‘Forget the fish, the highlight of the trip was that new boat boy,’ said Freya, grabbing Sarah’s bottle of red nail polish. ‘I’m not sure where he came from but he is cute, cute, cute.’
Gabby took a sip from her tooth glass of champagne and rolled her eyes. ‘She’s desperate for a holiday shag.’
‘What about your boyfriend?’ asked Sarah disapprovingly.
‘What about him?’ Freya smiled. ‘What goes on on the island stays on the island.’
Grace took the bottle. ‘He must be one of the guys my dad has shipped in from one of the other islands. He’s got half a dozen clients coming here tomorrow evening after we’ve all gone, so they need to put on a show.’
She pressed the button on her cassette player and the sounds of Everything But The Girl floated through the speaker.
Listening to the soulful melody, Grace felt suddenly depressed and vulnerable. The fact that they were leaving tomorrow meant that all the fun, carefree days of school and university were behind them and the void of her real life was rushing up to meet her. Unlike Sarah, she wasn’t sure where her life was going to lead. Since childhood, she had been told that she would go to work in her father’s company, but she had no illusions that it would be a glamorous VIP role with a corner office and a place on the board. Her father had always seen Miles as his great successor and gave Grace the impression that her job would be a safe little distraction until she found someone suitable to marry, preferably someone with connections to add to the sheen of the family company, Ash Corp. It certainly didn’t make her feel excited; it made her feel trapped and, in a fit of rebellion nine months ago, she had applied for an MA course at Oxford, forging a new fantasy of life as an academic, spending term-time in some dreamy, spired university town and her holidays on Angel writing the new Gone with the Wind. Now all she had to do was break the news to her parents.
She poured a generous measure of champagne into her glass, the bubbles fizzing over the top, and drank it down.
‘That’s the spirit, Grace,’ said Freya. ‘Let’s get in the mood.’
Sarah pursed her lips. ‘Grace needs some Dutch courage.’
‘What for?’ demanded Gabby eagerly, sensing gossip.
‘She’s going to cop off with Alex tonight.’
‘Sarah!’ Grace flushed.
‘Miles’ friend?’ asked Gabby, frowning.
‘How many other Alexs are there on Angel Cay?’ Sarah replied.
‘But he’s eighteen, isn’t he?’ asked Gabby.
‘Nineteen in September.’
‘You cradle-snatcher!’ Freya laughed.
‘Actually, that means he’s at his sexual peak.’ Sarah grinned.
‘I can see I’m going to have to get really, really drunk,’ said Grace.
Outside, beyond the plantation shuttered windows, the Caribbean sun was setting, flushing the sky the colour of a Bellini. The scent of honeysuckle and jasmine floated on the breeze.
‘Where do you think we’ll all be in ten years’ time?’ wondered Grace aloud.
‘Back here hopefully,’ said Sarah with a smile.
‘I want to be married,’ said Freya, ‘to someone rich, gorgeous and famous.’
They all laughed.
‘We’ll all be married by then,’ said Gabby, as if it was stupid to think anything else.
‘Speak for yourself,’ said Sarah. ‘My mum and dad have got the best relationship I know and they’ve been happily unmarried for twenty-five years.’
‘Your parents are just a pair of old hippies. Any couple not married after ten years do not want to get married.’
‘They’re hippies all right. But they’re right for each other.’
‘Screw that,’ said Freya, holding up her left hand and waggling her fingers. ‘I want a massive rock on here.’