Chapter 1: How It Began

Maya shuffled down the plane behind the slow-moving line, to her aisle seat in the emergency exit row. A sound investment, well worth the extra cost. I wouldn’t fancy sitting with my knees up round my neck for eight hours or so. Now, have I got everything? She sat, went through her mental list, said bonjour to the couple next to her and tried to make herself comfortable. Automatically, she went to push her hair back and then grinned as her fingers met no resistance. In preparation for going to the West Indies, and hoping it would make her look more mature, she had let herself be persuaded to have her hair restyled, and she was still getting used to the pixie-cut that left her neck exposed.

She almost snorted out loud. I must be the tallest pixie in France. She closed her eyes and reflected on some of the things her friends had told her. The sea is always warm but watch out for the sandflies. You must go snorkelling. As a strong swimmer, she was looking forward to that. Rum punch can be treacherous, and finally, the Caribbean is full of willing, well-endowed men. That last bit sounded promising. She wasn’t at all sure whether this information came from personal experiences or was just part of some myth. She was looking forward to finding out for herself.

But first ... Do the job properly, Maya. That was Eric, practical and sensible Eric. She knew she was lucky to have him as a loyal friend. He had been as invaluable as usual during her preparations for leaving; checking, confirming and finding things out for her, as well as putting up with her tropical-island fantasies. Eric’s mother had once said to Maya that her son would be a lovely wife for some fortunate woman. That thought, as always, made her smile.

Maya Andrianopolou, 23 years old, half-Greek, half-Norwegian, a tall young woman with startling blue eyes and short black hair, armed with one whole year of teaching experience to add to her university degrees, tried to relax and make herself comfortable.

The stewardess peered down at the piece of paper in her hand.

“Miss Andrianopolou?”

Maya forced her eyes open. In spite of the extra legroom, she hadn’t slept well.

“Yes?” She looked up and realised that the stewardess had a half-bottle of Champagne and a glass in her hand.

“A gift from your new leader,” the stewardess explained, holding out the bottle and glass.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“In Paris or at our destination?”

“On the island, I suppose. I have to adjust to where I’m going.”

“It’s three o’clock in the afternoon.”

Maya ran her fingers through her hair. “My head says it’s the middle of the night,” she said. “Can you say that again, please?”

The stewardess smiled. “We had instructions to give you this two hours before landing,” she said, handing her the bottle and glass. “Apparently it’s a gift to welcome you.”

“Thank you.”

The couple in the seats next to her were watching with curiosity. Maya turned to them.

“This may sound ungracious, but would you like to share this?” she asked. “I really can’t turn up half-cut on my first day.”

They were only too happy to have real Champagne, whatever the hour, so she was able to sink back into a half doze, wondering whether the gift was just normal practice.

The cabin doors opened, letting in a blast of hot and humid air, laden with exotic smells. She had managed a trip to the plane’s bathroom before landing and was feeling fresher and rather more awake. After a mercifully short delay, she collected her two cases. Whew. Too much of what’s in here is going to be unwearable in this climate. Still, as Eric teased, there might just be a shop or two.

She walked out through the exit. After the air-conditioned arrivals hall, the heat hit her all over again. She felt herself start to sweat.

“Mademoiselle Andrianopolou? A pleasure to meet you.” The man who had spoken was younger than she’d expected, maybe mid-thirties? He was tall, muscular, handsome and coffee coloured. His voice was warm and friendly, as was the handshake Maya received. “I’m Marc. Please call me Marc. Everybody calls me Marc.”

“Pleased to meet you, Marc.”