I went snorkelling, while Devizes sat on the beach and watched me, having revealed, quite apologetically, that he'd never learnt how to swim, trekked as much as I could through the forest that surrounded us, hoping to find an X on the ground that marked where the treasure was buried, and took one more look at the chaos on the other side of the island, before I decided unequivocally that it wasn't for me.
We took a Jeep ride up to the highest point on the island (I would have been happy to walk there, but Devizes said it was much more fun this way), and went hunting for wildlife at night time in the same vehicle kitted out with lights that were so strong we could see half way to the moon with them. I saw hundreds of birds I'd never seen before in my life, some of which even our guide didn't have a name for, lizards of all different shapes and sizes, big spiders and even monkeys. Devizes said the monkeys were a pest on the island and were in the process of being contained, but wouldn't elaborate further on what he meant by that exactly. Those ones I saw, from the smaller spider monkeys, up to the big howler monkeys hanging in the trees and minding their own business, all seemed for too cute to contain. When he told me that, I imaged a horrible man gathering them all in a sack and drowning them in the sea, and I'm sure I wasn't too far wrong.
On the busy, populated side of the island, where the hotels had been erected for the millionaires to come and play, I saw a world I wanted no part of. I saw drunks being obnoxious and rude to all of the natives from the island that were serving them, and I swear I saw what was obviously prostitution by women who looked far too young to be doing anything other than school work. There was much more pollution from cars, rubbish in the streets and scant regard for the environment, and you could see it taking its toll everywhere. I saw much less wildlife, and the trees that had been left were either dead or dying. When I asked Devizes how he could allow this, or at least what he felt about it existing, his answer was that it made money, and if it continued to make money, they could do whatever the fuck they liked there. I had to bite my tongue, because I knew it might lead to another argument if I didn't.
I wondered where all of the natives lived, hoping to experience something a bit more authentic, and Devizes got the Jeep to drive us a little further north of the tourist development, where a series of huts had been erected along the coastline. This was basically where all the natives lived, and it looked more like a slum than anything else I'd ever seen. I couldn't believe the juxtaposition between the rich and the poor, those that were born on the island, and those that had effectively colonised it.
'They want to live like that', Devizes said. 'It's out of choice.'
'They choose to live like that in a wooden shelter with nothing?' I asked, a little bit sick at what I was seeing.
'They have everything they need, Alice', Devizes said. 'They have a home, food from the sea, a simple life. The ones that don't want to live like that, don't. My staff members live in my house because they want to. A lot of the natives that work in the hotels and restaurants on the main strip live in the hotel rooms. Some others live out here. It's personal choice. It's not like I've forced them out here, and I wouldn't ever do anything they didn't want. I look after my staff members, and I make sure that the owners of the hotels here do the same.'
'They wouldn't be here if they didn't want to be?' I asked. 'You promise?'
'Of course', Devizes said. 'This is the kind of life they used to lead before this island was colonised. I wasn't the first person to develop here, and in fact I've redeveloped this island to contain everything in one place. Where my house is, used to be another tourist development. I knocked all of that down and relocated everything to one place. I need it to exist, because the income from the development allows me to do the things I'm doing now, things like bringing you here on a private jet, maintaining a thirteen bedroom mansion, and giving you a contract to write your books.'
Devizes stopped to kiss me.
'Ok? he said, and I nodded.
'Mmmhmmm, I understand', I said.
'If I didn't allow the hotels, the restaurants, the bawdy German footballers, and the millionaire tourists, I'd lose all of that. I know it looks ugly, but sometimes ugly is a necessary evil to be able to have beauty. And beauty is definitely what I feel like I've got. I've got it in the house on the other side of the island, I've got it in the two mile stretch of clear blue water that runs from the smaller island into the sea, in which you can wade up to your waist while fish you've never even heard of swim around you, I've got it in the thousands of tropical birds that live here, half of which nobody even has a word for, and I've got it in you.'
I couldn't help but smile.
'Now which would you prefer? We could stay here tonight, fighting the mosquitoes and sharing around salted fish, or we could cuddle up in the back row of the cinema, watch the distant stars through one of the most powerful telescopes on earth, and eat Japanese beef steaks, cut from cows that have spent half of their life roaming free and the other half in specially designed salons while a team of professionally trained masseurs manipulate their bodies to make their meat as juicy as it can be.'
'Home', I said. 'I'm not a big fan of salted fish.'
The last night we had fireworks (apparently Devizes was not responsible), and we made love as the multicoloured lights exploded in the sky above us, turning stars green, red and blue.
Over five days with him, I learnt that Devizes definitely didn't like talking about the past, or anything that he considered too personal. He gave me a kind of CV synopsis of his family life, hinted at former girlfriends, but was careful to never reveal specific details, or delve too deeply into events that had passed initially into memory and then from there into a deeper storage unit in his brain that he was more than happy to lose the key for. And despite him working constantly - taking phone calls, sending emails, being faxed and re-faxing documents - I found out very little about what it was exactly he was doing, apart from making money. I have a feeling he was buying and selling companies, but what that meant exactly was lost on me.
On the flight home, mojito on the table and film on the huge TV screen, I asked Devizes a question that had been doing the rounds in my brain since we arrived.
'What are you looking for?'
I didn't word it quite like that actually, in fact I stumbled for ages trying to say what I wanted to say, and then got typically flustered.
'It's just, I like you', I said. 'I like what's happening.'
'Girls always need to know, don't they?' Devizes said.
'Girls always need to know, yes', I said.
'You want to know if we are boyfriend/girlfriend?'
'I don't know', I said. 'Saying it sounds weird. I guess I want to know if we are exclusive with each other. I've had a bad run of luck with guys before, you know, I've been cheated on a lot, and I've had my heart broken, and I like you and I don't want that to happen again, and-'
Devizes took my wrist in his hand before I'd finished.
'Listen', he said. 'I took you away because I liked you. I don't do that with everyone I meet, and I've had an amazing time.'
'Me too', I said.
'I'm not seeing anyone else Alice, I don't plan to see anyone else. I can't do two things at once. For one, I'm a hopeless liar, and for two, I simply don't have the time to be treacherous.'
'Ok', I said.
'I've had my heart broken too. For that reason, I want to take it slow.'
'Five day holiday on a Polynesian island slow?' I said, sarcastically.
'Exactly', he said. 'Besides which, I hate labels, I always have.'
'So no boyfriend/girlfriend? Too early, I knew it was too early. I'm always racing into things', I said, feeling stupid.
'We know what we are to each other, and for now that's fine. I'm in no rush. I like you and I'll admit to being impulsive, with an innate desire to please, but I'm also a realist. Let's have some more fun before we label ourselves. Boyfriends and girlfriends argue more anyway.'
'So what are we', I ask
ed. 'exclusive lovers?'
'We are Devizes Carter and Alice Cartright, and we are developing a trusting and exclusive relationship together.'
'I like the sound of that', I said.
'You can use it in one of your books if you like', Devizes said. 'I'm sure we can work out a percentage deal.'
I pushed him away and laughed. 'I wouldn't put it past you. Remind me to look at the rights options of the contract you're going to make me sign when we get back to London', I said.
'A million dollars, Alice, to be a professional writer. Things are going to change.'
'I know', I said. 'I hope I'm ready.'
The clouds lit up with a peachy glow as the sun dived away over the horizon, giving the day once again over to night. I settled back into the expensive leather of the sofa, mojito in hand, billionaire alongside me and skin a definite, healthy, radiant holiday brown glow. If Devizes was the real thing, and if everything he said was true, I could easily get used to this.
Chapter 14
'No, no, no, no, no. Fabio does not like this', Fabio said, waving a cleaver about dangerously, before continuing to chop the feet off chicken legs. 'Already a chef sick. Alice is waitress not Agatha Christie.'
I watched the feet ping off into different parts of the kitchen. One of them hit a back wall and dropped into a pan of what looked like tomato soup.
'I'm sorry Fabio', I said. 'I've always been a writer. I've been given a wonderful opportunity.'
'Wonderful opportunity for you here Alice Cartright', Fabio said. 'Fabio looks after you.'
'I can't stay Fabio, I'm sorry', I said.
Fabio stopped what he was doing, wiped his hands inefficiently on his apron and then put a still bloody one on my shoulder. 'I pay you more', he said. '£6.50 an hour. You're good waitress.'
'Fabio', I said, trying my best to squeeze away from his grip, 'I've been here for ten years, but it's now time to move on. I'm sorry. I thought you'd be happy for me, you've known I've always wanted to write.'
'I've been knowing nothing of this', Fabio said.
'Saturday will be my last shift', I said, and turned to walk away, shoulder bloody and smelling of chicken fat.
'No, Alice, stop', Fabio said and fell to his knees theatrically. 'You are best waitress here, apart from Sandi, she is better, but you are second best waitress here. Please don't leave.'
'I'm sorry, Fabio', I said again, and then dragged the sixteen stone, forty seven year old slowly across the kitchen floor, as he attached himself to my leg while I tried to make a getaway. Eventually I made it to the edge of the kitchen, where a step led up to the dining room, and reluctantly he had to give up.
'I'll see you tomorrow night', I said.
'Don't be late Alice Cartright', Fabio said. 'We will be counting on you to train your replacement.'
When I told Devizes about the strange encounter, he picked up the phone, called Fabio and arranged with the Italian to send one of his staff members to work my notice period instead, so that I didn't have to. Fabio had no complaints at all, although I did hear, through the staff member that Devizes sent, that a customer almost choked on a chicken foot he found in his tomato soup, on her first night working there.
At the family get together, I told my parents the news about both the contract and where I'd just been on holiday, and typically no-one believed me. They thought I was lying because I was jealous of dad and James's success.
'You don't just get a contract for a million pounds, Alice', James said. 'Not even J.K Rowling got that.'
'Well I have', I said. 'I'm signing it tomorrow. You'll believe me when you see the advertisements for Fallen Away all over London.'
Everyone laughed like they thought I was joking, but I didn't let it bother me. They'd soon have those smiles wiped off their faces when the billboards and posters went up.
'When are you going to give up on that ridiculous story?' James said. 'I think you've already proved that no-one wants to read it.'
'Well, we'll see about that when it gets published.'
'I just don't like seeing you wasting your time', James said, twisting the knife into my gut even further.
'That's very thoughtful of you James', I said.
'Well, actually I've got some real news', James said.
'Hey!' I said. 'My news is real.'
'Go on James', dad said.
'I'm getting published again', James said.
'Wow', dad said. 'Congratulations.'
'Did anyone just hear what I said?' I said, amazed that I had been completely ignored.
'Shush Alice', dad said.
'Really it's the boys you need to congratulate', James said.
'The collaboration', mum said excitedly. 'They're going to publish it?'
James nodded proudly. The boys smiled and high fived each other across the table. Dad got into the action too, all smiles and elbows. I slumped into my chair, arms crossed. It felt like watching someone else's Christmas party through a fogged up window, with my bare feet in snow, knowing that when the family I was spying on finally caught sight of me, I'd be chased off into the darkness by the faithful family hounds.
'Not only that', James said. 'They want to do interviews with the boys. They're going to be on TV.'
'Well that's fantastic', dad said. 'Aren't you proud of your brother Alice?'
'Very', I said, sarcastically.
'We should celebrate', mum said. 'If I'd known, I would have cooked something special.'
'What about celebrating my news?' I said, making what would be a last ditch attempt to get them to believe me.
'A magic million pound contract?' James said. 'Lying is not a good quality Alice.'
'I'm not lying', I said.
Dad was already rummaging through the drinks cabinet trying to find something suitable to celebrate James's recent success with. 'I haven't got much', dad said. 'Brandy?'
'Don't worry dad, I've got to drive anyway', James said.
'You can have one, can't you? And Vicky can drive anyway.'
James looked at Vicky. 'Go on, have a drink if you want to', she said.
A brandy at the table turned into two more in the living room, while the boys repaired to watch some kind of special sports instalment on the TV, and the woman were left to clear the table and fuss over the men (young boys included). There had always been this divide in my family, and I hated it. I'd wanted for a long time to find someone who didn't replicate it, but I guessed with Devizes we wouldn't have that problem, because a team of staff members would be around us at all times to clear up any mess we might want to create.
While we were tidying the kitchen, and Vicky had conveniently made herself scarce (whether on mum's orders or not) mum pulled me aside for a 'quiet chat', and then had the audacity to suggest I might need to see a therapist. She refused to believe I'd been whisked away to a Polynesian island, and when I pointed out my brand new tan, she dismissed it as having come out of a bottle. She was convinced I'd made up the story about the book contract as a way of undermining my brother, and she even thought Devizes was a figment of my imagination. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The worse thing was the way she told me.
'Darling', she said. 'You know you're father and I love you dearly, well I'm sure he's got some old colleagues he can talk to, or maybe James knows someone you'll be able to speak to. You just look like you're unravelling.'
'Unravelling?' I said, amazed at what I was hearing.
'Yes darling. You have to be realistic. If it's not working, you have to give up. I think therapy might be the only answer.'
'Therapy?'
'Someone to talk to. I did it once, years and years ago now, there's nothing to be embarrassed about.'
'Mum, I don't need therapy', I said.
'I'll ask James and dad', mum said.
'Mum, do not do that, please.'
She gave me a condescending hug then loaded me up with a tray of tea and biscuits to take into the boys, as if my purpose in life was to serve those th
at were better than me. I was so close to giving the tray back to her and walking out, or dropping it violently on the floor even, but I didn't, and only because the tea set belonged to my dead grandmother, who I adored, and because my mother was the one who was disillusioned, not me. I actually pitied her, even though she believed she was the one pitying me. I took the tray next door, put it on the side and told everyone to help themselves.
The following day, a day I would usually have spent polishing cutlery and carrying plates of dubious quality food to waiting customers, while I dreamt of men and adventure, was my first day as a professional writer, and the proudest day of my life so far.
I signed the book contract in the offices of Devizes's publishing house - a huge thirty seven page pamphlet of legalise, terms and conditions, deadlines and payment schedules all held together with the thickest staples I'd ever seen - while I looked out of the floor to ceiling window of the corner office in which I sat, all the way down The Strand. Devizes was with me briefly to offer his support and congratulations, before he had to leave and work himself, the next day taking a flight to another European country for yet another work conference. I met the senior editor tasked with tidying up the grammatical mishaps in my book, who was tight-lipped about what she thought of the story, and I had several pictures taken for the promotional campaign.
We drank champagne, which nobody seemed all that interested in, the senior editor and the CEO both sipping at their glasses as a formality, while I sipped at mine, a little disappointed that no-one I knew was there to celebrate this success with me. Chat was light-hearted, and carefully steered away from my books, which I considered to be an affectation employed by publishing houses all over the world. The writers do the writing, the editors do the corrections and no-one is questioned about their roles. Whether you like the book or not, really doesn't come into it. I didn't need to worry about that anyway. They were publishing it, and they were buying three more, for more money than they'd given J.K Rowling! I made a mental note to check that that was true, because I planned to gloat wholeheartedly the next time I saw James, and those disbelieving parents of mine.
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