Page 97 of Love Is: Two Bodies One Soul

ChapterThirty-Five

Proppedup against the pillow in the bedroom of a Thai hotel, Owen stroked Lexie’s head, waiting for her to fall asleep. He’d planned to tell her about the curse, but he hadn’t. What would have been the point? He knew now that his love did not bring with it death for his loved ones. That was just something he’d imagined, as a grief-stricken, fanciful teenager. It had made him hold back, afraid to commit his love until now, but perhaps, apart from Emi, there had been no one to love until Lexie.

He stared into the glow of the bedside lamp and said to the insects dancing there, ‘I know what love is, you know.’

Uncaring, the insects buzzed and whined, zizzing distractedly, taking not the slightest notice of a man who was no longer terrified to give his heart and soul.

Across the room, an email arrival pinged on his laptop. Owen carefully extracted his arm from behind Lexie. She murmured. He waited to see if she would wake, but she didn’t, and he went to open his email. It was from George.

WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO SODDING REPLY TO ME?

Owen looked at the string of unread messages in his inbox. More than half of them were from George. The most recent ones were marked URGENT.

Owen typed: I’ve had a lot onand hit the send button.

Almost immediately, an answer arrived.

At last! Where’ve you been, and Jeez, Owen, what do you mean you’ve had a lot on? You’ve done the work. You’re on bleeding holiday now – at my expense.

Owen: You think?

George: I do … Marvellous material it is, too. I knew I could rely on you to pull the rabbit from the hat. And you can tell Lexie she’s got a job with WIV as soon as I can afford two photographers on the payroll, but in the meantime, she can expect some freelance work for when the new guy can’t cope.

Owen: That’s great. She’ll be pleased.

George: And you can work together again. That’s if I can find the money to pay your exorbitant fees for taking over the bulk of the writing.

Owen: What do you mean, the bulk?

George: Victor’s gone permanently AWOL. Dropped dead in the office yesterday. Heart attack. I need to find a replacement, but you are the main man in the meantime. Which reminds me – have you packed yet?

Owen: Of course, we’ve packed. We’re off the island.

George: You haven’t read my other emails?

Owen: No, sorry, I told you I’ve had a lot on. Lex got stung by a jellyfish, and then we spotted a saltwater crocodile on the beach next to ours. I had no way of defending us, and I didn’t fancy Lex or me being croc supper. So, I called for the helicopter to get us back to the mainland. Clive – that’s the chopper pilot – brought his mate, Brad, who’s a medic, and he gave Lex the once over and said she’ll be okay. I haven’t had time yet, but I’m going to send through an extra section for the article, about dangerous currents making it unsafe to swim, jellyfish and, of course, the crocs. That should kill the developers’ plans.

Owen read his email. Put like that, the day seemed almost mundane. But then, he’d not included the most important part. He pressed send.

Almost immediately, another email arrived from George: Bugger me! Talk about luck. You got out just in time. There’s a typhoon on the way, set to destroy complete parts of the area. That’s why we’ve been trying to reach you. Kate’s contacting the helicopter company right now, and you and Lexie are booked on tomorrow night’s flight out of Hong Kong. Time enough for you to add a bit more to the feature about how dangerous Paradise is.

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