May 31st, 1990
Ramada Renaissance, Royal Antiguan Resort
Deep Bay, Antigua
“I don’t believe it,” Millie shouted, slamming down the phone.
“What?” I asked, still in bed.
“There’s no milk!”
“What do you mean?”
She glared at me. “There’s no milk. Anywhere.”
“Because we’re on a f’ing island and the milk plane is late.”
I cracked up laughing. “Are you serious?”
“Yes!” She shouted.
“When’s the plane due in?”
She looked at me as though I’d asked her to do something dangerous. “What difference does that make?”
“Of all the mornings, this is not the one not to have milky tea. I’ll never make it,” I groaned, rubbing my throbbing temples, before picking up the phone.
Ten minutes later, we were in reception, where we met Ernest, who drove us out to the airport to meet the milk plane! Typically, the milk would be delivered to the hotel but that wouldn’t have happened ‘til early afternoon, by which time I could’ve been dead.
Back in my room, we rang Dolly, who sounded like she was still half asleep. She showed up looking less than fresh and drank three cups of tea (easy on the milk there, Dolly!) She grabbed a slice of toast, took a bite and stretched.
“I’ll see you two later.”
“You going back to bed?” I asked
“No, I’m going,” she yawned, “on a booze cruise.”
Millie and I stared at her as she gulped down the last of her tea.
“Who are you going with?”
“The guy from last night. Byeeee.”
We still don’t know his name!
Millie gave me the third degree on William and made it quite clear she doesn’t like him but as I said to her, it’s not as if I’ll see him again after we leave the island.
We met Nicolai for a drink at La Dolce Vita (his night off) and he insisted on adorning us in scarves and jewelry, which I have to say really suited us. We suggested he come with us to Tropix, where we met not only William and Scotty but some of our crew who almost blew our cover several times. I had to keep reminding them of our “code names,” and had we been somewhere quiet, the cat would’ve been out of the bag. Seamus was the only one who went along with it and he even had a conversation with me at the bar about what it’s like working for American Vogue (all whilst William was within earshot, cheers Seamus!)
A bunch of us came back to my room (oh yeah, after swimming in the sea!) and when everyone left, William dried my hair and asked if I think we’ll stay in touch. He doesn’t even know my real name (or what I really do for work) so I think keeping in touch is out!