We All Fall Down

by Cynthia Clark

  The men kept talking. Reginald busied himself making lemon peel twirls, standing at the other end of the bar, giving them some privacy.

  After a few minutes one of the men motioned to him. ‘What do you recommend?’ the man asked. This close Reginald could smell his aftershave, a musky odour that exuded opulence. These men even smelled rich, like so many people who were able to drop big amounts of money to spend a few days in paradise, waited upon by eager locals.

  ‘Personally, I like rum-based cocktails,’ he responded. Nobody needed to know that he hadn’t had a drink in years, except to taste the concoctions he made, ensure the flavours were balanced. ‘What about a Dark and Stormy?’

  The man twisted his lips disapprovingly. ‘Meh, not my favourite. I don’t like ginger beer.’

  Reginald shifted his feet impatiently. Why bother to ask for a recommendation if you had no intention of taking it? ‘What about a daiquiri?’

  The man was quiet for a moment. Then his friend interjected. ‘Just get it. We can always get something else if we don’t like it.’ Turning to Reginald, he said: ‘Two daiquiris.’

  Nodding, Reginald pulled two glasses from the shelves behind him and started measuring the ingredients. A couple of minutes later he put two cocktails in front of the men. They were deep in conversation and simply nodded at him, not bothering to thank him. He was used to this so it didn’t bother him any longer. He was simply there to serve them drinks.

  ‘Hey, dude, can we have an ashtray?’ Reginald didn’t like customers smoking at the bar. The smell made him queasy. He would normally ask them to move to the tables, where there were ashtrays already. But he decided to indulge them, hoping that would translate into a big tip.

  ‘Here you go,’ he said, placing a heavy glass bowl in front of them. ‘The bar area is normally non-smoking, but since there’s nobody here it’s not a problem. But I’ll have to ask you to move to the tables when the other customers arrive.’

  ‘Yeah, sure,’ one of the men said, taking a long silver box out of his shirt pocket. He put it on the bar, opened it and took out two cigars. Reginald cringed. He absolutely hated the smell of cigars. It crept up his nostrils and wouldn’t leave. He’d be smelling it hours after the men finished their smoke, well after they’d left. But he said nothing, just watched the man use a cigar cutter to trim the tip and then light up.

  Smoke filled the bar. Reginald looked towards the hotel, urging more guests to come down soon so he could ask the men to move to the tables, but it was still early. The newly arrived guests would be enjoying a few hours in their private plunge pools, or heading to the beach for a dip in the water. It hadn’t rained yet, even though the clouds had started looking rather ominous. So Ronnie was stuck here with the two men.

  One daiquiri after another and they seemed to be getting quite tipsy. They sounded English so must have had a long flight. Unless they’d stopped somewhere else before. Still, Reginald always wondered how guests would head straight to the bar after a flight instead of spending some hours resting, recharging their batteries, getting ready for the night. He’d give anything for an afternoon nap, to be able to lie down for a few hours, close his eyes, allow the thoughts to escape his tired mind. He was never at rest, always thinking, wondering if he’d ever be caught, if he’d have to pack up again and leave. Only now it was more complicated. There were Tanya and the boys to think about. How could he ever tell them what he had done, why he was here, why he had never taken them back to England? ‘That’s the past,’ he’d tell Tanya whenever she asked. ‘Our life is here. Why go to rainy, miserable England when we live on this beautiful island, surrounded by the sparkling water? It’s better here, believe me.’ Tanya never seemed convinced, but she didn’t press him. If she did, he’d tell her it would be too expensive, that they couldn’t afford it. That would shut her up.

  The men ordered another round of drinks. ‘Something different this time,’ one of them commanded.

  Reginald wished they’d be more specific, but obliged, mixing two different drinks, placing two glasses in front of each of them. ‘Here you go,’ he said. ‘I hope you like them.’

  ‘Thank you,’ one of the men said. He started looking away, then turned back towards Reginald. The man squinted his eyes, as if he was trying hard to focus, maybe recall something.

  ‘You look familiar,’ the man said.

  Reginald’s breath caught in his throat and he felt a sense of panic. Nobody had ever said this to him. Not since he’d been in the Caribbean. He’d made sure to blend in, not to attract attention. He felt his chest tighten as his heart started beating faster and faster, but he kept a straight face. ‘Have you been to any of the other islands? I’ve worked at several hotels.’

  But the man shook his head, still looking at Reginald, squinting his eyes. Reginald shifted uncomfortably. Surely this guy should realise that he was being rude. Perhaps it was the alcohol or the man just didn’t care, but he kept staring. ‘No, that’s not it. You remind me of someone.’

  ‘Guess I’ve just got one of those faces,’ Reginald said, moving away, cursing Tanya under his breath for this morning’s accident.

  A few minutes later two women, in long dresses and laden with jewellery, walked towards the bar. ‘Let’s grab a table,’ one of the men said. With one last glance at Reginald, they walked away, leaving him standing behind the bar, beads of sweat forming at his temples despite the breeze.

  ‘Take care of that table,’ he told Sasha, who had just arrived for his shift. ‘I’m going to get something to eat. Call me if you get busy.’

  And with that, he walked away, towards the hotel, wanting to escape the men’s scrutiny, hoping that they would forget about him. He had worked too hard to blend in, to make a life for himself and his family on this island. The prospect of having to leave again was daunting. But he’d do anything to keep himself safe. It was part of his life.

  9

  Two weeks had passed since the incident at the bar. The men had come back several times, at least once a day, drinking more and more each time, challenging Reginald to make increasingly exotic cocktails. Reginald wished they would just stick to the drinks on the menu instead of forcing him to think. He was exhausted. Adrian’s illness had turned out to be chicken pox, and a bad bout of it at that. The poor boy was covered head to toe in itchy spots. ‘Don’t scratch, you’ll leave marks,’ Tanya said over and over.

  At least Nathaniel had already got it when he was a toddler so they didn’t have to worry about him. One sick child was more than enough.

  Reginald was relieved when the men came by on their last morning. ‘We’re leaving this afternoon,’ one of them said. ‘What can you make us?’ Reginald mixed a couple of refreshing drinks, wondering, as he always did, how they could start drinking so early. It was not even ten, but he didn’t dare argue. And he was glad he didn’t when one of the men handed him a few crisp notes. ‘Thank you for taking care of us,’ he said. ‘We’ll have to get the boys at home to make drinks as good as yours.’

  This morning the bar was still empty. The off-season had started and the hotel was mostly vacant. Just a few people who wanted to make the most of the good rates. They tended to spend more time in their rooms, enjoying the luxurious surroundings.

  Reginald was staring out at the sea, enjoying the quiet, when he saw two men approaching the bar. They seemed out of place, nothing like the usual hotel guests. There was no sense of relaxation. Their trousers looked warm, certainly not what one would wear while on holiday in the Caribbean. Not to mention the closed shoes and thick-looking socks.

  A lump formed in Reginald’s throat as he saw them getting closer, the hair on the back of his neck prickling as he sensed trouble. Rubbing his growing beard, Reginald turned and started lining the glasses on the shelves, hoping that the men would keep going.

  No such luck. He heard a throat being cleared and plastered a smile on his face as he swivelled round. ‘Morning, guys,’ he said, forcing himself to sound more cheerful than he
felt. ‘How are you today?’

  ‘Good, good,’ one of the men said. Reginald felt both of their eyes on him and his discomfort increased. He reminded himself that this had happened many times before. Someone would come to the bar looking completely out of place and Reginald would obsess that they were there to get him. But nothing would come out of it. They’d leave and he’d spend a few days worried until he’d forget about them. Still, he had to remain vigilant. His freedom depended on it.

  ‘Can we have a coffee?’ the man asked.

  ‘Sure.’ Despite his relief at having something to do, the request didn’t alleviate his discomfort, but Reginald was not about to ask questions. The less he said, the better. That had always been his motto. He kept to himself, didn’t speak unless spoken to. Made sure that he kept under the radar. That was how he had managed to remain safe for all these years.

  Placing two steaming cups in front of the men, he asked whether they needed anything else. ‘No, thank you,’ one said while the other shook his head. Reginald moved away, taking inventory, even though he knew the bar was well stocked, having made sure of that before leaving the night before. But this would allow him to keep his face averted, away from their scrutiny.

  Minutes later they finished their coffee and left. Reginald realised that he hadn’t even asked for their room number. He shrugged. He didn’t care.

  That evening he went home and hugged Tanya tighter than usual. ‘The water’s going to boil over,’ she said as she struggled out of his firm grip. He saw her turn her back to him, lower the temperature on the stove and put some spaghetti into the pot.

  ‘It smells amazing,’ Reginald said, taking a whiff of the room. ‘Let me go change.’

  He’d managed to leave work early, a treat he gave himself only on rare occasions. With the hotel relatively empty, Sasha could easily handle the rest of the day. He’d texted Tanya, telling her he’d be home for dinner. I’ll make spaghetti, she’d responded and he could imagine her humming as she chopped vegetables, busying herself browning the meat. She was a great cook and it was a pity he rarely got to taste her food fresh, instead of reheated in the middle of the night.

  ‘Where are the boys?’ he asked when he returned.

  ‘In their room.’

  ‘How’s Adrian?’

  ‘Better.’ She turned back to look at him and he saw how relieved she was that their son was on his way to recovery. ‘That was one bad bout of chicken pox. Nat never had it so bad. Just a few spots and a couple days of fever. Poor Adrian…’

  Reginald nodded. ‘Let me go grab them,’ he said, standing up. ‘How long until dinner?’

  ‘Few minutes. Make sure they wash their hands.’

  He smiled as he turned away. Tanya ruled the household with an iron fist, and the boys made sure never to anger her. Nothing good would come of it. Her tantrums were something else and she could hold a grudge for days. He knew to steer clear of her when her temper flared.

  Knocking on the door, he waited. ‘Come in,’ Nathaniel said. His voice hadn’t broken yet and still held a childish innocence.

  ‘What are you two up to?’ he asked as he walked in to find them sitting at the desk he had made himself with some planks of wood that he’d taken from the hotel. He’d asked for the scrap pieces, knowing that he could turn them into something useful.

  ‘Hi, Dad!’ both of them said in unison. ‘How come you’re home early?’ It was Adrian, always the sensible one.

  ‘Took the rest of the day,’ Reginald responded, sitting down on the lower bunk bed, facing the boys. ‘Wanted to spend some time with my family.’ Turning to Adrian, he asked: ‘How are you feeling?’

  The teenager shook his head. ‘These spots itch like crazy. Still.’

  ‘It will be over soon,’ Reginald said. ‘How was school?’ he asked Nathaniel.

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Dinner’s almost ready. Mum said to make sure you wash your hands. Let’s go.’

  Reginald stood up and started walking to the door. Turning back, he looked at his children, closing their books before following him.

  ‘This smells delicious,’ Reginald said when he walked back into the kitchen, his stomach grumbling loudly as he saw Tanya scooping pasta into a deep bowl, covering it with sauce and a sprinkle of cheese. He forced himself to wait for the others to get their food instead of digging in. It was not easy. He was starving.

  ‘How was your day?’ he asked Tanya when she’d sat down.

  ‘Good,’ she responded. ‘Didn’t do much, just a quick trip to the supermarket. What about you?’

  ‘Quiet days,’ he said. ‘That time of the year.’

  She nodded and put a forkful of pasta in her mouth, chewing quietly. Reginald took a bite of his food, closing his eyes and enjoying the taste of the rich sauce. Silence descended on the table as all four of them ate their food.

  The sound of the doorbell ringing was unexpected. ‘Who could that be?’ Tanya sounded irritated. ‘Right at dinnertime too.’

  Reginald didn’t answer. The tension at the bottom of his stomach told him this was not good, but Tanya was already heading towards the door. He couldn’t stop her without telling her why he was so afraid. And he wasn’t ready to do that.

  *

  ‘Reggie!’ Tanya’s voice had sounded panicked as she called him from the doorway.

  Putting his fork down, he wiped his mouth carefully and pushed his chair back. The food he’d just eaten weighed on his stomach and he felt as if he was going to throw up. He swallowed hard and forced himself to smile, not wanting to frighten the boys. He looked at Adrian and Nathaniel, both still eating their spaghetti, looking as if they were enjoying every morsel. He wondered whether they would always associate this dish with this evening.

  ‘OK, boys, be good,’ he said, ruffling their hair as he walked past them.

  ‘Dad!’ Adrian exclaimed, running a hand over his curls, trying to smooth them back into place. He had inherited Tanya’s thick hair and hated how it had a mind of its own and couldn’t be tamed. Reginald had told him that he needed to keep it short, but Adrian would not listen.

  There were two police officers at the door. He recognised one of them; he sometimes came to the bar for a drink. But he looked different today, intimidating in his uniform. Tanya was standing next to the officers, her eyes wide, her mouth slightly open, her face ashen.

  ‘These officers are asking to speak with you.’ Her voice was high-pitched, terrified. ‘What’s happening, Reg?’

  ‘Don’t worry, Tanya,’ he started, walking towards the door. ‘I’m sure everything’s OK.’

  One of the officers raised an eyebrow. Despite the tightness in his chest, Reginald forced himself to remain calm. He put a hand on his wife’s shoulder, hoping that the touch would reassure her. ‘Why don’t you go back to dinner? Keep an eye on the boys?’

  ‘But…’

  ‘Go stay with the boys.’ His voice was gentle but firm. ‘Please.’

  Tanya looked at him for a long moment before she nodded and walked towards the dining room, disappearing round the corner.

  Reginald turned to the policeman. ‘All right, what’s happening.’

  ‘We’d like you to come with us to the station.’ It was the other officer, a tall man with rounded shoulders.

  ‘Why? What’s this about?’ It was better to feign ignorance. ‘Did something happen at the bar?’

  For a moment he wanted to believe that. Perhaps there was a robbery. Or an accident. They needed to ask him some questions. He was in charge of the bar, after all. It would be much better than what he knew the police really wanted to talk with him about.

  ‘No, this has nothing to do with the bar,’ the other officer replied. ‘It’s better if you come with us.’

  Reginald looked down at the ground, exhaling audibly. ‘Let me get a jacket,’ he told the officers. It was warm and he didn’t need anything. But if he was to spend a night in the lock-up, he wanted something more than the T-shirt he was wearing.r />
  The two officers looked at each other. ‘Fine,’ one said. ‘But don’t be long. And don’t try to do anything stupid.’

  Reginald shook his head and turned back, walking towards the bedroom he shared with Tanya. He rummaged in the wardrobe for his only jacket. As he turned round, he came face to face with his wife. ‘Dear God, Tanya, you scared the crap out of me,’ he said, a hand to his chest.

  ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing, probably something to do with the bar.’ The lie sounded hollow in his ears.

  ‘Don’t lie to me!’ she said, her eyes blazing as anger mingled with fear. ‘I heard the officer say that it’s not about the bar. What is it? What are you hiding?’

  Reginald put his hands on each side of her face. ‘Tanya, I don’t know. I’m going to go to the station to find out. Just be patient, OK.’

  She pursed her lips but he could see the defeat in her eyes, the unwillingness to continue fighting. A new emotion flickered across her face and Reginald’s heart sank as he realised it was hope that everything was going to be all right, that their lives were not about to be turned upside down.

  ‘I’ll be back soon, OK.’ He hated making promises that he might not be able to keep but this was the only way to reassure her, to avoid her making a scene in front of the officers. Kissing her on the lips, he hugged her tightly for a second. ‘I have to go.’ And with that he turned and walked out of the room.

  Popping his head into the dining room, Reginald looked at his sons, still sitting at the table, their empty plates in front of them. ‘I need to go out for a little while,’ he said. ‘Be good for your mother.’

  All the way to the police station Reginald sat bolt upright in the back of the car. The short drive seemed interminable. The officers would not answer any of his questions. ‘You’ll find out soon enough,’ one had said.