After the Storm (3 page)

‘Let me do the negotiations,’ he said.

‘Fine, but please keep some money back Rob, in case we need to escape.’

He pulled a face at her.

‘You know sometimes I think you’ve missed your vocation: drama queen needed here.’

She punched him playfully.

‘At least we get to leave here today. Now
that
makes me glad.’

They found their way back to the quay. Owen, who had been scanning the quay for the last hour, saw them in the distance walking towards the boat.

‘They’re gonna say yes,’ he said to Kim. ‘They’ve got their rucksacks with them.’

Rob waved to Owen and made a thumbs-up signal. Kim watched the couple approach the boat and felt a sharp pang of regret, another delay to their return home. Owen couldn’t keep putting it off.

Owen and Rob sat in the cockpit to talk money while Kim showed Anna around the boat. They entered a saloon which you stepped down into from the cockpit through a narrow door. It had settee berths on either side of a rectangular wooden table that was screwed to the cabin floor. This table could be folded down and the settees doubled as beds at night. The cooking was done in a tiny galley which had a two ring hob with a small oven below and a porthole above. There was a sink next to the stove with cupboards above, lockers Kim called them, and drawers below.

‘Everything has its place see. You can’t leave anything lying around when you’re sailing.’

‘It’s a clever use of space,’ Anna said.

But she was wondering with rising anxiety whether this was the main living space. If they all tried to be in the saloon together it would be a case of having to move around each other in formation. She noticed that the interior of the boat was shabby but spotless. The table was scratched but the glass in front of the shelves had a high shine. Kim showed her the small cabin that could sleep one person at the back of the boat.

‘We use that for storage,’ she said. ‘You two can have the forecabin, it’s larger.’

She showed Anna the forecabin at the front of the boat. It was triangular in shape and a double bed could be made up on its platform, and that was about it. There were drawers beneath the bed space and two portholes that had curtains you could pull across.

‘You stow your stuff in the lockers here,’ Kim said. Then she pulled open a narrow door on the right between the forecabin and the saloon.

‘This is the heads.’

She pointed to a small toilet which had a metal lever by its side.

‘Now this is real important, Anna. You must flush out the heads after you’ve used it. You can’t leave any waste in there. It gets blocked if you do and believe me you don’t want a blockage on a boat. You pull that lever up and down and that brings seawater in. You need to pull it a lot, ten to twenty times to make sure you’ve flushed it right through and left nothing but seawater in the system.

‘There’s a pull out washbasin, see,’ Kim carried on, unbolting and pulling out a small basin that rolled out above and over the toilet.

‘You get the water for the basin from this foot pump. And make sure you bolt the basin back after you’ve used it. Do you wanna try it out?’

Anna squeezed herself into the compact cubicle. She tried out the foot pump tentatively and water came into the basin. She pulled out the plug and bolted the basin back. She gave the toilet lever a couple of pulls and it thundered and slurped as seawater was sucked up into the system.

‘No room for a shower so we use buckets of water on deck as our shower. It’s OK; it does the job. Oh and the guys usually pee over the side of the boat,’ Kim said with a grin.

Opposite the heads was a wet locker where some oilskins and lifejackets were hanging. Back in the saloon Anna noticed the only picture on display. It was a framed photo of a cat that was tucked in with the books and maps behind the table. She picked it up.

‘Is that your cat?’

‘Yep, that’s Moses, our cat in Florida. We had to leave him with Owen’s aunt when we came away.’

‘And that was three years ago?’

‘Yep, longer than we ever intended.’

In the cockpit, after some negotiation, Owen and Rob had agreed an amount for the chartering. Rob counted out the dollars and gave them to Owen. That was the bulk of their holiday funds gone so the die was cast.

‘Thanks. If you wanna make some cash back I’m gonna buy five cases of liquor, to sell to some bars I know on Roatán. If you buy some you can make a profit too,’ Owen said.

‘Maybe I’ll do that.’

‘Come to the warehouse with me and you can decide then.’

Kim and Anna joined them in the cockpit.

‘Tomorrow I’ll teach you both to sail,’ Owen said. ‘You’ll find we’re not very technological on this boat. We rely on the wind and the sails. Today we need to provision up.’

It was agreed that Kim and Anna would get the food in. The men would get the fuel and go to the warehouse. As they got off the boat a young Belizean man was standing on the quay and he had been waiting for them.

‘Do you need any help today?’ he asked Owen, recognising him as the owner of the boat.

‘Yep, we could do with help carrying some loads.’

The Belizean man was called Elbert and Owen hired him for the day. Elbert said he had a trolley for transporting things and Owen asked him to fetch it and to meet Kim and Anna at the big supermarket in a couple of hours to help them carry the groceries back. Later he would need him to come out to the warehouse.

As they walked towards the outskirts of the city Owen told Rob that he would be offered a knock-down price by Raul, the man who ran the liquor warehouse.

‘Did him a big favour once and he’s never forgotten it.’

‘What did you do?’

‘A member of his family needed to get out of Belize fast and I got him out.’

‘On the boat?’

‘Yep, so if you want in on the deal let me do the buying. I’ll say all the cases are for me.’

‘And there’ll be no problem selling the booze on?’

‘None at all, I’ve done it before and made a good profit.’

Rob was thinking he could use their escape money to buy the booze. He wouldn’t tell Anna though. He made up his mind about people quickly, always had, and he sensed that Owen was a man who had seen some troubles in his life. He looked like he was in his late thirties; maybe even forties and that was surely beyond the age when you would expect to be living in this hand-to-mouth way in Central America. In a way it was Owen’s very disregard of a conventional life that Rob admired. And he did not think that he was scamming him now.

‘OK. I’ll come in for five cases,’ he said. ‘I probably won’t tell Anna though.’

‘OK. Understood.’

They reached a stretch of wasteland whose perimeter was edged by a wrecked wall colourful with graffiti. The warehouse stood at the far corner and was a large, high building. Inside it was dirty and echoey and smelled of dust and wood. There were bays with cases of liquor stacked high and two men shouting instructions to each other. A third man, Raul, came up to Owen and thumped him on the back. He indicated they should follow him into his small partitioned office between two bays. They sat down and he poured three whiskies for them into smeared glasses. He had a flat head, a pitted nose and a striking scar that ran from the corner of his left eye to his jaw. Rob wondered what Anna would have made of that face. Owen introduced Rob and tasted the whisky.

‘This is good stuff Raul,’ he said.

‘The best we have.’

Raul spoke English with a heavy Spanish accent.

‘How is the beautiful Kimberly?’

‘Still beautiful…’

‘You’re a lucky man.’

On their second drink Rob explained that he too was in the booze business. He ran a small brewery with two friends and they made specialist beers for real ale enthusiasts.

‘There’s a market for it at home, a growing market,’ he said.

‘What do you think of our Belikin beer?’ Raul asked.

‘Very refreshing,’ Rob answered diplomatically.

They spent some time looking at what was on offer in the bays and Owen selected ten cases of spirits, twelve bottles a case, mainly rum, some gin and a few bottles of whisky. He did not go for the cheapest brands. He went for the middle priced ones.

‘I’ve got a fella turning up with a trolley in a while,’ he said.

‘Time for another drink,’ Raul said.

‘Where can I take a slash?’ Rob asked.

Raul pointed to the back of the warehouse. Rob walked the length of the building and noticed the motes of dust lit up in a shaft of light from one of the few high barred windows. He was slightly pissed. The toilet was a filthy stinking cubicle inhabited by a cloud of flies. He thought better of going in, so he wandered out of the warehouse and took a slash against the wall. Two boys were kicking a football around the wasteland and he stood and watched them for a while. The ball landed at his feet. He kicked it back to them. They kicked it at him and he joined in a few passes. Then he asked the lads what teams they followed. They wanted to know about English football clubs. They had heard of Manchester United and Chelsea. He told them about Tottenham Hotspur, the team he supported.

As Rob came back into the warehouse and approached Raul’s office he caught a glimpse of Raul handing Owen a large package that was wrapped in plastic and secured with a lot of gaffer tape. Owen put it into his rucksack and zipped it closed.

Kim and Anna were walking towards the centre of Belize City. It was a steamy sultry day and as they reached the large open air fruit and vegetable market they were assailed by a stink of rotting fish near the entrance and something even nastier under that, Anna thought. As they moved into the market other less noxious smells took over. There were dozens of stalls and loud-voiced vendors shouting out to anyone who was walking by. Some stalls sold a single item spread on the ground, a mound of watermelons or bright red peppers, much larger than the ones you could get in England. There were stalls where you could buy liquidised fruit drinks: mango, papaya or melon. There were stalls selling spices and others with mountains of neon-coloured candies. Anna felt overwhelmed by the heat and the smells, the colour and the noise; somehow the holiday she had dreamed about, and saved up for, was slipping away from her. It was moving in a new direction where she was not in control. She did not want to be here now in this hot, noisy, frenetic market, following Kimberly through the crowd.

Kim dived into the throng and scanned the vegetable stalls with an expert eye. She bought onions, potatoes, red and green peppers, some chillies, lots of garlic. Anna trailed behind her as Kim examined the fruit stalls and stopped in front of one.

‘Fruit goes off fast. I’m thinking one watermelon and maybe pineapples, oranges and limes.’

She got the seller’s eye and pointed at two large green pineapples and he put them in a bag.

‘What on earth are those?’

Anna pointed at some pale looking potato-type fruits which were pitted with pale green circles.

‘Noni fruit. They taste like vomit and even the crabs won’t eat them when they fall on the beach.’

‘He’s selling them though,’ Anna said.

‘They’re disgusting but real good for you. Let’s have a coffee now,’ Kim said, stopping in front of a stall. She ordered a coffee and a large sweet pastry, powdered with icing sugar.

‘Do you want one of these?’

‘Just a coffee please.’

Kim ate the pastry with relish and licked the sugar off her fingers.

‘Sometimes a sweet pastry is just what you need,’ she said cheerfully.

‘Jam doughnuts, fresh out of the oven, are my favourite,’ Anna said.

They drank their bitter coffees from small paper cups and dropped them into an overflowing bin.

‘Is there anything you and Rob don’t eat?’

‘We eat most things. I don’t eat kidneys though. I hate the smell and taste of them.’

‘I won’t get kidneys, I can promise you that.’

They came out of the market carrying two full bags each and headed for the large supermarket in the centre of town. On their way they passed a barber shop which had its windows and door wide open. It looked like it was a popular hangout for the local men. A large speaker was balanced on the windowsill and it was playing reggae music at full volume. The barber was bobbing up and down to the beat of the music as he worked.

‘Not sure I’d want him to shave me,’ Kim said.

When they reached the supermarket Kim found a trolley and took charge again.

‘OK. We need a big tin of cooking oil, rice and pasta.’

Anna helped her collect these items still feeling disconnected from the activity around her.

‘We get fish as we go along. Buy it from the fishermen. I’m gonna get some chicken though, for tonight,’ Kim said.

They reached the canned goods section and Kim stacked a pile of canned tomatoes, kidney beans, chick peas, sardines and tuna into the trolley. Anna looked up and saw three people who stood out from everyone else in the store. The woman was dressed in a green gingham dress that reached mid-calf, and sensible lace-up shoes. Her fair hair was scraped back tightly into a single plait and she wore small glasses on her nose. Beside her were two smaller versions of herself, presumably her daughters. They too were wearing the long gingham dresses, the tight plaits and the sensible shoes of their mother. They even had the same glasses. She was striding along the aisles pushing her trolley while her two ugly ducklings followed behind her. Among the laid back Belizeans and the travellers all clad in shorts and T-shirts with logos, they proclaimed their difference.

‘Who are they?’ Anna asked Kimberly.

She parked the trolley and looked over.

‘They’ll be Mennonites. There are several Mennonite communities here in Belize. They don’t believe in technology.’

‘Like the Amish?’

‘Yeah, German descendants I think. Now could you bear to wear gingham every day of your life?’

Kim noticed that Anna had a serious look on her face and thought, Jeez here I go again. Maybe Anna was religious; maybe Anna would take offence at her flippant remark. She had been influenced by Owen and shared his distrust of all religions. Of all their friends in Clearwater they were the only couple who did not belong to a church.