I raise my eyebrows, sitting very straight on my seat with my hands clenched in my lap.

  “Yes, I—” He pauses for a second here. “I didn’t mean to offend you,” he says stiffly.

  “I wasn’t offended,” I sniff, keeping my voice cold and guarded. “Your opinion of my work is really neither here nor there, but I would be grateful if you would return my notes to me as soon as possible.”

  Robert presses his lips together. “Of course,” he replies, and without another word he starts the engine again.

  Minutes later we pull around to the side of the house, drifting into the secluded cove that is one of the island’s hidden treasures. There is a small jetty here and Robert ties the boat up before jumping out, grabbing my tatty bag in one hand and offering the other to me. He doesn’t say anything, but I know that somewhere on the inside he is laughing at me as he holds his hand out patiently for mine. With a sigh and a great show of reluctance I place my hand in his and jump lightly from the boat. This time I let go of him very quickly.

  I begin to make my way towards the crumbling steps that lead up to the house, but then realize that normal guests probably wait to be guided by their hosts, and today, at least, I am determined to be a normal guest. Coming to an abrupt halt, I turn on my heel, only to knock into Robert, who has obviously been following just behind.

  “Oh, sorry,” I gasp, thrown off by the very nearness of him, and the clean smell of his shirt. “I thought maybe you should be leading the way.” The words come out crossly, and they seem to stick in my throat a little.

  “Oh, no,” he says, taking a step back. “Please, after you.” He gestures with a sweep of his arm. His manners are so polished, as absolutely smooth as the glass marbles that Tom carries in his pockets. His unflappability only makes me feel more awkward.

  “Fine,” I say, scrambling across the sand and plunging up the steps at such a speed that I am left waiting for him when I reach the top. I take a moment to admire the view. The mainland looks so pretty in the heavy gathering light that fills the sky before a sunset. The house positively glows, the honey-coloured stones lit as though from the inside. I hear the ripple of the breeze through the trees, and it’s like they’re speaking to me, welcoming me back. I feel a shiver of anticipation. I
t’s already the sort of evening where it feels like anything could happen.

  Robert appears at my shoulder. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I ask softly.

  “I suppose so,” he says, running his eyes dismissively over the scene. I suspect that the trees don’t speak to him very often. He’s probably comparing the scene in front of him to London and Paris and goodness knows where else. He has that air of someone who has seen it all. The thought jabs at me. I’m envious, I realize, that he’s seen so much, and annoyed too that he seems to care so little about it all. It’s no wonder he gets bored easily. Well, it’s his loss if he can’t appreciate a gorgeous evening like this one.

  “Why did you decide to come back for the summer?” I ask. If he’s so underwhelmed by this scene it seems a strange decision.

  There’s a brief pause. “My sister fancied the change of scenery.” His voice is bland. “The sea air makes a pleasant change from London.”

  “Oh,” I say. Hardly a glowing description. The poor house deserves better than “a pleasant change”. I feel angry on its behalf.

  He looks down. “Thinking about my shins again?” he asks, and I realize we are standing quite close to one another.

  I jump to the side like a startled cat and pull myself up very straight. “As a matter of fact I wasn’t thinking about you at all,” I say, very much on my dignity.

  We are walking up the drive towards the house when the front door swings open and a girl appears, running towards me to clasp my hands in hers. She looks like a fairy princess, floating in a cloud of white silk and chiffon. White feathers crown her shingled head, although her pale hair looks almost silver in this light. Several strings of pearls are wrapped around her slender neck, and on her feet are the most gorgeous white silk slippers, a bit like you’d expect a prima ballerina to wear. I recognize her at once as the girl who was hanging out of the back of the car that drove through Alice’s wedding.

  “Darling!” she exclaims, pressing a warm kiss on each of my cheeks. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Louise, this is my sister, Caitlin,” Robert says.

  “Please, call me Lou,” I manage.

  “Lou!” Caitlin sings, and my poor little name has never sounded so poetic. “I cannot tell you how pleased I am that you decided to accept the invitation.”

  “I—” I begin, my eyes sliding over to Robert, searching for clues as to how the invitation came about in the first place. I should have asked him when we were on the boat, I realize. “I’m glad to be here,” I say finally. “I wasn’t sure that I’d exactly be welcome back, after last time…”

  Caitlin slips her arm through mine, so I don’t see Robert’s reaction to this. His sister, however, is an open book. “Goodness, don’t worry about that,” she says, her eyes sparkling as though she’s enjoying a great game. “You’re not the first gatecrasher we’ve had, but most of them are terrible, dull things. You, on the other hand … you’re different, I can tell. A breath of fresh air.” She tips her head slightly to one side, assessing me. Whatever she’s looking for, she obviously finds it, because she nods approvingly. “Oh, yes, Robert, you were so right,” she calls over her shoulder before returning her attention to me. “We are going to be fast friends, I can see it already.”

  Robert mutters something under his breath, and I think it sounds like, “God, help me.” I wonder what on earth he has said to Caitlin.

  “Well, I’m glad,” I say, and it’s true. It’s difficult not to fall for Caitlin’s charm. She shares that essential quality with Alice, no matter how different the two of them seem on the surface. Strange, I think, that she seems to have more in common with Alice than she does with Robert. Her easy friendliness is a million miles away from his closed-off arrogance.

  “You look beautiful,” I say to Caitlin now, trying hard to keep the envy out of my voice. I feel shabby and awkward in my makeshift outfit, out of place next to all her splendour.

  Caitlin lets go of my arm and skips around in a little circle, a pleased smile on her lips. “It did turn out rather well, didn’t it? But you look absolutely delicious. Where did you get that darling dress?”

  “Um, from my sister,” I say cautiously.

  “Everyone’s going to go mad for you,” Caitlin continues with absolute certainty. “You look so fresh, like a little snowdrop. You’ll be all the rage!”

  I choke down a giggle at this, imagining a rush on net curtains. I feel a pang of queasy nervousness at the thought of meeting all these people. Will they really like me? Or will they take one look at me and see a fraud in a nightdress?

  “Robert, take Lou’s bag up to the blue room, will you?” Caitlin calls over her shoulder, her voice cutting through my anxious thoughts. “And hurry up and change. It’s almost time for dinner.”

  “Yes, sir,” Robert says, but Caitlin is already dragging me into the house. This is it. It’s time for everything to really begin.

  CHAPTER

  EIGHT

  If the house was beautiful in its abandoned state, now it is positively dazzling. I feel a strange thrill at the sight of this once-familiar space transformed into something so spectacular. We stand for a moment in the entrance hall with its gleaming marble floor and enormous glass chandelier while I look about me. Caitlin is walking ahead, very much at ease in these spectacular surroundings. It is then that I realize Robert has disappeared with the bag that contains my pink shoes. My feet are still bare and – I see with mounting horror – slightly sandy from the walk. I stand frozen for a second. What can I do? I’m going to have to confess to the dazzling fairy princess next to me.

  “Um, Caitlin,” I say quietly, though it still feels as if my words are bouncing off the polished walls. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but I haven’t got any shoes.”

  Caitlin comes to a stop and turns, looking down at my feet. “So you haven’t,” she says.

  Thankfully, she’s not reacting like I’ve committed some horrifying breach of social protocol, and so I take a deep breath. “I-I hadn’t got any white shoes,” I admit, and my voice is small. “So I wore my pink ones, but I took them off before getting in the boat. They’re in the bag that Robert just took upstairs. If you tell me where he’s gone, I’ll just run up and get them.”

  “Oh, darling, I wouldn’t worry.” Caitlin looks completely unconcerned while I feel panic rising inside of me. “It’s no good wearing them if they’re pink. I’ve been very strict about the dress code, I’m afraid. Robert calls me the drill sergeant, but he doesn’t understand.” She laughs a little here, her eyes turned down so that I can’t see them, but there’s something taut about her voice. “The parties have got a little out of control in our circles and, honestly, if everything’s not just exactly right then people simply pounce on you.” She rolls her eyes here and flashes me a glittering smile. I know perfectly well that what she says is true; after all, I’ve read about enough of the parties, and every single tiny detail is up for consumption. I’ve never really thought about this as a source of anxiety before; I suppose I just imagined that the parties sprang up, as wild and spontaneous as the people who attend them. Looking at Caitlin now I realize that isn’t really the case. It is interesting, of course, but we seem to be rather moving away from the matter at hand.

  “I see,” I say, trying to keep my voice even, trying harder to mirror her nonchalant attitude to my footwear.

  “I’m sure we can find you some shoes, if you want.” Caitlin smiles. “Although I wouldn’t bother, if I were you.”

  “You wouldn’t?” I ask, surprised.

  “No,” Caitlin says decidedly. “You look so sweet with your lovely tanned skin and your bare feet and it suits you very much.”

  I am torn between pleasure and despair. Is that a compliment? “I can’t go into dinner without shoes, Caitlin,” I say firmly. What might be seen as an eccentricity in her isn’t going to work for me, the interloper from the village.

  Caitlin shrugs, and in that movement I see the similarity to
her brother. Everything is so smooth and easy. “OK,” she says, glancing back down at my feet. “We look about the same size. Wait here.” With that she disappears through one of the doors off the hall, reappearing moments later with a shoebox. “There,” she says handing it to me. “But I insist you kick them off for the dancing.” She grins. “And I’m your host so you have to do as I say.”

  “OK, OK,” I agree. I open the shoebox, and inside are layers of delicate pink tissue paper, hiding a pair of white silk slippers just like Caitlin’s.

  “Oh,” I gasp. “Caitlin, I can’t wear these … they’re beautiful and you haven’t even worn them yet.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Caitlin snorts, a most unladylike noise. “I always order more than I need. You need shoes, and there are shoes. Now, stop arguing and put them on so that we can join the party!”

  She’s right, there’s no point in arguing. It’s obvious that such generosity is in Caitlin’s nature, although a mean little part of me thinks that maybe it’s easy to be generous when you have so much. Without further comment I give in and slip the shoes on to my feet. They are a tiny bit too big, but they still feel wonderful. Gazing down at my dainty, expensive feet gives me a little jolt of confidence and I look up at Caitlin, feeling much better. Whatever happens, at least my feet will fit in.

  She laughs. “I’m glad you feel better,” she says, and it’s obvious that my emotions are written all over my face. She takes my hand and squeezes it, surprisingly gentle. “Sometimes I forget how strange we can be,” she says. “Sweeping you up like this, dragging you into a party where you don’t know anyone. I hope you don’t mind?”

  “Mind?” I repeat, shaking my head. “Of course I don’t mind!” Impulsively, I decide to tell her the truth. “I’m just so excited to be doing something new, to be seeing something different.”

  Caitlin nods seriously. “Then you should understand exactly why Robert and I want you here,” she says, and I am not really sure that I do understand, but her serious face has melted away, replaced by an infectious grin. “Now, let’s go!” She pulls me forward impatiently, casting the shoebox to one side and propelling us into the sitting room.