Mercredi 15.11.06 Sweet William
Nic arrives back in Martinique today. She texts to say that dear, sweet William, our Martiniquan friend, is collecting her from the airport. He’s a pettle; though he’s also a bit of a parasite. We reckoned he had got the hint that Nicola was not interested, and that he was content to just be her friend but he still greets her as ma cherie - and his lecherous ways are still on display. However, she has to wait a while before Will collects her and she wiles away the time in the airport bar. She’s only two minutes in Martinique when she’s hit-on by another native. He’s a paraplegic; one arm, one leg and one thing on his mind. He asks if she wants to couchez avec lui but she replies by saying that he couldn’t handle her. Why does she attract these lame lads? It wasn’t so long ago that a crippled old guy tried to hook her into an alley with the crook of his cane!
I had expected to have a bit of a welcoming party. Kyla was due to stay overnight but I’m halfway through the cobwebs and crapaud dung when she rings to say that she’s far too tired to travel to Fort-de-France. Gethin also calls me to pass on his best wishes to Nicola in his absence and he quizzes me on flights to Europe; he’s off home to Wales for Christmas and heard that Air France are doing good deals… I’m really none the wiser but I have to fly too as Madame Arlette has just popped her head round the door. She expected Nicola to be back earlier so we could sign the CAF documents but I tell her we’ll call up in the morning – if Nicola can manage to get up after 16 hours of travel.
I’m just finishing Great Expectations when I hear a chirpy “Hello!” followed by the rumble of wheels. Nicola appears, we embrace and we’re soon sitting on the terrace, with Will, deep in conversation about our travel experiences and future ventures.
It’s like a mini Christmas with weird and wonderful presents, Irish whiskey and good craic – we’re just missing the stuffed bird. However, when I tell Nicola that Arlette has requested guests pay their way it’s not long until we defiantly decide to tell her to get stuffed as she’s just money-hungry. The beer flows North past the nose and the pineapple spread goes South past the mouth. We chat and chuckle until the wee hours – until Will finds himself persistently using the bathroom that is.
It’s finally time for Will to hit the road. We’re relieved to see him go; for my part he talks too much gibberish and Nicola is only too pleased to get close to her cosy pillows.
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