Dark Oasis. HELEN BROOKS

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      CHAPTER ONE

      ‘KIT! Where on earth are you? Everyone’s absolutely frantic here and David’s been tearing his hair out. As well he might! Are you all right, for goodness’ sake?’

      ‘I’m fine.’ Kit took a long, deep breath. She didn’t even want to hear David’s name. ‘It’s over between us. Did he tell you?’

      ‘Yes.’ Her friend’s voice was scathing. ‘He’s such a fool, Kit, he always has been, even if he is my brother. To mess about with Virginia of all people—Virginia! Never has a name been more un-apt, or at least the first six letters.’

      ‘Emma...’ Kit closed her eyes briefly and prayed for her voice to sound cool and calm despite her racing heart. ‘I don’t want to discuss it. I found them in bed and our engagement is over. That’s it. End of story. Now, I’ve arranged for my half of the rent for our flat to be paid—’

      ‘But where are you?’ Emma interrupted urgently. ‘You wouldn’t do anything silly, would you?’

      ‘Of course not!’ Her voice had risen and she breathed deeply before speaking again, her tone a few decibels lower. ‘I’m having a short holiday in the sun to think where I’m going to go from here, that’s all. I’ll contact you in a week or so, OK? Bye for now and take care.’

      She put down the receiver and leant back against the small booth in the hotel lobby, shaking violently. The brief phone call had brought David vividly to mind and it was as though his face were there in front of her, his mouth a snarl as she had faced him in the doorway of the flat they were buying together for their intended marriage four months away, Virginia’s naked body hidden from her sight now behind the closed bedroom door that he had slammed shut as he had raced after her. ‘Damn well listen to me!’ He had pulled the towelling dressing-gown more tightly round him as her large grey eyes flicked disgustedly over his rumpled appearance.

      ‘There is no point, David.’ She was working on automatic, she knew it, but she blessed the shock that was keeping her from disintegrating in front of him. ‘And I think this belongs to you.’ As she deliberately removed the diamond engagement ring from her finger and held it out to him, his pale good-looking face flushed red, a hint of unease and panic replacing the aggressive bravado with which he had met her stunned face.

      ‘Don’t be so stupid,’ he spat angrily. ‘You’re not throwing me over because of that?’ He flung back a contemptuous hand towards the closed bedroom door through which she had walked so innocently minutes before. ‘I was just easing myself; she was available—Kit!’ He caught hold of her arm and she was made to turn without a word. ‘Kit, you can’t mean it? We’re getting married, we’ve got this flat, furniture, everything—’

      ‘Keep it.’ Let me get out of here with a little dignity, she prayed desperately. ‘Keep it all.’ She was tall at five feet ten, her slender figure carrying an unmistakable air of cool composure, and she had never been more glad of it as she met him eye to eye, her mouth curling with contempt. ‘I wouldn’t marry you now if you were the last man on earth.’

      The torrent of abuse that followed her as she made her escape polluted the very air, mixing with the picture on the screen of her mind of Virginia’s sprawled naked limbs beneath David’s heaving thrusting body, and now, as Kit relived the sickening episode, she felt the need to breathe in some fresh clean air. As she left the pleasant coolness of the air-conditioned building and stepped into the Moroccan heat, it was like stepping into an oven, the iridescent blue sky shimmering with heat Casablanca. Kit squared her slim shoulders as she walked towards the little red convertible she had hired for her stay, pushing the bitter hurt and painful humiliation back into the closed box in her mind. She’d face that, and the tangles that would undoubtedly ensue over the little design business Emma, David and herself had started eighteen months ago, later. Enough of licking her wounds; today she was going to explore, and if tonight in the quiet of her room she cried hot, angry tears again, well...only she would know.

      She travelled southward along the Atlantic coast from Casablanca making for Essaouira, meaning small fortress in Arabic. The hotel manager had fired her interest, explaining that the large harbour in the town had been used for thousands of years, ancient Romans frequently visiting to obtain a brilliant colouring material produced from shellfish and used for dyeing their robes purple. Ancient cannons still lined the main street and, after wandering its length, she turned into a quieter area. But, then, just as she felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle a warning about the footsteps behind her, a heavy blow on the side of her head turned the light into splintered glass, and as her shoulder-bag was wrenched from her arm she fell. Fell into a hot blackness that seemed to race up from the dusty ground to consume her.

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