Page 10 of Sunshine and Secrets

They left the café and sauntered through the streets together, dodging puddles and a battalion of stray cats quenching their thirst whilst they could. The air smelled of coconut oil, fried fish and relaxation, causing Millie’s spirits to increase a further notch, until she saw her reflection in a shop window and saw that her hair looked like she’d stuck her finger in an electric socket.

‘Okay,’ said Denise, stopping on the top of a narrow alleyway between two beach shacks. ‘I’ve still got a few things left on my shopping list. See you next Saturday, Ella, and make sure you keep those idle builders on their toes.’

Denise left them, tutting and shaking her head as she trotted on her kitten heels towards a grocery store displaying its myriad of wares across the pavement, her ample backside rocking in tune to the calypso music spilling out onto the pavement from the bars next door.

Henri rolled his eyes at his mother’s best friend and Ella tapped his arm. ‘She means well.’

‘Oh, yes, Auntie Dennie may have a heart of gold, but her armoury is diamond-tipped.’

They arrived at his dilapidated Fiat and piled in. It was a squeeze, especially with the plethora of shopping bags Millie and Ella had managed to amass during their trip around the market.

A lexicon of recipes was already swirling around Millie’s brain and the familiar curl of excitement burst into the pit of her stomach as she contemplated getting started on triple-testing Claudia’s chocolate recipes as well as experimenting with her exotic purchases in her tiny kitchen above the garage.

Chapter Six

They left the sprawl of the town behind them and headed south along the coast towards Soufrière. With the infinite expanse of the Caribbean Sea on their right and the aquamarine of the sky above, the scenery on the journey back was picture-postcard perfect. Not a cloud marred its perfection.

A cool breeze streamed through the car windows, licking the tips of Millie’s ears and lifting the fringe from her forehead. Coupled with the soft sound of reggae on the car stereo, she felt her eyes begin to droop until Henri swerved heavily to avoid a cyclist and she tumbled to her right, knocking her temple on the door handle.

‘Oww!’

‘Sorry, I should have warned you. These roads are lethal.’

Millie reached into her bag for a bottle of water and swallowed a mouthful, allowing the liquid to trickle slowly down her throat. She turned her face to the breeze and stared at the twin peaks of the Pitons rearing up out of the sea in the distance like the spines of a sleeping dinosaur. Lowering her gaze, she had to blink to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. Anchored at the base of Gros Piton was an old galleon-style sailing ship at full mast, flying the Jolly Roger flag.

‘Hey, look, pirates!’ Millie exclaimed before she could stop herself. Then she giggled – obviously they weren’t pirates.

‘No, just tourists, although I suppose they are the modern-day equivalent,’ said Henri, laughing. ‘That’s the Unicorn. The owners use her for excursions, treasure hunts and, sometimes, mock battles. She even played a starring role inPirates of the Caribbean!’

Henri glanced across to the passenger seat where his mother snoozed, her head lolling from side to side as he navigated the bends, her cheery face serene in repose.

‘Actually, it’s the drug smugglers who are the modern scourge of the Caribbean,’ said Henri, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles bleached white. ‘And things are getting worse for us in St Lucia, not better. Those involved in the trade are rediscovering the old routes up the eastern Caribbean, and I’m worried about what the future will bring.’

‘I thought South and Central America were the major problem,’ said Millie, her interest piqued.

‘Sadly, that’s changing. I’m a journalist and I’ve reported on all sorts of news items for theSoufrière Tribune, but in my spare time I’ve been researching an extensive thesis on the activities of the drug cartels over the last five years – ever since I got back from France where I studied for my degree. They call it the “balloon effect” – when one drug route is squeezed, a bulge simply emerges elsewhere. Now that the authorities are closely monitoring the airspace of South America and starting to make inroads into the transit of supply over Central America, the frequency and size of the seizures in the Caribbean has tripled.’

Millie noticed the frown on Henri’s face as he concentrated on the twisting road ahead, but his thoughts were clearly elsewhere.

‘It’s smaller but more frequent “jumps” that are being made now – a “micro-trafficking evolution” they call it. All the old routes used back in the eighties have re-emerged. The drugs are loaded onto “go-fast” speedboats and taken up to the eastern Caribbean islands to St Vincent, St Lucia, Martinique. There’re lots of crafts in the waters round here – yachts, fishing boats, ferries, commercial ships with exports such as bananas bound for the US and Europe. Sadly, our customs department is more lax than in the US and the UK, for instance, and some of it’s getting through. It’s the suffering of the families that upsets me more than anything, though.’

Henri paused to draw in a deep steadying breath, his expression reflecting his passion about the negative effects this global menace was having on his community.

‘So whatarethe authorities doing to stem the flow?’

‘The law-enforcement agencies here are doing a very difficult job in economically strained circumstances. They’ve increased coastal surveillance, improved human and electronic intelligence and detected illicit planes in our airspace. Drug smuggling and money laundering are big business and awash with easy bribes, especially potent in a country that has a high youth-unemployment problem and entrenched poverty. There’s corruption too. Salaries are relatively low compared with what the drug barons can pay. And the gangs are violent; drugs flow in, but so do guns for the protection of their precious merchandise and sometimes the drug violence spills over into the local communities.’

Henri’s eyes hardened. ‘The gangs have no fear, no scruples. Life is cheap. Crimes are committed in broad daylight in front of families and children. The only talent they exhibit is cruelty. Greed is an insatiable mistress. These men would sell their grannies for a few dollars.’

Henri’s shoulders relaxed as he looked across at his mother still snoozing in the sunshine. ‘What we need is increased investment in youth employment and training to counteract the lure of the easy money offered by the drugs trade. But it’s a multi-layered problem. Cocaine use is not a huge issue in St Lucia, but marijuana is, especially amongst the younger generation. There are large sectors of idle young people with limited skill sets to provide for their daily upkeep. The police maintain a zero tolerance of cannabis use, so they may spend a brief period in jail which causes them to descend further into the criminal lifestyle. The inevitable stigma attached to being labelled a criminal makes it even harder to find work and often they are disowned by their families. What chance do they have?’

‘And is what you’re doing at theTribuneto highlight the problem working?’

‘Sadly, we are like ants fighting a rabid dog. Only if we work together, in numbers, will we stand any chance of being successful. There should be more emphasis on education about drugs in schools, more involvement between parents, teachers, and mentors from local businesses. Kids need direction, especially when they don’t get it from home.’

Henri averted his eyes and paused before mumbling, ‘And many of them do not have the benefit of a male role model in the household to emulate.’

Millie had a sudden impulse to reach out and touch Henri’s hand, but she resisted. In profile, he possessed a strong, confident tilt of his chin with a smattering of trendy stubble, but his eyes, so like his mother’s, held sadness. However, his eyelashes instilled a twinge of jealousy in Millie; long, curled and dark, drawing the onlooker into the depths of his soul. She knew Henri’s father wasn’t around and she didn’t want to press him on his upbringing.

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