‘Exactly.’
‘I’m sorry, you’ve lost me.’
‘If the couples staying at the Elixir are broadly similar to your sister and her husband, and I’m going to stick my neck out and suggest that they are, then at least 50 per cent of the clientèle probably want something stronger than mango kombucha, not least because they’re on holiday. It’s a strange hotel that ignores half of its customers, don’t you agree?’
He smiles. ‘That’s a good point, well made. I’ll tell her.’
‘Who?’
‘My sister. She owns the Elixir. It’s her concept.’
Thank goodness the sun has set, so hopefully Gabriel can’t see the flush of embarrassment spreading across my cheeks.
‘Oh, shit,’ I say quickly. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to?—’
‘It’s fine,’ he reassures me. ‘If it helps, I agree with you.’
Our conversation is interrupted by the arrival of Raphael, with a battery-powered lantern and more drinks. I glance down and I’m surprised to see my glass is empty.
‘I’ll get these ones,’ I say quickly, reaching for my purse.
‘Relax,’ Raphael says with a grin before leaning down and lowering his voice. ‘Drinks are on the house for family.’
‘So,’ Gabriel says once Raphael has left. ‘Let’s return to the question of why you’re here.’
‘I thought we’d answered that.’
‘I know why you’re in Jamaica, at the Elixir. But, to quote you, “Does God exist, or are we just meaningless ants hurtling round the universe on a random piece of rock?”’
‘I was being flippant.’
‘I realise that, but I’m curious nonetheless.’
‘Nuh-uh. I’ve answered your questions. It’s time for you to answer for a change. Do you think God exists?’
He thinks for a minute. ‘You know, don’t you, that Jamaica is a very religious country. One of the best-known is Rastafarianism, but actually the majority of the population belong to a Christian denomination.’
‘That’s fascinating,’ I tell him, ‘but I’m looking for a more personal answer. What does Gabriel believe?’
‘I was raised in the Church of God. My parents were both members.’
‘You’re a Mormon?’
‘No. Mormons refer to their churches as the Church of Jesus Christ, short for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. You can understand why; the full title is rather a mouthful. The Church of God is part of the Pentecostal movement withinProtestantism. I can see why you’d get them mixed up though. They are quite similar names. Another marketing blunder, do you think? And, if so, on which side?’
This proves to be something of a rabbit hole and, by the time Gabriel guides me back to the hotel, I’m both pleasantly relaxed from the rum and considerably better informed on the various religions of Jamaica and their practices. Pentecostalism sounds fun, a bit like the black churches I’ve seen depicted in films and on the TV, while the Seventh-Day Adventists sound rather strict with their observance of the Sabbath and their focus on healthy living. I’d remarked at one point that Gabriel’s sister had missed another marketing opportunity, as the Elixir sounds exactly the sort of place that would appeal to them, which had made Gabriel laugh and suggest I should be charging for all this good advice. I’ve enjoyed his company enormously but, frustratingly, I don’t seem to have learned anything more about him beyond the fact that he believes in God.
I’m relieved to see that Robert isn’t back when I let myself into the room. I grab my longest T-shirt and head into the bathroom to get ready for bed. The staff have been in and put up a single bed near the window so, after drawing the curtains and turning on one of the bedside lights so my unwanted roommate will be able to see whenever he decides to reappear, I slip under the covers and close my eyes.
I’m absolutely exhausted, but it still takes me a little while to get to sleep. This is partly because I never sleep that well in a strange bed, but mainly because Gabriel’s reluctance to talk about himself has made me burn with curiosity. What is he hiding?
12
I’m woken by the slam of the bedroom door followed by the sudden glare of the overhead light.
‘What the hell?’ I murmur as I sit up in bed, wiping the sleep from my eyes.
‘Evening, schweetheart,’ Robert says sarcastically as he crosses the floor to the double bed, sweeping the clothes still piled on it onto the floor. ‘Did you miss me?’ His voice is slightly slurred and he’s swaying gently as he stands; he’s obviously had a lot to drink.
