Leonard sat on a wharf, ate bread and drank one bottle of beer. He had been working well, Mr Rene had said. Someone else told him about a shack on Tombeau Bay. A Jo had lived in it and watched for a hotel owner. Now he was dead, the place was empty and someone else would have it.
‘Watchman?’ said Leonard.
‘Yes.’
‘I could do that.’
‘You and a few more…’
‘Tombeau?’
‘Yes. There’ll be a queue.’
Leonard sent word to Odette and left work early. He walked to Tombeau Bay. It was three miles away and the traffic choked but his spirits rose as he took the road that skirted the bay. It was quiet. Banana and coconut palms shaded the beach… something like a vague life he remembered.
He followed directions he’d been given, and met a man called Albert. ‘Hello.’
‘Good evening…’
‘Where’s the queue?’ he said.
‘What queue?’
‘They said there would be, for the job.’
‘What job?’
‘The watching.’
‘You’ve come for it?’
‘Yes.’
Albert was the owner. His hotel was a boarding house but clean, popular and heading towards a Tourist Board rating. He planned extensions and new furniture for the rooms. A swimming pool. He did some car hiring and wanted to expand that side of the business. The shack was on a patch of ground above the beach. Palms and causarias grew around, and there were broad views of Port Louis, the bay and the reef beyond.
The watchman had to keep a casual eye on passers-by. ‘No rubbish in the hotel,’ Albert said. ‘It’s night work mainly, rest of the time you do what you want. Jo fished.
‘I fished, ‘ said Leonard. ‘I fished.’ He said it again, to himself. He liked the idea that he might again. He thought about his father and the things Paul had taught him on Peros Banhos…‘I fished.’
‘You’ve got a rod?’
‘I’ll make one. And I’ll watch well too.’
‘Will you?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Good.’ Albert was a sympathetic man. Ilois people were becoming Mauritius’s racial butt – Albert had an open mind.‘Good,’ he said again, and gave Leonard the job.
‘How long for?’
‘As long as you’re good at it,’ Albert said, ‘it’s yours.’
Leonard, Odette and Jimmie moved a week later. It didn’t take them long. They didn’t have much to carry. They had a few rupees and smiled all the way.
Watch work was easy. No one bothered Leonard. He spent his off-duty time fishing. The noise of the ocean along the shore, the feel of it over his feet any time he wanted, the sight of it disappearing into the distance. Emerald hedges and glossy leaves; he was reminded of home but not depressed by the reminding at that time.
Odette laughed and told him old stories. Away from the noise and smoke and traffic of Port Louis; when Jimmie was old enough to walk, Leonard decided to teach the boy to fish. He cut a whippy rod, tied it with twine, found a hook and gave it to him.
‘Look Jimmie! Just like mine!’
They walked the shore. Odette watched. She smiled and lay back. She ran sand through her fingers and listened to birds chatter.
The shout of a child, the encouragement of an uncle, a helping hand, a paddle through pools and onto rocks to cast. Sea like visible heat, crabs scuttling across the beach, some fish spotted in the shallows.
‘Over there!’
‘Breakfast!’
Breakfast.
They were proud of their catch and the catches they made over following weeks. Nothing much, but it was fishing. Leonard wrapped one in a banana leaf and said, ‘You carry that one,’ to Jimmie.
‘Mine,’ the boy said to his mother.
‘You’re clever! Did you catch it yourself?’
‘Yes!’
It was low season. The hotel was empty. Albert walked down to the beach with a radio and a bottle of rum, and when Odette offered him a plate he said, ‘Why not?’ and patted Jimmie’s head.
‘Mine!’ the boy said, holding up his fish.
‘Did you catch it?’
‘Yes!’
Leonard was pleased to have his boss visit but Odette worried that she didn’t have rich enough food. Albert smiled and licked his lips.
‘Nothing like it,’ he said. ‘Cooking out doors,’ and to give the meal more atmosphere he turned the radio on and they listened to Sega music as they ate.
When he’d finished, Jimmie danced across the beach to the sea. He called his mother.
‘He wants you,’ said Albert.
‘He never wants anything else,’ said Odette, but she didn’t mind. She stood up, brushed sand off her palms and walked across the beach. ‘Come here,’ she said, and took Jimmie’s hands and led him into the water and out again, swinging and lifting him up.
‘You like the Sega?’ Albert asked Leonard. He’d been watching his sister and wishing he had someone like she had Jimmie. ‘Yes,’ he said.
‘I was a singer in a band once.’
‘Were you?’
Albert nodded. He pointed across the bay. ‘In Port Louis. We were the most popular. The best!’ He clapped his hands and smiled at the thought. ‘But now there’s the hotel and the cars. I haven’t got the time.’ He lit a cigarette and passed the bottle. ‘No time…’
Leonard didn’t say anything. Time didn’t mean the same to him as it did to his boss.
‘But maybe,’ said Albert, ‘I’ll make time later.’ He dragged on his cigarette. ‘When I’m older.’
He watched Odette dance. She placed her feet carefully, twisted her waist and spun away across the beach.