‘I’m getting mighty fed up with bananas,’ Austin said irritably.
Ranulph joined the group, and later, Bastian, yawning a little. Delphine made coffee. Becca came and sat down.
‘So, Cass, you going to leave with me?’ said Austin after a little while.
Cass, who hadn’t been focusing on the conversation, sat up. ‘Er—’
‘You never said anything to me,’ said Ranulph, looking startled.
‘Why don’t we talk about it after breakfast?’ said Cass to Austin. ‘Ranulph and I need to chat first.’ She gave a little smile, implying that Ranulph had some say over her actions.
Cass was hoping she’d be able to tell Austin that Ranulph had made some irrefutable argument about why she couldn’t go. She didn’t want to tell Austin she was staying so she could do drawings for Bastian’s paper. Apart from drawing the map, Austin didn’t know her skills went way beyond that. And she knew, as sure as night follows day, that he would try to stop her if he found out.
The washing up didn’t take long with Becca efficiently drying up and finding where things went. Cass realisedthat Becca had been in Dominica a long time and knew far more about it than she ever would.
‘So,’ said Becca, addressing Delphine, who’d just come in. ‘Does Bastian have a partner?’
Delphine laughed. ‘Everyone always wants to know that. But don’t get your hopes up. He has a lady friend in Barbados, and they visit. She won’t come and live here, and he won’t go and live there, but it works fine.’
Becca laughed back. ‘I was only asking. A girl likes to know these things.’
Cass had wanted to know those things too but hadn’t liked to ask. Maybe Becca had her uses, she thought. It was only a bit later that she wondered why Becca wanted to know about Bastian if she and Ranulph were more than just old friends.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ranulph and Becca had gone down to the archaeological site on the beach, so Cass was alone when Austin found her sweeping the veranda later that morning.
‘Can we get this clear, Cass?’ he said. ‘Do you want to come with me or not? We need to set off soon as we don’t know how long it will take us to get to Roseau. Or even how to get there.’
‘Actually, I’ve changed my mind.’ She smiled apologetically. ‘I realise there are still things I can do here.’
Austin frowned. ‘To be honest, I have never been quite sure what you were doing here.’
Cass realised she should have worked out an answer to this obvious question before. ‘Oh,’ she said, flapping her hand. ‘It’s all to do with my father. He’s a quite well-known photographer.’
As Cass had hoped, this mention of fame distracted Austin.
‘Oh?’ he said. ‘Should I have heard of him?’
‘I don’t know about “should”,’ said Cass. ‘He’s Howard Blakely?’
Austin shook his head. ‘Never heard of him. Probably because he’s English.’
‘Oh, well, it’s because of him that I’m here, and it’s because of him I’ve decided to stay.’ She paused. ‘I don’t want to disappoint him.’
‘Why would he be disappointed?’
Cass wished she’d thought of something else to say, but having started down this route she had to continue. ‘Because I’m his daughter?’
‘Yes?’
‘Well, he asked me to do something.’
‘What?’
Austin knew about the petroglyph and the map but not that Bastian had asked her to illustrate his academic paper, the one that was in direct competition with Austin’s own entry for the prize. She had to keep this secret.
‘There’s been a hurricane, Austin! My father would think I should take what pictures I can of the devastation and, generally, stay to help.’
