Apparently, Anabelle had done her best to change his mind with the usual compliments and platitudes.
They never worked. So instead, over the years, she’d try to make things good by doing the things with us Dad should have. She hugged. Asked questions about our school day. Watched television with us. Attempted to get to know our friends. But it wasn’t the same as with Mum. Anabelle was too worried about her figure to have cake out and I could tell her interest was just ticking boxes. I didn’t blame her. She’d never wanted kids.
‘Powder puff trees,’ he said. ‘They are all over the Virgin Islands. Nothing to do with the Powerpuff Girls, so don’t go thinking eating them will give you superhuman powers.’
I couldn’t help smiling. An extra power boost would have come in handy as the trail became more overgrown.
‘They look difficult to eat,’ I said as we passed small lime, nobbled fruits hanging from a group of trees.
‘Their outside is deceptive,’ he said. ‘Fleshy and white inside, those sugar apples taste like custard.’
It was a relief to hit the top of the hill. For a moment we stopped and stared, pointed at other islands and admired the crisp cleanliness of the greens of the forest and turquoise of the sea. Then we make our way down the other side. We descended for a few minutes before Rick stopped abruptly and pointed to a low-hanging branch of a tree.
‘An iguana?’ said Amy clapped her hands. ‘It’s an adult right, because it’s brown? The young are fluorescent green?’
‘Well done! These ones can grow up to six feet long if you include the length of the tail.’
He and Amy chatted about the other species of lizard that lived on Seagrass Island. I had to admit the animal’s unusual appearance gave it a certain beauty. The pointed scales on the back of the neck, standing to attention. The perfectly pointed, streamlined shape of that tail. The widely spread toes..
‘What an honour to see this creature in the wild,’ mumbled Benedikt. ‘It’s a luxury future generations may be without.’
My knees hurt as we went down the steep decline.
‘Mein Gott, this place is a photographer’s idea of heaven,’ he added a few minutes later, stopping every now and again to take shots. ‘So far, I have taken fifty photos of different plants and insects and ten of that iguana. The setting sun adds a touch of atmosphere.’
‘Make sure you add #SeagrassIsland when you post your shots on social media,’ said Rick. ‘We need all the publicity we can get.’ He stopped dead for a moment. ‘Listen.’
The buzz of insects and evening calls of birds continued but there was an added element. Relaxing. Reassuring… a constant, rhythmic splashing.
‘The sea,’ said Amy and punched the air.
The ground had levelled out and we managed to run, leaving behind the towering tree canopies. Sea. Space. Fresh air. A cooling breeze. We emerged from the forest and onto the beach. After hesitating for a moment, I dropped the rucksack and like the others, I slipped off my shoes and socks and carried them, my toes playing piano notes in the warm sand. I admired the tangerine sun, its head almost ducked under the horizon, its last rays appearing dappled across the undulating water.
I could do this. We were on the flat now, away from the claustrophobic, sweaty, insect-filled forest. Although thinking about it, claustrophobic wasn’t the right word. I hadn’t felt hemmed in. The beach simply provided a contrasting environment and the breeze was most welcoming. The forest was just… crowded, in a good way, like a diverse neighbourhood where people led their lives side by side. During just this short walk I’d seen how plants and animals helped each other. Mutualism, I think it was called, a term someone had jokingly used once during a training session at Best Travel. Like the termite mounds built through team work to create a home for all the workers. Or the bees collecting honey and thereby getting pollen stuck to their legs and consequently pollinating flowers. One species of frog Rick pointed out carried its tadpoles from plant to plant, letting them grow in the pools of water offered by various large cupped leaves that collected rainwater.
The rainforest felt like a carefully attuned community where everybody had an important part to play. Everyone belonged. Like a big family. I wondered what that felt like. For so long it had been me, Amy and Nelly. Even when I’d lived at home with Mum and Dad, there had never been that sense of us all being part of the same bigger thing. We were just individuals, Dad the centre of attention, the rest of us skirting around the edges, Mum always looking to calm him and me protecting Amy from his cruel comments.
Benedikt and I swapped rucksacks with the others. He didn’t speak much to me and that was fine. We couldn’t get on with everyone equally. He seemed to have hit it off with Amy whereas I’d bonded with Jonas. I let him go ahead and dropped back. For the first time since arriving I appreciated the tranquillity. I’d quickly realised that on this kind of break personal space was a luxury.
Eventually Rick slowed his pace and I caught him up. I jumped as something swooped overhead.
‘Bats,’ he said. ‘They can’t harm you. Well, not unless they pass on a disease. I take it you’ve had the relevant jab? It was optional but on the website I said—’
‘Yes… the bat one…’
He shot me a curious glance. ‘So which one was it?’
All you could hear was the sea.
‘Do you know which jabs you’ve had?’
‘Amy did all the research. I just turned up for the appointment, it was a busy week and—’
‘Ah, right,’ he said dismissively. ‘It was the rabies one in case you are interested.’
I wished the sand would swallow me up. It was clear my lack of know-how irritated him, much as he tried to hide that with humour.
Amy linked her arm with mine and talked about the sunset, flashing her torch as we passed stranded jellyfish, her wishing she could save every one. Eventually the beach veered around to the right and came to a long, wide cove with boulders either side. They cut off the wind making it the perfect, secluded nesting site.
‘Why do the turtle eggs need our intervention here?’ I asked.
‘Not even these huge stones could protect their eggs from the hurricane,’ said Rick. ‘In 2017 nests across all the islands were affected and the population is still recovering, so we carry the eggs back to our specially protected sand pits to protect them from predators such as lizards and crabs.’
‘This conservation work is also about trying to compensate for the problems caused for turtles on other islands, isn’t it?’ asked Amy – though it sounded more like a statement. I could sense her confidence growing.
‘Yes. Poachers operate where the land isn’t private and tourists bring a different set of challenges. The curious want to look at eggs and their noise disturbs nesting patterns, plus beach front lights disorientate hatchlings. Their instincts tell them to crawl towards light as soon as they are born, because that is moonlight on the waves and gets them into the water – but in very commercial areas they head for the street lights by accident and end up getting run over. I’m hoping our project helps to support the turtle population of the whole region.’ Rick dropped his rucksack and bucket at the top of the beach. ‘Let’s set up the two tents here before the sun disappears. Then we can eat and get to bed. We should manage a few hours’ sleep before getting up at midnight.
Amy smiled at me and took Rick to one side. I felt uneasy as she chatted to him for a minute. He looked puzzled and then shrugged. She came back.
‘All sorted,’ she whispered. ‘You’ll be sharing a tent with Rick, not me.’
15
‘What?’
‘I told him you felt nervous about camping out in the wilds; that I knew you’d rather sleep close to someone who knew the ropes here – either him or Jackie and seeing as she isn’t on this excursion… Benedikt doesn’t mind at all.’
‘Amy. For God’s sake. He must think I’m a complete wuss. Of course I’m not that worried and when it comes to wildlife, you work for a v
et and I’d be fine sharing with—’
She gave a sheepish smile. ‘Couldn’t help myself. You haven’t been in a relationship for forever.’
‘I’m not a charity,’ I said and threw my hands in the air.
‘But you won’t help yourself! I’ve tried to get you to register with an online dating site, but it’s work, work, work with you. So I intend to make it my job to bring the two of you together.’
‘Amy. We aren’t at school. This is worse than leaving a note in a locker.’
‘You’ll thank me, just you see,’ she said, firmly. ‘Time’s ticking. We’re only here for a month. I bet he’s a great kisser. And you’ve seen how gentle he is with Chatty, mark my words, he—’
‘If I agree to share a tent with him will you stop talking?’
She grinned.
I was still cringing half an hour later, once the small tents had been erected. We sat in a circle, lit up by our torches, eating the chicken and rice. The others chatted. I put on more insect repellent and passed it to Amy. She shook her head and gave a small sigh, saying not to fuss over her, she’d already reapplied it.
Day two. I had blisters. The pink trainers I’d been determined to wear were ruined. I had a bed mate I didn’t want and felt numb with tiredness.
I shook myself. Come on, Sarah. You’re made of stronger stuff than this. Remember that first day at Best Travel? I’d had no one that morning to tell me everything would go okay and wish me well. My send-off had been a simple glare from the landlady whom, I’d quickly learnt, saw tenants as necessary intruders. The bathroom tap had dripped loudly all night and I’d woken to find a cockroach on the bathroom wall. Yet I’d got through that first day. That first week. That first month.
I went to the loo in the bushes, crouching down, terrified ants in your pants was an actual thing. Then I headed back to the beach. Hugged Amy goodnight. Rick was already inside our tent. A mound of sand had formed in the corner. One of us must have accidentally kicked it on top of the ground sheet. Rick wanted to keep the tent unzipped so that we could enjoy the cooling sea breeze but I was too worried about mosquitoes. The result was I’d never run a higher temperature in my life.
‘Maybe we could just unzip it a tiny bit,’ I said to Rick.
A snore replied. I couldn’t even see his face as the Indiana Jones hat lay over it.
I heard Amy and Benedikt laughing but that was nothing compared to the sudden shriek that emanated from my mouth. Something had jumped up against the roof of the tent. Then again. I sat upright, clumsily turned on my torch, tore Rick’s hat off his face and shook his shoulder.
‘Sarah…? What’s the matter?’ He rubbed his eyes.
I jumped again. ‘What the hell is that?’ I went to crawl out of the tent but Rick held my shoulder and chuckled.
‘Don’t worry. We call them sand crickets. I haven’t been able to identify their exact species yet. The pesky little things only come out at night and are hard to catch.’
I directed the torch onto the mound of sand as he called to the others that everything was all right. It moved. A small creature’s head appeared and then it launched itself out and landed on top of my sleeping bag. Vigorously I shook my bedding.
‘What if it lands in my mouth?’
‘That’s never happened to me and I lead a couple of turtle excursions a week. Just chill.’
‘But—’
‘We need to rest and can’t do that if your torch is turned on.’
I paused. Perhaps it would be better if I just walked the beach for the next couple of hours. However, my head was thumping. What if they got into my ears? Or crawled into my sleeping bag? I tried to cheer myself up by imagining the horror on Jonas’s face when I told him all about it. This really was like my favourite celebrity jungle show, except there was no reward for enduring the challenge.
Somehow I got through the next few hours. We got up at midnight. Packed away the tents. Despite all the discomfort I took a moment to gaze into the night sky. Without the city glow or cloud, the sky looked like a pool of spilt black ink. We followed Rick with our buckets. He walked near to the water’s edge, looking for the turtle trails. Eventually he found some and followed them across the beach, up towards the forest area. They stopped at one point and Rick told us to gently dig down with our hands. My fingers curled around something smooth out of view.
I didn’t even worry about sand crickets as an unexpected wave of emotion washed over me. Gently I dug out the egg and held it in my hands. Inside it was the makings of an endangered animal. For a fleeting moment I understood what might appeal about volunteering here. You couldn’t put a price on this work. I’d thought Amy should invest her lottery win so that she’d reap the benefits of it in the future – but now I was starting to realise that’s exactly what she had done, looking at the bigger picture.
She and Benedikt also pulled out eggs in silence. We placed them in our buckets. Rick noted how many we’d collected. We drank water. Listened to lapping waves. Watched bats swoop across the sand. Felt the more intense warmth of sunrise approaching. Amy and Benedikt talked musicals. Rick said he wasn’t a fan but said how his brother, Lee, loved the theatre and when he worked back in England was always buying tickets for the two of them. Apparently, he thought Rick needed to get more culture into his life. With a sparkle in his eyes Rick grimaced at Amy and Benedikt who almost started a sand fight with him when he confessed to hating Wicked.
It was time to begin the long trek back to the site. I was careful not to trip, aware of just how precious the contents of the bucket were. I gripped the handle tightly even though it aggravated the angry blisters on my hands from the morning’s machete swiping. I winced.
‘What’s the matter?’ Rick took the bucket. ‘Ooh. They look nasty.’
‘I’m okay. I’ve just run out of plasters. I can manage until I get back.’
‘No way,’ he said and reached into his pocket. Swiftly he prepared a couple of plasters and placed them over the blisters.
I reached for the bucket. He shook his head but I didn’t withdraw my arm. He tilted his head, stared at me and then slowly passed it back to me.
‘What are they?’ I asked after we’d reached the top of the hill again and made our way down the other side. I hadn’t noticed this stretch of about twenty trees before, with large glossy leaves and huge red-yellow pods attached to the trunks.
‘Cacao trees,’ said Rick.
Benedikt put down his bucket and pulled out his camera.
‘Wow,’ said Amy.
Rick pointed. ‘Those big pods contain the beans.’
‘You’ve got chocolate trees growing here?’ I said, feeling a genuine flicker of excitement. Jonas was going to be so annoyed to have missed this.
‘A traveller from the Ivory Coast brought one to the island before my grandmother bought this place. The rainforest is the perfect place for them to grow. They need tropical heat but also the shade that the taller trees provide. I must get around to pulling some down, though. I do that now and again. I don’t want them getting out of control and pushing out the indigenous plant species that serve this environment.’
That confirmed it. Rick and I could never be a good match if he destroyed a plant that grew my all-time favourite food.
Thoughts about those pods and their contents distracted me enough to get me back to the site where an early morning team took the buckets from us, to bury the eggs. We were instructed to go to bed until lunch time. I could hardly bend my sore hands. I stumbled into the canteen to pick up some fruit. Jackie was in there with Chatty and the sight of his cheeky blond face revived me. I whistled ‘Daydream Believer’. His head raised. Jackie smiled and nodded. He’d started to squeak louder. I let him smell my hand and he cocked his head towards me. I obliged and tickled just the right spot.
Reluctantly I left him and went over to the rota. Rick had rostered me in for early bird counting on Monday followed by another turtle excursion that evening. The hard work had only just be
gun. Not even the prospect of shopping tomorrow cheered me up as it would be for practical items.
Covered in sweat and grime, I desperately needed to wash. I dragged my feet to the shower block. In a daze of exhaustion, I stripped off and draped my clothes and towel over the top of the door. I turned on the water and flinched. Of course. It was stone cold. I shut my eyes and washed my hair. Leaves must have swept in under the door because something gently brushed the top of my foot.
Whatever it was stayed there. I rinsed my hair, turned off the water and opened my eyes. I looked down at the biggest, hairiest spider lounging on top of my toes. I suppressed a scream and shook my foot. It tumbled onto the floor. Instead of crawling off under the door it held me there, hostage. Without my clothes I couldn’t make a run for it.
I reached forward to grab my towel. The creature reacted by raising a front leg. When I was little, Mum had drilled into me never to kill spiders. So after she’d passed I’d always been the one to put them out as Anabelle was too scared. At least Amy helped when she got older. But this one was huge and I’d read somewhere that tarantulas could jump. With one swift movement I grabbed my towel and my clothes promptly disappeared down the outside of the door.
I wrapped the towel around me and slid down, sitting on the wet floor whilst the spider played dead.
‘Sarah? Are you in there? Amy’s looking for you,’ said a voice outside the door.
Fantastic. Just the person I wanted to see me in this state.
‘Are you all right?’ Rick continued. ‘Your clothes are out here.’
I covered my eyes, unsure as to whether it was the shower water or tears running down my cheeks.
‘Sarah. Open the door.’
Please. Just go away.
The cubicle jiggled. ‘Look. I’m coming in. I’ve the knack of opening these doors. I really ought to get the locks changed. They aren’t the best.’
Still my hands hid my face. If I didn’t open my eyes perhaps it was possible that this was all just a bad dream. That’s what I used to imagine as a girl when I lay in bed hearing Mum crying in her room after an argument with Dad who’d be watching TV downstairs.
The Summer Island Swap Page 10
