Chapter 1 – Sunset
The bungalow stood back amongst the palm trees, nestled between the softly waving fronds and only a few steps from the turquoise sea gently eddying up the white coral sand of the beach. Rick stretched out on the sunbed, whiskey in hand and crossed his feet, allowing the pleasant breeze coming off the water to cool his brow. The sun was already sinking westwards, tinging the horizon in pale orange and dusting the bottom of the distant clouds with pink.
In another hour it would be dark, or as dark as a brilliantly clear night-sky full of stars allowed. He set the glass down on the decking and placed his hands behind his head, taking a deep breath and sucking in the peacefulness surrounding him.
Yesterday had been the usual, exciting, hyperactive transition from crazy civilization to peaceful backwater. JFK had been wet, crowded, and chaotic, the six hour flight to the main island airport his first chance to begin the winding down. By the time he'd climbed aboard the Cessna along with two other passengers for the short, island-hopping flight to the sun-drenched airfield, New York and winter were left far behind.
The dusty drive along rutted tracks as he followed the 'coastal road' helped his shoulders to lose the tension of a month-long book tour and the increasingly grating presence of Gina, publisher and ex-wife; two devils rolled into one. It wasn't a drive he'd want to make every day nor in the middle of an island storm, but the island road, one moment running out along a headland offering unobstructed views of the rolling blue Atlantic waves reaching out to the distant horizon, the next diving into groves of palms which swayed and whispered with the breeze was one he'd been enjoying once a year for the last three years.
Now he could just sit back and unwind for the next few days, he was stocked up with supplies until the weekend, the fuel tanks for the generator were full and the lack of phone and internet meant the world could come to an end and he wouldn't know … not unless Alexis or his Mother contacted Pierre, the island's policeman and convinced him to come out and warn Castle. He grinned to himself, it would take a lot to get Pierre out of his air-conditioned office and have him drive halfway round the Island to this little spot of paradise …
He swirled the last of the whiskey and melting ice around the bottom of the glass and swung off the sunbed, pushing himself up onto his feet and heading indoors for a refill. Walking back out, he noted the sun had already turned from white to yellow, casting a deeper orange glow along the horizon, while overhead, the purple of evening slowly drew its veil across the blue of the tropical sky and an almost translucent moon made its first, timid appearance.
A few local fishing boats stood out starkly against the setting sun, like charcoal etchings on a Monet canvas. The sea was taking on the colour of molten brass, and the sand slowly turning from white to blueish grey, the regular wash of white, frothing foam adding to the contrast.
His attention was caught by a distant figure wondering along the beach, a darker silhouette against the golden sea, face hidden by the sun setting behind. He squinted and raised a hand to shade his eyes. Whoever it was, probably came from one of the other bungalows along this side of the island, a few, like the one he was staying in, isolated and standing alone, others bunched together in groups of three or four.
His eyes shifted back to the sun, the orange disk almost touching the sea, a shimmering path stretching towards him, whilst far out, the first of the lights began to appear on the fishing boats, green to starboard, red to port and the white lights closer to the surface, hoping to draw the evening's catch towards the nets. He turned his attention back to the figure that was now that much closer. He still couldn't make out details, but the walk, the shoes or sandals held in one hand, the wrap which did little to hide the slim figure … the walker was obviously female and though his curiosity was piqued, he was still on his first day of winding down, so he offered no more than a wave as the figure walked past.
She returned his gesture, almost hesitatingly and then she was past him, feet leaving dark prints in the sand behind her, prints which were barely laid before the next onrush of foaming water gently swept over them and on pulling back left only faint indentations behind. By the time the next gentle surge rushed its way up the beach and then fell back, her prints had all but been washed away. There was something poetic … and unsettling about the thought. He turned his head back towards her, a tall, slim figure walking away along the beach into purple darkness.
He turned back to the sun, watched as the last of the orange orb sank below the surface, casting a warm glow up into the slowly darkening sky. Within minutes, daylight was gone and the first of the stars began to glint overhead, the moon gaining strength even as her heavenly consort's lessened.
With a sigh, he stood up and made his way back to the bungalow, turning on gas lights and pulling the fridge open to see what he could prepare for dinner. Sausages and a baked potato he decided, pulling out some butter and herbs for the dressing and hanging a second gas light on the hook above the kitchen island to give himself more light. He could of course use the electrical lights which ran off the geny, but he preferred the Robinson Crusoe effect of gas lamps and moonlight through the windows.
He grabbed the potato, cut crosswise into it and placed it on a piece of foil before sprinkling a bit of oil and sea salt over it. He added a sprig of fresh rosemary, wrapped the potato in the foil and placed it along with the sausages and herb butter on a plate before carrying it out onto the deck and setting it down by the barbeque. He returned to the fridge, pulled out a beer and headed back outside
Soon the charcoal was glowing bright red and he placed the potato on the grill, covering the sausages and moving to the front of the deck where he leant on the wooden balustrade and watched the bobbing lights of the fishing boats out to sea.
Tomorrow he'd go round to see if his friend Bembe had any fresh fish. Supplies on the islands were limited at best and the two steaks he'd bought on the main island would have to do him until he sent his shopping list back with Harry, the owner of the Cessna, who not only organised the island-hopping flights and tourist trips, but also ran a shopping service.
The sizzling of the oil in the foil … he had to grin at the unintended rhyme … drew his attention back to the grill and he turned the potato over before adding the sausages. He twisted the top off the beer and took a sip, turning the sausages as they began to brown. Cooking by gas light was a little hit-and-miss, the difference between well-done and charcoaled being a thin line.
The moon was well up by the time he settled down at the table, a second beer in his hand and the steaming potato melting the large knob of butter and herbs. The onshore breeze had picked up a little, rustling the palm leaves above and making the gaslights hiss and from the dark groves behind the bungalow, he could make out the mating calls of the tree frogs.
Pushing the empty plate away, he settled against the chair and tilted his head back to gaze up at the sky. He rarely got to see such a sight, a myriad stars speckling the firmament and the moon as clear as he'd ever seen it, slowly moving up and westwards over the sea, painting a cool, silvery path towards the shore.
He wished Alexis was already here, but she still had another week of school left and then the field trip. She wouldn't be joining him for another two weeks almost. With a sigh he pushed himself up, gathered the plate and empty beer bottle and carried them indoors. He checked the barbeque was well and truly out and began to turn of the gas lamps, silently apologising to the moths and bugs fluttering around them.
He entered the bathroom, switched on the electric light over the sink, brushed his teeth and rubbed a hand over his face. The organised chaos of leaving, the flights and the fresh air were taking their toll; he could barely keep his eyes open. Switching off the light, he entered the bedroom, stripped and climbed into bed, pulling the mosquito netting around him. Within minutes he was asleep.
AN: Always like to know what you think, so reviews are welcome :)