The Stalker's Song Read online

  ‘Good morning, Carol.’ My reverie was interrupted by Liz’s husky drawl. She and Dave were renting the first floor apartment, as they did every year, when they closed down their New York gallery for a month. With beach towels over their arms, they were clearly on their way down to the sea for an early-morning dip. As our regular guests, we’d got to know them quite well and had some good times with them. They made an attractive couple, both tall and slim. Liz was looking good, her deeply tanned body shown off to perfection by a stylish turquoise bikini. Dave’s tan was even darker, his light brown hair streaked with sun-bleached highlights.

  ‘Wow, you two are looking well,’ I stood up. ‘Loving the bikini, Liz.’

  ‘Aw, Carol, we just couldn’t believe it when Josie told us about Peter.’ Liz’s eyes were full of sympathy. ‘What a shock. We’re so sorry. You must be devastated.’ Liz wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tightly. ‘How are you handling it all, Poppet?’

  ‘I’m doing ok now, Liz. It hasn’t been easy, but... you know, I’m getting there.’

  Dave hugged me in turn, muttering how terribly sorry he was about Peter. ‘It must have been terrible for you, Carol. So sudden. What a waste... Such a great guy... And so full of life.’ He shook his head, sadly, ‘Hard to believe he’s gone.’

  ‘We’re gonna look after you, Poppet,’ Liz said, taking my hands. ‘We’re touring the island with friends today. Staying overnight with them at the Crane Beach,’ she explained. ‘But we’ll be back tomorrow, and we’ll get together and spend some time hanging out. We’ll have a drink – a toast to Peter. Several in fact.’

  ‘Sounds good, Liz. We’ll do that. Look forward to it.’

  After they disappeared down the steps to the sea, I finished my coffee, had a quick shower and threw on a white tee shirt and cut off jeans. I grabbed my purse, found the car keys on the hook where they lived in the kitchen and was just about to leave when Josie arrived.

  ‘Hello, my precious,’ she bellowed, hugging me. ‘How are you copin’ my darlin’? God Bless you.’

  Josie, a larger than life character, had become like family to us. Peter had called her his ‘gem’ having found her when he first bought the property. Of indeterminate age, she was full of energy despite her not inconsiderable bulk.

  Although we’d spoken several times by phone since Peter’s death, this was the first time we’d seen each other and she hugged me warmly, before holding me at arm’s length to examine my face.

  With tears in her eyes, she asked ‘How are you coping, honey, really?’ Her tears were threatening to spill over.

  ‘It’s been really hard, Josie, but I’m doing ok now. No, please don’t cry. You’ll set me off and I have to go to the shops. Let’s have a coffee when I get back and talk about things then?’ I embraced her and kissed her cheek.

  ‘Alright honey,’ she said wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘Off you go; I’ll see you soon.’ She patted my hand and bustled off to get started on her chores, her ample derriere swaying as she walked. A painting Peter and I had once bought came to mind; an oil painting by a local artist who specialised in works depicting large-bottomed Caribbean women. The one we’d chosen was of the rear view of a large, beautifully dressed lady, wearing a full-skirted yellow dress and flower-bedecked hat. She was holding the hand of a small child, and they were clearly on their way to the church which could be seen in the near distance. The painting had reminded us both so much of Josie that we just had to buy it.

  I headed up the steps at the side of the villa, stopping on the way to watch a tiny humming bird, fascinated as always by how fast its wings moved as it collected nectar from a bright yellow hibiscus, probing with its long beak before whirring off in a cloud of wings.

  When the Grand Vitara started first time after such a long time out of use, I breathed a sigh of relief and was soon driving north, towards Holetown, reggae music belting out from the speakers. The road followed the coast and, as I drove I glimpsed patches of turquoise sea to the left, in the gaps between stone-built villas, smart apartment blocks, small hotels and the few remaining chattel houses. Most of the chattel houses were painted in pastel blues or pinks, but I noticed one or two were quite ramshackle, with peeling paint and rusty corrugated iron sheets serving as roofs and fences. There seemed to be quite a bit of building going on at various sites along the route; a good sign that the economy must be picking up, I thought.

  Stopping at a zebra crossing to let a group of young schoolchildren cross, I was struck, as always, by how smart they looked in their uniforms of red and grey. Most of the girls had intricately styled hair, with bunches or tiny plaits all over, tied with bright ribbons. They looked so sweet, holding hands, chattering and laughing, as they walked in pairs. I couldn’t help but smile.

  Further along, I drove past the Chattel Village, a brightly-painted collection of chattel houses, comprising individual shops, selling everything from floaty kaftans to gourmet delicacies. I made a mental note to call by there on my way back, to get some cheese from the Gourmet Shop.

  In the supermarket, I bought fresh, crusty bread, salad ingredients and a few bottles of champagne, as well as some standard provisions and bird of paradise flowers for the apartment. I was looking at the wide variety of tropical fruits and vegetables on display, when I felt a hand touch my arm.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Barrington,’ said a deep voice behind me, and I turned to see Raoul standing there, shopping basket in one large hand. ‘Just want to tell you how sorry I am ‘bout Mr Barrington. Anythin’ I can do, you just ask. You know, round the villa and that...’

  Raoul was usually a man of very few words and I was rather touched at his sympathy and offer of help. I thanked him and told him he was doing a great job of looking after the terrace and gardens. He just nodded, and without another word, popped some plantain into his basket, and walked on.

  With my shopping stowed in the boot by a young assistant, I put the aircon on full blast and sat in the car for a minute to ring the Lobster Alive restaurant to order freshly-cooked lobster to be delivered to the apartment in time for our supper. When I used to go to the restaurant with Peter, we were always asked to choose a lobster, from a huge tank, where the poor things were kept alive, claws tied. One of the staff would wade in to retrieve the selected creature. I could never bring myself to choose - it made me feel like an executioner, deciding which one would die. Peter used to laugh and call me a softie. One time we were there with Liz and Dave, and Liz told me she always chose an ugly lobster, to make her feel better. I couldn’t quite work out the logic of that.

  Josie was busy working in the first floor apartment when I got back, so I put away the shopping, changed into a bikini, and made my way down the wooden steps to the rocks and the strip of golden sand beneath the villa. The sun was very hot by then, and it was sheer bliss to submerge myself in the cool water. I swam as far as Paradise Beach, about half a mile, before turning and heading back. The sea was like a millpond, just the way I like it and I floated around for a while, watching a few small crabs scuttling about on the rocks, before emerging from the water, retrieving my towel from a rock, and climbing back up to the villa.

  When I walked into the apartment, wrapping the towel around myself, Josie was pottering in the kitchen, and she flicked the switch on the kettle as soon as she saw me. We sat outside, under one of the ecru awnings that made the terrace bearable in the heat of the day, and sipped our coffee. Inevitably, we talked about Peter. Although a year had passed, Josie was still visibly upset at his death; she’d been very fond of him.

  ‘I jest couldn’t believe my Peter was dead, honey. Lord, I thought the shock was gonna kill me when Simon told me. Why? Why Peter?’ her eyes were filling up with tears again. ‘The Lord must a needed him up there. That’s the only thing makes any sense,’ she said, wiping her eyes with the corner of her apron. ‘I pray to the Lord every night for him. And for you too, honey.’

  ‘Thank you, Josie,’ I said, tryin
g to swallow the lump in my throat.

  ‘I’ve known him such a long time, honey. Since Fiona and Jack were babies. He used to come out here on his own, with the little uns. Their mother wouldn’t come – wanted to be with her horses. I used to cook for them... he was like a son to me.’ Josie’s face crumpled and tears ran down her cheeks. She wiped them away, dabbing at her eyes again with her apron. ‘I was always telling him to be careful. Never could understand why he felt the need to climb mountains.’ She sniffed in indignation before reaching over the table and taking one of my hands in both of hers, ‘I was so pleased when you came along, honey. He was so happy, at last.’ She squeezed my hand. ‘Now, are you going to be alright here on your own?’

  ‘I think so, Josie. I came out here to see if it would help to be here. To be honest, so far it feels good. And Julia’s coming out for Christmas, so I won’t be on my own for too long.’

  ‘Oh, Julia! My special girl; it’ll be so good to see her,’ Josie smiled, sitting back. ‘How’s she doin’ at University?’ Josie knew Julia had delayed her studies to look after me, and I had to agree with her when she added, ‘She’s good girl. You know, you’re so lucky to have such a lovely daughter.’ She took a sip of her coffee. ‘And Fiona, too,’ added Josie, ‘coming over so often to look after you. She told me it helped her to deal with things; she knew her dad would have wanted her to look out for you.’

  ‘I know. They’ve both been gems. I didn’t deserve their help... I was horrible to them. I’m ashamed at the way I went to pieces. I was drinking and everything...’

  ‘Hush honey,’ she leaned towards me again and put her hand over mine. ‘I know. Simon’s told me what’s been happening. We all grieve in diff’rent ways and none of us knows how we’ll cope until it happens to us.’ She patted my hand affectionately. ‘I’m just so glad you’re here now. It’ll do you good, honey. But I thought you might have brought Pauline with you? She’s would have been good company for you.’

  ‘This is something I just need to do for myself, Josie. In any case Pauline wouldn’t have been able to get away. This is the busiest time for the post office, coming up to Christmas. She might come out with me next spring.’

  ‘I think she gets lonely, with her man away so much,’ speculated Josie, ‘what with her not having any little ones.’ When Josie learned that Pauline was unable to have children, she was devastated for her. ‘Must be hard for her, especially at Christmas time.’

  ‘She’s Julia’s godmother you know; she’s been very involved with her growing up, so she’s been a sort of surrogate mother to her. They’re very close.’

  We chatted for a few more minutes, then Josie, hauled herself to her feet. ‘Well, better get on with me work. Did you say Fiona was coming at six? You two have just the best evenin’ together.’

  ‘We will, Josie, don’t you worry.’ I said to her departing figure.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The rest of the day just seemed to fly by, and before I knew it, I was adding slices of mango to a tropical salad to accompany the lobster and crusty fresh bread, singing along to Rod Stewart as I worked. ‘If you want my body, and you think I’m sexy, come on sugar...’

  Fiona, always punctual, arrived on the dot of six, having persuaded Simon to give her a lift. He popped in to say a quick ‘Hi’ before hurrying back to supervise preparations for his restaurant opening at seven. With her car safely at home, Fiona didn’t have to worry about drinking and driving, and demolished her first glass of bubbly within minutes, holding out her glass for a refill.

  ‘Just what the doctor ordered,’ she said, as we walked out on to the terrace and stood by the rail, looking out over the sea.

  ‘This is the life,’ I said. ‘Drinking Sundowners and watching a Caribbean sunset. Who could ask for more?’ I left unspoken the one thing we’d both ask for if we could; to have Peter there with us.

  ‘I hope we get a green flash.’ said Fiona. She was talking about the legendary Green Flash, which it’s said brings good luck to anyone lucky enough to see it. Thankfully, there were no clouds to spoil the sunset, and we were able to watch the huge yellow ball as it slipped below the horizon, and see the sky growing pink, orange and purple as it disappeared.

  ‘No green flash tonight. I used to think it was just a legend,’ said Fiona. ‘Until I actually saw it for myself. I couldn’t believe it. I was totally gobsmacked.’

  ‘Me, too,’ I laughed. ‘And then you wonder – ‘did I really see that?’ Come on, sit down; let’s eat.’

  Fiona took a seat at the table on the terrace, and I left her topping up our drinks while I got the lobster and salad from the fridge and collected the warm bread from the oven. We were tucking into the meal, when Fiona announced.

  ‘Jack’s here. He’s staying with us.’

  I stopped chewing, fork in mid-air, unable to hide my surprise. Jack was Fiona’s brother and I knew they didn’t usually get on together.

  Fiona noticed my expression. ‘Yeah, I was surprised myself. He just rang out of the blue and said he wanted to come over for an extended break. Told me he needed to get away from the UK. He arrived a couple of days ago and says he’ll probably stay over Christmas.’

  ‘Well, that’s a turn up for the books,’ I said. ‘I’m glad now I didn’t accept your invitation to stay with you.’

  ‘Oh, come on, he’s not that bad.’ Fiona bristled, putting down her knife and fork down.

  ‘I’m sorry, I know he’s your brother, but he’s been pretty nasty to me since the day your dad introduced me to him. He blames me for breaking up your parents’ marriage. He knew it was over long before I came on the scene, yet he still accused Peter of abandoning your mother for me.’ I was indignant.

  ‘I know,’ Fi frowned. ‘You’re right; he knew they both wanted to divorce. He was probably just worried about his inheritance. Oh, he can be such a nasty little shit, sometimes,’ she grimaced. ‘You know what they say; you can choose your friends, but not your family.’

  ‘True.’ I changed the subject. ‘By the way, I’ve started doing some work, from home. Rupert’s been really understanding about me being away from the office for so long, but I know he’s found it a strain, keeping the business going on his own. Running the Investment Group, as well as everything else.’ I took a sip. ‘I’m planning to go back full-time after the Christmas break. I’ve been away far too long; it’s time I got a grip.’

  ‘Glad to hear you’re ready to get back in the saddle. By the way, what about your properties? Is Steve still looking after them?’

  ‘Yes, he’s been sorting most things out for me, maintenance and stuff. Most of the tenants are long-term, and really no bother. A couple of them are a bit more demanding, but luckily they’ve been pretty quiet of late.’ I finished the last morsel of lobster on my plate.

  ‘You know, looking back, I feel ashamed at what I put you and Julia through this year. I used to think I was a strong person - heaven knows, I had to be, to deal with my ex. But honestly, to just go to pieces like that. You’d think I was the only person ever to be bereaved. Before then, I thought people who had breakdowns were just being weak or self-indulgent, but my goodness, I know differently now. I had no control whatsoever over what was happening to me. It was scary.’

  ‘Stop beating yourself up about it, Carol. Grief affects different people in different ways. You couldn’t help having a breakdown – and anyway, you’re better now, and that’s all that matters,’ she said, echoing the sentiments Josie had expressed.

  The evening flew, and all too soon it was time for Fiona to leave. I walked with her up the steps to street level, to wait with her until her taxi came. The shrubbery was alive with the raucous noise of tree frogs singing their repetitive song, competing with the cicadas to see who could make the loudest racket.

  ‘I’ve only once actually seen a tree frog.’ I told Fiona, ‘In Corfu. It was sitting on the branch of a tree, in broad daylight. It was incredible; small and bright green
. Looked just like a tiny Kermit.’

  ‘Really? You’re lucky. You hear them all the time, but they’re elusive little buggers when you try to find them.’ she complained.

  We reached the road and sat on the garden wall, chatting, under the light of the street lamp. It wasn’t long before her taxi arrived and, as it was moving off, she shouted through the open window.

  ‘See you tomorrow. Don’t forget your bikini. And, don’t worry, Jack’s planning to go out for the day.’

  I waved her off, amused to notice the hem of her skirt trailing on the road, caught in the door of the cab. Typical Fiona. I thought. Turning away, I set off back down the steps.

  CHAPTER SIX

  He made his way cautiously along the beach, keeping to the shadows as much as possible, avoiding the pools of light thrown on to the sand from the lamps on the cliff top terraces and gardens. Dressed in dark clothing, to be as inconspicuous as possible, he checked out the villas built into the side of the cliff.

  He’d enjoyed spying on her today, watching her as she came down the steps in front of the villa, looking fantastic in a red, skimpy bikini. He’d kept his binoculars trained on her as she swam towards Paradise beach, noting that she wasn’t a very accomplished swimmer. It took her ages to reach the beach, using a very amateurish breast stroke, keeping her face out of the water as she swam.

  Earlier, he’d followed her into the supermarket, fascinated by her pert bottom, encased in tight white jeans. He noticed the looks she got from both men and women as she sauntered around; lust from the men, envy from the women.