Read Eden Falls for Free Online Page B

frequent, and he found them undermining. It was hard for him to introduce himself as anyone who mattered when all the guests had seen him labouring like a porter at the docks, sweating like a pig. Ahead he could see his Uncle Silas berating Scotty, though his words were inaudible. Scotty, even from behind, exuded unconcern.
    ‘Young man! I say, young man!’
    The crisply imperious tones sliced through the hubbub and commanded attention. Seth turned. A large woman in cerise chiffon – high-necked, long-sleeved, tight-cuffed – was bearing down on him with steely purpose. Seth, immediately anxious at the prospect of a confrontation, felt his ears flush red and his heart beat a little faster, but suddenly there was his uncle, his voice and manner quite altered by a seamless transition to mellifluous cordiality.
    ‘Lady Millbank,’ he said, all charm and smiles. ‘May I assist you in some way?’
    She laughed, hollow and humourless.
    ‘Mr Whittam,’ she said stridently. ‘We are being jostled by negroes in atrocious heat on a vile-smelling dock where bananas and pineapples appear to take priority over people so, yes, I should imagine you can assist in some way, and I sincerely hope you can do it swiftly.’
    There was a brief silence and then Scotty laughed again, mouth wide, showing brown teeth and a wet pink tongue. Lady Millbank took a step backwards in distaste and alarm, and Silas, thin-lipped with fury, ordered him about his business. Scotty gave an insolent shrug and loped off towards the luggage.
    Silas shuddered inwardly. In all the time he’d been running this luxury service from Bristol to Jamaica, he still hadn’t quite managed to overcome the difficulties encountered after mooring in Port Antonio harbour. An atmosphere of cheerful chaos presided here, always. Crates of bananas, pineapples, mangoes and coconuts blocked the thoroughfares while cargo ships were loaded and unloaded; farmers and peddlers came daily to hawk their paltry produce; old men with rotten teeth and addled minds smiled inanely at visitors and sang strange, tuneless songs, holding out straw hats in expectation of coins; mules brayed, dogs barked, children ran through the mêlée looking for easy pickings from unguarded pockets. Lady Millbank, who had paid for her passage to paradise, was sorely disillusioned. Furthermore, the bones of her corset dug into her damp flesh and beneath her flamboyantly beribboned bonnet her hair – she alone knew – was steaming gently in the absurd heat, spelling certain disaster for her curls. She glowered at Silas, purveyor of false promises. Silas turned on Seth.
    ‘Why are you still here?’ he said. ‘Lady Millbank needs assistance. Please deposit those suitcases,’ – because Seth was still holding them, legs braced and arms tensed, like a strongman demonstrating his prowess – ‘then make it your business to accompany Her Ladyship to the charabancs.’
    Seth looked at his uncle, appalled. The charabancs hadn’t arrived, and both of them knew it, but Silas’s eyes were cold and Seth recognised the challenge. The crisis had been handed to him in its entirety, and to fail now would be unmanly, unacceptable, unprofessional; this was familiar territory. Lady Millbank swivelled her head like an owl, turning her hostile gaze upon him.
    The charabancs came, of course. They finally processed in stately fashion towards the variously stupefied, hostile and wilting huddle of English guests. Relieved beyond words to see the vehicles, Seth made flamboyant movements with his arms, waving the charabancs to a standstill as if without him they might have merely rolled on by. No one was fooled. His only small success had been to find a chair for Lady Millbank. She had accepted it ungraciously and sat like an angry monarch, waiting impatiently for a further improvement in her circumstances. At last – ushering, coaxing, apologising – Seth had them on board, and while it was perhaps in less comfort than they