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Gazing around the island, Jane had a peculiar feeling. She was happy!

Not the sort of happiness she got from eating a doughnut filled with strawberry jam. This was like a bud blooming into a flower, spreading its beautiful petals to every part of her being and filling her with joy. The butterflies in her tummy began to dance.

‘What are you thinking?’ Selwyn asked.

Jane noticed water droplets on his smooth dark skin and longed to reach out and touch them. Realising that she couldn’t possibly tell Selwyn how she felt for fear of being foolish, she replied, ‘I was thinking how much I love the Caribbean.’

‘Yes.’ He nodded, pausing as he stared at the sea. ‘The islands enter through your eyes, creating their magic before dancing into your soul.’

Jane wondered if her soul was in her tummy, which might explain the butterflies breaking into a tango.

‘Ready to move on?’ Selwyn asked, noting Curtis checking the time.

‘Yes, of course.’ Jane reached for her kaftan, then, taking Selwyn’s hand, allowed him to help her. ‘Where are we heading now?’

‘Be patient,’ Selwyn said, ‘sit back and enjoy the ride.’

And, to her surprise, Jane did precisely that.

* * *

Kath and Anne walked along the pier and stood in line to have their boarding passes checked by a smiling employee of the port authority, who wished them a happy time in Antigua.

‘I shall be very happy if we can visit these duty-free shops and find some lovely souvenirs,’ Anne said. She took hold of Kath’s arm, and they meandered slowly through a shopping village of colourful chattel houses.

‘I feel a little lightheaded.’ Kath reached into her bag for a bottle of water. ‘I think I had too much wine last night, and I’m not used to it.’

‘You must be dehydrated, drink plenty of fluids.’

‘Do you know why these wooden structures are called chattel houses?’ Kath asked and took a long drink.

‘Nope, but I know you are about to tell me.’

‘The word chattel means easily moveable, and homeowners who lived in them were sometimes forced by landowners to take up their chattel house and move elsewhere.’

‘What a good idea.’ Anne was thoughtful as she stood on the steps of a small boutique and studied the two-roomed property suspended on large blocks. ‘It would suit me to own one of these and relocate whenever I fancied.’

They moved on, and as they approached a vendor selling wood carvings by local Antiguan artisans, a voice called out, ‘Cooee!’

It was Bridgette, and she held up her hand and waved.

‘Crikey, it’s the Captain and his carer,’ Anne said.

‘Hello, Bridgette.’ Kath smiled. ‘Are you doing a spot of shopping?’

Bridgette spun the Captain’s wheelchair around, and Anne leapt back as he yelled, ‘Boo!’ from behind a carved wooden mask. He wore a T-shirt that readNo Ship Should Go Down Without Her Captain.

‘Made of Caribbean mahogany, it will last for ever,’ Bridgette informed them as she leaned in and tapped the smoothly carved mask.

‘The mask or the Captain?’ Anne asked. ‘It’s terrifying.’ She stared at the dark seasoned wood, almost as gnarled as the Captain’s skin. He held a bottle of guavaberry liquor on his knee and offered it to the women.

‘Marvellous if you need the hair of the dog,’ Bridgette said.

Anne turned to Kath. ‘It’s a sign,’ she said, ‘fill your boots.’

Kath, whose dizziness had worsened, didn’t hesitate and, digging into her bag, produced a plastic beaker. She took the bottle and poured a shot.

‘Down the hatch!’ the Captain’s muffled voice called out.