Patterson's Island Read online

  A very mystified Beth found herself staring at an array of packing cases and odd bits of furniture that

  had been pushed aside until a use could be found for them, and wondered if Janice was going to show her what she had so far collected for the home she would soon be sharing with John, until Janice drew her attention to something propped up against the wall in a far corner.

  In spite of the cloth that covered the article and partially concealed its shape, Beth had no trouble identifying the object; it was an artist's easel, the type that could easily be folded and carried around on outdoor excursions. Janice, watching her reaction, gave a delighted grin at Beth's puzzlement at seeing such treasure there. 'And that's not all,' she told her slightly bemused sister, and opened up a large box standing next to the easel.

  Beth let out a gasp of pure delight as her eyes alighted on the contents of the box. There was a profusion of oil paints, canvases, and fine well-kept brushes. With shining eyes she looked from the box to Janice. 'Have you started painting?' she asked delightedly.

  Janice chuckled. 'No, dear; you're the only painter in the family. They belonged to Gavin's mother, she used to use the place as a studio until her illness forced her to give it up. She died shortly after I came here, and Gavin told me to get rid of them, or find someone to give them to.' Her smile was tremulous now. 'Of course, I kept them for you—even though it looked as if you'd never be around to use them—but something made me hang on to them.'

  Beth gave her a brief hug, too, full for words, and gave her attention to the box that in her eyes repre-

  sented all that Aladdin's cave might hold for someone like her. With her eyes still on the well-stocked paintbox, she asked, 'Are there any of Mrs Patterson's paintings in the house?'

  `Here, you mean?' Janice answered, and at Beth's nod, said, 'No, but there are several up at Chartways. If you feel like a stroll later, come up there, and I'll show you round. They're quite good.' Her eyes twinkled. 'I'm rather biased, though, I think you're better !

  Beth's. brows raised at this compliment, and she sketched her a little curtsy in acknowledgement, to which Janice gave a grin, and murmured, 'You're welcome,' and would have said something else, but a swift glance at her watch put whatever she would have said out of her mind as she exclaimed, 'Goodness, I must fly,' and rushed to the door. 'See you later, love, at lunch,' she called as she flew down the stairs.

  Later, Beth enjoyed a solitary breakfast, and planned what she would do that morning, feeling a surge of happiness flow through her at the thought of painting again, when and where she wanted, and she had to curb a desire to gather everything up and rush out to find a suitable subject to paint—not that she envisaged having any difficulty in that direction; the problem would be which to paint first, for she had seen enough from her bedroom window to ascertain this at least.

  She had not forgotten Janice's suggestion that she should take a stroll up to her employer's house, but decided against this. She had no wish to take up any of Janice's time during working hours, and she had

  said she would be busy arranging a garden party. Very nice, mused Beth, and another surge of happiness went through her as she thought of how lucky her sister had been, not only in finding John, but having a considerate employer as well, especially when she recalled what Janice had said about the help that had been given her when she had so badly needed it on her arrival on the island. Beth's silent gratitude went out to Gavin Patterson, and she promised herself that she would take the first opportunity of personally thanking him for the kindness he had shown to her sister.

  When she had finished breakfast she decided to go on a tour of the house, for as yet, apart from the first floor, she had only seen the lounge and dining room. When Mabel appeared to clear the table a short time later, Beth asked her if she might look around the house, and Mabel shyly offered to show her round.

  The house was, as Beth had suspected, much larger than Janice's letters had intimated. Across the corridor from the dining room was another room that appeared to be a smaller version of the lounge she had seen the previous evening, except for the colour scheme, that was predominantly blue. The walls were the same delicate shade as in her bedroom, and deep blue velvet curtains hung either side of the window bay. Beth saw that although the room was well furnished, it lacked the personal touch, and no ornaments could be seen. The only ornamentation of the room was a large bowl of brilliant blue flowers placed on a beautifully engraved escritoire near the

  window. The room, though peaceful, had a forlorn air about it.

  `Mrs Patterson's room,' lisped Mabel. 'Nobody much come in now.'

  She sounded sad, and Beth felt that Mrs Patterson had been a very nice person. Mabel obviously missed her, and so, she felt, did this room.

  The remaining room to be seen was an office, and Beth was surprised to find it there, for she knew Janice worked at her employer's house, and wondered if she was ever expected to work at home, but Mabel soon enlightened her. 'Mr Gavin's office,' she explained. 'If he don't want to be pestered, he come along here.' She bent to straighten the desk blotter. `He don't come now Miss Janice here. Miss Janice right good secretary. He no worries now.'

  Beth smiled at this accolade to her sister's work, glad she appeared to be earning the fabulous salary she received.

  There were some maps on the walls, presumably of the island, and Beth looked at them; some were very old, and others looked reasonably up to date. Looking down on it as the plane made its descent, it had appeared very small indeed, but now she saw it wasn't quite so small. Distances, she thought, could be deceptive, and she tried to work out how long the taxi ride had been from the airport, which she had gathered was just outside the main township. In the end she gave it up and asked, 'How far is the town, Mabel?'

  Mabel's brow wrinkled in concentration. "About five miles, I reckon,' she said slowly, and looked ex-

  pectantly at Beth. 'You maybe want to go there?' she queried.

  Beth considered this for a moment or two, then said, 'Well, there are a few things I need. I did pack in rather a hurry,' not to say panic, she thought wryly.

  Without further ado Mabel went to the telephone on the office desk and started dialling. After a moment Beth heard her say, 'That you, Johnny? Miss Beth want to go to town. You take her, hey?' and turning to the slightly stunned Beth, she asked, `What time you want, Miss Beth?'

  `Oh, dear,' answered a flustered Beth. 'I didn't want to bother anyone—couldn't I get a bus or something?'

  Mabel giggled. 'Bus once a day; take folk to town at eight, back at six. Johnny take you, it's okay, Miss Janice arrange.'

  Miss Janice, thought Beth, appeared to have quite a lot of authority, and hoped her request to be taken to town at such short notice wouldn't impose on it. So she asked if Johnny could collect her in an hour's time.

  Johnny was a thin wiry West Indian, and like Mabel, had a wide and welcoming grin, making Beth abandon any thought of apologising to him for being called out at short notice, for again, like Mabel, his attitude clearly showed a wish to please, and as he settled her in the car Beth had an absurd feeling that royalty couldn't have been given better treatment. It was no wonder, she thought, that Janice was happy, for if Mabel and Johnny represented the local inhabitants, she couldn't have been anything else. No sour

  looks, or grumbles, just smiles all along the way, and the wonderful feeling that nothing really mattered unless you wanted it to.

  As the car cruised along the well maintained roads, Johnny passed out information on local points of interest, and as they passed a stretch of land that looked like open country to Beth, he drew her attention to a dirt track that led up to a distant hill and seemed to disappear into thin air. 'That leads to the caves,' he told her.

  `Crystal caves?' asked Beth eagerly; she had heard that some of the islands possessed them, but his answer disappointed her.

  `Smugglers' caves,' he said, with a hint of pride in his voice. 'We traded with pirates for centuries.' He shook
his head regretfully. 'My granddaddy used to tell us kids about them days, and he had it from his granddad.'

  Beth didn't share his regret, and said so. 'They weren't good times, Johnny, to live in,' she replied gravely, and with an air of a teacher giving a pupil a history lesson, she added, for instance, you might have been made a slave, and goodness knows, they had a lean enough time of it. But you're happy, and well fed, and have a kind employer—what more could you ask for? Just think, if Mr Patterson hadn't come along and bought this island ...' She was halted by a shout of delighted laughter from Johnny.

  Wiping his streaming eyes with one hand, while keeping a steady hand on the wheel, he gave the astonished Beth a sideways look that showed the whites of his eyes. 'Mr Gavin's a pirate,' he said

  solemnly, trying hard to keep his face straight, and gave up the struggle at the sight of Beth's startled reaction to the news.

  With wide eyes she gave him a searching look. `Are you having me on, Johnny?' she asked uncertainly.

  His grin widened as he shook his head emphatically. 'The Patterson's were pirates, that's how they come by the island. Been handed down to the eldest sons through the centuries.'

  Beth was stunned, and it took her a little while to digest this astounding fact. The island was called Patterson's Island, wasn't it? Why she should have imagined some wealthy person had just happened along and bought it, simply because the island had his name, was not a very intelligent deduction on her part, but just the sort Nicholas would have expected her to make. It was just as well, she mused, that she hadn't known this before Janice had left, or she might have tried to dissuade her from taking the position. However, after giving the matter due consideration, she came to the undeniable conclusion that Gavin Patterson could hardly be held responsible for the past; that he was nothing like his predecessors was obvious by his treatment of not only her sister, but all his employees. 'I don't suppose Mr Patterson likes to be reminded of the past,' she murmured half to herself. 'It's not a thing to be terribly proud of, is it?' she added abstractedly.

  Johnny grinned again. 'Got a big picture in the house. You see it when you go there.'

  By now they were on the outskirts of the town, and

  Johnny took up the role of guide again, pointing out buildings that had been built by either Gavin Patterson or his father, and although Beth was curious to hear more on the piratical doings of the Pattersons, she was content to let the matter drop, for the time being anyway. Janice would no doubt fill her in later.

  The town was not a large one, and within a few

  minutes Johnny was parking the car near the quaint old harbour, beside a notice that clearly stated 'Space reserved', and as Beth caught several indignant glances from tourists, slowly driving past in the hope of finding a parking space in the crowded area, she found herself thinking there was something to be said for pirates after all !

  After arranging to meet Johnny later, in time to be taken back to join Janice for lunch, Beth was free to wander off in search of the items she required. It was mainly summer wear, such as jeans and cotton tops, for the clothing she had brought with her consisted mainly of dresses and several woollen jumpers. Sandals too, were a must, and as she gazed into the shop window of a fashionable boutique, she could scarcely believe that she was actually on the island, and thought that it was a marvel that she had had the foresight to pack as much as she had, for she had received a slight shock when she had rung the airlines requesting the first available seat on the Caribbean route, and was rung back within the hour and told of a cancellation she could take that same day. As her passport was in order, and all other necessary qualifications for foreign travel also in order, it only remained for her to pack and leave a letter for Nicholas

  to find on his return from Scotland.

  Going into the boutique, it did not take long for Beth to buy what she required, and as the weather was so marvellous, she slipped out of the dress she had worn and changed into the jeans and cotton top before she left the boutique. With her dress in a folder, she left the shop and set about finding a shop that sold sandals, and did not have far to look. Everything, it appeared, was catered for in the town's one main street. Tourism would demand such service, Beth mused, as she threaded her way past the throngs of people obviously bent on sightseeing tours.

  By snatches of conversation caught as she passed, she gathered they were mostly Americans—the men with bright-checked shirts, and cotton shorts, the women with floral patterned trouser suits, and nearly all clutching the inevitable camera held at the ready should any unusual sight appear before them.

  Now, wearing her sandals, her shoes having joined her dress in the folder, Beth wandered happily past the shops, and saw with delight at least two art shops. She would have no trouble in replenishing supplies, she noticed, as she entered one of the shops to take note of their stock, and to purchase a block of drawing paper and several pencils. The island would attract artists like bees to honey, for already Beth felt the old urge to capture a scene and make it come to life with a few deft strokes of the brush. Take the harbour, she mused, if only she could catch something of its antiquity, for despite the milling crowds, the up-to-date and sometimes garish clothes worn by all and sundry, the old stone walls stood

  proud and somehow isolated from the gum-chewing, lollipop-licking crowds that surged past them.

  She took a breath of sheer pleasure as she decided to make the harbour her first picture of the island, and made her way back towards it. It would take many sketches at first, she knew, and her fingers itched to begin committing the scenes to paper.

  On reaching the harbour, she gave a little sigh of exasperation, for there were even more tourists there—and more to come, she thought wryly as she spotted a graceful liner anchored out in the bay, bringing in boatloads of passengers.

  Her disappointment at not being able to sit down in a place of her choosing and start sketching was soon overridden by the fact that she could at least choose her times for work. The majority of tourists were, it seemed, day trippers, and those who were staying on the island would have set times for meals. All she had to do was bide her time—and she had all the time in the world, she told herself with a spurt of happiness, and contented herself with just gazing at the scene in front of her.

  Taking everything down with the eye of a painter, Beth looked at the weathered buildings that stood either side of the entrance to the harbour. The flower sellers, natives of the islands, with their bright-coloured sarongs, intent on weaving leis of exotic fran—

  gipani blossoms, the traditional welcome to the Caribbean; the fruit stalls, overflowing with tropical fruit, the expectancy—the gaiety—all this Beth saw and felt, and she longed to capture it. In her mind's eye she had already begun her picture, and was mentally

  miles away when she felt herself jostled and hemmed in by a small crowd of tourists.

  Coming out of her abstraction, she saw they were all craning their necks upwards towards the hills at the back of the harbour, and winced as a small freckled-faced boy stood on her foot. At her gasped `Ouch! ' he swung round and apologised quickly.

  `What's everybody staring at?' she asked bewilderedly.

  `It's a cannon ! ' the small boy answered excitedly, then stared towards the hills again. 'I'm not tall enough,' he complained after a moment or so. 'I wanted to get a shot of it,' he added despondently.

  `Well, I can't see it,' replied Beth, squinting a little as she gazed at the hill.

  `Over there,' pointed the boy, and following his direction, Beth caught sight of a very businesslike weapon situated in a strategic position on the top of the hill. It was also extremely old, and in all probability dated back to the days of piracy. 'Pirate Patterson's welcome to unwanted visitors,' she murmured half to herself.

  `What did you say?' queried her new-found friend. `Oh, nothing,' laughed Beth. 'Come on, let's see if I can give you a lift up.'

  The boy looked doubtfully at her. 'You're not very tall, are you?' he commented
frankly.

  `No, but I can give you a few inches,' replied the amused Beth. 'Got your camera ready?'

  He still wasn't too sure he ought to impose on her generous offer, so Beth settled the matter by lifting

  him up, and holding on to him while he prepared to take a shot of the cannon.

  She was coping nicely, for the boy was no weight at all, when there was a sudden surge forward as more tourists joined the crowd, and she found herself pushed back hard against the harbour wall, and only just managed to keep her grip on the boy, who was forced to drop one hand on to her shoulder in order to keep his balance, but lost his camera, and instantly wriggled out of her grasp. 'My camera! ' he wailed as he peered over the harbour wall.

  Beth, following his gaze, was just in time to see the camera slowly sinking down beneath the clear blue water, and looking back at the boy was dismayed to see tears welling up in his eyes. 'It's my dad's camera,' he gulped. 'I didn't tell him I was borrowing it—what'll I tell him?' he asked pleadingly.

  Beth's gaze went back to where the camera had disappeared. The water was so clear she could just discern the shape of it lying on the sandy bottom of the sea. 'What's your name?' she asked the boy.

  `Jim—Jimmy,' he got out.

  `Well, Jimmy, shall we see if we can find someone to fish it out for us?' she asked brightly, hoping to take that stricken look from his face, but before he could answer, a portly man in a loud checked shirt called across to them, 'There you are ! We've been looking for you for ages. Come on, we're having an early lunch today.'

  Jimmy replied, 'Just coming, Dad,' and flung Beth a look of desperation.