‘Flying fish! I saw flying fish!’ he cried excitedly. He raised his camera, focused it and pressed the shutter button just as one of the fish leapt again.
‘Where?’ Aesha demanded, turning round quickly.
‘There were three of them,’ Joe insisted. ‘Over there. I got a photo – look.’
‘Ah.’ Angela scrutinized the camera screen. ‘Those are sailfish. Look at the long, pointed spears on their heads.’
‘Well done, Joe,’ said Peter. ‘That’s what happens when you’re prepared.’
They all gazed long and hard in the direction Joe had been facing when he took his photograph. Joe willed the sailfish to show themselves again, but to no avail.
‘Never mind.’ Angela smiled. ‘Hopefully we’ll see some more during your stay.’
Chapter 9
There was a large group of children kicking a ball around on the beach when the family returned to Handumon.
‘Aren’t they lucky to be able to play out here when school’s finished?’ commented Binti.
‘Why aren’t they on holiday like us?’ asked Joe.
‘School terms are different in different parts of the world,’ Angela explained. ‘Children don’t go to school here in midsummer – around April and May – when it’s too hot.’
‘It’s too hot now!’ exclaimed Aesha. ‘I’m going for a swim to cool down.’
Joe was just thinking about doing the same thing when he spotted Dario heading towards them, the ball under his arm.
‘Hello, Ma’am,’ he said to Angela, beaming. ‘You have good day?’
‘We’ve had a great day, thank you, Dario,’ she replied. She turned to Joe and his family. ‘Dario is one of my best helpers, and I can rely on him to promote our work, especially among the youngsters.’
‘Too much fishing, we go hungry,’ he said. ‘We play basketball now. You play too, Joe?’
Some of the other children came over and searched Joe’s face eagerly.
‘Go on, Joe. They’re dying for you to join them,’ said Peter.
‘You’ll be quite safe,’ Angela encouraged him. ‘Dario will look after you well.’
Reluctantly, Joe nodded his head and was quickly surrounded by the other children, who jostled with each other to be by his side.
I just hope they don’t expect me to be any good! he thought to himself as they set off along a winding track away from the village.
As soon as they had left the last of the houses behind, they came to a clearing where a large area of concrete had been laid. It was marked out with lines that had mostly worn away, and at each end stood a rickety-looking wooden post topped with a rusty ring and splintered backboard.
Dario divided the children into teams, picking Joe to be with him and indicating that he should take the jump ball. A taller boy from the other team faced off against Joe in the centre circle. Dario threw the ball in the air, Joe tried to tap it but missed, and the other boy passed it on. For a while Joe was all fingers and thumbs and two left feet, but with Dario’s encouragement he began to enjoy himself. He wasn’t as good as the other boys, who played with great skill and who knew each other so well that they could anticipate each other’s moves, but they went out of their way to involve him. They even helped him score a goal, by allowing him a free run and making no attempt to block him before he reached the basket. He took a shot and was amazed when it found its way through the hoop.
Joe was sorry when a heavy rain shower sent them all scuttling for shelter under the nearby palm trees, but he was tired and hungry too. The other boys stood there chatting, mostly in Cebuano, and it made him feel like an outsider again, even though Dario tried to interpret. Joe was just about to say that he should be going back to the staff house when two men appeared and walked straight across the basketball court. They were both carrying backpacks and talking animatedly. They didn’t notice the boys at first, but when they heard one of them laugh they stopped and looked round. Joe thought they seemed annoyed, but then they waved briefly and hurried on their way.
‘Do you know them?’ he asked Dario.
Dario shook his head. ‘I never see them before.’
The other boys agreed that they were strangers. Joe was surprised that they weren’t suspicious of the men, but they paid them no more attention as they gave up on the game of basketball and set off home.
‘You play next time?’ Dario asked when they reached the staff house.
Joe nodded. He was soaked through and rivulets of water ran from his hair down his face, but he was pleased to be asked to play again. ‘It was fun – thank you,’ he said.
He watched as his new friends splashed their way through the puddles to their own homes before making his way inside. Everyone was gathered in the dining area.
‘Now that’s what I call a drowned rat!’ his father said when he saw him.
‘Poor Joe,’ said Binti. ‘You’re soaking wet.’
Joe shrugged. ‘I don’t mind! I scored a goal and they want me to play with them again.’
‘That’s great, Joe,’ said Angela. ‘I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.’
Joe saw that fish and rice were on the menu. He stuck to his resolve to eat every last piece of fish flesh that was put on his plate. It wasn’t difficult. That evening, he was so hungry after the day’s exertions that it wouldn’t have surprised him if he had eaten the skin and bones as well.
Later, as they were preparing for bed, Joe remembered the two men.
What were they doing? he wondered. Why did they look annoyed when they saw us?
‘Two strange men came by when we were at the basketball court,’ he found himself blurting out to his parents.
‘Strange in what way?’ asked Binti.
‘You’re not assuming they’re smugglers by any chance?’ Peter looked at him quizzically.
‘None of Dario’s friends had ever seen them
