The House on Flamingo Cay Read Online Free PDF Page A

own? You are? Now, Connie, isn’t that just the pluckiest thing you’ve ever heard? These two slips of girls coming all this way by themselves. Well, in that case, I just insist you join us for dinner. I know how it is when you arrive at a big hotel without knowing anyone.”
    Sara wondered how her sister would dodge the invitation, but, to her surprise, Angela said sweetly, “That’s awfully kind of you Mrs. Stuyvesant. To be perfectly frank, we were feeling a little bit lost. You see, it’s the first time we’ve come on holiday alone. Last year ...” She stopped short and looked down at her hands.
    Mrs. Stuyvesant was all sympathy. “Oh, my dears, how perfectly tragic for you, and I quite understand you wanting to get right away from Europe for a while. I know I felt just the same when I lost Mr. Ottaway, my first husband, you know. Such a dear man and so devoted to me. I had to go right off to Hawaii to recover from the shock. But we mustn’t dwell on these bereavements, must we? As I always say, time and tide wait for no man, and we must just learn to live with our grief and look to the future.”
    During dinner, Angela talked to Conrad and Sara was subjected to the full flood of Mrs. Stuyvesant’s life history. The voluble little American had urged them to try two local specialties, feather-light orange pancakes and a delicious green turtle pie, and Sara marvelled at the way in which she was able to chatter incessantly while eating a substantial meal.
    Later in the evening, the Stuyvesants were joining some other Americans and going ‘over the hill’—which meant, apparently, a visit to one of the calypso clubs in the West Indian quarter.
    “How exciting! We’d love to,” said Angela, when Mrs. Stuyvesant again insisted they should join them. Then, looking disappointed: “But Sara hasn’t been too well lately, so I really think she should have an early night. One can never sleep properly on a plane, do you think?”
    Mrs. Stuyvesant turned to the flabbergasted Sara. “Now what a strange thing! I had a feeling you’d been ill, my dear. I’ve always been sensitive to the least little hint of tension in other people and I could tell right away that you were under a strain. Now, you just do right as your sister says and have a good night’s rest. There’s nothing like sleep for restoring those over-taxed tissues, you know.”
    Beneath the table, Sara felt a sharp nudge on her ankle and, after a fractional pause, she recognized the cue.
    “But you’ll go won’t you, Angela? I’m sure you aren’t tired yet.”
    “Of course not, Sara, I wouldn’t think of leaving you. We’ll both have an early night.”
    “But that’s silly. I know you’d like to go.” Sara turned to the Americans. “Perhaps you can persuade her, Mrs. Stuyvesant.”
    “Yes, do come with us, my dear. Your sister will only fret if she thinks she’s spoiling your fun. I can see what an unselfish little person she is.”
    ‘Oh, can you?’ Sara thought acidly. ‘Just wait till Angela gets back!’
    “Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind, Sara dear?” Angela said doubtfully.
    “Of course not, Angela dear. Well, if you’ll excuse me...”
    Back in the bedroom, Sara gave vent to her feelings by kicking off her shoes and flinging herself on the bed. She had no idea of the purpose behind her sister’s strategy, but whatever it was, it had better be pretty convincing. It would serve Angela right if she went out by herself for the evening.
    But presently, after considering this idea and deciding that Nassau was not the kind of city where a girl could stroll unescorted—at least, not after dark—she hung up the cream silk dress and changed into cotton pyjamas.
    It was after eleven when she came in from the balcony, and another two hours before Angela crept through the door.
    Sara sat up in bed and switched on the rose-shaded lamp. “I do hope you had a good time,” she said cuttingly.
    “Oh, sweetie—I’m sorry about