When Albert didn’t need him and he wasn’t fishing, Leonard was happy to sit on the beach and play with Jimmie, or just watch. Ships rode anchor in the bay, men in fishing boats shouted to each other. Men with rods cast from rocks, the ocean boiled over the reefs beyond with a roar of smashed coral and spindrift. Odette knelt in the door of their shack and sorted rice. A new scarf her brother had bought her kept her hair tidy.
‘You didn’t steal it?’
‘No! Look! I’ve got the price.’ He waved a receipt. ‘See?’
She smiled. ‘Thank you.’
Albert came from the hotel. He was wearing shorts and new running shoes. ‘Leonard?’
‘Yes!’
‘Leonard! We’ve got a delivery.’
‘Delivery?’
Some of the rooms were being equipped with new beds. ‘Beds,’ said Albert.
‘How many?’
‘Ten.’
‘Ten!’
‘And they won’t move without us. Come on.’
‘Coming.’
Leonard had never seen ten beds grouped together outdoors. The delivery man had lined them up on the pavement outside the hotel. They had been made in a Mauritian workshop… ‘Show me a better bed and I’ll show you a square rupee,’ said Albert.
‘There isn’t a square rupee,’ said Leonard.
‘Pick up that end,’ said Albert, ‘and mind the corners on the paint.’
The two men carried the first bed to room twelve. They put it opposite a window.
Leonard had never seen inside any of the rooms. He admired the wallpaper, the bedside table, the cupboard with a mirror, the glass in the window and the light bulb with a yellow shade. A coil of mosquito repellant, a tiny shower room.
‘Very neat,’ he said.
‘Come on, nine to go.’
Leonard liked the next room the most. It was on the hotel roof, set aside from the others. Easy chairs and recliners were scattered across the roof; the hotel wasn’t full, but one or two tourists were relaxing, chatting and dabbing lotions on their bodies. Some of these people were young and held hands. Gorgeous women lay beside thickening men with moustaches and small feet. The women wore the kind of swimsuits that blind voyeurs, the men wore expressions that made Albert wonder how their women could be so blind.
Leonard stared at them. Albert said, ‘Don’t stare, come on,’ and led the way with the bed. ‘In here.’
The roof-top room was luxurious. Light from four windows filled it, a personal bath in a separate room was there. A telephone and a colour television set were also provided. The floor was covered in a deep carpet. This was cream-coloured; Leonard had never walked on anything like it.
‘Nice,’ he said.
‘Not bad,’ said Albert. ‘The best in the place,’ he added, and stroked the television set.
‘How much?’
‘Ha!’ Albert laughed and put his hand on Leonard’s shoulder. ‘How much?’ He shook his head. ‘Come on…’
When the two men got back to the street, children were walking down the road. School had finished for the day, boys swung their satchels at each other, girls held hands and talked about boys. Rude boys and ones on mopeds.
‘This one’s for number four,’ said Albert.
‘Four,’ said Leonard.
‘Excuse me?’ said a tourist.
‘Can I help?’ said Albert.
‘Yes. I want to hire a car.’
‘Certainly sir. Wait there, Leonard; I’ll be back in a minute. This way…’
‘Thank you,’ said the tourist.
Leonard sat on one of the beds and waved to some children. They laughed at him.
‘What sort of car would you like?’ said Albert. ‘A Renault?’
‘That’d be okay.’
‘Or a Leyland? We have both.’
‘No. A Renault would be fine.’
‘A Renault 5?’
‘Fine.’
‘Or a Renault 12?’
‘No; the 5 would be fine.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then please sign here.’
The tourist wanted to visit Pamplemousses Gardens. He had heard about them, and traced the route with a finger on a map he spread on a table. Albert fetched the car, Leonard watched a man drive a cow down the road. ‘Hello!’ he shouted. The man didn’t answer. He was deaf, and his only interest was his cow.
When the tourist had driven away, Albert came back and said, ‘It’s number four for that one, isn’t it?’
Leonard shrugged. ‘I think so.’
‘So do I.’
Number four was one of the cheaper rooms. It shared a shower with rooms three, five and eight, and its window had a view of a wall.
‘In here… mind the paint!’
‘I am.’
‘Move that table.’
‘This one?’
‘Yes!’
Other beds went to other rooms; when there was only one left and they went to collect it from the pavement, they found a schoolboy lying on it.
‘Hey! Get off!’ Albert yelled. ‘That’s new!’
‘Yes,’ said Leonard. ‘The boss doesn’t want his stuff dirty. Up! Move!’
The boy sat up. He was tired. Every morning he had to milk five goats before he left for school. When he got home he had to milk them again, clean their shed and do any other work his mother wanted him to do. ‘I was tired.’
‘Haven’t you got a bed at home?’
‘Yes…’
‘Then use it! Come on…’
The boy swung his legs off the bed and stood up. ‘I’m going,’ he said, and as he walked away, Leonard and Albert carried the bed into the hotel.
When they finished and washed their hands, the two men sat on the veranda and drank beer. A couple in love came down from the roof, spread their towels on the beach and waded into the sea. Albert watched Leonard watch them. He lit a cigarette. ‘Nice-looking girl,’ he said.
Leonard didn’t say anything. He’d been thinking about cars. Since he’d been in Mauritius, he’d seen many different types of cars. He wanted one with clean black tyres. Albert nudged him and said, ‘Beautiful…’
Leonard blinked. ‘What?’ he said.
‘Her!’ He pointed.
Leonard shrugged.
‘Have you got a girl?’ Albert knew he hadn’t. He drank some beer and leant back. He was curious. ‘Eh?’
Leonard shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Not really.’
‘What do you mean? Not really?’
‘I haven’t.’
Albert lit two cigarettes and passed him one. ‘Maybe you should. I could fix you up.’
Leonard shook his head, stood up, walked across the veranda and down to the shack. Albert could go to hell with questions. He took his fishing rod and set off along the beach, past the swimming guests and cast a line into a pool beyond a stack of rocks.
It is easy to kill a fish. They drown in air or with more kindness you can bash their heads out on rocks with a stone. Fish ooze and don’t appear to show grief or pain, but once dead they still move. Leonard felt one squirm in his pocket. He took it out and stuck a knife in its eye.
He worked absentmindedly, letting his mind skip over thoughts and memories as he watched the end of his line and another fisherman working his way towards him. ‘Anything?’ the man yelled.
‘This.’ Leonard took the fish out of his pocket and held it up. It had stiffened into the shape of a crescent moon. ‘You?’
The other man shook his head. ‘Nothing!’ He laughed. He didn’t mind. He was a builder and only had the rod for fun and to keep away from home. His wife had six children. One was far thinner than the others. He was a fat man, his wife was a fat woman. He imagined her fancying a lean postman but he wouldn’t say anything. His fat was waste, hers was muscle. She had red eyes and didn’t mind him fishing. ‘Never mind…’ he said.
Leonard didn’t agree. He wanted to be serious about fishing. One day, he thought, I’ll have one of those, as he watched the boats along the shore. Some were old and others had fresh paint. He remembered everything he had learnt on Peros Banhos, and when the man passed him and said, ‘Goodbye,’ he didn’t say anything.