By the time we climb the steps at the other end of the bay, my feet feel much better. Even so, I stick to the thick, cool grass and not the pebbled path on our way around the pools. Ant stops by the gate and looks up at the resort, which is built in a rough semicircle around us. It’s late, and most of the rooms are dark. Pressing a finger to his lips, he opens the gate quietly and herds me inside.
“What are you doing? The pool closes at”—I look over at the sign outlining the rules—“ten o’clock. It’s after midnight. We can’t go swimming.”
“Who said anything about swimming? We’re just going to lie on one of those comfy-looking poolside beds and enjoy the stars and the cool breeze. Besides, if they were serious about that rule, they’d lock the gate.” There’s that grin I already recognise as mischief afoot. “We’ll just have to be very, very quiet.”
Chapter Nineteen
Ant
This is the perfect opportunity to tell Lilavati that I haven’t been entirely honest.
It’s late, and between the lush foliage, the dimmed pool lights and the fact that only a couple of windows are lit up, it’s dark enough that I don’t expect we’ll be seen. I lead Lilavati around the pools, over a little wooden bridge to a row of three four-poster double beds, complete with thick mattresses. The curtains—I’m not sure if they’re for privacy or shade—have been tied back out of the way. These beds would be a great spot for an afternoon of reading, drinking cocktails and napping. If only our military-style schedule allowed.
Which gets me thinking.
I know we’re here for Emily’s wedding, but maybe I can convince Lilavati to wag some of the more painful events. Like the pineapple farm. There are so many more exciting things to do on Maui. It would be a shame to waste every minute of our trip doing things we’re not interested in with a bunch of people we don’t like.
I make a mental note to book a few things Lil might like. It’s a risk. I could choose the wrong things, but based on Lil’s reaction to the snorkelling, I think I’ll get it mostly right. And then there’s the chance that she won’t want to upset the family by not sticking to the agenda. I think it’s best to go with the old ask forgiveness, not permission strategy in that regard. Something tells me Lilavati won’t object too much. Assuming she hasn’t thrown me out for lying to her once she finds out about my business interests.
We settle on the lounge, and Lilavati lets out a long, contented sigh. “This has been one of the best days ever. No. The absolute best.”
My heart kicks and my belly warms. To have given this woman a day she enjoyed that much is a fantastic feeling, although it’s becoming clear there’s not much competition.
“Lilavati—” I start. I’m going to tell her.
“How long—” Lil asks at the same time.
Coward that I am, I indicate she should go first.
“I was just wondering how long your sister has been living in Singapore,” Lil continues.
“About six years. Her youngest daughter was born there.”
“You must miss them. This afternoon, you said you learnt to plait hair for your nieces. Have you been able to visit them often?”
I pick up Lil’s hand and thread our fingers together.
“Yeah. We catch up a couple of times a year and take it in turns to have Christmas in Singapore or in Sydney, and last year at Mum and Dad’s farm in Tassie.”
“That sounds wonderful. I’d love to go to Singapore.”
I should be redirecting the conversation. Telling her what I need to get off my chest, but this is a thread I’d been wondering about since Marion mentioned it at dinner. It’s clear they’ve done a lot of travelling, but I’m getting the impression Lilavatihas not. Which doesn’t make a whole lot of sense in a regular family. I hope I’m wrong.
“I thought Marion said you’d been?”
“Mum and Warren have. Not me. They’ve always travelled on their own.” There’s a wistfulness in her tone.
“Always? Even when you were a kid?” I brace myself for the answer I suspect is coming.
“Well, I had school …”
My back teeth clench, and I have to take a moment before I ask, “How often did they leave you behind?”
“They usually took two or three trips a year. It was fine. When I was young, Grandie would come and stay, or I’d go to my Aunt Caroline’s.” Sheesh. That doesn’t sound like much of a consolation prize. An overseas trip versus bunking with Emily.
“Define young.” It comes out more as a growl than a sentence.
“Their honeymoon was the first time, I guess. I was five. It was hard at first, but once I was a teenager, I got to stay at home and the housekeeper kept an eye on me.”
