March 23rd, 1989

March 23rd, 1989

Princess Hotel, Hamilton, Bermuda

I was out on the balcony tonight, taking in the gorgeous view and jumped when I heard, “Evening Miss McGarr.” I leaned over the balcony a teeny bit more and there was Annabel, right next door, with a huge grin on her face.

“I almost refrained from disturbing you. You looked rather pensive.”

“Where have you been all day?” I asked.

“Unlock the adjoining door and I’ll come and tell you.”

That was three hours ago.

The day began with breakfast at Harley’s, with Lolly and Suzanne, who suggested we rent scooters. We designated Suzanne as our tour guide, based purely on the fact she’s been here several times. It didn’t take long to get the feel of the scooter and our first stop was in St. George’s, which according to Suzanne was originally called New London. It was, by far, one of the prettiest places I’ve ever seen. We wandered around town, taking it all in then Suzanne suggested going to a beach.

Fifteen minutes later, we were on an expansive, mostly deserted beach, where the three of us wasted no time getting in the water. Swimming felt amazing and I can’t imagine there are too many other places in the world with water as crystal clear and pale as it is here.

Unfortunately, Lolly couldn’t join us tonight because she was operating the Tampa shuttle again, so I met Suzanne and off we went to meet our crew in the Captain’s room, where there was no shortage of conversation. Or wine.

Most of our crew walked into town for dinner, but Suzanne said she couldn’t be bothered to walk, so I jumped on the back of her scooter (not so easy in a skirt.) Ate at a very nice place called M.R. Onions, amazing food, accompanied by even more wine.

Some of our crew was going clubbing but I wasn’t in the mood and neither was Suzanne. We came back to the hotel, with the intention of having an early night, but once I got to my room and turned on the radio, I perked up a little and thought it would be nice to take in the view and get some fresh air before going to bed.

Of course that’s when Annabel showed up and stepped from her room, into mine, once I’d unlocked the adjoining door.

“I had no idea we were flat mates. How exciting,” she gushed.

“What do you have there?” I asked.

“Rum, darling. Yummy, yummy rum.”

“An entire bottle?”

“A gift.”

“From?”

“Some family friends I spent the day with.”

“Do they live here?” I asked.

“Sometimes. You may have heard of them.”

I gave her a questioning look and she held the bottle up.

“Yes, I can see you have a bottle of rum.”

“And the name on it is?” she asked, doing a little spin.

“Bacardi.”

“Well done you. Their company headquarters is across the street you know.”

“I didn’t know that. But then again it’s my first time here, so how would I?”

“Let’s call room service for some mixers and fruits and see what delectable drinks we can come up with,” she said, passing the bottle to me.

I read the label again. “Wait, is this the name of the people you spent the day with?”

“Yes. Now stopping asking questions, Miss McGarr. I want you to sit in that chair and start explaining to me why you’re not going out with the chap who dropped you off at TriStar House.”

I opened my mouth to speak but she put her finger to her lips. “The chap who waited until you were safely inside, before he drove off.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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