Page 11 of The Summer Island Swap
Because I never wanted to be like Dad.
Whenever Amy talked about animals as a child, he’d change the conversation, somehow always ending up on a subject where he was king. ‘It’s all very well enjoying Biology, Amy, but never forget, Maths is the most important subject. I was the high-flyer of my class for five years running at high school. You need to push yourself and start getting top marks instead of your usual seven or eight out of ten.’
I never dared zone out of Dad’s chats. Not until my late teens hit and I saw him for who he really was.
Therefore, I re-focused again and found myself becoming invested in what Rick said, genuinely joining Amy with a sad face when he talked about turtles’ nests having been ruined by the hurricane. I felt relief alongside her when we heard that tree frogs and iguanas did okay. Jonas also seemed moved. I understood sibling love. How he’d solider on and enjoy the holiday for Helga’s sake. Once settled perhaps I’d speak with the resort’s entertainment manager. Maybe there was a group of musicians who could lend Jonas a guitar. That might perk him up.
I’d watched a television series last year about top hotels around the world. One featured was Giraffe Manor in Kenya. Giraffes stuck their long necks through windows in the dining area, to be fed treats. It looked amazing. My pulse quickened. What if this was a luxury resort specifically for animal lovers or those who wanted a holiday with a difference?
I couldn’t wait to find out!
As if the universe had heard me, Amy nudged my arm. Rick said something about seeing our living quarters and we walked upwards, away from the beach and through forest. The path wasn’t well established and I struggled to pull my unwieldy case. I jumped as a nettle batted my leg. I couldn’t wait to see mown lawns and symmetrical borders bursting with colourful flowers. Up ahead a building came into view with scaffolding blurring its outline. Our home for the next month was no doubt beyond that.
Except we turned a sharp left.
‘This way,’ said Rick and undid a button of his shirt. I tried not to stare at the toned pecs. ‘Would you like me to take your luggage?’
‘No thanks,’ I said and immediately regretted it. It’s just I was used to managing on my own.
Downwards we walked now, along a narrow path lined by prickly looking plants.
‘You’ll love our accommodation,’ said Amy. ‘It’s far better than any stuffy hotel.’ She swang her arms and sang ‘Be My Guest’ fromBeauty and the Beast.
Benedikt caught up and joined in. ‘That musical is almost as good asMamma Mia!’ he said when they finished the song. ‘But nothing will ever beatHamilton, don’t you think?’
Amy groaned. ‘I haven’t been able to afford to see that yet.’
He shot her a sympathetic look. ‘I was lucky. My friend works in the theatre and got me a discounted ticket. It meant travelling all the way to Frankfurt but was worth it.’
Rick called out that the prickly plants were called Christmas bushes and we should avoid them as contact with skin could cause a rash. Under my arms felt increasingly damp as our descent continued. The dazzling sunshine made me squint. If only I was wearing the wide-rimmed Audrey Hepburn hat I’d packed.
Rick and Jackie turned around as we finally came to the beach, lined by palm trees near the forest. For a moment I forgot my discomfort. Waters clearer than micellar cleanser rippled over golden sands. The sharp white sales of distant yachts broke up the horizon. Sun rays lit up waves, making the ocean look as if it were made up of liquid jewels. A cackling noise broke my concentration and I looked up to see a bird with a white chest and black head. Its call was sharp and made up of a series of loud notes.
‘Is that a… laughing gull?’ asked Amy tentatively.
‘Well spotted,’ said Rick.
‘There are over two hundred species of birds on the British Virgin Islands, and whilst some are endangered, during your stay you’ll see a glorious array of ones that feed from the sea, shore or forest,’ said Jackie. She was softly spoken.
‘It would be brilliant to spot a West Indian whistling duck,’ said Helga.
‘Yes. They’re under threat,’ said Amy and pride filled my chest at my knowledgeable sister.
‘You might just do that, on the far side of the island,’ said Jackie. Members of the group took off their shoes and ecstatic expressions crossed their faces as their toes wriggled in the sand.
‘Perhaps we will be lucky enough to see the wunderbar yellow-billed cuckoo,’ said Benedikt.
‘To spot a parrot would be amazing,’ I chipped in, hoping that breed frequented this place.
‘Or a flamingo,’ piped up Jonas.
‘They aren’t indigenous to this island, Dummkopf,’ said Helga and rolled her eyes.
I sent Jonas a sympathetic look.
I was used to being the one in the know. As assistant manager my day was spent fielding questions from staff and customers. But on this trip, so far, I felt like a pub quiz loser.
Rick readjusted his hat. ‘Let’s get you to your home for the next month. There’ll be time to freshen up and then I’ll take you on an introductory walk around the island before dinner.’
