She groans. ‘Oh God, you’re not going to get involved in that too, are you? I can see you holding up signs and getting signatures on petitions.’
I laugh. ‘What do you think?’
‘Yeah, sure it would be a bit sad for the island, but would that really put you off the guy?’
‘Yeah. It would. It just feels wrong once you see how unspoiled it is here. The Last Chance Resort is a boutique resort that’s beautiful because of the expansive gardens and greenery everywhere you look. If the rainforest were to start being depleted in great chunks, it would lose that tropical island feel. And not only that, but what about all the animals that call that patch home? All those plants, gone. It’s just feels… wrong.’
She sighs. ‘When you paint it like that, I see what you mean. But if it’s eco-friendly…’
‘Eco-friendly is leaving it as it is.’
41
Nerves flutter as I take the microphone. Mariola gives me a supportive smile. It’s the first author event for the resort and while I’d hoped for a good turnout, I hadn’t quite expected this. The bookshop is full of islanders, expats and guests. Now, I’m battling a severe case of stage fright as all eyes are trained on me.
I clear my throat. ‘Welcome to the Barefoot Bookshop, everyone.’ I kick myself and try again, this time using a Seychellois Creole greeting. ‘I’m thrilled to host the first author event with special guest and island local Khalil Joubert, who is here to talk about his novelWhere the Waves Keep Time.’
The crowd clap and cheer and the expats’ eyes shine with pride. ‘If Khalil will join me, we’re going to discuss the themes in the book – without spoilers – and give you a taste of what to expect when you pick up a copy.’
Khalil joins me on stage, which is really just an elevated seating area that is perfect for events like this. Xavier was right about his book, it’s about the quiet endurance of the Seychellois women, who live in a matriarchal society and how history often overlooks these strong women and how colonisation tried to steal their voices, their strength. When I read it, I was blown away by his prose. It’s such an ode to the island and its history and features a sweeping love story that survived against all odds.Where the Waves Keep Timeis loosely based on the story of his great-grandparents. I’m over the moon that we were able to host Khalil at our first ever author talk. I see too why Gus had the book on the top of the curated list he left for me.
From the size of the turnout tonight we should make a decent amount of sales, but more importantly attendees will leave with a book that is truly memorable, one of those that stay with them for a lifetime and perhaps will remind them of their holiday and these turquoise waters that keep time and the memories of those who came before.
Khalil answers so articulately that after a few questions I manage to relax into the conversation and begin to enjoy it, as if I’m truly just chatting away to a bookish pal, and I manage to forget the audience is even there. It strikes me that stories like these, with such historical significance, that are so culturally important, need to be shared far and wide, not just because it’s the right thing to do but because these stories matter and add another rich and lustrous layer to literature with voices that have largely been unheard.
How can a man like Khalil not have worldwide recognition for a novel as special as this? Knowing him like I do, recognition doesn’t matter to him; what matters is he wrote the story that was in his heart and kept his family history alive, the words now an everlasting legacy to people who are no longer here – if novels like this don’t get further than this archipelago, then it’s readers who miss out. Without readers shouting from the rooftops, Khalil’s beautiful prose won’t make it other shores and for the sake of the hauntingly evocative history of his family and the challenges they faced, I hope that his name is on their lips when they return home from holidays, with tales of the resort and the life-affirming book they read that made them pause, contemplate life anew. That’s the magic of books. The way they shape you as person, change your view on the world. Make you a more empathetic human.
When we get to the end of the questions, I dare a glance at the crowd and see only rapt faces. It’s really quite the tale and I can’t wait for them to plunge into the pages as Khalil paints them a picture of the Seychelles in another time, another life.
‘Thank you so much, Khalil, for your time with us this evening. We’re so lucky to have a peek behind the scenes of how the novel came to be.’ I turn back to the crowd. ‘Khalil has kindly offered to do a signing. While you’re waiting, please help yourself to drinks. We have all sorts including Kalu, which is palm wine made from the sap of coconut trees and has quite the punch. We also have a range of Creole canapés to tempt you.’
I escort Khalil to the signing table and get him set up. It’s sweet to see the expats are waiting patiently by the counter, first in line to purchase a copy even though they’ve read the book already. I ring up their sales but they hang back to let guests go first at the signing table.
Mariola steps in to help me as the queue doesn’t seem to shrink. ‘This is incredible,’ she says. ‘I’ve never seen the bookshop so busy.’
‘It’s great to see.’ I serve another customer who buys Khalil’s book and one about the Aldabra giant tortoises.
When we finally catch up on the queue, Mariola and I exchange a grin. ‘Now if we could just do that every night I’d be secure in the knowledge the bookshop is safe,’ I say. ‘How many other incredible authors have you got hiding on the island?’
She laughs. ‘There’s quite a few on neighbouring islands.’
‘I need names! I’m keen to read them all. It would be great to highlight all this home-grown talent.’
‘Gus wrote a novel too, you know.’
‘No!’
‘Yes. Bet you’ll never guess what kind.’
‘Something political, gritty, topical?’
‘A kid’s picture book about a guy and his tortoise sidekick. He got it printed himself.’
‘Why does everyone constantly surprise me around here?’
‘The magic of last chances.’
Coming here did feel like my last chance. I even said as much to Gus on the phone interview. I wanted a place to hide, but really to heal. And like the others who came before me, I feel a pull of belonging. Like I was always meant to find my way here. That all the mistakes, the wrong paths I walked down, led me here, the place maybe I was always destined to find when the time was right. But what am I saying? That I’d happily give up my London life for island life, permanently? What if it’s all taken away, the magic of this place, with Xavier’s redevelopment plans? If he can fire Gus, he can fire me, but I don’t mind speaking my mind. Not when so much is at stake. Where is Gus? Why hasn’t he come back to visit Turt? What really happened between him and Xavier? My heart hurts for them all, including Turt, knowing there’s a rift that wrenched them apart, like a rip tide. Gus gave me a chance when no one else would. I owe this newfound happiness to him and wish I could help him in some way.
