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unsuspecting fool, and so responsive to his charm? She knew that there was
nothing rational about passion, but all it had taken was a couple of kisses
and he had reduced her to the proverbial putty in his hands. Abby wanted to
howl, or throw bricks, or thump him. She felt furious with herself for having
been duped and furious with him for duping her. Her face flamed. She had
wantonly and recklessly longed for him to make love to her and, of course,
he had known that. Josh stood up. 'You're making a mistake,' he objected. 'I
just--'
'May you rot in hell!' Abby announced, desperate to salvage her pride in
some way, any way.
He gave a sardonic bow. 'Thank you. I thought that, as I'm going off on a
charter tomorrow for a month, it would be a good idea to have things
settled,' he continued.
'Things are settled,' she declared, her voice precision-tooled. 'And if the
Calinargo does take some of your customers, so what? You won't be forced
into abject poverty.'
'That's not the issue. Our--'
'Why did you quit the legal profession?' she asked abruptly.
'What's that got to do with anything?' he demanded.
'I assume it was because when you arrived in Grenada you saw an
irresistible chance to get much richer much quicker with boats?'.
He scowled. 'No. I admit I was in the right place at the right time, but--'
'I can imagine,' Abby said succinctly.
'As I was saying,' Josh rapped, becoming impatient of her hostility, 'our
busiest season's looming, which means Donner Marine have a hell of a lot of
plates to keep spinning in the air and, frankly, I don't have the time to waste
on pointless hassle.'
'Too bad!' Blonde head held high, Abby stalked to the door. 'I don't have any
more time to waste on this evening either, so I would be obliged if you'd take
me home.'
CHAPTER THREE
THE qualms Abby had harboured about infringing on Josh Donner's trade
were now banished. Having shown herself to be vulnerable and having been
exploited, her determination to make the Calinargo's outings a success was
intensified. Not only would she do her damnedest on Hilda's behalf, but she
would also show him that she was a force to be reckoned with. From here on
they were not merely competitors it was war, and Abby intended to
employ all the ammunition she could.
'How about us starting the cruises mid-morn- ing, finishing mid-afternoon,
and serving a buffet lunch?' she suggested to her aunt, the next day. 'We
could prepare, say, chicken casserole, heat it up in the galley and serve it
with a range of cold meats, savoury rices and salads. If we offer a decent
spread we can charge more and increase the profits,' she went on, the lustre
in her eyes signalling a Messianic verve. 'Most people are happy to spend on
holiday so long as they're getting value for money, and we'll make sure they
do. If we rope in a couple of girls, the four of us should easily handle it.'
'Sounds a splendid idea,' Hilda agreed.
Abby opened a folder and took out a sketch she had made. 'How about this
as the basis for our advertisement?' she asked.
A tubby, bewhiskered pirate smiled from the deck of the Calinargo, another
waved in the rigging, a third beamed hello at the prow.
Her aunt chuckled. 'It's fun.'
'We could have T-shirts printed with the picture and the name of the boat in
bold letters,' Abby continued. 'Then the crew could wear them, passengers
could buy them, and the cruises would be advertised for free. What do you
think?'
Stricken by a rare sensation of disagreement, the older woman hesitated. 'As
it's just a trial, I suspect, dear, you're being a touch too ambitious,' she said
gently.
Abby pulled a face. 'You're right,' she agreed.
'In any case, I can't think of anywhere on the island which would produce
that kind of thing. We'll need paper plates and plastic cutlery for the lunches,
but I doubt whether we can rely on finding a local source, either. Not a
continuous one. Grenada is only a dot on the map. I've got it,' her aunt said,
suddenly brightening. 'One of my bridge partners is going over to Barbados
tomorrow; I'll ask her to bring back a supply.'
In the days which followed, other snags revealed themselves and, one way
or another, were overcome. The schooner was decked with bunting. Hilda
switched many of her kitchen utensils to the galley. One of Vibert's sons
agreed to do duty as barman. Abby completed the advertisement, oversaw
its printing, then sped from hotel to hotel, from one apartment block to
another, feverishly distributing notice-board bills and leaflets.
'We start next Tuesday,' she recited until her vocal cords were strained and,
as back-up, stapled the advertisement to a number of roadside trees and bus
shelters.
The big day arrived. Having dashed around from dawn until dusk for two
weeks, Abby awoke feeling tired and twitchy, and as the morning
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