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She’d followed Sebastian’s swift departure at a more sedate pace, instead taking in the way that the building’s thatch of rushes blended beautifully with the palms and larger trees it nestled within. Casting a quick glance further down the stony road, she could see glimpses of entrances to equally discreet buildings in a similar style. And as she pushed open the cool glass door, frigid from the power of the interior air conditioning, she peered into the gloom and came to a sudden stop.
The reception area was spacious and reached up to the ceiling above the second-floor balcony wrapping around the open area. In the middle of the ground floor stood a beautiful dark wooden desk, polished to perfection. But that was not what Sia was staring at. Two breathtakingly large paintings hung either side of the desk, from the ceiling above the second storey all the way to the floor.
Each easily more than ten metres high and maybe seven or eight in width, the impact of the abstract paintings was both powerful and humbling. There was something almost baroque about them, Sia decided, like Poussin’s mythological paintings—it was as if through the shapes and splatters, the drama of the paint Sia could almost see the mountainous pile of bodies from a war between angels and demons. Yet, within the heady mix of colour and texture, there were no figures, no humanity, just a broiling clash and energy that made her blood fizz as she was looking at them. As if they called her, challenged her to act, to reach, to want...
But, beneath all that, there was something niggling at her. Something vaguely familiar? She shook her head, unsettled by the feeling.
‘You don’t like them?’ Sebastian asked.
‘No, actually, I love them,’ Sia replied. ‘I just...can’t place the artist.’
‘Astou Ndiaye. She’s Senegalese, living in France.’
‘They are incredible pieces,’ Sia concluded, realising that she’d neither heard of the artist nor remembered seeing a painting by her before.
‘Yes, they are. A recent commission’ Sebastian replied, not looking at the paintings but her. ‘Bad news, I’m afraid,’ he said, tucking something large under his arm, the action finally serving to tear her attention away from the paintings.
‘Yes?’
‘You’re stuck with me. The accommodation is fully booked out for the VIP even
t this evening.’
‘Wait...what?’ she said, having to jog after him as he made his way out of the reception area and down a stone pathway overhung by large green leafy palms, so thick they almost blocked out the sun’s rays.
‘It’s just that the accommodation was arranged a month ago. I had hoped that there may have been a cancellation, but it seems tonight my hotel is the place to be.’ Despite the fact that Sebastian was walking ahead of her, Sia was sure that she could hear a tone to his voice. A sarcastic one. ‘But we’re both adults,’ he continued, ‘and I’m sure we’ll cope.’
‘Cope with what?’ she asked as they rounded a corner, Sia having to duck out of the way of a palm she suspected he had swung her way on purpose.
‘One bed.’
‘What?’ Sia demanded and had to pull up short to prevent herself from marching straight into the back of Sebastian.
He turned, grinned at her and announced, ‘Here we are,’ with a shrug and walked straight up the stairs of the most incredible ‘cabin’ she’d ever seen. ‘Are you coming?’ he asked, standing at the top of the short steps that led up to decking wrapping around an open-fronted Caribbean bungalow.
This playful Sebastian was new... Not new as such, just carefree rather than taunting. Or at least that was how he seemed. Her feet dragged unaccountably as she followed him up the steps, until she turned to look out at the view and, once again, Sia was speechless. In front of her lay a crescent-shaped bay, sweeping around to her right. On one side of the decking was a small, square but surprisingly deep pool that looked as if it merged with the sea on the horizon. On the other side was a hammock stretching lazily from beneath the thatched awning to a post at the far corner of the decking.
The riot of colours that greeted her were so intense and overwhelming she had to remind herself to breathe. She huffed out a laugh. Only three days ago she had been at her desk in her one-bedroom flat in Archway, peering through the gloom, desperately trying to find the man who had caused her to be suspended from work. The same man who had flown her halfway round the world, himself, and was sharing his accommodation with her.
‘Do you like it?’ she heard from behind her. And perhaps it was because she hadn’t seen him, wasn’t distracted by his mask, that she could sense the underlying plea in his tone. He wanted her to like it. And she couldn’t bring herself to lie.
‘Yes. Very much,’ she said, turning to find him standing much closer than she’d expected.
‘Good,’ he said, only it came out as a whisper that she felt against her lips, lips that she instantly bit down upon to stop the tingling from spreading.
Looking past him, she couldn’t help but be drawn into the cabin. Large beautiful wooden ceiling fans hung low and swung silently, creating a gentle but welcome breeze. A huge bed dominated the space, surrounded by mosquito netting that looked more pretty than functional. To the left, out in the open, was a claw-foot white enamel high-backed bath facing out to the view behind her.
‘It is a couple’s cabin,’ Sebastian explained. ‘The toilet facilities are in the only room with a door, behind the bed.’
Sia picked up the brochure from a wooden table with gold inlay and eyed the condensation-covered ice bucket and its bottle of champagne warily. But not as warily as the pair of binoculars also on the table.
‘Bird-watching?’ she asked, her tongue working around the double entendre.
‘As you can see, there is no direct view into anyone else’s cabin, so it really is for the wildlife.’
She walked towards the large, dark wooden object that he’d carried with him from reception.
‘And this is...?’
