Later that night, Mariola joins me as I sway in the hammock in the staff area, mesmerised by the sparkling stars above. ‘You forget how pretty the stars are.’ With so much light pollution in big cities, you forget they even exist.
‘Yes, it’s quite an artwork by Mother Nature.’
‘I love it here,’ I say, and feel the truth in my words.
‘Oh no, Harper. If you stay any longer, you won’t be able to leave…!’ She laughs and I follow suit. ‘You handled the kids well today.’
I do an awkward turn in the hammock and roll up like a burrito. ‘Who were they? They didn’t look like they had parents with them.’
‘They’re islanders who visit the pool once a week for swimming lessons that Xavier provides, one of his initiatives that’s actually worthwhile. When he returned to Esperé, a local child had a near miss in the ocean and it was just lucky a fisherman happened along, or it would have ended tragically. When Xavier found out that the boy didn’t know how to swim, he decided to offer a swimming safety programme for local kids. Today their swimming teacher called in sick, but Xavier didn’t want them to miss out on their pool time. They usually do lessons and then spend the afternoon by the lagoon playing games and having lunch.’
‘Oh, he does have a heart.’
Is that the kind of man who would then demolish parts of the rainforest? Rainforest that these kids no doubt run through to get to the beach? Maybe that’s why he offered the swimming lessons though, so they think he’s a good guy? I’m conflicted when I think of Xavier. Yeah, there’s the intensity of attraction, but I couldn’t love a man who had no principles. Love. I must have been hit on the head by a coconut!
* * *
I’m about to turn off the bedside light when there’s a light tap on the door. A woman from guest services appears and hands me a box. ‘From Xavier.’
‘Oh?’
‘There’s a note.’ Before I can say anything she removes the note from the box and reads it, ‘“Sorry about the dunking, hope this makes you more comfortable around the pool.” Oooh! What do you make of that then?’ Should she be reading my private notes and questioning me? Probably not, but it’s the way it is around here.
‘It’s an apology, is all.’ I open the box and pull out what appears to be an inflatable banana. ‘Ummm?’ We burst out laughing. ‘Maybe he thinks I’m a terrible swimmer?’
‘Or maybe he’s saying he’s got a big banana?’
‘Oh my God!’ We fall about laughing. The gesture is sweet and I get a little tingle knowing he thought about me enough to send… an inflatable banana, which I will not ever be seen with by the pool and risk the many lewd jokes that will surely come with it.
28
A few days later I’m preparing for a meeting in the bookshop with Xavier. I haven’t seen him since the day in the pool with the kids. So far, he hasn’t signed off on my bigger ideas for the bookshop and I’m impatient over his lack of contact, especially after he insisted I send them over in a timely manner. Yes, I didn’t want him hovering over me, but I do need his approval on matters, including whether I can get the social media up and running. If I’m to meet my so-called KPIs (which, as Google helpfully educated me, are key performance indictors; a fancy term for a list of goals to aim for) then I need his permission to get things moving around here. I’ve learned from my pop-up bookshop installation by the pool that he wants to be kept informed so I’m trying my best to do that, even if it’s a pain.
Xavier saunters in, sun streaming behind him like he’s a God, and I can’t help but check out his shoulders in view of what the Zhous would say. Are they the shoulders of a man who is husband material? Not for me, of course! I’m not in the market for a husband. Who cares if I’m still unwed at thirty-five, or forty? Or ever. But out of curiosity, I assess the man’s shoulders and, despite my untrained eye, they do seem to be of the matrimonial type – I don’t even know how such a thing is quantifiable, but you can just tell. Perhaps it’s a sense of his strength; perhaps I’m going totally nuts…? That seems more likely.
He must sense the direction of my gaze and looks down at his shirt, brushing his hand over it. ‘Harper.’
‘Xavier,apremidi.’
A smile plays at his lips. ‘You’re learning Seychellois Creole?’
‘Wi. I know a bit of French from school.’ Seychellois Creole is a French-based language that developed after the French occupation of Seychelles. It’s one of three official languages spoken on the island, alongside English and French. ‘I found a guidebook here to learn the differences between the two.’
‘Tre byen.’
‘Thank you for the extra-long inflatable banana…’ He’s quite sweet under all those layers of boss man.
‘Sorry, the resort shop was all out of inflatable rainbows. Least I could do after your unfortunate fall into the pool.’
‘My “fall”, that’s one way of saying it.’
‘They get a little over excited, especially when their rather stern swimming teacher is absent.’
‘They’re good kids.’ I grin. ‘I’m glad you’re here. I have a lot to discuss with you.’ This time it’s me who is all business and takes charge. ‘You didn’t get back to me about the list of improvements I want to make and I’m mindful that you’re expecting a lot from me. I can’t make any progress when you don’t give me approval to go ahead. Which reminds me, do I have to run every little thing by you? It screams micromanagement and unless I’m spending a lot of money on an initiative, I don’t see why I can’t just give things a go and see what happens as I’ve asked in my emails a few times now.’ Xavier’s got a whole resort full of problems to solve; surely he can loosen the strings enough for me to work autonomously and trust I’ve got the skills to do so.
He does the double blink thing, just like always. As if I always take him by surprise or he’s not used to people speaking so plainly. ‘Sorry for not replying to your very detailed and numerous emails, especially as I pushed for it?—’
‘I’m a details person.’
