Cage Of Shadows. Anne Mather
she dried herself thoroughly and was dressed in a dark red bikini and a matching wrap-around skirt when the man from room-service brought her breakfast. Thanking him, she carried the tray out on to the verandah, shady at present before the sun got round to this side of the hotel, and set it down on the spare lounger. Then, after pouring herself a cup of coffee, she subsided on to the other, swallowing a couple of aspirin she had taken from her bag.
The view was magnificent, but she was in no real mood to appreciate it. She felt guilty on two counts: one, because she had let Matthew Wilder believe she was as surprised to see him as he had been to see her, and two, because she had withheld the information from Evan. Her feelings didn’t improve her headache, and she closed her eyes wearily, longing for inspiration.
After she had swallowed a little of the toast, the pounding in her head had eased a little, and realising the maid would be waiting to come and clean the room, Joanna collected her bag and a paperback novel and went downstairs. She found a shaded corner of the sun-deck, and ignoring the sensation that she was the only solitary holidaymaker there, she tried to forget her problems for the morning at least. There was plenty to see if she chose not to read. The pool was the magnet for all the children staying in the hotel, and their parents stretched out in the sunshine, content to oil their bodies and leave their offspring to their own devices.
By the time the sun got round to Joanna’s particular corner, she was ready for a swim herself, but leaving the pool to the young ones, she crossed the beach and took her first plunge into the sparkling waters of the Gulf. For almost half an hour she determinedly ignored the reason that had brought her to Mango Key, and revelled in the simple delight of feeling sun-warmed water cooling her hot skin.
It was lunchtime when she came back to her chair to towel herself dry. Already several people had deserted the sun-deck in search of food, and it was quieter now that many of the children had left with their parents. Aware that her bikini-clad figure was attracting the attention of indolent male eyes, Joanna collected her bag, book and spectacles, and sliding the glasses on to her nose, she made for the hotel. It wasn’t always easy to deter a dogged suitor, and the last thing she needed right now were complications of that kind.
She ate lunch in the coffee shop, as on the previous afternoon, and then returned to her room to try and plan some strategy. The trouble was, there seemed no way she could arrange to meet Matthew Wilder accidentally, and although their encounter on the beach had seemed a heaven-sent opportunity, in retrospect she had to admit she had not gained any advantage. She should have realised that after living the life of a recluse for almost three years he was unlikely to take kindly to any intrusion into his privacy and, short of appealing to the respect he had had for her father, she could see no way of developing their association.
If only he had invited her into his house! Then she could have presumed on that relationship to call again, and surely during their conversations she could have found out what Evan wanted to know. His main objective seemed to be to discover what Matthew Wilder had been doing for the past three years, and why he had abandoned his research work at the London institute. He had shown no particular interest in the man’s private life, for which Joanna was grateful. Her conscience was troubling her because she had agreed to pry into Matthew Wilder’s professional activities; how much worse she would have felt if Evan had asked her to conduct some kind of personal investigation.
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