who always did have the makings of a playboy. The thought of the two of them made her smile. She was happy – cut by the latest revelation, but also happy.
Good for you, Dom, my beautiful boy
.
‘Are you all right, Mrs Brooker? Can I do anything?’
Kate was unaware that she was now crying without restraint and that most of the group were staring at her. How she missed her kids, how she wished they were by her side. Their plane tickets nestled in her bag, just in case they had a last-minute change of heart.
‘Oh, Guido, yes. I’m so sorry. I am fine. It’s just that I haven’t seen Dom for quite a while and I rather miss him and Lydia.’
The boy scuffed his trainer toe on the highly polished linoleum and stared at his feet.
‘It was never the same after you, y’know…’
He squirmed, unsure if this was appropriate, but decided to continue anyway.
‘That night… when Mr Brooker… Mountbriers became tougher, a bit meaner. I think it’s because you weren’t there any more. I used to think you were like a spare mum; mine was always so far away, although come to think of it when she is with me, she’s pretty rubbish. You used to sort my hair out before chapel and no one else ever did, like they didn’t care. I cared that my hair was such a mess, but didn’t know how to fix it myself.’
Kate’s tears fell even harder.
‘Right, boys! Quick huddle – don’t want to leave anyone behind, do we?’
The young PE master’s voice boomed across the space. Thankfully Kate had never seen him before; she couldn’t have coped with the interaction. The group of lads jumped at his command.
Kate watched Guido saunter over to his friends. She whispered under her breath, ‘Thank you, Guido. Thank you so very much.’
The globe seemed to have shrunk since Kate had last travelled. One long sleep, a meal and two movies later and she was in another world.
With her luggage carefully ensconced in the cubby-hole, the little red-and-yellow bus jumped and jolted along the grandly named Millennium Highway. It was a name that conjured images of multi-lane motorways with traffic whizzing in an orderly fashion between neon signs and flashing lights. Kate imagined the travelator on
The Jetsons
, but right there on earth. In reality the road was quite different, littered with gigantic potholes, some the size of a bath tub, and the odd obstacle. In England it would have been a B road at best.
Kate glimpsed a maroon velour sofa that had been dumped on a grass verge. Three scrawny dogs were curled asleep on its plump cushions, one of them with an eye half cocked and a leg dangling, as if waiting for the man of the house to come along and shush him onto the floor. A herd of goats, tethered together, had decided to take up residence in the middle of a bend. This was not a problem for the odd motorcycle and tiny Suzuki that darted past, but a much harder job for the unwieldy bus. The skilful, whistling driver did his best to navigate the small gap, as the right-hand wheels threatened to skitter on the gravel and plummet down the unguarded hill. Kate distracted herself by looking out of the opposite window until the danger had passed.
She marvelled at the multi-coloured housing, much of it built on stilts. It was clearly the only way to construct cheaply and safely into the slopes of the steep hills. From a distance the little wooden squares of soft purple, bright turquoise and sugar pink looked like marshmallow and gingerbread housing from a fairy tale. Close up, the faded paint on clapboard, the busy window boxes and fancy net curtains billowing in the breeze was even more enchanting.
Toothless old men in vests, whose lined faces told a million stories, and high-bottomed, mahogany-skinned women in curlers lolled on the rickety terraces. Huts selling Coca-Cola, rice and peas, and the local Piton beer were dotted along the route, all well patronised despite appearing to be in the middle of nowhere. Chickens and dogs meandered
Good for you, Dom, my beautiful boy
.
‘Are you all right, Mrs Brooker? Can I do anything?’
Kate was unaware that she was now crying without restraint and that most of the group were staring at her. How she missed her kids, how she wished they were by her side. Their plane tickets nestled in her bag, just in case they had a last-minute change of heart.
‘Oh, Guido, yes. I’m so sorry. I am fine. It’s just that I haven’t seen Dom for quite a while and I rather miss him and Lydia.’
The boy scuffed his trainer toe on the highly polished linoleum and stared at his feet.
‘It was never the same after you, y’know…’
He squirmed, unsure if this was appropriate, but decided to continue anyway.
‘That night… when Mr Brooker… Mountbriers became tougher, a bit meaner. I think it’s because you weren’t there any more. I used to think you were like a spare mum; mine was always so far away, although come to think of it when she is with me, she’s pretty rubbish. You used to sort my hair out before chapel and no one else ever did, like they didn’t care. I cared that my hair was such a mess, but didn’t know how to fix it myself.’
Kate’s tears fell even harder.
‘Right, boys! Quick huddle – don’t want to leave anyone behind, do we?’
The young PE master’s voice boomed across the space. Thankfully Kate had never seen him before; she couldn’t have coped with the interaction. The group of lads jumped at his command.
Kate watched Guido saunter over to his friends. She whispered under her breath, ‘Thank you, Guido. Thank you so very much.’
The globe seemed to have shrunk since Kate had last travelled. One long sleep, a meal and two movies later and she was in another world.
With her luggage carefully ensconced in the cubby-hole, the little red-and-yellow bus jumped and jolted along the grandly named Millennium Highway. It was a name that conjured images of multi-lane motorways with traffic whizzing in an orderly fashion between neon signs and flashing lights. Kate imagined the travelator on
The Jetsons
, but right there on earth. In reality the road was quite different, littered with gigantic potholes, some the size of a bath tub, and the odd obstacle. In England it would have been a B road at best.
Kate glimpsed a maroon velour sofa that had been dumped on a grass verge. Three scrawny dogs were curled asleep on its plump cushions, one of them with an eye half cocked and a leg dangling, as if waiting for the man of the house to come along and shush him onto the floor. A herd of goats, tethered together, had decided to take up residence in the middle of a bend. This was not a problem for the odd motorcycle and tiny Suzuki that darted past, but a much harder job for the unwieldy bus. The skilful, whistling driver did his best to navigate the small gap, as the right-hand wheels threatened to skitter on the gravel and plummet down the unguarded hill. Kate distracted herself by looking out of the opposite window until the danger had passed.
She marvelled at the multi-coloured housing, much of it built on stilts. It was clearly the only way to construct cheaply and safely into the slopes of the steep hills. From a distance the little wooden squares of soft purple, bright turquoise and sugar pink looked like marshmallow and gingerbread housing from a fairy tale. Close up, the faded paint on clapboard, the busy window boxes and fancy net curtains billowing in the breeze was even more enchanting.
Toothless old men in vests, whose lined faces told a million stories, and high-bottomed, mahogany-skinned women in curlers lolled on the rickety terraces. Huts selling Coca-Cola, rice and peas, and the local Piton beer were dotted along the route, all well patronised despite appearing to be in the middle of nowhere. Chickens and dogs meandered
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