CHAPTER TWO

      ‘OH FOR heaven’s sake!’

      Davina rose and stared at him with acute frustration.

      He shrugged and looked amused. ‘It’s a very small island, Mrs Hastings. Barely seven miles long and two miles wide and most of it is uninhabited. The permanent population is roughly three hundred souls and there are six hundred bicycles—the much preferred form of transport for the, as I mentioned before, four hundred tourists the place can handle. I myself have four bicycles—’

      ‘Well if you’re about to lend me a bicycle I must decline,’ Davina said tartly. ‘You—’

      ‘You’ve never ridden a bike?’

      ‘Of course I have! I simply do not propose to do so now, in the dark, with my luggage.’

      ‘That wasn’t what I had in mind.’

      She stared at him, breathing noticeably. ‘Then why did you bring it up?’

      He grimaced. ‘I thought it might add some charm to the place. You obviously don’t know a lot about Lord Howe, Mrs Hastings.’

      ‘I don’t,’ she conceded ungraciously. ‘I was, in fact, a last-minute replacement for the competent, motherly person they’d found for you—she broke her ankle. So I didn’t have a lot of time to add to my rather vague knowledge of Lord Howe, but they did assure me it was extremely beautiful and a—’ she hesitated ‘—photographer’s paradise,’ she finished on a suddenly weary downbeat.

      S. Warwick smiled faintly but said nothing.

      Davina looked around, clenched her teeth then sat down again. ‘All right! Tell me more about the job—not that I’ve decided to do it,’ she warned, ‘but...’ She gestured and shook her head exasperatedly.

      He sat forward again. ‘My...female relatives are due to descend on me shortly. They generally spend a holiday on the island at least twice a year. They also generally avoid each other like the plague but are coming together this time, I believe, in a bid to put family relationships on a better footing. If you had any idea what a horrifying prospect that is, Mrs Hastings, I’m sure you would take pity on me.’

      Davina blinked. ‘I don’t understand—and I thought—forgive me,’ she said ironically, ‘but I got the distinct impression that one word from you and they behaved like perfect lambs.’

      ‘That’s not quite true, although they certainly do what I tell them to do—eventually. However, there’s one area where even I have trouble controlling them and that is who has sovereignty over the ordering of the household.’

      Davina, despite herself, found herself smiling a wry little smile. ‘I see.’ But she added, less amusedly, ‘So, you’re proposing to throw me into this lionesses’ den of dispute?’

      ‘Exactly,’ he said without a shadow of remorse, then shrugged. ‘Well, what I propose is to make it plain beyond any doubt that you’re running the house.’

      Davina thought for a moment. ‘Why do they dislike each other?’

      ‘Ah.’ He drank some brandy. ‘That’s quite a long story,’ he said drily, and looked at her as if he was in two minds.

      Davina raised an eyebrow. ‘It would be better if I knew—were I to take the job, Mr Warwick, and may I remind you that you showed no spirit of polite reticence at all concerning me, so I don’t see why I should be at all polite to you.’

      He chewed his lip then laughed softly. ‘OK. After my mother died, my father remarried a woman young enough to be his daughter who bore him a daughter posthumously, thereby providing me with a half-sister young enough to be—my daughter. All of which induced a spirit, talking of those things, of fierce resentment and dislike in my grandmother—my father was her only child. She perceived that Loretta, my stepmother, married my father for his money, then spent a considerable amount of it, turned his life upside down and wore him into an early grave. Added to this, my grandmother is an indomitable, energetic and fiercely opinionated lady, anyway... Well, need I say any more?’

      ‘No,’ Davina mused, and frowned. ‘Why does the child need mothering?’

      ‘Because her mother is not much of a mother,’ S. Warwick said, and there was something in his voice that was as cold as naked steel.

      Davina narrowed her eyes but said only, ‘A month...is not a long time for anyone else to do much mothering.’

      ‘What I had more in mind was someone who is good with kids, someone who wouldn’t mind babysitting without making the kid feel she’s being—palmed off.’

      ‘Well, that is being pretty frank, Mr Warwick,’ Davina murmured.

      ‘You asked for it, Mrs Hastings,’ he replied.

      ‘So I did.’ Davina stood up again and looked around consideringly.

      ‘If you’re wondering how you would cope with this house and a child, I have a cleaning lady, a local, who comes several times a week—she’s due tomorrow—and does the laundry as well,’ S. Warwick said. ‘To be honest she’s a bit rough and ready and she’s dynamite when it comes to breaking crystal and china, so while you can leave all the heavy jobs to her you will still need to—well, supervise, anyway. But all meals, as well as the entertaining we will undoubtedly be doing, would be up to you. What kind of things do you like photographing—only scenery?’

      Davina turned slowly to look at him. ‘No. Flowers, birds—’

      ‘Ah.’ He stared at her with the utmost gravity, something she was later to come to mistrust devoutly. ‘Are you aware then, Mrs Hastings, that one third of the plants on Lord Howe are unique? That hundreds of thousands of sea birds nest here each year, and that one of the world’s rarest land birds lives here? I won’t bore you with all the species but the island is a haven for terns of all descriptions from Sooties to Noddies; red-tailed Tropicbirds nest here as well as masked boobies and Providence petrel, fleshfooted shearwaters, otherwise known