considered her response. ‘In my experience, you tend to be quieter, contemplative, not wearing beautiful beads or walking barefoot on the beach.’
‘We do things a little differently on this island.’
‘I can see that!’
Matilda teetered backwards and came to a stop, plonking herself bottom first into the sea. She wailed. The temperature was a little cooler than her pioneering toe-dipping had suggested.
‘Time to get her back, she wants a nap.’
Simon the man-mountain scooped the little girl up into his arms.
‘Tell you what, Kate, you should come and see us. Jump in any taxi, ask for Dennery and you’ll find us when you get there.’
He turned without waiting for a reply, carrying the toddler on one arm like she was a bunch of feathers. Kate couldn’t decide if the warm glow that had spread through her body was a result of the sun-and-beer combination or something else entirely.
It took two more days of avoiding poolside interactions, kicking her heels and internal debate before she decided that maybe Simon wasn’t just being polite but had actually been sincere with his invite. There was only one way to know for sure.
The taxi snaked up steep mountain roads that dropped away in large craters without warning. Kate tried not to picture the vehicle tumbling down the side and bouncing off the giant ferns that would offer little resistance. Deep jungle on either side was spiked by the bright blues and fiery reds of tropical plants. Without the cool breeze that wafted in from the ocean, the air was thick and the heat more intense. It was in this environment that St Lucia felt most foreign. She loved it.
The taxi driver dropped her, as instructed, in Dennery – she hadn’t wanted to be more specific about her destination in case she changed her mind. She figured that on this small island, the news would have reached the Reverend Dubois’s ears in a matter of hours. From what Kate could see, Dennery had no recognisable centre, but was a sprawling district, houses, farms and slant roofed shops all sat along tiny lanes like tributaries from the main winding road on which she now stood.
It was only once he had left that Kate realised she might still be very far from her destination. She walked along the road looking for a clue, but without really knowing what she was looking for. A small crowd of people were sheltering under an elaborate pyramid-shaped bus shelter with yellow walls and an ocean-blue roof. The hourly rain showers could be quite fierce and as the bus might come along in five minutes or forty-five, depending on the driver’s mood, the hazards he encountered en route and how many of his mates stopped him for a chat, these shelters were well used.
‘Excuse me?’ Kate spoke to no one in particular. ‘I’m looking for the Reverend Dubois, Simon and the youth mission. Am I heading in the right direction?’
Two women, one resplendent in a yellow floral headscarf and the other carrying an enormous purple plastic laundry basket, broke away from their conversation.
‘Whatya want with the Reverend? He a friend of yours?’
The two winked and laughed.
Kate laughed too; clearly she was not alone in her admiration of his beauty.
‘Not exactly, no, but he invited me over and I’m afraid I’m a bit lost.’
‘Y’aint lost girl, you need to keep goin’ and keep goin’ and y’ask again.’
‘Right. Thank you.’
Kate carried on up the hill, still none the wiser.
She followed the road’s twists and turns. Gigantic fern fronds and banana leaves brushed her face and legs. She peered once into the jungle, her stomach jumped at the knotted trunks and hanging vines, imagining each one to harbour faces and the lurking shadows of wild animals. Instead, she kept her eyes firmly on the road ahead, navigating the potholes and cracks, aware that she was climbing higher still. Her T-shirt stuck to her back and her hair lay flat against her head in spiky tendrils. She was beginning to wonder if this had been such a good idea, when a small white sign with black lettering caught her attention on the road ahead. It read ‘Prospect Place’ and beneath the words a child had painted a sun with a smiley face on it. Next to it was a quote: ‘Faith makes things possible, not easy’. This had been written by a more adult hand. Kate wondered not for the first time if this whole venture was a bit of a mistake.
She turned down the narrow lane and