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Penny arrived briskly with a pile of plates, paper and china, which she now distributed
about the colorful table. Jonas, who was also the local taxi driver, pulled up with crisp of-
ficial dignity in a charcoal suit, his thick spectacles obscuring his black eyes and glitter-
ing auspiciously. The door was flung open and various royal dignitaries and their fat wives
burst out in a cloud of colorful clothing and laughter. The Christmas party was now offi-
cially sanctioned, and there was a mad scramble for drinks. Gavin was overwhelmed and,
between hasty sips of thick rotting ginger beer and puffs of cigarette smoke, helped out as
best he could and for as long as he could. Penny's mom made several trips across to the
bar to charge her ample wine glass (or was that perhaps a flower vase?). She was smiling
more than usual, and already her step seemed a little challenged. She held an endless cigar-
ette between her fingers. Kevin was oblivious to her and was himself well into his “green
ones,” happily gesticulating with one as he now told Dave a story, most likely of the night
the twins caused a riot on island Number Six.
The smell of the roasting piglets on the fire was mouthwatering as was the other meat
donated to the feast. Fish was poaching on open tin foil plates in wine and butter sauce,
steaks were sizzling noisily, and sausage and chicken competed for available space on the
rusty grill. The pig fat had been taken off the fire and was congealing on the first landing
step on the dock underwater. It had turned a healthy, pale yellow and looked wonderful.
The merry hubbub rose in crescendo and was echoed back and around by the galvanized
roof above. Peals of laughter cut through the din, and unruly pigs and children screamed
and chased each other and their dogs around the dock.
Raoul was sporting a new pair of breeches, home-made, and a colorful red shirt; he was, of
course, barefoot. His mother, Maria, was freshly scrubbed, her glossy, black hair scraped
back and tightly plaited, and she was wearing a long, green summer skirt which showed
off her slim body with the magnificence it deserved. His father, Georgio, proudly brought
up the rear, also freshly scrubbed and sporting flannels, sandals, and a white shirt. They
arrived smiling, bearing freshly baked bread and his battered, old guitar. “Too very bloody
wonderful!” said Raoul happily, his tinkling, young voice cut through the smoke and adult
buzz. He was made quite a fuss over, and it was plain to see he was a firm favorite amongst
the sailors and locals this hurricane season.
After a while there was a ringing sound as a wine glass was struck for attention. Jonas
majestically held up his hands for silence and welcomed everyone to the Christmas gath-
ering. He thanked and introduced the dignitaries, which included the Prince of Tonga. The
prince had his official entourage about him and, looking at the size of these people, I
wondered if we would even get a taste of the food.
The food continued to be laid out piping hot on the palm fronds, mounds of steaming pota-
toes, yams, meat, fish. Hot, heavenly smelling bread was broken in pieces and still steam-
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