‘Don’t worry about that.’ Binti smiled. ‘We’re used to basic, aren’t we?’ She aimed the question at Joe and Aesha.
Joe nodded his head firmly, but Aesha looked less certain.
Angela summoned a driver to transport their suitcases to the staff house by motorbike. ‘We can walk,’ she said. ‘It’s not far.’
She led them along a dusty road. Chickens scattered to the right and left, squawking loudly. Dogs lying by the roadside raised sleepy eyelids, briefly took in the passing procession, then closed them again. Joe was amused to find that the children were still following them, chattering loudly, several of them calling ‘Hello’ in English and giggling coyly among themselves.
‘They love having visitors,’ said Angela. ‘They’ll be endlessly curious about you.’
‘Will they mind if I take photos of them?’ Peter asked.
‘They’ll love you to take their photos.’ Angela laughed. ‘It’ll make them feel like rock stars.’
There were pigs tethered outside some of the houses. Joe chuckled at the way they were snuffling around in the dirt for something to eat.
‘Pigs are a prized possession here,’ said Angela. ‘They’re a rare source of meat. The islanders live mostly on rice and whatever fish they’ve been able to catch. Even then, they take the best of their catch to market and keep the less desirable fish for themselves.’
Joe hoped that if he were served fish it wouldn’t be too bony. He couldn’t stand bony fish.
They turned a corner and reached the staff house. It was a long, rectangular building supported by a number of concrete pillars. Its high, thatched roof overhung the walls, which were made of intricately woven palm leaves around a wooden framework and wide windows. One side of the roof virtually reached the ground.
‘Welcome to the home of the seahorse project,’ said Angela. ‘I hope you’ll enjoy your stay.’
She showed them into a big communal room, where two young Filipino men were working at a large wooden table, one using a laptop, the other plotting something on a map. On one wall was a blackboard covered with chalked notes. In a corner stood an old-fashioned hi-fi system.
‘This is Rey and Carl, who help us to monitor the seahorse populations. They’ll be diving with you when you take your photos, Peter.’ Angela completed the introductions and led them along a corridor to their rooms. ‘I hope you and Joe won’t mind sharing,’ she said to Aesha as she opened the door to a room with sleeping mats side by side on the floor. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to share the mosquito net as well.’
‘I prefer Joe to mosquitoes – just,’ said Aesha, looking rather dubiously at the sleeping mats, ‘so I guess I’ll cope.’
‘Huh!’ said Joe. ‘I think I might prefer mosquitoes.’
‘Not in the middle of the night when you hear their continuous buzzing and know they’re searching for a way to get at you.’ Angela laughed. ‘And I’m afraid there is a lot of rain,’ she added, as heavy drops fell past the open window.
She left them to unpack. Aesha made no attempt to unload her clothes into the rickety cupboard in the corner of the room. Instead, she stood by the window and groaned loudly.
‘I can’t believe we’ve got to sleep on the floor,’ she grumbled. ‘And Dad said we were going somewhere hot, not wet.’
Joe refused to be disheartened. ‘We’ll be in the water a lot of the time,’ he said, ‘so it won’t matter if it rains!’
Chapter 5
It turned out to be only a shower. The sun quickly returned to dry up the moisture, leaving the ground and the air steaming.
‘It’s so humid!’ Aesha exclaimed as they set off for a walk later in the afternoon. ‘I can’t imagine having to live here.’
‘You wanted hot,’ said her father.
‘Not this hot!’ replied Aesha.
‘You’d be used to it if you lived here,’ said Binti. ‘And you’d adjust your pace of life accordingly – you don’t see the locals dashing around like we do at home.’
It was true, Joe acknowledged. Those who were outside were going about their chores in a leisurely fashion, almost as if they too were on holiday. At home, everyone would be jumping in and out of cars, dashing off to football or swimming or school or shopping. He wondered if that would all change if the weather in England suddenly became hot and humid. He thought he would want to live by the sea if it did.
‘When are we going to look at the seahorses?’ he asked.
‘In the middle of the night,’ said Peter.
‘I meant seriously, Dad,’ Joe reproached him.
‘In the middle of the night,’ Peter repeated. ‘That’s when the seahorses and other sea creatures spring to life.’
‘But how will we see anything?’ asked Joe.
‘I believe the locals use a very simple gas lamp,’ said Peter.
‘So we’re going to walk into the sea in the middle of the night carrying a gas lamp?’ Aesha was struggling to grasp her father’s meaning.
‘We’ll be going in a banca with a gas lamp attached to it,’ he explained.
‘Cool!’ said Joe. This definitely sounded like an amazing adventure.
‘We’ll make an exploratory trip first of all. I shall be diving, but you’ll be able to snorkel at the same time, once you’ve had some practice. And if you’re good, I’ll bring you up some tasty titbits from the seabed.’
‘Like an old boot, if I know you, Dad.’ Aesha snorted.
‘I can’t believe we’re going to go snorkelling in the middle of the night,’ said Joe. ‘Are we going tonight?’
‘Not tonight!’ said Binti. ‘We’ll need our sleep tonight after such a long journey.’
‘Oh,’ said Joe, pouting. ‘I’m not tired.’
‘You will be,’ Binti replied, and as if she had woven some sort of magic, Joe found himself yawning.
‘Ha!’ said Peter. ‘You’ll be asleep before we get to the beach.’
‘No, I won’t,’ retorted Joe. ‘I’ll race you there!’
He sped off down the path, his father hot on his tail. Several village children, sensing there was some fun to be had, ran after them, shouting and laughing. Peter began to zigzag from side
