Page 13 of The Cruise

‘No, they’ll take a percentage of the cost, and we’ll only get to see all the touristy things.’ Anne crossed her legs and wiggled her toes, tilting her head to admire the glittery nail polish. ‘We’ll head into Bridgetown and find a taxi with a local driver, that’s the best way to get around.’

‘Are you sure?’ Kath, unused to foreign travel, had visions of being kidnapped, but, on reflection, she guessed that they were probably perfectly safe at their age.

‘Yes, it will be fun. Now let’s stir Jane and have a decent breakfast before we get going.’

‘Jane hardly touched her food last night,’ Kath said.

‘She was overtired and uncomfortable which was why she went to bed. We are going to have to do something about her wardrobe. Jane needs clothes that will help her to relax in the heat.’

‘I could do with a few new dresses too.’ Kath smiled and imagined spending money on clothes. She could almost hear the grind of the rusty lock on Jim’s wallet. Well, what the hell? It was her time now, and she was going to make the most of it. Kath flung back the drapes and opened the doors wide. ‘Wake up, Jane!’ she called out, ‘we’re off on a jaunt!’

ChapterSix

The friends didn’t have to trudge far to find their driver for the day. With enormous relief, Jane flung her hot and perspiring body onto the rear seat of a taxi that waited for customers beyond the Port Authority gates. She tugged at cotton trousers that bunched uncomfortably and pulled at a T-shirt that clung to her skin.

Anne negotiated a rate with Errol, their host for the day, and he assured her he would give the ladies a tour they would never forget.

‘Are you sure he’s trustworthy?’ Kath whispered to Anne. She wore a sleeveless top and knee-length cotton shorts and placed her heavy bag on the floor as she climbed into the car and slid alongside Jane.

‘What could go wrong?’ Anne said as Errol secured the door and ran around the vehicle to the driver’s side. ‘There are CCTV cameras by the port that have captured us getting into the taxi. We’re quite safe.’ She looked through the window and smiled.

Jane raised her eyebrows, and Kath shrugged.

Errol explained that he was a knowledgeable guide, born and raised in Barbados. He knew all the hidden treasures found by veering off the beaten track. ‘Safe man, safe,’ he muttered as he pulled away from the port, and they began their excursion.

Jane frowned. She struggled to understand Errol. His accent was thick and opening her phone googledBajan Words Explained– a complete glossary of colloquial expressions. Satisfied that she would get through the day with a perfect understanding of the local conversation, Jane settled back for the ride, silently thanking Errol for the air-conditioning in the car. After feeling so unexpectedly out of sorts the previous evening, she was determined to enjoy the day.

Errol left the highway and headed across the centre of the island. He explained that eleven parishes made up the island’s geography. The friends clung on tightly as he manoeuvred his vehicle down another tricky incline or hairpin bend in the road. It was with relief that they emerged at a hamlet in the parish of St Joseph, nestling precariously on the side of a hill.

‘Refreshments!’ Errol announced as they tumbled out.

Kath stared out at the view ahead. It was stunning. Colossal mahogany trees lined the road, and Jane, studying a tourist guide on her phone, suggested that the area had once been part of a sugar plantation. Beyond the trees and high above sea level, they could see the land swept down dramatically. Massive waves rolled in the distant ocean, making their way with force to the shore, and Errol told her that she was looking at the Atlantic on the island’s east coast.

‘Goodness, it’s stunning,’ Kath said, ‘not at all like the sea where the ship is anchored.’

‘This is different,’ Errol said. ‘Unlike the Atlantic here, the west coast is blessed with the calm Caribbean Sea along its coast.’

‘Time for a drink. I’m parched,’ Anne called out, and Kath and Jane turned to see her heading into a shack made entirely of wooden pallets painted in vivid red and orange. ‘Do they serve alcohol here?’ she asked.

Errol smiled, ‘Twenty-four-seven,’ he said. ‘You can buy a quart of Cockspur here at any time of day.’

‘This must be a rum shop.’ Jane consulted her glossary. ‘Apparently, there are hundreds dotted around the island, and they provide everything from groceries and provisions to alcohol and a game of dominoes.’

They stepped into the shack, where a large woman in tight Bermuda shorts and a tiny vest sat on a stool by the bar. Cornrows of shiny black hair circled her head, and she nodded in greeting. The room was open to the elements in one corner and a group of men sat on wooden pallets, slapping dominoes onto a table.

Jane’s nostrils twitched. Something was cooking and it smelt delicious.

‘What’s the local drink?’ Anne asked Errol. Wearing denim shorts with pretty embroidery on the pockets, Anne had knotted a gingham blouse under her breasts, revealing her tanned tummy.

‘It says here, “suck-a-bubbi” is a drink you buy in a rum shop,’ Jane said, reading from her phone.

The men in the corner looked up.

‘I think you might get more than you bargained for if you ask for one of those.’ Anne glanced nervously at the men, then turned to Errol. ‘What would you recommend?’

‘Try coconut water and rum,’ he replied, taking note of Anne’s shapely legs as she perched on a stool.

‘Three of those.’ Anne reached into her purse. They’d pooled money together for spending, and Anne was in charge.

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