Leonard had left to go fishing and was late home. He should have been back by six o’clock. ‘Never later,’ Albert had told him. It was ten.
Odette went to the hotel and asked for Albert. ‘He’s not back,’ she told him. ‘It’s not like him.’
‘No?’ He locked the bar and pocketed the keys. ‘Then we should look for him. He might’ve hurt himself.’
‘He wouldn’t like that…’
‘Wouldn’t like what?’
‘Us out looking.’
‘Odette?’ Albert took her chin in his hands. ‘He wouldn’t like it if he was lost and we didn’t look for him! He might be praying for us to come along.’
Odette thought about that. ‘He’ll find somewhere to sleep,’ she said. She didn’t feel he was hanging off some rocks. ‘Besides, we wouldn’t see him anyway.’ The sky was black. ‘I’ll just wait here.’
Albert shrugged. ‘Okay. But if he’s not back by the morning we’ll go. Alright?’
Odette nodded.
‘And don’t worry about the watch. I’ll sleep on the veranda.’
Odette walked back to the beach and sat down. It was dark, a fire was dying; embers blew in a warm breeze. Birds and geckoes rustled through the trees that hung their branches over the sand.
She creased her forehead, rubbed it and narrowed her eyes, picked up a stone and tossed it into the sea. Water shot into the air, the shivering lights of Port Louis blurred across the bay. A bird called, a stand of palm trees moaned. A restless goat shuffled, stood up, poked its nose at a bush and sat down again. The ocean slid up the beach, grabbed a ribbon of sand and dragged it back.
She stood up, rubbed the back of her neck, took a deep breath and walked to a string of rocks that stretched into the bay. She picked her way over them, stood on one and looked in every direction. She listened. No footsteps padded towards her. The sea splashed over her feet. A dog barked and a moped buzzed along the road that ran around the bay.
The night was humid. Her skirt stuck to the backs of her legs and she licked a line of perspiration off her top lip. He’ll find somewhere, she thought but still whispered ‘Leonard?’ She missed him then, and wanted him to rely on her.
Jimmie cried. Odette stood up, walked to the hut, bent over him and straightened his blanket. She stroked his cheek and kissed him. He twitched his nose, flayed an arm and mumbled something about a tyre he’d found on the beach.
‘Dirty… old car, now… won’t wash.’ He opened his eyes but was still asleep; he closed them, turned over and settled down.
‘Jimmie…’ Odette said. The boy made puckering noises. A rat ran through the shack. ‘Sleep.’
She went back outside, sat on the beach again, tossed another stone and stared at the stars. She counted ten, gave up, rubbed her palms together, watched the Port Louis lighthouse blink and whispered, ‘Where are you?’ again.
‘Is he back?’ said Albert. The morning was hot and bright. Two mynah birds scrapped over a fish head. Jimmie yelled ‘ALBERT!’ and fell over.
‘No,’ said Odette.
‘Come on then. You’ve eaten?’
‘Yes.’
‘And the boy?’
‘He’s okay.’
‘Let’s go.’
They picked their way along the beach. He smoked a cigarette and walked two steps behind her and watched her arches rise and the way she held her head. The dress he had given her flapped around her. Jimmie ran in and out of the sea. They headed towards the river estuary and asked people they met if they’d seen a man with a rod and a face as thin as the rod.
‘No,’ a postman said.
‘He had a rod.’
‘Many people with rods along here,’ the man said. ‘I could count hundreds every day.’
‘You’d remember Leonard…’
‘Would I?’
‘Yes,’ and Odette described him again.
‘Is he bald?’
‘No.’
The postman shook his head. He had a lot of mail to deliver, and the day wasn’t getting any cooler. He wore a smart uniform but it was hot to work in, and he couldn’t wait to see the last letter box. This was a mile away, so he said, ‘No,’ again and walked on. ‘But if I see him, I’ll tell him you’re looking.’
‘Thank you,’ said Odette.
They walked as far as the point where the ocean became estuary, before turning to walk the inland road. They skirted the woods that ran down to the river, looked around and shouted.
‘LEONARD!’
Women were washing clothes on stones, goats nipped bushes and trees. Odette asked if anyone had seen her brother. They shook their heads. ‘No.’
‘He’s about this tall.’
‘No.’
Jimmie got tired. He sat on a stone at the corner of a sugar-cane field and Albert took three bananas from his pocket. One for each. He joined the boy and lay back.
‘If you don’t wear boots in a sugar-cane field you’ll go home bleeding,’ he said.
‘What?’ said Odette. She didn’t sit down. She shaded her eyes and looked around.
‘My mother used to say that.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s true, I suppose.’ He pointed at the field. ‘The first thing I remember is being on her back at harvest time,’ he said. ‘It was hard work.’
‘Was it?’ Odette threw her banana skin away.
‘Yes…’
Odette turned to Jimmie. ‘Finished?’ she said.
He nodded.
‘Already?’ said Albert.
‘He’ll be waiting for us…’
‘Where?’
‘Wherever we find him. Come on.’
They headed towards Arsenal. People stood outside their houses and watched them pass. A queue at a bus stop didn’t bother. Chickens ran across the road. Clouds of dust blew all around as an ox pulled a cartload of building rubble across a field. Albert said, ‘I didn’t think he liked it inland.’
‘He doesn’t. But he likes beer.’ Odette pointed at a crowd of men outside a shop, leaning against a wall with bottles in their hands. ‘I’ll ask…’
‘Thin man?’ they said.
‘Yes!’
‘From Tombeau?’
‘Yes.’
‘He’s called Leonard,’ one of the men said. ‘He slept here last night.’ He pointed inside the shop. ‘He left his rod.’
‘What?’ Odette didn’t believe it. Leonard never went anywhere without his rod. ‘He wouldn’t.’
‘He did. There.’ The man pointed again.
The rod was leaning against a wall. Its master had gone and it was too far from the ocean.
‘Oh,’ said Odette, and picked it up. ‘Where is he? He wouldn’t just leave it.’
‘That way.’ The man pointed back towards Tombeau.
‘But we just came that way. We didn’t see him.’
‘Maybe he’s sleeping somewhere. He had a few this morning.’
‘A few? This morning?’ Odette shouted. ‘He didn’t have enough money for a few! And he shouldn’t drink in the morning! He can’t take it.’
The man laughed. ‘We bought him some. He was sad.’ He lit a cigarette. ‘He’s Ilois. They’re…’
‘I know who Ilois are!’
The man didn’t say anything else.
Odette, Jimmie and Albert left the shop and walked out of Arsenal, past graffiti that read, ‘Gunners are the greatest!’ and, ‘FA Cup for Gunners and all our friends’.
Albert carried the rod and thought it throbbed. Unfamiliar hands disturbed it. Soft hands. He felt awkward but gave it to Odette and held Jimmie’s hand instead. It was late afternoon when they got back to the shack.
Leonard wasn’t there. The place was as they’d left it. A dog was nosing around the fire. ‘Shoo!’ Jimmie shouted and chased it away while Odette sat down and Albert rested the rod against a tree.
‘Maybe the man was right,’ he said. ‘He’s probably sleeping the drink off.’
‘No.’ Odette wasn’t convinced. She tuned the gift her mother had given her and imagined him confused and frightened, wandering through sugar-cane fields, chased by angry landlords and their dogs.
‘I’ll look again later.’
‘No. You’ve got the hotel. There’s your guests.’ She pointed to some.
‘They can look after themselves.’
‘But…’
‘No! I’ll come!’ Albert was firm. Leonard might have let him down once, and he’d been angry for a good reason but he liked the man, the woman more. ‘Later. I’ll meet you here.’