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fresh as a morning wind, its coolness taking away the residue of the day’s heat. Already Kira felt herself relaxing in the warmth and newness of the island. If only she could simply enjoy having a holiday here. She knew her health would improve. But she had to confront her grandfather, revenge the injustice suffered by her mother. Or did she? She did not really know what she was doing. Perhaps she would find out tomorrow.
    They left behind the street lamps and hotels and the road ran through pitch darkness; weak glows came from fishermen’s houses scattered along the shore. Sudden headlights from an oncoming vehicle lit up the swaying palm trees and rustling sour grass.
    "And we got pirates, you know," the taxi driver told her cheerfully. "You watch out for their ships, ma’am. Big black sails, you can’t miss ‘em."
    "Real pirates?"
    "Sure. There’s a lot of piracy goes on. Not a tourist attraction and day trips. But real piracy."
    Arriving at Sandy Lane was something else, in an area of lush green countryside. It was an elegant Spanish hacienda-style building built of expensive coral and designed to follow the natural curve of the bay. From the moment the taxi turned into the driveway, Kira knew she had been right to stay here for the first few nights. She needed to be kind to herself.
    "Have a pleasant holiday," said the driver, smartly taking in her luggage before the bell boys could put their hands on it. Kira was impressed. She had never been surrounded by so many people wanting to be of service. It was a heady feeling.
    She paid the fare and tipped the helpful driver. He gave her his card. He did private work. Early Bird Services, he called himself.
    The reception lobby was cool and spacious, stone and marble, displays of exotic flowers everywhere.
    Her room was in the new wing, an elegant room in pastel colours, a little less expensive than the rooms and suites in the original building. She had to remember that she had not won the Lottery, even if it felt like it.
    She went out onto the balcony to take her first real look at the Caribbean. The sea was a deep blue, dark and mysterious, tipped with phosphorescence. She leaned on the balcony rail, letting the wind take her hair out of its careful styling. No more blow drying at the hairdressers. It could go wild. She breathed in the warm, aromatic scents of flamboyant flowers that tumbled over the walls of the hotel gardens.
    It had been a strange day. Leaving a cold, chilly London at dawn; the long flight; meeting Giles Earl at St Lucia and now installed in a beautiful hotel on St James, waiting to be healed by its peace and tranquillity. It was a whole world away from the fumes of Parliament Square, the demanding Mr Connor and a 750cc Honda motorbike.
    A waiter brought her a late supper on a trolley laid with a linen cloth and silver cutlery. There was cold chicken, cold salmon, salad, a selection of fruit and cheeses. She was not really hungry but after a shower, Kira sat on her balcony in a wrap, enjoying the delicious food and sipping fresh juice. She was here. She could hardly believe it.
    It was some time before she fell asleep. She was thinking of the tall man in the wide-brimmed hat. It was ridiculous to think that anything could come out of their brief meeting, especially with the troubled background of Reed & Earl. She should concentrate on storming the sugar community with some research paper and meeting her crusty and unforgiving grandfather. She would put the handsome stranger right out of her mind. She still hurt too much to risk getting to know another man.
    Any research was still only a hazy idea in her mind. She switched on a lamp, found some hotel notepaper and began to put her ideas down on paper, making something constructive of her thoughts. But she kept seeing Giles Earl’s face, hearing his voice. It was disconcerting.
    Something dark and winged flew against the window, hitting the glass. Kira jerked backwards, her throat dry with fear. She