The Saga of Richard and Camille

New Year's Eve: A new beginning?

Chapter 1/1

Summary:

Richard has survived a near fatal attack, a coma, and a Christmas Eve awakening
Did he learn anything from his 'three wise men', or is he still the same old grumpy, grouchy, Englishman!?
New Year's Eve; New beginning or the 'same old same old'?

Notes:

Can Richard, or anyone for that matter, change the bad habits of a lifetime?
He has his second chance. How will he use it?

New Year's Eve: A New Beginning?

"Damn! … Blast! … Double Drat!"

With an exasperated exhale, Richard ends his futile search for his slippers.

'Whoever did the cleanup did, a right professional job of it. I have found everything (in its proper place) except my slippers. Twenty-five years I've had them. They are part of me! I've never worn them out of doors. Thoroughly cleansed, every fortnight with the highest quality saddle soap. I shall have to check and see if any of the cleaners or their spouses wear a size … size … Oh, bloody hell! I don't even know what shoe size system they use! It could be 10US, 9.5UK or 45EU or … or … oh drat. Over two years here on Saint Marie and I still don't even know the basics. Maybe I really don't belong here!'

Richard cocks his head. He thinks he's heard someone say, "relax". But it sounds more like a group addressing him. … He chuckles, 'my three wise men.' He really didn't think that he'd need them so soon. A week ago, he had burst out of his coma. Christmas Eve, an auspicious time for his rebirth. The last week had been all about rehabilitation. A psychiatrist had come from Guadeloupe to evaluate his response to the trauma of the attack. A nutritionist had guided him back to solid food, and a physio had started him on the slow painful process of restoring atrophied muscles. It was boring, it was tedious, but he was determined to be the best, most cooperative patient they had ever seen. Anything in order to get home, even if it was only a shack. They said two weeks, he was home in a week. New Year's Eve, and he was home!

After physio this afternoon, they had informed him that he could either go home or stay another week. It would be his decision. ... He chooses home.

since all of his clothes had been removed and placed 'in evidence', he left the hospital wearing 'scrubs', hospital slippers and a long, white lab coat. He felt like he was playing 'dress up'. He had the jitney driver make one stop. He picked up a bottle of champagne and the London Times. At home he cast his hospital garb into a bag. He'd return those at physio tomorrow. Showered, shaved, and in fresh crisp pajamas, he finally felt that he was once again really Richard Poole, human being.

'The fridge was stocked with all the proper foods for his rehab. The storeroom had been cleaned out and the med-equip company had installed his new super safe walking machine. He had already checked the internet and ordered a rowing machine that he could use on the veranda. He was determined to be back to work in one month, not the two that had been predicted. Richard was used to beating estimates and setting challenging goals. He had never been and would never be a slacker. He'd have that dopey London DI packing by February one. Saint Marie was his responsibility, not that Goodman chap. They were HIS team, and she was … well … well … … time would tell … maybe?'

"Now where could those slippers have gone? Well, I'm not going anywhere, so, I shall just go barefoot. The place is immaculate. Even the veranda has been scrubbed. But … it feels, … unnatural, incomplete, just not quite proper! None -the-less, this IS a new beginning. He looks down at the sharp creases in his pajama trousers. That is proper. And hanging them in the closet rather than folded in a drawer. That is proper. And the thought, that there are people who stuffed their night clothes under a pillow! Gad! No matter how enlightened or modern I may become, … that will' never happen. Never!

Moving slowly and cautiously across the floor, anticipating the bite and tear of a splinter. But NO! The floor is smooth and pleasantly cool. Richard continues to the veranda. Sitting at the table, Richard feels a giddy sense of childlike naughtiness'. He is barefoot. But … it is comfortable, even if not quite … proper. Those slippers are designed to ward off the chill of an English winter, not the sultry warmth of a tropical night.' He chuckles as he realizes how easy it is to rationalize his small changes in attitude.

"Harry! I know you're here. I saw you finished your dinner." A sudden flash of green from post to shoulder. "Ah ... there you are. Did you miss me? I missed you, well at least when I was conscious. Sorry I wasn't better company when I got home earlier. I had just enough energy to feed you. I then sat down in my reading chair, and I was out like a light. Now that I'm clean and in my own clothes, perhaps we can make it till midnight. Oh rats, I must consume one of those horrid protein drinks. Must restore the lost muscle. Yu coming, or would you rather wait here. I shan't be a tick!" Richard rises and Harry stays firmly attached to his shoulder.

Opening the fridge, Richard removes the bottle of champagne, a small plastic container and a bottle of beer. "Well, my friend, we'll use the cap as your flagon. I'll put the beer back, it won't matter if it goes flat. We'll use it for your bedtime treat. Tonight, we go posh. Champagne for all! Now I must get past this horrible concoction! Thankfully it's only, … ha! … four ounces … must be from those northern colonies. They haven't mastered the metric system yet. Ha!" Richard peels the cover and gulps down the contents. With a grimace and a groan, he states. "I shall be back in a moment Harry. I must brush, floss and gargle after that ghastly brew."

Returning to his miniscule galley he is surprised to find that Harry has cleaned the little container. "I say Harry, are you looking to bulk up? Trying to be Saint Marie's own resident 'Godzilla'? Our latest tourist attraction! We have hurricanes. We have volcanoes. We have Harry Godzilla! Sorry old man; I'm getting downright silly. Come, let us take our celebration back to the veranda."

On the way to the veranda, Richard dims the lights and picks up an old relic of a hurricane lamp. Back at the table, he lights the lamp, pours Harry a cap of Champagne and himself a full flute of the party liquid. "Harry, I do believe there's a good chance I'll make it to midnight. Iam becoming a party animal, … … or is it I party with animals! A joke Harry. And I haven't even sipped my libation."

Taking a sip of his wine, Richard gazes at the avenue of glittering, dancing light that seems to make a direct path between him and the moon. "Harry, do you think there is a better version of me down deep inside just trying to get out? Maybe I should take that shimmering highway and head for the moon. Humph I've told a joke and now I am being poetic. People wonder why I don't party. But Harry, the worst feeling in the world is to be alone in a crowd. To be surrounded by people singing and dancing and laughing and drinking just reminds you continuously that you are alone. Thank you, Harry. Thank you for being my friend."

The crunch of tires on the gravel brings Richard's philosophical ruminations to a halt. He rises, but before he can move, Fidel, Dwayne and Camille round the corner of the shack and come up the center stairs of the veranda.

"Happy New Year boss!" Fidel approaches with hand extended.

"Thank you, Fidel, and the same to you." Richard response as they shake hands.

"Heyyyy ... Chief! You up for a hug?" Dwayne's grin and his open arms are not to be denied.

"Happy New Year Dwayne." is all Richard can gasp as Dwayne squeezed the air out of his lungs. Dwane jerks back as his hug has brought him face to face with a very territorial Harry! "Whoa Chief I see you got company. Big party plans for tonight?" Everyone, including Richard joins in the laughter

Camille approaches with an extended hand. As they shake, she leans forward and kisses him on both cheeks and murmuring "Bonne Annee, Mon ami."

With a catch in his voice re replies quietly: "The Happiest of New Years to you, Camille."

"Man, ... Chief, you look like you could be back on the job right now!"

"Oh Dwayne, I wish that were true. But right now, the walk to the kitchen and back is a major accomplishment! ... Say team. What's with the uniforms. Policeman's ball tonight? And Camille. ... I have never seen you in a uniform before. Just that official picture in your personnel dossier. What's going on?"

"We're on duty boss, busiest night of the year for us." explains Fidel.

"Where's DI Goodman?"

"Well Chief, we kinda told him a 'white lie'. We said the DI took a couple of the night crew and took care of Port Royal and that part of the island. With no hotels or tourists down that way, it's where he's not gonna git into too much trouble. It's for the best Chief. He's real good at the white board. But in the field, he falls … ya know … outta windows an' off'n balconies. An' he's a real danger when it comes to hammocks. Sir. Chief." Dwayne ends with a salute.

"A h … right! … Ahhh…um. Camille. Why are you in uniform and why, for the last two years was I not made aware of this New Year's responsibility!"

"First, Richard, I am in uniform for purposes of identification. Tonight, we are dealing with partiers, … AKA heavy duty DRUNKS! Amateur drunks! We are dealing with bar fights and hotel costume parties where certain liberties are initiated and umbrage is taken. When I show up, I am there to keep rowdy from turning into riot. If I show up in civvies, I'm more likely to get asked to dance and probably have a few indecent proposals thrown in for good measure! So, the uniform works faster than the badge to get their attention and cooperation.

"Good thinking, Camille, ah, sergeant. Excellent strategy. … Indecent propositions? I … I … ah … continue, please."

"Sir, your second question. You have taken your annual leave at Christmas and New Years the two years that you've been here and that is not a problem. Our families and friends are right here. Yours' are four thousand miles and an ocean away. We never have had any major crime on New Year's. Just bar fights and some resort dustups. Nothing major, nothing we cannot handle. Even the Commissioner pitches in an takes a shift as dispatch. He calls it 'command and control'! Ha! And in the morning. Maman makes us a grand breakfast"

"But I've let the team down. I should have been here doing my bit."

"Boss, you are the hardest working DI we've ever had. During tourist season you work seven days a week. The time you take to be with family is well earned." I tell Julie all the time how lucky we are to have you as boss."

"Chief, you ain't ever let none of us down. Never!"

Fidel's phone buzzes. "Yes, sir Commissioner. ... Got it. Have JP out front were on our way."

"What's happening Fidel?"

Dwayne and me are headed to a bar fracas on Front Street. And DS Bordey needs to pick up JP and to the Palms Resort and see how the Posh crowd fights!"

"Are you guys prepared"

"Yes, aye Chief. We got our extendable steel batons. Pepper spray, and four sets of cuffs each." With that all three officers turn to display four sets of handcuffs tucked into each of their belts.

"Well, you need to be on your way. Happy New Year and … Be careful. Please."

Fidel and Dwayne tear off for the motorcycle. Camille pauses and turns back.

"Richard, rest, relax, no stress, we'll all be just fine."

"As you command, DS Bordey, and might I say that you look most fetching in full uniform."

With a wicked grin that increases his pulse, Camille ventures: "Maybe someday we can play cops and robbers?" She leers. His heart stops. And she is gone.

"Well Harry, one glass of champagne left and in two minutes and fifteen seconds we shall enter a new year. We made it my friend. Shall we be upstanding, to toast a new beginning? Come, let's go to the water's edge. We might be able to see the fireworks at Honore."

Richard, with Harry clinging to the warmth of his friend's shoulder, trundles down to the hardpack of the receding tide. A flash of light to the south followed by distant cracks, pops, and booms. Soon the variegated colors announce that a new year has begun. Richard lifts his glass in a toast. "Harry, to a New Year and just maybe a new me!"

Richard takes a sip and lowers his glass to his chest. A long narrow tongue shoots out to take a share of the champagne.

"Oh, my apologies old chap, we left your bottlecap flagon on the table. Oh well, we're friends, and friends share. Ah, I'm barefoot! I walked across the sand to get here. Now we need to go back. I don't suppose that you're up to carrying me. Eh Harry? … Last year's old me made it down, this year's new me can make it back! Tally-Ho mate."

And so, the two friends, sharing champagne and Richard's feet, make their way back to the shelter of the shack. Once inside Richard proceeds to the tree.

'You're home Harry. I hope you shan't find yourself in too much trouble for coming home a bit tipsy. It's only once a year. Happy New Year mate! See you for breakfast. Oh, six hundred hours, on the dot. Sleep well." Harry scurries up into his home

Richard crawls under the mosquito netting and flops on his bed., as a wave of fatigue washes over him. His mind settles on the image of those four pair of handcuffs swaying gently as Camille walked away. "mmmm." 'An island goddess in her brass skirt. Ha! Another joke! … 'Cops … and … Robbers.' … "mmmm" ...

A new year! A new Richard! A new dream in Paradise!

A Happy and Healthy New Year to all!

The End

'New Year's Eve: A New beginning?'