Grav slept somewhat fitfully despite enjoying a bellyful of the local Banks beer on his first night in Barbados. Not due to the unfamiliar surroundings or time difference, but because of the constant high-pitched whistling that seemed to get louder and more insistent with every hour that passed before dawn. He was well used to the chirping of crickets that often accompanied sleepy holidaymakers in the Mediterranean. But this was different, very different, and he had absolutely no idea what it was. Perhaps a decent guidebook wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Not that a book would make the little sods shut the fuck up, whatever they were.
The night could seem like an eternity for those who watched the clock until dawn. Or so thought Grav as he checked his watch, dragged himself out of bed, belched, scratched his backside with a broken fingernail, and swore loudly as one of several local cockerels welcomed the new day with a loud cock-a-doodle-doo for the third or fourth time that morning. He considered opening the bedroom’s green-painted wooden shutters and hurling something at it, but he thought better of it at the last second. Ignore the damned thing. That was probably best. Why not make a quick bathroom visit to splash the porcelain, get dressed in something suitable for the tropical climes and head into town for a bit of much-needed breakfast? A plate of hot stodge to soak up the alcohol would go down very well indeed, and there must be a cash machine somewhere in the vicinity. He just had to find the damned thing… maybe in future he should close the windows and put the ceiling fan on after dark. Yeah, that made sense. Less noise and fewer insect bites. He was covered in the fucking things and they itched like hell. The decision was made. It was a win-win.
He stretched and yawned at full volume, casting off the residual remnants of sleep. Come on, Grav my boy, things to do, people to see. What would Heather say? Something along the lines of, ‘Come on now, old man. We can’t go lazing around in here all day, however much you’d like to. We’ve got to make the most of the place now we’re here. Get a bloody move on.’
He smiled warmly as he hobbled in the direction of the bathroom and whispered, ‘All right, love, I hear you,’ before pushing open the door with the sole of his bare foot and answering nature’s call with a steady stream which seemed to go on and on. As he washed his hands with cold water and then returned to the bedroom, he silently acknowledged that he was feeling like a fish out of water. Stripped of an identity that rested heavily on his professional role. If he wasn’t a police officer, what on earth was he? He thought about it for a minute or two but couldn’t come up with an adequate answer. Oh well, it was only three weeks. Surely he could manage that much. He’d be back in the job before he knew it and thank fuck for that.
Grav delved into his suitcase and pulled on a pair of knee-length shorts that hadn’t seen the light of day in years, followed by a brightly coloured Hawaiian-style shirt bought in a Carmarthen seconds’ store, the bottom two buttons of which he left unfastened to accommodate his protruding beer gut. He finished off the ensemble with a pair of white sports socks and open-toe sandals. It was time to get out into the big wide world, or Speightstown to be more accurate, and see what it had to offer. It was time to find out what the day would bring.
As he wandered along the slowly stirring main street, the town reacted to Grav as he suspected it did to all new arrivals – with warmth and courtesy. Speightstown, while unlike anywhere he’d visited in Europe, had an unquantifiable feel of 1950s Britain about it, and that, he decided, suited him just fine. He was pleased to find a cash machine in a glass privacy booth about ten minutes’ walk away from the apartment, but as eager as he was to address his hunger, he had to wait for almost an hour before the various shops and restaurants began to open their doors to customers. Grav wandered past several eateries, glancing at and rejecting menus with increasing frustration, before finally spotting a small café with an external raised seating area at the back of the quiet car park in Town Square, directly opposite the supermarket. It was, he concluded, his sort of place, unpretentious, relaxed and comfortable, and he decided immediately to make a breakfast visit a daily ritual.
A slim and attractive Bajan woman approached him almost as soon as he sat himself down and smiled warmly. ‘Good morning, are you ready to order?’
Grav perused the menu and quickly focused on the bacon and sausage rolls, as if they were printed in large bold highlighted capitals. Now, that’s what you called food. It was definitely one or the other. ‘I’ll have three bacon rolls and a cup of strong black coffee please, love.’
She nodded and made a note of his order on a small notepad with a red pencil. ‘It’ll be with you before you know it. Are you having a good holiday?’
He met her eyes, glad of the chance for a chat. Anything was better than lonely silence. If he could travel back in time, he’d accept their worst days without hesitation. ‘It’s my first day.’
‘So where are you from?’
‘I’m from Wales. It’s a small country that borders England. It’s where Tom Jones is from. Have you heard of him?’
She laughed. ‘I know where Wales is. My sister studied for an MBA at Swansea University.’
‘Small world. Who’d have thought it? I actually did a bit of child protection lecturing at Swansea as part of my job with the police. When was she there?’
‘She returned to the island a couple of years ago when we opened the café.’
‘Did you ever visit?’
‘Yes, I did. I was particularly fond of Pembrokeshire. We spent a nice sunny day in Tenby.’
‘Lovely place. Sounds like you were lucky with the weather.’
She glanced to her left and nodded. ‘Hang on, I need to serve other customers. I’ll ask my sister to come out to say hello.’
Grav sat in silence, watching a ginger kitten as it wandered between the tables searching for any morsel of food, until a larger-than-life young woman with a beaming smile, who exuded warmth and affability, suddenly appeared in a whirl of activity with his plate of rolls in one hand and his aromatic coffee in the other. He reciprocated, but failed to match her radiant smile, and liked her immediately. First impressions weren’t always accurate. But, they sometimes were, and he strongly suspected this was one of those occasions. The two talked of Swansea and South West Wales with fondness for a time, and the detective began to feel at home in a strange land. Some people could have that effect on you. Perhaps a bit of a break from police work wasn’t such a bad idea after all.