The Secret Love-Child

Isabel accepted the toasted sandwich and ate it very slowly, pretending to savour every bite. In actual fact, she wasn't at all hungry. She just hadn't been able to think of anything else to ask for. The orange juice was nice, though, and she drank it down with deep gulps. Her hangover had long receded but she was still probably a bit dehydrated.

'Ahh,' she said, and placed the empty glass on the empty plate, pushing them both to one side. "That was lovely, Rafe. Thank you. Shall we get on with the next round?'

'By all means.'

Rafe won. Easily.

'Oh, dear,' Isabel said.

'My turn, it seems,' Rafe said with cool satisfaction in his voice, and a smouldering look in his eyes.

Isabel began to tremble inside.

'Take off your sarong,' he commanded.

When he didn't add anything else, she just looked at him. 'That's it? Just take off my sarong?'

'Yes. Do you have a problem with that?'

She gulped. It was far less than she was expecting. And yet...

It suddenly hit her that he meant for her to sit there, playing the next round of the game, in the nude. The deviousness of his mind excited her, as did the idea.

Isabel felt her blood begin to charge around her veins as she stood up and slowly undid the knot which tied her sarong between her breasts. Their eyes met and she was just about to drop it down onto the terracotta flagstones when the phone rang.

'Leave it,' Rafe commanded thickly. 'It's probably just Reception wanting to know if we want a picnic lunch brought over.'

Isabel tried to do what he said. Tried to ignore it. But she couldn't, especially when it just kept on ringing.

'I can't,' she blurted out and, relying the sarong, she hurried in to answer it.

'Hello,' she said breathlessly.

'Isabel?'

'Rachel!'

'I'm so s...sorry to bother you,' she cried, her voice shaking.

'Rachel, what's wrong?'

'It's Lettie. She...she's gone, Isabel.'

'You mean...passed away?'

'She wandered out of the house a couple of nights back when I was asleep and got a chill. She... she wasn't wearing any clothes, you see. She often took them off. Anyway, by the time I realised she was gone and the police found her, wandering in some park, she was shivering from the cold and it quickly developed into pneumonia. Her doctor put her in hospital and pumped her full of antibiotics, and they said she was going to be all right, but last night she...she had a heart attack and they couldn't save her.'

'Oh, Rachel, I'm so sorry.'

'You know, I thought I'd be relieved if and when she died,' she choked out. 'You've no idea what it's been like. The endless days and nights. The utter misery and futility of it all. Because I knew she'd never get better. She was only going to get worse. And worse. I used to lie in bed some nights and hope she wouldn't wake up in the morning. But now that she has died, I...I'm not relieved at all. I'm devastated. I look at her empty bed and just cry and cry and cry. I...I can't function, Isabel. I needed to talk to you. That's why I had to call. I needed to hear your voice and know that somewhere in this world there was someone who loved me.' At that, she broke down and wept.

'It's all right, Rachel. I'll ring Mum and Dad straight away and get them to go and bring you home to their place. And I'll be back in Sydney as soon as I can.'

'But...but you can't,' she cried, pulling herself together. 'Your mum will know, if you do that.'

'Know what?'

'That you didn't go to Dream Island with me. She'll know you went with...with some man.'

'Oh, never mind that. What does that matter? So she'll think I'm wicked for a while. She'll get over it. Now, you hang in there, Rach, and don't go doing anything silly.'

'Such as what?' Rachel sniffled.

'Such as drinking too much of Lettie's sherry. Or sleeping with the gardener.'

'I don't have a gardener,' she said mournfully. 'But if I did I would sleep with him, no matter what he looked like. I'm so lonely, Isabel.'

'Not for long, sweetie. Just hang in there. I'll ring Mum straight away and get her to ring you.'

'All right.'

'You are home, aren't you?'

'What? Yes, yes, I'm home.'

Isabel's heart turned over. The poor darling. She sounded shattered. 'Okay, don't go anywhere till Mum rings you.'

'Where would I go?'

'I don't know. Shopping, perhaps. Or back to the hospital.'

'I don't want to ever go near that hospital ever again.' And she started to weep again.

'Oh, Rachel, please don't cry. You'll make me cry.' Isabel's chin was already beginning to quiver.

'S...sorry,' Rachel blubbered. 'Sorry.'

Isabel swallowed. 'Don't be sorry. Don't you ever be sorry. I'll try to get a flight back today. At worst, it will be tomorrow. Meanwhile, you do just what Mum tells you to do. She'll bombard you with cups of sweet tea and plate-loads of home-made lamingtons but don't say no. You could do with fattening up a bit. Do you realise you've lost most of those fantastic boobs of yours? You know, I used to be jealous of those at school. You've no idea. But they'll bounce back. And so will you, love. Trust me on that.'