§ § § -- July 17, 1982
Simon was already standing beside the door; sure enough, he was resplendent in a brown-and-cream riding costume and was tapping the crop Leslie had figured he'd have against the side of one boot. "There you are," he snapped petulantly. "We haven't all day."
"Yes, we do," Leslie replied calmly. "I won't be another minute." She ducked down a hallway and made her way to the kitchen, where she found the cook and two of the maids at work on lunch. They all greeted her politely when she came in.
"Hi," she said and smiled. "Is there any string in here, by chance? I need about two feet of it." She displayed the key. "Mr. Roarke left this with me, and I figure the safest way to keep it is to wear it around my neck."
One of the maids found some string and cut off the requested length for her; she threaded the key onto it and was in the process of tying the ends into a complex and very tight knot when Simon appeared in the doorway, mouth open as if to make another demand. He paused and watched Leslie for a moment, then sighed loudly. "Come on, then!"
"I'll be right with you," Leslie said, scowling at her knot and adding another twist to it for good measure. "I guess that's good enough." She looped the string around her neck and turned to Simon. "Well, let's go."
In the long circular drive, Leslie told the chauffeur to make a stop in Tokoyama on Waipalani Lane. "There may be more," she said, "but we'll see when we get there."
"Of course, Miss Leslie," he said, and she got into the back seat of the limousine at a safe distance from Simon. Neither of them said a word till they had reached the cluster of four or five short cul-de-sacs known collectively as Tokoyama; then he sat up.
"These don't look like stables," he complained.
Leslie glanced at him and decided to simply ignore him for the moment. Myeko bounded out of her house and told her that Maureen and Frida were both busy, but Camille, Michiko and Lauren could all come. She got into the car and eyed Simon, who stared back at her with a disdainful expression.
"Who are you?" he finally asked.
"My name's Myeko Sensei, and I live here," she said. "Who're you?"
"Simon Lightwood-Wynton IV," was the reply, given with a bit of a sniff. "I suppose you've been invited to ride with us, then."
"Me and three other girls," Myeko said. "Just imagine it, Simon Lightwood-Wynton the fourth, you're going to be surrounded by loads of members of the opposite sex. And we're all pretty good-looking too, so you ought to feel privileged."
Simon stared at her in disbelief, then rolled his eyes ostentatiously and pointedly directed his gaze out the window. Myeko looked at Leslie, winked and grinned, and Leslie smirked, half hiding it behind her hand.
Michiko and Camille joined them in short order; Michiko was her friendly, polite self, but Camille only stared at Simon distrustfully before giving him a perfunctory nod and seating herself. Simon eyed her in annoyance, and on their way to Amberville to pick up Lauren, he finally said, "Have you no manners, whatever your name is? You might at least have said hello."
"What for?" retorted Camille rudely. "You didn't." Myeko snickered, and Leslie tried not to laugh herself. In a way, having Camille there with her abrasive personality would help her keep her mind on her resolution to treat Simon as the guest he was and not let him have a piece of her mind. But could she possibly get through the whole week like this?
Once they'd reached the stables and mounted their horses, Simon—after muttering in annoyance about the "cowboy" saddle—promptly galloped off into the countryside, along the same route Leslie recalled as having been run by Pomona Prince and Satin Duke in a fantasy a year and a half before. Leslie was frankly relieved to see him go; and when her friends asked her what she was doing with this stranger from Great Britain, she filled them in on the unpleasant surprise Roarke had sprung on her.
"And you don't even get to go home for meals or to sleep in your own bed?" Lauren asked in amazement. "Geez, Leslie, it sounds like summer camp!"
"Yeah, it really does," Leslie agreed, sighing. "I can't imagine what I did that Mr. Roarke wants to punish me like this, but I'm stuck with the guy till a week from tomorrow. Maybe I can go home Saturday night if his mother gets back early enough."
"Paroled for good behavior," Camille offered, and the girls laughed.
"You could say that!" Leslie said, grinning ruefully. "Well, Simon can't forbid me to do anything, so mabe I can set up a slumber party sometime this week. His mother didn't leave any special instructions—she just said to be Simon's guide."
Michiko looked slightly dubious. "That sounds like a pretty loose interpretation of the rules, Leslie. And aren't you worried that Mr. Roarke might find out?"
Leslie glanced at her. "He's the one who sprung this whole thing on me, Michiko. If he does find out, what can he say?"
"Plenty," Lauren said. "But, well, I guess you know better than we do, since you're the one in the situation. Let me know when you decide to have the party, and I'll come. Sounds like fun." She chuckled. "I can bring tapes and stuff."
The girls chatted for another ten minutes or so before Simon hove into view over a hill. His horse had clearly had a good run, and he himself looked a bit disheveled. "Huh, so Mr. Perfect gets messed up," Myeko remarked amiably. "Maybe he's human after all."
The other girls snickered but made no reply, since Simon rode into earshot just then and studied them all. "Greenhorns," he pronounced distastefully.
"Snob," Camille said right back. "If you hate it here so much, why don't you just go home, you blue-blooded aristocratic jerk?"
Lauren hissed a loud "Shhhh!" at her, but Simon just laughed. "Who said I hated it here? I just think you need some riding lessons, that's all." He turned to Leslie, who sat her horse with a carefully maintained poker face. "Riding is fine as far as it goes, but I hope there are other things to do around here, or I'll have to resort to having you sing and dance for me." He snickered. "And God knows we don't want that."
"You could always ask Michiko," Myeko offered. "She can sing, and a lot better than you probably think. But you don't seem capable of asking nicely, so I don't think you deserve to be allowed to hear her."
Simon swept them all with an annoyed look and then focused on Leslie, who by now had compressed her lips as if holding back a tangible rage. "I want to go somewhere else," he said. "What have you got here?"
Leslie stared into space and recited in a flat monotone, "An amusement park, the swimming pool, the beaches, the lagoons, bike rental, Lookout Point, Cabal de Varga, the supper club, the ice rink, the theater and the Saturday-night luau."
"Enough activities for you, or are they too provincial for your refined tastes?" Camille inquired snidely. Simon stared at her and shook his head.
"Do they all come as rude and loudmouthed as you on this island?" he asked, which made Camille actually turn reddish in the cheeks. "I think I'll go to the pool entirely on my own, thank you."
"You'd better wait for the rest of us," Camille yelled after him, goaded by the remark with which he had managed to embarrass her. "Man, if they're all as snobby as you in England, I'm sure glad I haven't got any Brits in my ancestry."
"You do have some very annoying friends, Leslie," Simon said in disgust before wheeling his horse around and cantering back to the stables. Leslie sighed deeply.
"I guess we'd better go back," she said. "Simon says leave, and we leave."
"You'll be playing that game all week if you let him run over you that way," Lauren told her. "You shouldn't let him push you around."
"I have no choice," Leslie said bleakly. "He's our guest and his mother is Mr. Roarke's customer…and you know what they say: the customer is always right."
§ § § -- July 18, 1982
By Sunday evening Simon had managed to exhaust every entertainment facility on the island and was complaining of utter boredom, not to mention how "American" everything looked to him. Leslie, who would have given just about anything in the world to return to the main house and the sanctuary of her own room (and better company, too, she thought in irritation), argued with him for some time, citing the fact that the overwhelming majority of their guests came from the States, before she finally gave up and told him, "I'm going to bed for the night. If you need something, the staff are still available." She fled the room as fast as she could go before he could try to prolong the pointless dispute.
Shortly after she got to her room, the phone rang and she grabbed it. "Hello?"
"Hi, Leslie, it's Myeko. Is El Snobbo hanging around?"
"Thankfully, no," Leslie said through a long sigh, settling on the bed nearby. "As a matter of fact, I just ditched him for the night. We've been to everything on the island except the casino, and he was going to try to get me to take him there too, but I told him we'd be breaking the law if we did. Now he says he's bored and seems to think it's my responsibility to do something about it…which I suppose it is."
"Aw, let him watch TV," Myeko said dismissively. "Listen, I was going to ask you yesterday and I completely forgot, and now it's kind of an emergency. Do you think I can stay over with you in the mansion tonight? We painted my room over the weekend, and I shared Sayuri's room with her last night. Boy, was that a torture test. But I can't sleep in my room on account of the paint fumes, and it's not completely dry yet anyway, so I need someplace to crash for the night. And since you're stuck out there in the Enclave with Simon Says, I figured you could use some friendly company."
Leslie giggled. "You bet I could. Come on over, and bring some tapes if you want."
"Great. See you in a bit," Myeko said. Leslie hung up and settled onto the bed again, poking idly through the oversized duffel she had brought and wondering if there was any chance she could sneak home sometime tomorrow and raid her bookshelves.
When Myeko arrived and Leslie went down to meet her and let her in, she found the main room deserted; Simon must have retreated to his own room, she supposed, which was all the better. The girls detoured to the kitchen, where Leslie talked the chef out of some snacks and soda; then they went up to Leslie's room. Myeko dropped a duffel much like Leslie's and a book bag on the floor, glancing around. "Look at the size of this room," she said in amazement. "It's as big as Sayuri's and mine put together."
"Yeah, it's nice," Leslie said, "but I miss my room at home. It's like Lauren said—I feel like I've been sent to summer camp for a week, without anyone asking me whether I wanted to go. I bet Mr. Roarke's thrilled about the idea of having the house to himself all week."
"Don't get started on that stuff," Myeko said. "Think about it, Leslie. I know Simon's a real pain to deal with, but honestly, who else was he going to get to keep the guy out of trouble? You said Julie's just about ready to open up her house as a bed-and-breakfast inn, and Mr. Roarke and Tattoo are both busy all the time…so that leaves you by default."
"Hey, whose side are you on, anyway?" Leslie asked.
"Yours, silly, who else's? It's just that it sounds like Mr. Roarke was put in a bad spot when his guest had to bring her obnoxious son with her, and that was the best solution he could come up with on short notice. Look, you know we'll hang out with you anytime we can, so just call us if he really gets on your nerves." Myeko settled onto the bed and grinned at her friend. "I brought a bunch of tapes with me, so whaddaya wanna listen to?"
About five hours later the two girls had settled down for the night and eventually dozed off; the entire house was quiet and dark. Out of nowhere, Leslie found herself awake, just enough to be aware but not enough to open her eyes. Her sleepy brain gradually swam to consciousness, in time for her to hear the rustling of clothing. Myeko, who was sleeping soundly on the other side of the king-size bed, didn't stir, and her breathing was slow and even; so she knew it wasn't her friend. Then what was happening?
She lay quietly, straining her ears, aware that whatever was causing the rustling wasn't trying very hard to keep the noise down. As she listened, the sounds drew nearer, and at one point she thought she heard the faintest sound of a footfall on the carpet. Should I open my eyes and see what this is all about? she thought. Suppose there's an intruder in here? Or is it—
At that exact moment she felt a hand brush against her for just a moment, and her eyes popped open without further thought. In the very faint light that filtered through the curtains, she realized there was a human silhouette standing over her, and she could just make out one hand holding the key Roarke had given her and the other with two fingers threaded into the handles of a pair of scissors. The owner of the hands was on the verge of closing the blades over the string she had hung the key from.
In a movement so swift and fluid even she was surprised, she reached up and tweaked the key out of the hand that held it. "I don't think so," she murmured with meaning.
"Oh, bloody hell," said Simon Lightwood-Wynton without lowering his voice. Leslie instantly sat up and snapped on the bedside lamp, making both of them squint.
"What do you think you're doing in here?" Leslie demanded, very angry.
She, too, forgot to keep her voice down, and Myeko rolled over and lifted her head, blinking in the light. Then her eyes widened at sight of Simon. "Oh, my God."
"Our friend here was just about to explain why he's visiting us in the middle of the night," Leslie said, glaring at Simon. "Weren't you?"
Simon glared right back. "I told you before, I'm bored. You refuse to come up with any other idea, so I decided to take matters into my own hands. But apparently you're a light sleeper."
"Lucky for me," Leslie agreed dryly. "If you'll recall, Mr. Roarke gave me the key to hold till your mother's fantasy ends. What do you want with it?"
Simon raised his eyebrows at her and shook his head. "As you said a moment ago, 'I don't think so.' That is…unless you're willing to make a deal."
Leslie and Myeko looked at each other. "Something tells me I'm not going to like this deal one little bit," Leslie remarked.
"Probably not," Myeko agreed. "But let's hear it anyway."
"I leave the key alone," Simon said, "and you take me through that chateau that once belonged to old Claude Duncan."
"No deal," Leslie snapped. "That house is off-limits. After Duncan died, Mr. Roarke had to lock it up because people were wandering in and helping themselves to whatever they wanted. Nobody's allowed on the property now. Duncan died without a will, so the question of what happens to the place will be sitting in courthouses for years. In the meantime, no trespassing. So forget it, Simon."
"What on earth do you want in that creepy old place anyway?" Myeko asked. "Do you even have any idea how Duncan died in the first place?"
"Old age, I should think," Simon said, looking annoyed. "What other reason could there be for ancient silent-film stars to die?"
"Not this one," Leslie said. "He'd made a deal with an evil god that as long as he made two sacrifices to him, he'd get to live forever. Mr. Roarke helped foil the plan, and Duncan croaked. Simple as that."
Simon stared at her. "You've gone mad if you think I believe that."
"Don't forget, you're on Fantasy Island," Myeko reminded him. "Anything can happen here, and you can expect just about any weird thing you can dream up."
Simon glanced back and forth between the girls and finally frowned, for once wearing an expression of something besides disdain. "So I suppose that means that, if we should go to the ballroom and stick our heads in the door of that room where we left Mum, we'd find that she wasn't there? And she really is on a trip to nine countries in the past?"
"She certainly is," said Leslie, "but we're not sticking our heads in the door. There's a reason I'm wearing this key around my neck like this, and I don't appreciate you sneaking into my room in the dead of night and trying to steal it from me."
"Fine," Simon barked. "I apologize. But I am, by God, going to see that chateau, and if I must, I'll go to Mr. Roarke. I am a guest and you've been hired to entertain me, so I'm sure he'd agree, since it's what I want."
"You are so full of—" Leslie began, caught herself before she uttered a word she might have regretted saying, and rolled her eyes. "Get out of my room, Simon, and leave us alone."
"G'night," Myeko added, waggling her fingers at him. Simon shook his head, muttered something that sounded like you upstart colonials, turned and walked out. He didn't quite slam the door after him, but it did close rather hard.
"Do you believe the nerve of him?" Leslie burst out, incensed. "Where does he get off thinking he can do anything he wants because his mother's Mr. Roarke's customer? I could absolutely strangle the selfish, arrogant…"
"Whoa, whoa," Myeko blurted, holding up her hands. "I agree with you a hundred percent, but unfortunately, murder isn't the answer to the problem. I guess you'll just have to give Mr. Roarke a call and tell him what the situation is."
"I already know what Mr. Roarke'd say," Leslie said. "He'd simply tell me the chateau is closed and no one's allowed on the property, and to come up with some alternative to keep Simon Smart-mouth happy. And that'd be it."
"So what you're saying is, it's up to us," Myeko said.
Leslie nodded. "Exactly. Trouble is, I'm out of options."
"Rent him a boat and send him off to one of the little islets around here," Myeko said, "or get a couple passes from Mr. Roarke and go to Coral Island."
"What good would that be? There's hardly anything on Coral Island," Leslie said, "just the shopping mall and the Air Force base. Which he'd hate, because he's been sneering at everything that seems American to him—which is pretty much everything." She thought it over and then suddenly grinned to herself. "Although renting a boat would be interesting. Maybe Nyah the mermaid princess would pop up in the area and carry him off someplace."
Myeko snickered loudly. "You'd have to get him back from her, of course."
"Yeah, but imagine what would happen when he tried to tell his friends a mermaid almost made off with him. They'd have him committed." The girls giggled at the image; then Leslie subsided and sighed. "But you're right, I'd have to get him back. And I'm sure it wouldn't be very hard—he's as arrogant as Nyah, and she wouldn't want him."
Myeko yawned. "Well, I can't think of anything else, to be honest. Anyway, it's late, and I bet we'll be able to think a lot better in the morning over a nice big breakfast. We should get some sleep."
Leslie slid out of bed. "I think I'd better lock the door, just in case Simon gets any more ideas. Now that I know he's not above sneaking into my room at night, I won't be able to look at him cross-eyed without suspecting him of everything on earth."
