Page 33 of The Summer Island Swap
Losing my job at Best Travel. The last twenty-four hours from hell. The prospect of four weeks of this torture. It was all too much. A sob escaped my lips.
I heard him kneel down. Large hands covered mine. Carefully he prised my fingers away from my face.
16
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I must look a wreck,’ I muttered and sniffed.
‘Not at all. You should see me first thing after too many rum cocktails.’
A sense of failure overwhelmed me as I thought about those memes that went around social media about stepping out of your comfort zone in order to achieve great things…
For the last nine years I’d controlled everything about my environment. My life with Amy and Nelly felt steady, reliable. This was the first time I’d left the safety net I’d created. And how had I managed? By throwing a big pity party. By only seeing the negatives. And that made me even more disappointed in myself.
We looked at each other. He passed me my clothes. ‘I’ve got something to show you up at the house. I’ll wait for you outside and tell someone to find your sister and tell her you are fine – that you and I just have a bit of business to attend to.’
I was too tired to argue. Five minutes later I stood next to him.
‘This way,’ he said and put an arm around my shoulders. ‘We can cut through the forest, behind the toilets.’ Up we climbed, towards the scaffolding that I’d noticed on my arrival. Rick steered me out of the way of dragonflies and beetles. It felt good to be looked after. Not that I’d ever admit that.
The large house looked almost complete. Builders were removing the poles and wooden planks from the outside. The front and far side of the house had no walls or windows. Simple upright wooden frames held shutters at the top that were presumably pulled down at night or if it rained. So you could walk into the house on the ground floor and out of the other side without having to open a door. I’d never seen such an accessible building but then break-ins wouldn’t be a problem on a private island.
Rick and I went inside. His arm slid away. This huge living room had a long unit in the middle, made out of a patchwork of grey stone tiles. On top of it was a ceramic vase filled with the powder puff and flame tree blooms, along with various colourful handmade clay bowls and a marble chess set. The roof was made of mahogany beams going up into a pyramid shape in the centre. The walls at either end were whitewashed, decorated with green tropical leaf prints in each corner. Various pictures – mainly modern art versions of rainforest scenes, insects and animals – had been hung across each white expanse.
A wonderful black grand piano stood to one side, at the rear, with a guitar leant up against it and a wooden carving of a parrot on top. Two long magnolia sofas contrasted the warm, dark laminate floor. At either end of them were nests of mahogany tables, the feet carved into animals’ paws. Tall glossy plants filled the room’s four corners. A winding staircase led upstairs and I counted eight doors up there for bedrooms and bathrooms, I supposed, spread around the central beamed pyramid. A door to the far right on the ground floor was open and inside I could just make out kitchen equipment. That part of the building wasn’t quite complete.
‘I love the natural feel of this place,’ I said, my horrendous day forgotten for a second. ‘It totally fits in with the surroundings and is so bright, as if you are just walking into another part of the island.’
‘It’s an exact replica of what was here before the hurricane. My grandmother is a huge nature fan and loves down-to-earth furnishings. She wanted this place built the same because it brings back memories of my granddad and the time they spent here. He died five years ago.’
‘I’m not surprised she could buy an island. Crocker & Crowley has done so well.’
Considering this was his family home, Rick was very modest.
I walked across to look at the back garden and gasped. ‘This is beautiful…’ I gazed at a wide area of decking. On it was a long wooden dining table. Beyond that was a turquoise swimming pool, surrounded by more decking and plant pots. In the right-hand corner was what looked like a bar built out of bamboo, under a palm leaf parasol. Swaying palm trees punctuated the surrounding grounds made up of the greenest mown grass and several had hammocks hanging in between them, along with five well-spaced out Tiki-style two-storey beach huts, on stilts like the shacks.
This was the luxury accommodation I’d expected to be staying in. Rick indicated to one of the sofas. We sat down next to each other on it, facing the pool, enjoying the breeze. I wondered about the money again. Rick seemed genuine but a generous slice of what the volunteers paid must have gone into building this personal space for his family.
‘I’ve been living in one of the shacks until a few days before you arrived. It’s been quite a job to restore Seagrass Island, to be honest.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘After the hurricane several of the local insurance companies went bust. Gran got about two thirds of her money. The rest of the build we have to fund ourselves.’
‘At least, I guess, you’ve got the shoe business to fall back on.’
He didn’t answer.
‘You’ve run the renovations by yourself? That must have been quite a task.’
‘The family business has been… demanding of late so there’s no practical way my parents could be on hand here. Nor Lee – although despite being thousands of miles away, sometimes, via phone, he acts like an on-site manager.’ He gave a wry smile. It sounded as if he and his brother didn’t get on. ‘Gran has flown over a few times since the hurricane and stayed on Tortola. Me being in charge of the rebuild made most sense. Malik and his brother have been great. Having lived on Tortola all their lives they put me in touch with a great team to do the work. I was lucky to get them, after so many properties were damaged, but the building company is owned by a family friend of theirs.
‘Anyway…’ He turned back to me and concern cast a shadow over his face. ‘How do you feel?’
‘I’m okay. Sorry for the inconvenience.’
‘Come on. I had something to show you.’ Gently he took my hand and led me up the spiral staircase and into the second bedroom from the right.
It should have felt uncomfortable, him holding my hand like that, but it didn’t.
The bedroom was not like one I’d ever seen before with the mahogany ceiling and open windows like downstairs, and a balcony. Whitewashed walls contrasted the warm wooden features. Tropical paintings and lush plants circled the huge bed in the middle.
