Back at the car, while everyone waited beside their locked doors for Dettie to tuck her handbag away into the boot, Katie snuck around behind her aunt and fished out a plastic bag.
‘Do you know how to eat a mango?’ she said, skipping back over to Jon and offering it up to him.
He had been drumming his thumbs on the roof, staring at a small aircraft buzzing overhead, and for a moment he looked puzzled, a smile tickling his lips as he watched whatever it was that she was unwrapping. His face lit up and he chuckled. ‘You know what?’ he said. ‘I actually can.’
He explained about his time in a place called Noosa, just after he first arrived in Australia, where a group of fruit pickers had shown him the proper way to cut up a mango. There was a trick. It was lateral thinking, he said. He lifted the fruit from the bag, looking it over. It was the one Dettie had been trying to peel, before she gave up. The skin was more withered than it had been the day before, indented with small abrasions. There was a long mark down its side where Dettie had traced her fingernail. A thin brown discolouration like a scar.
Katie had snatched some plastic knives and forks from the takeaway counter, and offered those up too. Jon slipped a knife free, tipped the fruit onto its side, and cut lengthwise along the line that Dettie had left, carving off a third of its mass, straight through. The flesh inside was bright orange, and still looked quite firm. He placed the section skin down on the bonnet of the car, its wet surface shimmering slightly in the sun, and sliced off a similar piece on the other side. He now had two portions, like two halves of a boiled egg, and a strange disk shape, surrounded by a thin strip of skin, that must contain the seed.
Having slammed the boot shut, Dettie wandered over, jangling her keys and tutting to herself. ‘For goodness sake,’ she said. ‘We don’t have time for this now.’
‘Take but a second, love.’ Jon held the third piece in his mouth, between his teeth, while he took up both convex portions and scored a crisscross pattern into their flesh.
‘What are you—?’ Katie was up on her tiptoes.
‘Here we go, darlin’,’ he said, and suddenly pushed his fingers up from underneath, turning the mango inside out. Its innards unfurled in two bright, crosshatched fans. ‘Right,’ he said. He set them down on the bonnet of the car, two glistening orange turtle shells of cubed fruit, perfectly sectioned and offering themselves up as though spread on tiny serving plates.
Katie sighed with delight. Even Dettie looked impressed. Her arms were still crossed, but she nodded. Everyone crowded closer, and they stood together for a time, leaning against the vehicle, picking off squares of mango and letting them dissolve, wet and syrupy on their tongues. Jon ate the middle slice. He worked the knife around its edge, removing the peel in a long strip, and chewed it down to the seed. The breeze blew hot and dry, and a scent of petrol gave the sweetness a slight tang.
As they lingered, chewing silently, enjoying the flavour, Sam suddenly had the urge to laugh. It didn’t make sense. He had no real idea of where he was; he wasn’t sure how long it would be until they got where they were going. He was tired, and still blistered. He couldn’t even laugh if he’d wanted to. And yet somehow, all of that just made the whole situation funnier. At that exact moment, as a fat chunk of mango sat in his mouth, as the four of them, still full from lunch, ate fruit off the bonnet of a car, he was beaming. A big, dopey, wet grin.
Jon smiled down at him. He sucked his thumb and index finger clean and then pointed back at his own chin. He kept doing it. Over and over. One hand holding the remains of his mango, the other tapping twice on his chin. Sam thought he was telling him there was food on his own mouth that needed wiping off, but that wasn’t it. Jon seemed to be asking him something. Or testing something.
Two taps on his chin, his eyebrows raised. Nodding.
‘Tasty,’ he said, finally. ‘This means tasty. Sign language.’
Sam’s body tried to laugh, but couldn’t, so he went on smiling instead. It was tasty, he thought, and swallowed, the flavour of sunshine tracing its way down his throat.