by Peter Benson
The colour of the light was changing in subtle and washy ways. Leonard heard a noise. Footsteps, voices, chinking. He looked across the shack. Odette was asleep. Sometimes she talked in her sleep but never with a man’s voice. ‘Ssh,’ he heard, and, ‘careful. There’s a fence there.’
‘Where?’
‘Watch it!’
Watch what? He wondered, stood up and put his head outside. The men were crossing the grass below the shack, about to hop the fence that bordered the beach.
‘Hey!’ he yelled, and ran towards them. ‘What are you doing?’ Odette woke up.
‘Look who’s here!’ said one of the men.
‘Oh, beautiful…’
‘STOP!’ Leonard reached the men. A fist hit him in the mouth. Lights exploded in his eyes, he fell over, a foot took him in the side and another in the head. ‘Bloody Ilois,’ he heard, and, ‘Bastard. You didn’t have to wake up.’
‘HEY!’ Odette yelled. She ran from the shack. She was naked. The two men looked at each other. Leonard groaned. He tried to stand up but another foot kicked him. A trickle of blood dribbled over his chin. One of his teeth fell out and lay in the sand.
‘HEY!’ Odette picked up a piece of driftwood. Bent nails stuck out of it. She spaced her legs apart and waved it over her head. The men licked their lips. They didn’t know what to do. Odette yelled, ‘ALBERT! QUICKLY!’
Albert didn’t come. Leonard groaned. One of the men said, ‘Where is he then?’ and moved towards her. He put his bag down. The other man did the same. They looked at each other and back at her.
‘What are you going to do?’ one said.
‘Yeah,’ said the other, ‘before we do something to you!’
‘Shall we?’
‘Why not? I haven’t had a piece for days.’
‘ALBERT!’ She waved the driftwood. Her breasts had big nipples, ‘ALBERT!’
‘Albert?’ said one of the men. ‘You know I don’t think he’s coming. He’s probably tucked up nice and warm, like you should be.’ He winked. ‘Eh?’
‘ALBERT!’ Leonard tried to move, ‘QUICKLY!’
A hotel light came on, a door slammed, the men blinked, looked back at each other and ran off.
At breakfast, Albert was sorry about Leonard’s injuries but not enough not to shout. He banged a fist on the table and narrowed his eyes. He had a headache.
‘You’re the watchman! It’s your job! That’s hundreds of rupees’ worth they stole.’
Odette stuck up for her brother. ‘He did the best he could. We both did. What do you expect?’
‘Better. Nothing like this happened when Jo was here. Twelve years he worked for me – nothing.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Leonard. ‘It won’t happen again.’
‘You bet…’
Jimmie wriggled out of Odette’s arms and chased a dog down the beach.
‘Because if it does it’ll be the last time. Understand?’
Leonard understood.
‘Good.’ Albert was calm now, but gave his voice an edge. ‘Good.’
Leonard nodded and Odette took his hand. He felt bad, and later, when she said she’d cook a favourite food, he just shrugged and she saw in his face an old bloody look. The look from walls he’d sat on, and life in Tombeau, Cassis, Roche Bois, Peros Banhos and Diego Garcia, in that order.
23
Leonard dreamt about smashed bottles and saw a blue Albert shouting, ‘That’s it! Off! Stupid Ilois…’ Suns bled, dead fish floated through the sky and bumped into him.
Cannons flashed. The girlfriend he didn’t have appeared stripped. Birds and butterflies drank her sweat as she rolled around in a cool, grassy place. Her eyes sang and his dueted with them. Both pairs were clear and saw way into a future that whispered a list of all the brilliant things that were going to happen to them. They would travel overseas in a huge white ship and visit places from pictures they had both seen and fancied. Europe and America, Australia, Japan and the South Sea Islands. She would wear a new dress every day. He would carry a suitcase of clean shorts and shoes. Jimmie cried and woke him up.
His pride in having a watchman’s job slipped. His natural sullenness took on a paranoiac dimension. He imagined Albert was watching him all the time. He imagined laughing girls and thieves in banana trees and hedges; when he was off duty he walked as far from the hotel as he could and fished on his own.
‘Take Jimmie!’
‘I’ll catch more on my own.’
Odette laughed. ‘You? Catch more?’
‘I will!’
He didn’t. He came back, mumbled and sat on the beach. He put his rod down and gave it a hard look.
‘Nothing,’ he said, and spat. His cheeks were pinched and he punched a fist into the palm of his other hand. ‘Nothing,’ and he watched the spit dry.
Fishing brought back memories of the Chagos and Paul on a dead flat lagoon with two lines. Tombeau wasn’t home. A dead day and a waste of time. He didn’t want anything to eat, didn’t want to be bothered and didn’t say anything else. His face cracked and his mind collapsed into a hole behind his eyes. He scooped a handful of dirt.
‘Odette!’
‘Yes?’
‘Is Leonard back?’
‘Yes.’
Albert came down from the hotel. He was carrying a chair. He put it outside the shack.
‘Would you like this?’ he said.
‘What?’
‘The chair. No charge.’
Odette looked at it. ‘A present?’
‘If you like.’ Albert turned to Leonard. ‘Leonard?’
‘What?’
‘Would you like it?’
Leonard shrugged. What did Albert mean? What did he want? He looked at his sister. Jimmie yelled and sat in the chair. Odette smiled.
She liked Albert. He had had words with Leonard but she understood why. He paid money to have the place watched. Leonard understood too, but in a different way. He understood with the aches he still felt from the beating. He had never expected to be hurt. He had never expected to live in Mauritius. His mind could only cope with certainties. He didn’t want to say anything about the chair.
‘Leonard? Albert’s talking.’ Odette stood up, picked Jimmie up and sat in the chair.
‘I know.’ Leonard picked his nose. ‘Yes. Thanks.’
‘It’s old,’ said Albert. ‘The back’s broken, but we’ve got some new ones and I thought…’ He pointed to the shack.
‘It’s very comfortable,’ said Odette, and touched his hand.
Odette liked Tombeau. It was safe for Jimmie. In Roche Bois or Cassis too many Ilois children were treated badly. Their lack of sophistication was taken for stupidity. They were teased and taunted at school, blamed for things they hadn’t done and left out of games.
Tombeau had children but Odette and Jimmie didn’t mix. They had a patch of grass beside the shack, a skirt of beach below that, the rocks beyond and the shallows. Trees grew all around, the air smelt of water. Odette wanted to stay there.
She liked Albert. He had girlfriends – she knew she didn’t stand a chance against them, but whenever he was about she watched herself and told Leonard to behave.
‘Don’t grumble. He gave you the job…’
‘I know.’
‘Tuck your shirt in.’
‘It’s torn at the back.’
‘Give it to me and I’ll mend it.’
‘Then what’ll I wear?’
Why did she nag? He went to the shop for a beer. Some people there whispered when he paid the money, and he felt them pointing as he left. He sat by the road to drink.
Albert liked Odette. She had a pride in something, a quality none of his girlfriends had. They’d complain if he tried to kiss before they’d taken their make-up off. ‘IT’LL SMUDGE!’ They didn’t like their clothes crumpled, ‘NO!’ Odette’s dress had holes in it.
‘Get Leonard to buy you something new,’ he said.
‘He bought this.’ She showed him the scarf.
‘It’s nice. Very nice. But what about a dress?’
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I’m not, sure. The money…’ She stopped.
‘What about the money?’
‘He gives me some, for Jimmie and other things, but he keeps the rest.’
‘I’ll tell him…’
‘No!’ Odette stood up. ‘No.’ She didn’t want him to think she’d been talking behind his back. ‘I’m alright. I don’t want anything but what I’ve got; apart from…’ She sat down again.
‘Apart from what?’
‘Nothing.’
Albert wouldn’t argue. Later in the day, he took a car to Port Louis and visited an uncle’s shop.
On Diego Garcia, women had worn colourful clothes. Dresses and skirts printed with giant flowers were favourites, a matching scarf tied in a particular way. Albert said, ‘I want something bright,’ to his uncle. ‘Something with flowers.’
‘Which one’s this for?’
‘You don’t know her.’
‘No?’
‘No,’ said Albert. ‘She’s an Ilois I…’
‘An Ilois?’ The uncle laughed. ‘Your watchman’s woman?’
‘She’s his sister.’
‘Oh, yes?’ The uncle looked at his nephew.
‘It’s not like that.’
‘No.’ The uncle looked through his rails. ‘Of course not.’ He sucked his teeth. ‘How about this?’
He showed Albert a white dress printed with big red flowers and green leaves. He put it on the counter and smoothed it. ‘Special price for you.’
‘How much?’
‘Well…’
Albert gave his uncle a look. He had something on him. He’d seen him kiss a woman other than his aunt (his father’s sister) in the back room of the shop. He got the dress cheap. His uncle wrapped it. ‘Thanks,’ he said, and drove back to Tombeau.
‘There’s no scarf with it,’ he said when he handed Odette the parcel. ‘But it’s new.’
She unwrapped the dress and held it up. A breeze caught it and blew it against her body. ‘Albert!’
‘Put it on.’
‘Now?’
‘Why not?’
She was embarrassed. ‘Well. I don’t…’
‘For me?’
It was the right size. She rubbed a sleeve against her cheek, smelt the material and ran her fingers over the flowers and leaves. ‘It’s mine?’
‘Yes. Another present; but don’t think you’ll get another…’
Odette laughed. She kissed Albert on the cheek. Jimmie held his mother’s leg.
Half an hour later, Leonard came back from doing nothing with his rod and sat down without a word. Odette said, ‘Like it?’
He shrugged. He knew Albert had bought it. He could show off with money if he wanted. It was nothing to do with him. There were a hundred things you could do with your life. One of them was nothing. Why should he do anything when he couldn’t catch a fish or watch a hotel properly? What did people expect?
‘I love it.’
24
Leonard had left to go fishing and was late home. He should have been back by six o’clock. ‘Never later,’ Albert had told him. It was ten.
Odette went to the hotel and asked for Albert. ‘He’s not back,’ she told him. ‘It’s not like him.’
‘No?’ He locked the bar and pocketed the keys. ‘Then we should look for him. He might’ve hurt himself.’
‘He wouldn’t like that…’
‘Wouldn’t like what?’
‘Us out looking.’
‘Odette?’ Albert took her chin in his hands. ‘He wouldn’t like it if he was lost and we didn’t look for him! He might be praying for us to come along.’
Odette thought about that. ‘He’ll find somewhere to sleep,’ she said. She didn’t feel he was hanging off some rocks. ‘Besides, we wouldn’t see him anyway.’ The sky was black. ‘I’ll just wait here.’
Albert shrugged. ‘Okay. But if he’s not back by the morning we’ll go. Alright?’
Odette nodded.
‘And don’t worry about the watch. I’ll sleep on the veranda.’
Odette walked back to the beach and sat down. It was dark, a fire was dying; embers blew in a warm breeze. Birds and geckoes rustled through the trees that hung their branches over the sand.
She creased her forehead, rubbed it and narrowed her eyes, picked up a stone and tossed it into the sea. Water shot into the air, the shivering lights of Port Louis blurred across the bay. A bird called, a stand of palm trees moaned. A restless goat shuffled, stood up, poked its nose at a bush and sat down again. The ocean slid up the beach, grabbed a ribbon of sand and dragged it back.
She stood up, rubbed the back of her neck, took a deep breath and walked to a string of rocks that stretched into the bay. She picked her way over them, stood on one and looked in every direction. She listened. No footsteps padded towards her. The sea splashed over her feet. A dog barked and a moped buzzed along the road that ran around the bay.
The night was humid. Her skirt stuck to the backs of her legs and she licked a line of perspiration off her top lip. He’ll find somewhere, she thought but still whispered ‘Leonard?’ She missed him then, and wanted him to rely on her.
Jimmie cried. Odette stood up, walked to the hut, bent over him and straightened his blanket. She stroked his cheek and kissed him. He twitched his nose, flayed an arm and mumbled something about a tyre he’d found on the beach.
‘Dirty… old car, now… won’t wash.’ He opened his eyes but was still asleep; he closed them, turned over and settled down.
‘Jimmie…’ Odette said. The boy made puckering noises. A rat ran through the shack. ‘Sleep.’
She went back outside, sat on the beach again, tossed another stone and stared at the stars. She counted ten, gave up, rubbed her palms together, watched the Port Louis lighthouse blink and whispered, ‘Where are you?’ again.
‘Is he back?’ said Albert. The morning was hot and bright. Two mynah birds scrapped over a fish head. Jimmie yelled ‘ALBERT!’ and fell over.
‘No,’ said Odette.
‘Come on then. You’ve eaten?’
‘Yes.’
‘And the boy?’
‘He’s okay.’
‘Let’s go.’
They picked their way along the beach. He smoked a cigarette and walked two steps behind her and watched her arches rise and the way she held her head. The dress he had given her flapped around her. Jimmie ran in and out of the sea. They headed towards the river estuary and asked people they met if they’d seen a man with a rod and a face as thin as the rod.
‘No,’ a postman said.
‘He had a rod.’
‘Many people with rods along here,’ the man said. ‘I could count hundreds every day.’
‘You’d remember Leonard…’
‘Would I?’
‘Yes,’ and Odette described him again.
‘Is he bald?’
‘No.’
The postman shook his head. He had a lot of mail to deliver, and the day wasn’t getting any cooler. He wore a smart uniform but it was hot to work in, and he couldn’t wait to see the last letter box. This was a mile away, so he said, ‘No,’ again and walked on. ‘But if I see him, I’ll tell him you’re looking.’
‘Thank you,’ said Odette.
They walked as far as the point where the ocean became estuary, before turning to walk the inland road. They skirted the woods that ran down to the river, looked around and shouted.
‘LEONARD!’
Women were washing clothes on stones, goats nipped bushes and trees. Odette asked if anyone had seen her brother. They shook their heads. ‘No.’
‘He’s about this tall.’
‘No.’
Jimmie got tired. He sat on a stone at the corner of a sugar-cane field and Albert took three bananas from his pocket. One for each. He joined the boy and lay back.
‘If you don’t wear boots in a sugar-cane field yo
u’ll go home bleeding,’ he said.
‘What?’ said Odette. She didn’t sit down. She shaded her eyes and looked around.
‘My mother used to say that.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s true, I suppose.’ He pointed at the field. ‘The first thing I remember is being on her back at harvest time,’ he said. ‘It was hard work.’
‘Was it?’ Odette threw her banana skin away.
‘Yes…’
Odette turned to Jimmie. ‘Finished?’ she said.
He nodded.
‘Already?’ said Albert.
‘He’ll be waiting for us…’
‘Where?’
‘Wherever we find him. Come on.’
They headed towards Arsenal. People stood outside their houses and watched them pass. A queue at a bus stop didn’t bother. Chickens ran across the road. Clouds of dust blew all around as an ox pulled a cartload of building rubble across a field. Albert said, ‘I didn’t think he liked it inland.’
‘He doesn’t. But he likes beer.’ Odette pointed at a crowd of men outside a shop, leaning against a wall with bottles in their hands. ‘I’ll ask…’
‘Thin man?’ they said.
‘Yes!’
‘From Tombeau?’
‘Yes.’
‘He’s called Leonard,’ one of the men said. ‘He slept here last night.’ He pointed inside the shop. ‘He left his rod.’
‘What?’ Odette didn’t believe it. Leonard never went anywhere without his rod. ‘He wouldn’t.’
‘He did. There.’ The man pointed again.
The rod was leaning against a wall. Its master had gone and it was too far from the ocean.
‘Oh,’ said Odette, and picked it up. ‘Where is he? He wouldn’t just leave it.’
‘That way.’ The man pointed back towards Tombeau.
‘But we just came that way. We didn’t see him.’
‘Maybe he’s sleeping somewhere. He had a few this morning.’
‘A few? This morning?’ Odette shouted. ‘He didn’t have enough money for a few! And he shouldn’t drink in the morning! He can’t take it.’
The man laughed. ‘We bought him some. He was sad.’ He lit a cigarette. ‘He’s Ilois. They’re…’
‘I know who Ilois are!’
The man didn’t say anything else.
