Page 13 of Lost Luggage
‘Was thereanythingyou liked about the evening?’
Flo thought for a moment. ‘The patrol I was going to be part of is called the Bumble Bees, I suppose that’s all right. I like bees. Did you know they do a dance called the Waggle Dance?’ Half-heartedly, Flo wiggled her body. ‘It’s a way of telling each other where to find the best nectar.’
‘What do you meanwas goingtobe part of?’ Dolly pushed her shoulder gently. ‘This is just a blip. We pinky promised.’
Flo’s face brightened. ‘I forgot, you haven’t told me how it went tonight! Did Matilda get thrown out? Did you find Phoebe?’
With a gleam in her eyes, Dolly recounted how her speech went. Flo giggled at Dolly’s indignation that not all of the jokes got laughs and said a naughty word when she heard about the heckling.
‘But I didn’t find Phoebe. It was a silly idea. I should throw the notebook away, sell the ring, wear the bracelet myself and that gilet. So what if I can’t do it up?’
‘Only a wuss would give up now, that’s what Greta would say,’ said Flo.
Dolly raised an eyebrow. ‘Exactly, missy.’ She looked Flo right in the eyes. ‘If we aren’t in this together, there’s no point me even looking at the next challenge, whatever exciting thing might be planned for February.’
‘You don’t have to do it if you take a little peek,’ said Flo with an encouraging nod.
‘You don’t actually have to take your Guide Promise at the end of your trial period.’ Dolly caught sight of the time. ‘Come on, it’s school tomorrow, you need to get home. Oh, your present…’ She fetched the cookie bag from her rucksack. Flo looked inside.
‘If I leave this here, can I come around tomorrow, after school, and eat it then?’ she asked, peering up from under her fringe.
‘Of course. If your parents are happy with that.’
‘And we’ll read the notebook, find out the February challenge. I’ll need cheering up if I’m going to stupid Guides until you’ve done it.’
10
‘I’m glad Flo is okay,’ said Leroy the next day, his face looming from the screen set up on her kitchen table. She hadn’t used her laptop much this last year, but it had still jumped to life, as if waiting patiently for Dolly to check out the garden centre’s opening hours and scroll down the café menu so that Greta could choose her lunch before arriving. The backdrop to Leroy was palm trees and a small swimming pool in the shape of a peanut shell. She knew from their last call this was Winston’s garden.
‘How’s Maurice doing?’
She beamed. ‘Eating. Swimming. Back to his usual self.’
It was a question Greta would never have asked. She treated Maurice and his tank more like an ornament, even when he once grew a funny lump. She’d rolled her eyes when Dolly got back from the vet’s, calling it a ridiculous expense.
Leroy gave the thumbs-up. Then he talked about how he’d helped his cousin run his string of beachfront rentals, how he’d met a distant aunt, had become addicted to plantain chips and spotted a barracuda whilst snorkelling.
You won’t want to come home, she thought. It had been over two weeks now. She was still waiting for him to mention the real reason he’d called as he talked about the jerk food, the carnival, and about how Winston treated him like an old friend already. His cousin had recounted stories about people Leroy’s grandparents had mentioned in passing, from their early years before they emigrated.
‘As for the rum bars…’
‘I’ve seen on Facebook. Who was that young manleaning into you, in the tie-dye spiral T-shirt?’
‘Only the barman. He wanted to be in the photo.’
‘Really?’ she said airily.
Leroy exhaled and threw his hands in the air. ‘Okay, I might have wanted it to look more intriguing.’
‘Like the photo of you last week, doing the limbo in luminous shorts, as you went under with another man?’
‘One of Winston’s employees. A great bloke. Lovely wife,’ he muttered. ‘Has Tony been around? Or called you? Asked after me and what I’m doing?’
Bingo.
Oh, Leroy.
‘No,’ she said gently. The letterbox rapped. Flo’s secret sign. ‘That’ll be Flo now. You take care. I’m glad you’re having fun.’
