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ing; fruit was also added to the feast, and suddenly we were all sitting down and eating the
most wonderful Christmas dinner I can recall. The crackling had been broken up into little
pieces, and it melted in our mouths, a true gastronomic miracle. Crackers were pulled with
a festive bang, and the contents spilled out and were merrily bartered and swapped back
and forth. Paper hats added to the festive party.
Penny came over to me and, bending over my neck, planted a wet kiss on my mouth as
she handed me a little gift, “Happy Christmas you!” she purred. “I will give you your oth-
er present later on tonight,” she managed to whisper. I patted her firm tail as she took off,
grinning suggestively behind her. My heart soared; she wasn't losing interest in me after
all! Gavin had either given up as barman or had been run out of business. I surreptitiously
noticed he had also given up on his villainous ginger beer, and now as he joined us, was
clutching a dark, green looking rum and coke in one hand and a smoke in the other. Sud-
denly I was filled with a joyous Christmas spirit and silently thanked the gods for allowing
me to be here today. I shall always remember that Christmas in Tonga, not only because of
Penny, but because of all the people and the wonderful places we had visited in the three
months of our stay.
Soon after the New Year, Penny and her family sailed on to New Zealand after a tearful
goodbye. We both knew we were passing ships in the night, and as our feverish letters ar-
rived less and less, I learned to smile and be grateful for all the good times we did get to
have together.
Gavin and I made plans to sail on to Fiji where the romance of the tropical Pacific islands
really affected us and would bring out the artist in me. We planned to spend extra time in
Fiji as we desperately needed to work. We had never had so little money between us ever
before, and I wondered just how we were going to manage. We learnt later that it wasn't
the money that mattered but the attitude.
