11
Gabriel wasn’t joking. We’ve barely passed the signs warning people that we’re crossing from private to public beach before our destination comes into sight. It’s basically a wooden shack facing the sea with a hand-painted sign on the top advertising it as Raphael’s Bar. Although the sun hasn’t quite set yet, the fairy lights wrapped round the pillars at the front are already illuminated, giving the place a festive glow. A number of collapsible tables and chairs have been set out on the sand, and I notice that the majority of them are already occupied. As we get closer, I begin to pick up the babble of animated conversation with an underlying soundtrack of reggae music. It has a happy vibe, and I can feel myself starting to relax.
As we approach, a bare-footed man in shorts and a T-shirt comes out, carrying a tray of drinks. When he catches sight of us, his face erupts in a massive grin.
‘Gabriel! Wah Gwaan?’ he shouts.
‘Mi deh yah, yuh know,’ Gabriel replies, surprising me again with his Jamaican accent.
So many questions are firing around my brain as the man puts the tray down on the nearest table and the two of themembrace. I try to follow the conversation but most of it goes straight over my head. At some point the man obviously asks about me, as Gabriel turns to me and switches seamlessly back to the English accent I heard earlier. ‘Tori, this is my brother Raphael, the owner of this bar. Raphael, this is Tori, who is staying at the Elixir and is in need of a proper drink.’
‘Nice to meet you, Tori,’ Raphael says to me as he puts down his tray and holds out his hand for me to shake. ‘What can I get you to drink?’
‘I’d love a glass of white wine,’ I tell him.
To my surprise, he bursts out laughing.
‘What?’ I ask.
‘Darlin’, this is Jamaica. You can do much better than that. Leave it to me, I’ll bring you something nice. Trouble’s brewing, Gabriel?’
‘Trouble’s brewing,’ Gabriel replies with a nod.
‘Umm, Gabriel?’ I ask nervously as he sits down at the table.
‘Yes?’
‘If there’s going to be trouble, I probably oughtn’t to be here.’
Once again, I’ve obviously said something hilarious as it’s now Gabriel’s turn to burst out laughing.
‘Trouble’s Brewing is the name of a local craft brewery,’ he explains after a moment. ‘You’re quite safe, don’t worry.’
Relieved that I’m not about to find myself in the centre of something unpleasant, I sit down opposite him. I’m still trying to work out which of the thousand questions currently in my head to ask him first when Raphael appears with a beer for Gabriel and something that looks like fruit juice for me.
‘Rum punch,’ Raphael explains when I look at him quizzically.
I take a sip and sigh with pleasure. It’s refreshing, like fruit juice, but with an underlying heat from the rum. ‘This is seriously good,’ I tell him.
‘The best on the island,’ he replies with a smile. ‘Enjoy.’
After Raphael wanders off to deal with his other customers, Gabriel and I sit in silence for a while. His face is so serene as he takes a mouthful of his beer that it seems a shame to bombard him with all my questions, so I take another sip of my drink and turn to watch the sea instead. I don’t understand more than the occasional word of the conversations buzzing around me, but I’m enjoying the vibe nonetheless. It sounds trite, but I feel like I’m experiencing a sense of the real Jamaica, rather than something curated for tourists.
‘Is everything OK?’ Gabriel asks after a while.
‘Yes, I’m just soaking up the atmosphere,’ I tell him.
‘It’s good, isn’t it? Way better than the Blue Dolphin, anyway. You should bring your boyfriend and his pal here.’
That’s the thing that was niggling me earlier, I realise.
‘Neither of them are my boyfriend,’ I tell him firmly. ‘What made you think one of them was?’
‘I saw you checking in. Aren’t you in the same room as the tall, dark-haired guy?’
‘Yes, but that’s because of a misunderstanding. I can assure you we’re not together and, from what I know of him, we never will be.’
He looks confused but evidently decides he’s probed enough, as he returns his attention to his beer.
