Island in the Sun

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Island in the Sun Page 14

by Janice Horton


  Then I pinch myself because I can’t believe I’m so happy. Happy but also so scared.

  I’m scared that when I go to sleep, I’ll wake up and he’ll be gone.

  When he wakes up I don’t have the time or the inclination to be melancholy. Any dark thoughts are swept from my mind as he takes me into his arms and kisses me until I’m melting. Tickling my naked skin with his Rhett Butler moustache and making me laugh until my sides ache.

  I believe Ernest is the man I’ve always been meant to be with and he says I’m the woman he’s been waiting to come into his life. With him I’ve found the kind of love I only ever saw in movies or heard about in love songs. The kind that sweeps you off your feet and swirls you around until you are dizzy and breathless with it all.

  But when he sleeps, a dark mood comes over me and I ask myself if I deserve this?

  I wonder if he is mine to keep? Will it last forever or be snatched away?

  In my life, I’ve learned that happiness is always snatched away unless you give it away first.

  And there is only so much dizziness and breathlessness one can take before falling down.

  I want to trust this feeling but I don’t trust myself. Why must I always be looking for dark clouds in a clear blue sky?

  Today was by far the most frightening day of my life. Today Ernest and I almost died in an airplane crash. We were flying to Grand Cayman before making our way over to our own Caribbean island when we flew into some turbulence. Our plane flew through dense cloud and it shuddered and shook. My terror escalated substantially when the captain ordered all the passengers to make sure they had their seat belts ‘pulled nice and tight’. I pulled my seat belt around my waist as tightly as I possibly could.

  When the air hostesses also secured themselves in their seats, I really began to panic and in that moment the plane actually dropped out of the sky. My stomach clenched and I screamed and I grabbed onto Ernest as the plane rose up again with its engines roaring. I’d never experienced anything like it. To my excruciating embarrassment, I’d actually wet my pants.

  ‘Darling, it’s absolutely nothing to worry about,’ Ernest insisted, still reading the Gambling Times while I squirmed in my seat.

  Despite his assurances, I screamed again when the plane took a long lurch to the right. I tried not to sob as I looked out of the window to try to focus on the plane’s engines while willing them not to fail us.

  The turbulence continued for a good fifteen minutes, during which time I honestly thought I was going to die. I hyperventilated as I clung onto Ernest. An air hostess passed a paper bag along and shouted to me to breathe in and out of the bag. I’m embarrassed to say that I threw up in it.

  When we eventually passed through the heavy cloud and the captain gave the all clear, the other passengers all began to cheer and clap their hands. I thought this was completely inappropriate behaviour and wondered to what they were applauding. To the fact that we were all still alive?

  ‘See, darling, just a bit of turbulence, that’s all,’ Ernest said, while still reading his magazine.

  The air hostess came over to me with a glass of water. ‘It looks to me like you had a little panic attack, madam,’ she explained. ‘Do you have them often?’

  ‘No. Never,’ I replied. ‘But then I’ve never almost been in a plane crash before.’

  I couldn’t help but think that if that was a little panic attack then I wouldn’t survive a big one.

  She smiled at me sweetly and patted my shoulder by way of assurance. I looked around, feeling excruciatingly embarrassed when none of the other passengers, including Ernest, seemed at all perturbed by what had just happened.

  When we landed safely in the Cayman Islands, my relief was palpable. I’d never been so happy to be alive. I felt like getting down on my knees and kissing the ground.

  In George Town, Grand Cayman, we stopped off to pay a visit to the lawyer’s office, as Ernest had arranged for the deeds to the island to be forwarded to them for checking. Happily, they assured him it was all legitimate and the exchange of ownership was binding, after which we visited a private bank. I wasn’t surprised in the least that this was where Ernest did his banking or that he had a private deposit box there. We visited the vault, where he handed me a velvet bag from his box. It was full of cash and jewellery.

  ‘A wedding present,’ he told me, with a kiss that took my breath away.

  We stayed overnight in a beautiful hotel and this morning we chartered a boat to take us over to our little island, which is enchantingly called Isla del la Perlas or Pearl Island.

  I can hardly wait to see it. Imagine, one’s own tropical island. The stuff of dreams.

  When Isla stopped reading, her jaw was practically on her chest. Vegas and all the gambling and all the money and the cars and the fact that Kate had just taken up with and married Ernest, a man she hardly knew and without hardly a care or a thought for going back to England to her family or her job. And Ernest – he sounded so incredibly handsome and rich. And rather dangerous. Had Kate sounded a little unsure of him as well as herself?

  Isla had heard the rumour about Ernest winning this island in a poker game, as Grace had mentioned something about it many years ago, but she had always thought the story far too incredible to be true. But here it was – all in Kate’s own words. Turning the page, she was compelled to read on.

  Kate’s Journal September 1975

  Grand Cayman to Pearl Island.

  We took a taxi down to North Sound and found the boat that Ernest had chartered at the marina. I’m a bit nervous around boats but I was assured that the weather for our four-hour crossing would be calm. It certainly looked that way, until we left the harbour, and then it suddenly and unexpectedly became a squall. I tried to calm myself by reasoning that I’d once taken a ferry over the English Channel to Calais and enjoyed it very much.

  But just a short time into our trip I was feeling terribly ill. After an hour, I was vomiting over the side to the entertainment of the crew, who joked that I was ‘feeding the fish’. I didn’t find it at all funny. Just like the airplane trauma, this trip was excruciatingly embarrassing for me. Ernest, who said he had never suffered seasickness, could only offer his sympathies.

  When we arrived at our private tropical island, private it was not. We were surprised to find people living on it. It had residents. A population. We arrived at the harbour to find rows of fishing boats and a small village of wooden shacks. It all looked quite dilapidated and dirty to me and the people incredibly poor. A welcoming committee of men and women and children had gathered on seeing our boat come in and they were all barefoot and yelling and waving. As we docked, a dozen or more locals appeared and began to help us ashore with our belongings.

  Ernest proclaimed that they at least seemed very happy to see us.

  I looked around at the strange wooden shanty town and the precarious looking old dock and felt my palpitating heart sink a little in disappointment. I wondered where we were to live? Here? In this place? In a shack? I turned to look at all our newly purchased beautiful belongings in despair.

  When I addressed my concerns to Ernest he laughed. ‘No, no, my darling. I’ve been assured there is a good sized house for us here.’

  He produced a topographical map of the island from the pocket of his shorts and stabbed at it with his index finger to indicate the location and then waved his hand enthusiastically in the direction of a sand track leading through the village and into what looked like an impenetrable jungle of swaying palm trees.

  ‘It’s up that hill. So it’ll have a perfect view and a much-needed sea breeze,’ he enthused.

  I tried to smile in order to reflect some of the eagerness that he obviously felt and then braced myself for the long trek. I was embarrassed about the amount of perspiration rolling from me and how my silk shirt was clinging to me and I longed for a cool shower. Although, I was still feeling far too weak and nauseous from the boat journey and the sun beating down on my head, to feel tha
t I could walk any distance. So, when around a dozen more smiling tribesmen turned up with a mule and a cart to help transport us, I was genuinely grateful for the ride to my new home.

  As we all made our way through the village and along the track that Ernest had pointed out, he chatted to the locals in their own language, which I assume is Spanish. I didn’t understand a word, but it was clear to me that Ernest was introducing himself to the islanders and explaining who we were and that we had come to live here and this had resulted in lots of smiles and handshaking.

  They all did indeed seem very happy to see us.

  Although, I’ll admit that it bothered me a little to have so many people in our midst, as I’d envisaged Ernest and I having this small island to ourselves, to frolic naked on the beach and in the surf while getting fabulous tans. But Ernest insisted that this situation was to our advantage and he wasted no time gathering a small army of willing workers to labour on the main house, which to my further disappointment was in a shockingly dilapidated state.

  But within a few hours of our arrival Ernest and his band of merry men had a corner of the house watertight and secure and had set up a bedroom and a functioning bathroom.

  Right now the house is teaming with workers. Ernest has organised a replacement wrap around porch and work has started on a new roof, replacing all the rotten timber shingles with tin cladding. Where the supplies come from I have no idea. Next, I’m told, is a small band of machete wielding men to landscape the gardens. So, this afternoon, I’m taking a book and I’m escaping to the beach which is just a short walk away down a sandy path from the house. It’s in a private horseshoe shaped bay and looks idyllic, with white sand and clear blue waters and plenty of shade to be found under palm trees. As soon as I saw it I knew I had found my escape.

  I have at last found my paradise.

  On Ernest’s suggestion, I interviewed for a housekeeper and found this to also be a good way to meet the other island ladies, many of whom I have discovered do not speak English, but Spanish, or a strange mixed-up dialect called Creole. When Grace came up to the house for her appointment, I knew immediately she was the one for the job. She speaks English beautifully and she had a mild disposition and a polite manner. She also wore a very pretty sundress and a beautiful hat, which she told me she had made herself. I remarked on her skills as a needle worker. She replied by telling me she was also a very good cook. To prove herself, she has offered to cook Ernest and I our dinner this evening with ingredients found in our own garden and a chicken she had raised herself. I love this woman already.

  Kate’s Journal October1975

  We have now been on the island for a little over a month and while all the building and repairs are taking place to the house, I’m keeping well out of the way of all the dirt and dust and noise by sitting under the shade of a palm tree at the beach or at the bottom of the garden, reading all the books I’ve always wanted to read and never had the time. I’d practically bought up a whole bookstore while we were in Houston and Ernest didn’t bat an eye at the cost. In fact, he encouraged me, suggesting we should build a library to enjoy for many years to come and also so that visiting friends would have plenty to read while they were on the island.

  I’m still unpacking books and wondering how many friends Ernest has who might take the time to visit us here? I certainly don’t have anyone that I might expect to come all this way to see me. I could invite my mother and father and Maggie over but I know that dad’s health wouldn’t allow for it. Besides my mum would never leave Harrogate and Maggie is far too young for such an arduous journey. I think it’s for the best if they don’t visit. It would be awkward anyway. What would be the point?

  Kate’s Journal November 1975

  Ernest clearly enjoys island life. He prefers to be outdoors as much as possible and he stomps around all day bare-foot, bare-chested, wearing only his shorts. He has quickly developed the most amazingly deep suntan. I have to limit my outdoor time in the garden or at the beach to early morning and later in the afternoon, as I find it hard to take the heat when the sun is high in the sky and when the biting flies are at their worst. For a while, I was walking around looking like a pin cushion, itching and scratching, and feeling quite miserable until dear darling Grace brought me a lotion that she’d made up from coconut oil and eucalyptus that works a treat.

  I have discovered that Ernest’s real passion in life isn’t actually gambling but fishing and so, between rallying workers and supervising the house renovation, he is often off making friends with fishermen down on the dock and going out on their boats. One man, called Jack Fernandez, has become a particularly good friend to Ernest and he comes home from his days out on Jack’s boat with tales of the huge fish they’d caught and what great battles they’d had to land them. Jack has also taught Ernest to scuba dive, which he has taken to with great gusto, and he talks of how he and Jack are planning to look for sunken treasure on the reef.

  Today is Maggie’s third birthday. I wonder if she’s having a little party? I expect mum will have made a cake for her even if she’s a little young to blow out her candles. She’s still too young to know that I’m thinking of her and so I take a strange consolation in knowing she can’t be missing me. I’ll admit that I do feel strangely detached from my previous life in Harrogate. Now that I’m with Ernest on our island it is like being on another planet in another galaxy. It’s as if time has no relevance and world issues have no place here. I’m a completely new and different person here and I know it’s good for me. Here I’m a sunny happy light person with hardly a care. Not a depressive person with a dark past and a secret child who is having her birthday far away across the ocean. I went to the beach this morning and I silently wished Maggie a happy birthday and blew her a kiss from across the miles.

  Ernest brought Jack back to the house for the first time today quite unexpectedly. I came in from the beach wearing a sarong and a sunhat, to find not one but two incredibly handsome gentlemen sitting out on our porch, drinking our finest cognac and smoking the best Cuban cigars.

  And both being gentlemen, they stood as I walked onto the porch in my bare feet.

  Ernest introduced me to Jack, who is a giant of a man and one I thought very well groomed for a villager and a fisherman. I saw he had a small gold earring in his left ear and he wore an open neck shirt and a silk cravat. He looked as though the sea and the sun had honed him into a broad but fine sculptured form. Like Ernest, he too has dark slicked-back collar-length hair and an artfully trimmed moustache. He also has the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen; they looked like black coals.

  I offered him my hand for shaking but to my surprise he took it to his lips to kiss. His moustache tickled my fingers and made me giggle.

  Of course, I insisted he stay for dinner. I also gave him the option to invite his wife along.

  He thanked me graciously but informed me that he wasn’t married.

  I had Grace prepare the meal while I bathed and changed. I drenched myself in Chanel No.5 and chose to wear my gold hoop earrings with bohemian-style Porter kaftan that Ernest had insisted I bought before we left the States. With my red painted nails and my new ruby necklace wrapped around my ankle, I really thought I’d captured the look of a gypsy queen to compliment Jack’s pirate king.

  The three of us sat on the porch until late evening, in the half-light of a waning moon, while Ernest regaled us with stories from the casinos and amusing anecdotes from his travels. I couldn’t help but notice as Jack sipped his cognac, that he had hardly taken his eyes off me. I wondered if Ernest had noticed too? I found it terribly disconcerting to be stared at like that.

  Jack Fernandez is a curiously disturbing man to say the least.

  We have begun to relax into what the locals call island time. This is, it seems, is any time that suits. On island time, no one ever keeps to a schedule or to any appointments. So it’s no use asking someone to turn up at precisely nine am or three pm because, although they will always agree to do so, they won�
��t turn up until it suits them. I admit that I found this frustrating at first, but now I have begun to accept it and even find the concept amusing. For example, I’ve found that unless I make a note of the date in my journal, I’m never aware of what date it is and I certainly never know the actual day anymore. Ernest and I have whole conversations about what day it might possibly be and we make little bets on who guesses it right. He usually wins, although I think he confers with Grace.

  We have now been on the island for over two months and Ernest is satisfied that the repairs to the house are almost completed to our liking and that the work on the new swimming pool and the tennis courts are well underway. He told me today that he must go back to the States for a few weeks on a business trip. I said that I wasn’t ready to leave my new home yet, so I told him to go without me. This idea wasn’t very well received as Ernest clearly expected me to go with him on this trip.

  ‘But you must come with me, Kate. I have money to lose and to win back again,’ he told me. ‘It’ll be so much fun. Come on, we can have some fun in Vegas. We can stay at the Dunes again like old times. We could go and see a show. I’ll ask my old pal Tony Bennett to slip us a couple of tickets for his show at the Sahara.’

  I wanted to go. Really, I did. I imagined how bad I would feel waking up to find him gone.

  I was also terrified that he might never come back. But I also thought about the terror of the last airplane journey, when I surely thought I would die, and the awful boat trip and how sick it made me. No. I just couldn’t face it. I told him I felt happy here. Safe and happy on our little island paradise. Besides, I felt I had the perfect excuse to stay home now that all the renovations to the house were finished as there was so much painting and decorating to organise.

 

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