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Eclipse
Lynne Pemberton
A sparkling saga from the author of Platinum Coast.Lucinda Frazer-West: daughter of Lord Nicholas and Lady Serena, a young actress with a glittering future beckoning.Luna Fergusson: daughter of West Indian businessman Royole, reluctantly accepted by his wife Caron, and developing a high-flying business career.Two successful young women, unaware of the bond that links them. They are twins, the product of a one-in-a-million biological chance, following a liaison between Serena and Royole: twin sisters, one white, one black.Now, twenty-seven years later, events are destined to bring them together, and to unmask the secret of their birth.
LYNNE PEMBERTON
Eclipse
Dedication (#ulink_7db415a4-24cc-5767-926c-5f615d8b14e5)
To my husband Mike,
who made dreams possible,
all My Love.
Contents
Cover (#u2554838a-4ba6-5a12-84bc-e7c4aefad470)
Title Page (#uf16df021-78d7-5e01-8381-804b266e8f5c)
Dedication (#u84d5ac3a-a0b3-5e5e-9e6f-3fda68289d32)
Book One (#ub3ffc18a-4e3e-55b0-8999-b75ce9e827a0)
Chapter One: PORT ANTONIO, JAMAICA. JULY 1966. (#uf629622f-4231-5f05-9c0a-33b4fcd68917)
Chapter Two (#uf70328b7-3398-5b31-a50e-65a47039088d)
Chapter Three (#ubc532975-685b-5a1a-881a-94ba538e4fde)
Chapter Four: ENGLAND, MARCH 1967 (#udd400784-937d-58c3-8a9d-81eec3d9c4ce)
Chapter Five (#u520e6033-e4ed-543e-a6cc-2d08efc07e68)
Chapter Six (#u474f61bf-c7ef-5a37-9dc1-0e50fca41c0a)
Chapter Seven (#u3b6629bc-4fe4-5ad6-ba66-32c55b6089fd)
Chapter Eight (#u3763a016-bbd3-5c1b-aad9-23643ad42f7c)
Book Two (#u9ea76bf4-ebf7-5cc6-87e4-422509ea4238)
Chapter Nine: CAYMAN ISLANDS 1980 (#uaa4bba11-f84c-5007-b9f6-1eeaab8e9928)
Chapter Ten (#ua169fbd5-f00f-58fb-aa5f-ca626cf3d532)
Chapter Eleven (#u4dff7693-4ffd-560c-998b-db470db99621)
Chapter Twelve (#u04c7a0e0-b7be-5322-86e1-c382d6ff1fe5)
Chapter Thirteen (#u7af16d6d-233f-5329-a7d9-15fa0eb1f319)
Book Three (#uc5321345-7a3f-5280-ae1a-922b9a7611e8)
Chapter Fourteen: LONDON 1993 (#u8b858d97-414d-5649-85af-4c98af78caae)
Chapter Fifteen (#uc93ad8a1-ce27-51bf-b506-22b0c8f17ec2)
Chapter Sixteen: PELHAM CRESCENT, SW7, 1994 (#u633e3feb-32b0-57de-9831-70b8eb84bb3f)
Chapter Seventeen: NEW YORK CITY (#u470da469-0010-519e-a93a-822d44555e59)
Chapter Eighteen: JUNE 1994 (#u55be3187-3c12-58c5-b060-50b076a0431b)
Chapter Nineteen: THREE MONTHS LATER (#ub576ed80-2feb-5662-b054-44e4f58b9259)
Chapter Twenty (#u39f27c0d-1e3c-5134-a68c-6c202ea954a0)
Chapter Twenty-One (#u9220bf3a-46f8-5b06-a18a-71986c66b4de)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#u6a8255ae-838a-5af9-8788-9472c2ac13bb)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#u15e4499a-65d1-538c-85e8-76be759d8adb)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#u22d69f54-95c0-5b45-a6c1-cec042c168b0)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#ue7ade4d5-81e3-51ab-99df-6a8e2994a4d0)
Acknowledgements (#u8a24afb3-d6f0-53d4-8747-ede2924ff0fa)
About the Author (#u7b7b4ef7-f987-55e6-9ab9-2ced5f771fde)
By the Same Author (#ueeaaffdf-f77e-5eb8-8271-d177cfd54437)
Praise (#u8b0a3549-eeed-5847-9ea3-1a18a36d9ebc)
Copyright (#ueef98d46-0345-5aee-a109-e1b843ab798e)
About the Publisher (#u7f07d405-cb53-541f-aaf1-560d1d86097b)
Book One (#ulink_31391d9b-07ae-5577-b346-4c71f37485d1)
Chapter One PORT ANTONIO, JAMAICA. JULY 1966. (#ulink_c371c1cd-6059-5b27-a9b4-90dbd0dead73)
A shiver ran through her as the wind outside rose to an agonized howl, rattling the shutters on the chalkstone house with a ferocity that threatened to rip them off their hinges.
The storm had begun.
Feeling relatively secure inside the drawing room of the sturdily constructed beach-house, Lady Serena Frazer-West was quite enthralled by the prospect of experiencing a Caribbean storm first-hand. Overcome by curiosity, she carefully prised open a tiny gap between the louvres of the floor-to-ceiling shutters and, bending forward, strained her eyes to see through the blanket of dark silver rain.
She had never seen such a downpour. A solid sheet of water was teeming out of a sky the colour of charcoal.
Serena remembered the first time she had come to Jamaica on her honeymoon two years previously. It had been raining then. A flicker of a smile crossed her face as she recalled the three-hour drive across the island from Kingston the capital, to the sleepy little town of Port Antonio. She had laughed, and Nicholas had complained loudly, when they had been squashed into the back of a broken down Morris Minor with four pieces of luggage, and a box of rotting paw-paw belonging to the chattering driver. As the old car approached the rushing Rio Grande, the sun had made its first appearance over the top of the soaring blue mountains. Submerging the lush green valley in a translucent pinkish light. The avenue of flamboyant trees lining the roadside, rain dripping from their tightly packed blossoms, had reminded Serena of a mass of scarlet umbrellas.
It was a sight she’d never forgotten.
Now the wind was roaring across the island at more than eighty miles per hour, driving the rain violently, soaking everything in its path. And with it came a veil of mist which seemed to hang over the ground, covering the huge Cannonball tree at the foot of the garden in a ghostly cloak.
Serena’s eyes travelled across the covered terrace, then down the garden path, littered now with fallen branches, and on to the dark sea beyond. Through the gloom she caught sight of a huge wave, almost the same height as the ubiquitous coconut palms. Within seconds, it had smashed a small fishing boat to smithereens, the splintered fragments whirling on a great gust of wind before being swallowed up by the blackness of the sky.
Serena was fascinated. She found the untamed beauty of the storm exhilarating and the wildness of the scene stirred her senses. How could she know that for the rest of her life she would always look back on this day, thinking that if it hadn’t been for the storm things would have been so different.
Suddenly an involuntary gasp exploded from her lips when, stretching on tiptoe to scan the far side of the garden, she spotted something or someone moving behind the thick trunk of a date palm.
A figure stumbled out into the open. It was a man, his shirt flapping wildly like the wings of some huge prehistoric bird. As the full force of the wind hit him he dropped on to his belly and with his head curled into his chest, he crawled across the sodden ground towards the shelter of the house.
Serena shared his discomfort, afraid for him, as she watched his painfully slow progress. Every few yards he was forced to lie flat, covering his head with his hands as meagre protection from flying branches and other debris. As he drew nearer he seemed to shout for help, but his voice must have been lost in all the chaos.
She snapped out of her state of mental paralysis and jolted herself into action, running across the large drawing room, down two wide steps and into an internal courtyard that led to the hall.
She could hear the stranger’s muffled shouts as she flung open the heavy wooden door. He was slumped against the stone wall of the covered walkway which crossed the front of the house. Staring at him, speechless, she noticed how his broad chest heaved as he turned to face her.
He was panting.
Unable to take her eyes off the man it suddenly struck Serena that she must look totally stupid, standing there gaping. But just as she was about to say something, a particularly ferocious gust of wind lifted him and hurled him forward. She raised her hands to ward him off but the heavy weight of his body fell clumsily, crashing into her right shoulder. She cried out as her ankle twisted and she slid to the floor.
A second later the man was kneeling beside her, his strong hands cool on her bare shoulders. She could smell his wet clothes and a musky aroma coming from his skin, or was it his hair, she wasn’t sure which.
‘Are you OK?’ His voice was very deep.
A sharp pain shot through her ankle. It hurt like hell but Serena forced herself to suppress her tears.
‘It’s not much, I don’t think.’ Her voice was tremulous.
‘Let me look at it,’ he said, gently lifting her right foot.
Supporting her ankle with one hand, he tenderly ran his fingers over her skin, delicately searching for any signs of serious damage. Closing her eyes, Serena sat very still whilst he completed the examination.
‘No bones broken, thank God,’ he announced, his dark head glistening in the dim light. As he spoke he blinked rapidly, several times, to clear his vision of the tiny drops of rain which fell from his eyelashes.
Serena was shocked by the intense green of his eyes. And when a gleaming smile lit up his dark face, she suddenly felt that she’d known him for a very long time. Holding those eyes for what seemed like an age, she marvelled at the unpredictability of love at first sight.
‘Serena darling, what on earth is going on?’
Lord Frazer-West was striding towards them, dressed in a long cotton shirt and jeans; closely followed by Joseph, the butler, in starched white shirt and bow tie.
Reluctantly Serena dragged her eyes away from the stranger.
‘I’m not absolutely sure myself,’ she responded, glancing briefly in her husband’s direction before reverting her full attention to the other man.
It annoyed her that neither Nicholas nor the butler made any move to help the soaked stranger as he struggled to close the solid mahogany door behind him.
Instead they looked on in silence, each gazing at him expectantly.
‘I apologize for bursting in on you like this, but my car broke down.’
Serena thought he looked extremely uncomfortable as he glanced from face to face.
‘I could have been killed out there,’ he added as an afterthought.
‘Well, you almost killed me,’ Serena commented with a hint of amusement in her voice, glancing down at her ankle which was beginning to swell.
‘What happened, darling?’ asked Nicholas, stepping in front of the man to approach his wife. ‘Are you hurt?’
‘I’m fine,’ she said casually, not wanting any fuss. ‘It’s nothing much. I tripped and twisted my ankle, that’s all.’
Nicholas immediately spun round, confronting the stranger, his dark eyes clouded.
The man was smiling apologetically. ‘It was my fault entirely. Well, the real fault lies with the wind actually. I was literally lifted off my feet and thrown at the good lady. In my opinion the damage is only a slight sprain. Some ice on it, with a strapping, should do the trick.’
For some inexplicable reason Lord Nicholas Frazer-West found the man’s perfect diction disconcerting. ‘What on earth were you doing out in the storm, man! There was plenty of warning.’
His impatience showed in the tight line of his mouth, whilst he looked the intruder up and down with obvious distaste. Noticing several muddy footprints on the marble floor, he consoled himself with the thought that at least the culprit wasn’t standing on the Chinese washed rug in the drawing room.
‘I had my reasons, believe me,’ came the answer. ‘But I’ve experienced storms like this before. They are capable of uprooting trees, and I thought I should take shelter. You were the closest house.’
‘You’re soaked to the skin,’ said Nicholas matter of factly.
Serena raised her eyes, mildly irritated by the fact that her husband could always be relied upon to state the obvious, whatever the situation.
‘Of course he’s wet Nicholas! So would you be if you’d just been outside,’ she retorted. And without waiting for a reply she spoke briskly to the butler. ‘Take the gentleman into the guest room Joseph, find him some dry clothes, and later set an extra place for supper.’
The butler didn’t move. He inclined his head and waited, glancing in Lord Frazer-West’s direction.
Nicholas was too intent on observing his wife to notice. He was frowning as he recognized the all too familiar thrust of her chin. Her sapphire blue eyes were challenging him, and he swiftly decided it would be futile to argue.
‘Do as the mistress says, Joseph.’ Lord Frazer-West spoke with the voice of one who’d been accustomed to servants all his life. Joseph nodded, still not saying a word.
‘Cat got your tongue, Joseph?’ Serena teased.
‘Serena,’ snapped Nicholas.
The butler lowered his eyes and then mumbled, ‘No mistress, ain’t bin no cats around here today.’
She grinned in spite of herself, then turned her gaze to the stranger. She guessed he must be feeling increasingly ill at ease, caught up in domestic tensions that had nothing to do with him. And his next words proved her right.
‘Listen folks. I can shelter in the kitchen, out of your way, until the storm eases up. I really had no intention of disturbing anyone’s evening; I just didn’t feel like being injured out there.’
