‘Yes?’
‘I’ve got a few friends on the island who pick up stuff from me, and I’ve got a few other mates who drop off packages.’
I narrow my eyes, Mariola’s warning about these scheming expats ringing in my ear. ‘And how do I fit?’
‘Well, I’m not always around. Some days I’m fishing, other days I’m… out, like. So I thought, gosh, darn, wouldn’t it be easier to tell them to pick up or deliver the packages here?’
I regard him suspiciously. Packages, eh? ‘And what’s in these… packages?’
Is his gaze suddenly shifty or am I imagining that?
‘Herbal supplements.’
‘Herbal supplements?’ Is he having a laugh? I scan his face for clues but his expression remains affable. Is this some kind of drug-trafficking ring? Makes sense, a quiet tropical island with no police force. Perhaps Michel is in on it? The hapless helicopter pilot thing is probably all a ruse, and he can hide in plain sight doing drop-offs. Maybe even Doris is in on it. She is adorned with a lot of expensive gold jewellery – and where did a little old lady get the funds for such an ostentatious display of wealth? Drugs, where else!
Brian continues on, seemingly unaware of my concerns. ‘Yeah, herbal supplements. Gingko biloba for memory and cognitive function, turmeric for its anti-inflammatory properties and joint pain – trust me, Harper, when you sail over the high seas past seventy-plus, these things become a necessity.’
I frown, not quite sure whether to take this at face value or not. He seems genuinely into herbal medicines, but who would know around here? ‘Did Gus agree to this little pick-up, drop-off deal?’
‘Hadn’t thought of it then, had I?’
I eye him cautiously. He’s doesn’t exactly look like a drug trafficker, but looks can be deceiving. ‘No, I’ll pass thanks.’
‘What if I sweeten the deal?’
I arch a brow. ‘With?’
‘Herbal supplements, of course! How about some ashwagandha for its stress relieving power?’
‘Thanks for the offer but I use piña colada for that.’
‘So do I. Hits the spot too, it does. I’ll let you think on it.’
‘No, I don’t need to think—’ I start, but he lopes away, waving his book as he goes.
The Last Chance Resort has such an inclusive vibe… I guess. Whether I’m being cajoled into illegal activities is another thing, but at least they’re including me. I’d expected the expats to be more circumspect, not warm and wacky and possibly criminal.
The Gus mystery is still a head scratcher and one I’m determined to get answers to. I’m happy to bide my time and wait in the hopes people will feel more comfortable to open up. Brian’s wish that Gus might just return gives me hope that he will. Who knows, maybe he’s just having some time out, or maybe he is retired and the grapevine, like always, has variations on the truth until it becomes a conspiracy.
I open the notebook bearing my name.
23
Dear Harper,
I’m sorry I’m not there to welcome you to the Barefoot Bookshop but I’ve been around long enough to know you’re the exact right person for the job. Atwood, eh? Without going into specifics, me leaving was the right thing to do for everyone’s sake, especially Xavier’s. Ignore the gossip and conjecture as best you can and get on with the job of selling books, so that the bookshop doesn’t indeed close. If that were to happen, I’d never forgive myself and that would make my transgressions infinitely worse.
Forgive an old man speaking in riddles, won’t you? You’ll find everything you need to know about running the bookshop in this notebook. Old fashioned, yes, but I’m an old-fashioned guy. I hope you enjoy your time on the island, Harper. Last Chance Resort is a restorative place, if you allow it to be. It has been for me, and I’ll miss it very much. Look after Turt Vonnegut, he’s a real character when you get to know him and he’s a great listener.
Without further ado here is my reading list that I insist you work your way through. In a perfect world, I’d still be at the Barefoot Bookshop and we’d lose an afternoon with bookworms, discussing these lifechanging books; alas, I am not. Soak up the words anyway.
Where the Waves Keep Time by Khalil Joubert – part historical fiction, part love story and the history of the Seychelles as a matriarchal society set on Esperé island.
An Embarrassment of Mangoes by Ann Vanderhoof – a memoir of an epic two-year sailing voyage around the Caribbean.
A Short Walk in the Hindu Kush by Eric Newby – a memoir of an expedition through the Hindu Kush mountains.
Round Ireland With a Fridge by Tony Hawks – a memoir that started with a bet… and who doesn’t want to take up a bet like this?
