Storm over the Caribbean

06. A Home for a Cold Heart

"No."

"Yes."

"No! I shall not go behind the Sahib's back."

"Oh yes, you will." Crossing my arms, I gave an evil chuckle. Now all I was missing was a pointy hat and a wart on my nose. "Unless you want me to tell the local ladies about Prince Fragrant Yellow Flower in the Happy Moonlight."

He sent me a betrayed look. "You wouldn't!"

My grin widened. "I absolutely would."

"You...you...ifrit!"

"Why, thank you for the compliment."

The sound of grinding teeth was music to my ears.

"Come on," I cajoled. "This can't be so bad, right? You've already helped me with putting the squeeze on a helpless home-owner and depriving him of his property for a pittance."

"That is different, Karim huffed. "That is normal!"

"It is?"

"Naturally. The Sahib used to do this kind of thing all the time. Threats, extortion, speculation, that is all in a day's work. But..." Wrinkling his nose, he glanced down at the pile of items on the lawn. "...interior decorating?"

I jabbed a finger into his side. "Don't be a baby! I've got one of those coming already." The expression on his face was priceless. "Now," I suggested, "why don't you gather up all the supplies and meet me at the back door."

Karim gripped his sabre—then his gaze slid down to my bulging belly, and his shoulders slumped.

"Yes, Sahiba."

"And do be quiet, will you?" I winked. "We wouldn't want Mr Ambrose to find out what we're up to, would we?"

"No, Sahiba."

Five minutes later, I was just surveying my new realm when the sound of the bell came from the back door. Skipping over, I pulled it open, revealing a massive mountain of assorted items, with a beard sticking out somewhere in the middle.

"Why, hello! Thank you for coming so quickly!"

"Beware," said the removal man mountain. "One day, I shall have my revenge for this."

"I'm sure you will. Now come in and put that stuff over there, will you?"

He did as ordered and, having put down his burden, gave a sigh of relief—until I stuck a paintbrush into his hand.

"I don't really like the wall colour in this room, but unfortunately, I can't reach the top of the wall, and I couldn't possibly risk climbing onto a ladder while I am in the family way." Giving a dramatic sigh, I switched on my doe-eyes and looked up at him. "If only helpless, pregnant little me had a big, strong man to take care of it for me."

His beard twitched. "Is that so?"

I patted his shoulder. "Make it something child-friendly, will you? A cheerful blue maybe, or bright pink."

The wood of the brush creaked under the pressure of Karim's grip. "I shall do my best to be...cheerful."

"Spiffing!" Giving him another encouraging clap on the shoulder, I skipped off towards the stairs to inspect the rest of the house.

The remainder of the afternoon passed in a whirlwind of colours, fabric and furniture. I knew I was doing this for the future, for my family, but I'd never realized how much I, for myself, had wanted this. Back at Uncle Bufford's house, the place I'd called "home" was a tiny room that contained nothing but two creaking beds, a cupboard and my sister Ella. This...