Chapter 12 – Calming Down
Meanwhile, Richard was trying to get comfortable on a dingy old plastic chair. He felt like he was sitting on an eggslicer. Catherine's bar was perhaps not the poshest place in town, but at least you could sit there without having your backside tortured by an old busted piece of plastic.
Joey watched him shuffling around in his seat and smiled. "It's not the Ledbury, I know…" she said apologetically, wiping her fingers with a paper napkin, "but the fish and chips are marvellous here, aren't they?" She reached over to another chair and retrieved a tatty (but apparently clean) cushion for him that he gratefully accepted.
Ah… this was much better!
They were sitting under a tin roof, at a raddled table in a rather run-down place overgrown with bright pink bougainvillea. It was located on a cliff looking down on some greenery, in the distance you could see the waves of the ocean crashing on to some big rocks. It was hardly more than tiny open shed, attached to a small food stand, several miles away from Honoré. Since Saint Marie was a small island, they hadn't really driven far – but many of the roads were narrow and somewhat curvy, so it took time to get from one place to the other.
Richard knew the stand, but he had only seen it closed as he had never been here in the evening. He had actually thought it was abandoned.
He had to agree that the fish and chips had been the best he had eaten in a while – since his return from the UK, actually. He had never been into regular street food, but obviously fish and chips were something entirely different… you had to eat them from a food stall or in a drafty old shed, and it had to be smelling of old fat and you had to be freezing from the cold salty air.
Well, it was an old shed, and it smelled of old fat – he could tolerate the absence of cold salty air… although it didn't feel right to be so hot and bothered. However, he felt much calmer already.
It wasn't a particularly busy place, and he wondered how the owner got by, but Joey just laughed when he made a remark. "Oh, it's more a hobby than a source of income for him, I think. David – that's his name – doesn't keep it open all the time. Mariah, his girlfriend, owns a surfing school in Honoré, and that's how they actually make a living. David certainly knows this place isn't particularly lucrative, but he keeps it up until he can find a better place closer to Honoré. I think it's only open on four evenings a week, Tuesday to Friday, or something like that, and if he's busy with other things, he won't open, so… you never know whether or not you'll get something to eat when you go here."
"You come here often?" Richard asked, less out of interest than because he felt he had to say something. She shrugged and said "Not any more, no. But I used to come here regularly during the first weeks after my arrival. Needed a little piece of home, you know. David's tea is no good, but the fish and chips are. You know they usually make cod differently here in the Caribbean, and I just couldn't get used to that. It was just one little thing… but it drove me up the walls how they use all those spices and what-not. Not to mention that my stomach acts up when I eat radically spicy stuff… Sorry, I know – too much information."
She giggled and went on "So, Andrew recommended the place when he realised I really missed home. Wasn't hard to notice, honestly… I kept moaning about it!"
So, apparently, he wasn't the only one who missed his home soil every once in a while. He wished he had been aware of this place during his first year here on Saint Marie – maybe he would have found it a little easier to adjust if he had known he could have a plateful of decent fish and chips some time if the craving got too bad…
But then again, maybe not. Maybe it would have made it all the more difficult. He wasn't sure.
He realised that Joey had just said she had kept moaning about all the differences between the UK and the Caribbean. Why had she come here in the first place then? He hadn't come here voluntarily, and everyone knew that, but it seemed odd that she'd move here when she obviously wasn't really too keen on the climate, the food and everything else…
He didn't want to ask, though. It was none of his business, and if she wanted him to know, she'd tell him some time.
Joey was good company. She felt he wasn't in a chatty mood, and apparently she wasn't, either, so they just sat there, looking out on what was left to see of the ocean in the distance. It was dark, except for the ominous lighting of the food stand. A few people had come and gone, but now, they were the only customers, and eventually, Joey asked "Want to go home now?"
He nodded. On the way to his shack, Joey said – seemingly incidentally - "Listen, Richard… I've got a bit of a problem that I need help with. Is there any chance you'd be willing to lend me your ear? I know you're not keen on sticking your nose into stuff that's none of your business, and that's exactly why I'm turning to you. I don't need a host of well-meant advice that comes from people who cannot relate to my situation and aren't able to think outside the box…"
"What makes you think I do?" he asked, a little curiously – and somewhat flattered that someone would see him that way. All he ever got to hear was that he was doing things by the book, and people said that as if it was a bad thing. But of course, being a good DI – and he knew he was good! - meant he had to take all sorts of things into consideration and allow for all possibilities. Maybe Joey was referring to that…
"Oh, I've been watching you," she said casually. And then, after a pause, she added "And Camille described how you solved some of your cases together. That makes me conclude that you're a sensible man who can keep a secret and who can give me some valuable insights on… on how to deal with what bothers me." She gave him a sideways glance. "Believe me, I wouldn't address to you if I knew of another way to handle the situation. I'm not used to asking for help, but I'm in a bit of a pickle and am afraid I need someone to give me directions – or at least some idea of whether or not I have a point with how I see things…"
Richard didn't say anything for a while. He wasn't keen on hearing any personal confessions – usually, when people were in a pinch, they felt inclined to say all sorts of things that had better been left unsaid, and he knew the overwhelming feeling of regret that could come after having said something that couldn't be taken back…
Joey noticed his reluctance. She sighed and remarked "Oh well. If not, that's okay. I guess I'll have to live with it and sort it out myself…"
She sounded genuinely disappointed. She was quiet for a moment and then continued "Would you change your mind if I told you that it's got to do with Camille? And that it would perhaps make things easier for her if you knew?"
He shot her a curious sideways glance before responding, feigning complete disinterest, but failing to sound as aloof as he would have liked to, "Why would that make me change my mind?"
She raised her eyebrows and said enigmatically "Oh, I don't know. It's just a feeling that I have…"
He snorted.
"So, yes or no?" she insisted.
Oh, what the heck… if it was something important that would affect or even hurt Camille, then he could perhaps help her, and yes, he actually did want to know about it. Although he couldn't figure out where the point was – she had made it very clear that he meant nothing to her… Unfortunately, that didn't stop him from having feelings for her – he was only too aware of them… and he didn't want her to get hurt.
So, after a pause that seemed like an eternity, he said gruffly "Right. If you want to talk, okay. But not now. I'm too tired and somewhat… er… worn out, and I couldn't do your dilemma or whatever it is any justice, so maybe you'd better come round on the weekend. What about Saturday afternoon? I have housework to do in the morning, but…"
He noticed her surprised glance and raised his eyebrows, asking a little stand-offish "What? Don't men have to do housework in your world? It might surprise you, but this fancy post here didn't come with a butler, a maid or a self-cleaning house, so someone's got to do it…"
Joey laughed and said apologetically "I'm sorry. It's just… I thought you might have a cleaner, but then again, why would you? You're such a stickler, nobody would do it right in your eyes, anyway, not to mention that you'd hate having people rummage and poke around in your place… You're not like Andrew who doesn't care if a complete stranger finds his underpants and stinky socks under the sofa – he figures that he pays them, so they have to suck it up. He doesn't mind, either, if said underpants and socks aren't folded in a particular way once they are clean again, so that's no issue for him – while I imagine you can be rather peculiar about that sort of thing!"
Richard blushed in the darkness. He wasn't going to discuss his underpants with her, but she had a point…
"You got me there," he admitted. "Plus I think there's something strangely meditative and satisfying about some chores – you can get the most enlightening inspirations when doing the dishes, and I've had some epiphanies regarding cases while cleaning my bathroom. At other times, housework is good for switching off. It can go either way - your mind can get busy while you do something useful with your hands, and at other times, focusing on the mundane manual task you're doing keeps your mind totally blank. But getting back to the point… if you came round at, say, four-ish, that would be okay with me. With some luck, it'll be a quiet weekend, anyway, but Saturday afternoons usually are fairly uneventful, in any case… I haven't been called out more than maybe five times over the past two years on weekends, so…"
"You're on call?" Joey asked, surprise in her voice. "No, not technically so," he said. "But if there's anything the officer on call here in Honoré needs help with, it's better to show up. This weekend it's Fidel's turn, and in two weeks time, it's Dwayne's. They get time off to compensate for weekend shifts, of course."
"Ah. So who was on call last weekend while we all were at Fidel's?" Joey asked curiously. "Oh, we share weekend duties with a station at the other side of the island," Richard explained. "You didn't think the Commissioner gets paid a full salary for just watching over one single police station, did you? The one here in Honoré is the main station of the island, and it's the only one staffed with a Met officer. The place at the other side of the island that I mentioned is smaller, they have two officers – no senior officers, though – and they report directly to the Commissioner. They deal with all the petty stuff in their part of the island, and we get to solve all major cases on the island, plus, of course, murders and other capital offences. One of the other small islands off-shore has a one-man-police-station… He's close to retirement, though, and I'm not sure he'll get replaced once he's done with his service. Anyway… Once a year, the Commissioner organises a get-together in the Government House, so I do know the other officers from those events, but other than that, I have nothing to do with them…"
Joey nodded. "Interesting. Thanks for explaining – I had no idea. I mean, Camille mentioned a few things, but I guess I just never thought to ask about details."
He shrugged. "Why would you? Most of us aren't particularly interested in how something is organised as long as we aren't directly concerned. – So, Saturday at around four? You can drop me off at the next junction, over there. My house is down at the beach, right at the end of the dirt road."
She stopped and waited until he had unbuckled the seat belt and opened the door. Then she turned to him and said "I'll be there on Saturday. Thanks, Richard – I appreciate that. Oh, and don't forget your briefcase and your jacket!"
"Never," he said with a crooked smile. "They're basically sessile, didn't you know that? Good night, Joey, and – er – thanks for… er…"
"Oh, go away, " she laughed. "It was entirely for selfish reasons that I took you there! See you on the weekend, if we don't bump into one another before then!"
Richard just nodded and shut the door so she could drive off…
He watched her drive away, crossed the street and walked down to his house. He wondered for a moment what it could be that Joey wanted to talk about. She had appeared rather pensive and worried when she had mentioned that she had a 'problem'… However, she had also seemed determined, and he figured that he had listened to so many life stories already during his career – it wouldn't make much of a difference to listen to yet another one.
And clearly, he had bitten the bait that Joey had thrown his way… Camille's well-being… For a moment he tried to convince himself that he just wanted her to be balanced and happy because it would be easier to work with her, but then he shook his head in self-contempt – wasn't it a bit stupid to try and fool himself? He knew only too well that he had clearly unprofessional feelings for her…
His mind wandered back to the events at La Kaz. Honestly, he had no idea what he had done wrong and why Camille had been so upset with him. Why was everything so complicated? Why couldn't she just be a bit more soft and gentle, why did she have to be so stroppy, wilful and obstinate? Why did she have to prove constantly that she was independent and strong? He knew that already… He had thought that – while they still had the occasional difference in opinion and argued every once in a while - they had left the stage of constant battling behind long ago… but obviously, he had been mistaken…
Then again… He couldn't stop thinking of how he had felt during the dance they had shared last weekend… The way she had let him hold her had surprised him – he had expected her to be less inclined to let him lead the way. And she had not objected to him pulling her closer – actually it had felt like her arm around his shoulder had tightened a little, like she was moving closer towards him voluntarily, not because he had instigated it… It had felt like she actually wanted it that way, too, and was comfortable with him… The word 'attracted' flashed up for a moment, but he dismissed this – if she was attracted to him, she had a weird way of bringing it across, really…
Oh well, it was useless to keep pondering the same thing over and over. He'd better make himself a cup of tea and go to bed afterwards. He was tired.
