‘These two are fried plantain and festival, which is a kind of fritter made from corn meal,’ he explains. ‘Why not take a little bit of each to see if you like them?’
I shouldn’t be surprised that Constance has decided that I should occupy the seat next to her at the large dining table. Lily and Dan sit with Grace and Leonard, leaving Uriel and Raphael to entertain Amy and Stuart. Stuart is evidently well out of his comfort zone, as he’s barely said a word since we arrived. I don’t think it helped when he picked up his knife and fork the moment he’d sat down and Raphael had to gently intervene to stop him.
‘Uriel, say the blessing, please,’ Constance commands.
‘Thank you, Lord, for this food. Bless it to our bodies and bless the hands that prepared it. Amen,’ Uriel intones as everyone except Amy and Stuart bows their heads. Constance looks around the table approvingly before picking up her knife and fork. This is obviously the signal to start eating, as the rest of the Campbells follow suit. I cut off a small piece of my jerk chicken and sigh with pleasure as I bite into it. It’s still hot, but much more manageable than the one I had at the Food Shack. I glance up just as Amy shovels a large chunk into her own mouth. For a moment, there’s nothing, and then her eyes widen in surprise and I could swear there are tears forming in them.
‘Is everything all right, honey?’ Constance asks. She was obviously watching too.
Amy is evidently in real trouble, and I can’t help feeling a little sorry for her, even though she totally ignored everyone’s advice and has definitely brought this on herself. She’s got a massive piece of something I know to be hotter than the surface of the sun in her mouth, and she can’t spit it out for fear of offending our hosts. There’s only one way it can go, and I watch as she chews frantically, with tears now pouring down her face. Silence has fallen round the table; everyone is watching Amy with fascination now. She’s breathing heavily and perspiration is forming on her forehead. Eventually, she swallows and immediately grabs her glass, emptying it in one go.
‘It’s delicious, Mrs Campbell,’ she coughs. ‘I, umm, particularly love getting to know the cuisine of every country I visit, and this chicken is a real eye opener.’
‘Uriel, fetch the lady some milk,’ Constance says. ‘That’s a chilli cough right there.’
‘I’m fine, honestly,’ Amy gasps as, to her credit, she bravely cuts another piece. ‘I’ll admit it was a surprise, but I know what to expect now. Could I have another ginger beer, please?’
‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea,’ Grace says gently to her. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer milk? It really helps.’
‘I’m not really a fan of milk,’ Amy tells her. ‘Maybe water?’
‘Water will make it worse,’ Grace explains. ‘The chemical that makes chillies spicy doesn’t dissolve in water. If you’re not a fan of milk, some yoghurt might help?’
‘That would be lovely, thank you,’ Amy says, now looking at the pieces of chicken on her plate with something approaching terror.
To her credit, Amy did manage to finish her chicken with the help of copious amounts of yoghurt and, to my amazement, didn’t try to make her predicament my fault, for once. I’m not sure how she would have achieved it, given that I had warned her, but Amy seems determined to blame me for everything, so I’m sure she could have found a way if she’d really wanted to. As soon as we’d got back to the hotel, she’d made a beeline for her room and we didn’t see her for the rest of the day. It’s now Monday morning and we’re congregating as usual for breakfast. Today is the last full day I’ll get to spend with Gabriel, as he’s already explained he’ll be tied up in rehearsals for the concert tomorrow. I’m therefore a little preoccupied and don’t notice that my nemesis is missing.
‘Where’s Amy?’ Robert asks Stuart as we sit down.
‘She’s not feeling very well,’ Stuart replies. ‘She’s been up most of the night, actually. I left her to sleep.’
‘What kind of not very well?’ Lily asks, concern etched on her face. ‘Do we need to get the resort to call a doctor?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Stuart says carefully. ‘She’s convinced the chicken at lunch probably wasn’t cooked properly and has givenher food poisoning. She’s, umm, got the burning ring of fire, if you know what I mean.’
Lily looks nonplussed for a moment, until Dan mouths the word ‘diarrhoea’ at her.
‘It’s not food poisoning,’ I say firmly. I may be used to Amy coming for me, but I’m not having her blame Constance for something she totally brought on herself. ‘Her body is just telling her, as I tried to do before she ate it, that the chicken was too spicy for her.’
‘I don’t know. I mean, we don’t know how it was cooked, do we?’ Stuart counters. ‘Maybe it was underdone.’
‘Has anyone else had a bad reaction?’ I ask him crossly.
‘Umm, not that I know of.’
‘And yet we all had this supposedly undercooked chicken. Either we’re exceptionally fortunate or that’s not the explanation.’
‘Maybe our version was better cooked,’ Lily suggests.
‘I’m sure both versions were cooked just the same. The only difference was that ours was milder. But let’s suppose you’re right and there was something genuinely wrong with the hotter one. That would affect the other people who ate it too, wouldn’t it?’
‘I suppose so,’ Stuart admits.
‘OK. Let me WhatsApp Gabriel and see how they all are.’ I pull out my phone to compose a quick message, but it actually takes longer than I thought, because it’s quite a difficult question to ask without sounding odd. In the end I think I get the balance just about right.
Hi, just double-checking what time you’re picking me up today. I have 10am in my head, is that right? Shall I meet you at Raphael’s, as I assume you’ll be using his car again? xx
I’m quite pleased with myself. If Amy is right, not only will Gabriel be unable to collect me at ten, but Raphael won’t be anywhere near his bar either. The reply comes almost immediately.
