7.
It took another two weeks to settle any other loose ends and when I next took stock of what I was doing I was on the plane, Mauritius bound. Hopefully, the apartment would not take too long to sell, but I had enough money to get by for a few months if it didn't. The plane landed, and I took a shuttle to the same hotel I had stayed at previously and checked in. A new environment, and the start of a new life.
After two days of doing nothing but lying on the beach or at the poolside – always under an umbrella and clothed with a light long-sleeved cotton shirt as my injuries and hair still required a lot of healing – I went to town and bought a scooter, my new mode of transport. I laughed at myself when I pulled off for the first time, but before I did, I got the salesman to take a photo of me on it so I could send it to Leah. She would find it very amusing.
The Next thing was to find an apartment to rent. There were plenty but none that were in really good condition and with my weakened lungs, dust was an issue in most of them. I wanted to find a place that could accommodate Leah, Merwyn and Molly as well. As soon as I sold my place I was flying them over for a holiday. I owed them so much. Without them, I did not want to think of what type of person I would've become.
Luckily Merwyn had found the details of a church nearby and so I attended it. It was a small church that looked more like a cottage than a church, but it was cool inside – a blessing to escape the humidity outside. The people were mostly fishermen and their families, and they welcomed me warmly.
It was a stroke of luck that I walked into a block of flats situated right on the beach one day. I asked the landlord, an elderly man if he knew of any apartments available to rent. God was guiding me as there were two available. They were identical but naturally I took the one with the sea view and I moved in a week later.
After a month in Mauritius, I was recovering far better and faster according to my new specialist than he had ever previously recorded. But it was time for me to find something to do. Although my chest was still weak and probably always would be, I had a good amount of energy each day.
On a bright but humid morning, I took a stroll along the beach and landed up at the harbour. The quaint harbour had not changed since I had been there last. The trawlers were all out at sea busy with their daily catch, and it left the harbour looking like a forgotten and deserted port. I remembered the fishermen and the disgusting smell of the fish and shivered when I remembered the person I had been then and how I had treated them. They had been so kind and accommodating, and I had been nothing but a selfish, spoilt brat.
I sat on a dilapidated bench soaking up the sea air for a few minutes, watching seagulls fight for food before I took a slow walk back along the same route to my home. Along the way I saw, hidden amongst the palm trees, an old but very neat house. There was a for sale sign plugged into the ground and so I stored the number on my phone and continued my slow pace home, all the while my mind calculating and contemplating the possibility of buying it. What would I do with it if I did buy it? Turn it into a bed and breakfast? Rent it out and stay in the apartment? But first I would have to find out the selling price.
It was such a lovely day so instead of going inside I plonked myself on the beach just in front of my apartment block. There were so many tourists about at this time of year and by ten o'clock in the morning the beaches were packed, and the bay is buzzing with jet skis and glass-bottom boats taking enthralled tourists to the various spots of interest. I watched with fascination and a bit of envy. With my damaged body, I was not able to suntan or go on these wonderful adrenaline adventures. But on second thoughts I realised I had never really been the adrenaline type anyhow, I had always been too concerned with looking anything but perfect in my self-centred life before the accident.
'Jade?'
A male voice interrupted my thoughts and before looking up at where the voice was coming from I immediately panicked.
Who would know me here?
A man with neat blonde hair, and a shade of ruggedness that creased his wrinkles depicting the many hours exposed to the sun stood before me looking expectantly at me.
'You that fisherman, sorry I don't remember your name…' I was flabbergasted he had remembered my name let alone recognise me.
'Yep, that's me, the fisherman Markl. How you doing?'
I chose not to answer his question.
'How did you recognise me?'
'Very seldom forget a face.'
Even a face that has changed as much as mine has, with hardly any hair and hidden under a huge hat?
'So! What you doing here? Another modelling shoot? Do you need a boat again?' he chuckled.
I was very sure he had vivid images in his mind of how it had ended the last time.
'Are you in a hurry since you're trying to get your questions asked in one breath?'
Markl put his head back and laughed, then plonked himself on the sand next to me. For a few seconds, there was silence, only the sound of waves disturbed it.
Markl fidgeted with the sand before he said, 'I know about your accident. I guess I am just surprised to see you here.'
'Shoo my tale of woe spread all the way here,' I said, sarcasm sliding off my tongue.
'Sorry,' his reply was one word, and yet it touched me like a million with its sincerity.
We sat in silence until he changed the tempo back to upbeat as it was when he first spoke.
'So why you here?' he asked again, determined to get an answer this time.
'I live here.'
I had to smile at his expression of disbelief.
'Really? Where?'
I pointed to the building behind me and specifically to the window of my apartment.
'You're kidding me! Since when?'
I sighed. He was not going to cease with his detective questioning until he had all the nitty-gritty details, I was sure of it.
'This is how the story goes…'
And I retold my whole sorry tale. Usually, when I had to share my experience, I was left feeling depressed and distraught but with Markl the more I spoke and even gave very graphic details, the more it felt like a release from the burden. It was so easy to talk to him. When I got to the part of my baptism and told him about attending the little church on the island, he interrupted me for the first time.
'No ways,' he exclaimed, 'that's where I go! I haven't been for a while – been at sea during the time they have service. Wow, what a story! Who would've thought the diva Jade I met so long ago would find her way to Jesus.'
He shook his head in pure wonderment.
'Okay yes rub it in! I was a horrible person.'
'Yes, you were.'
He had a glint in his eyes and a smile as wide as the ocean and I detected a genuine joy in his voice.
'So what are you going to do now, or are you working already?'
More questions to appease his curious mind. It was then that I told him about the house I had noticed for sale.
'Oh, I know that house. The owners are old and want to return to live with their children in France. If you want to put in an offer you had better hurry as that is prime property.'
I realised he was probably telling the truth since I remembered him knowing everyone and everything the last time we had met. I guess he'd been here all his life.
'Do you want to meet the owners now and have a look at the house?'
'Now?'
Why was I surprised at his eagerness, I should have expected it.
'Yes, come!'
He stood up and jiggled the sand off his bum, then offered me his hand to help me up. As I stood up, my hat blew off which had never happened before. It threw me completely off guard, and I was so embarrassed I scampered after it and put it back on to hide the awfulness as quickly as possible.
'What's the fuss? You look good with short hair.'
I ignored him, too embarrassed to form a rebuttal.
The owners gave me a tour of the property and that I immediately fell in love with it was not difficult at all. Over a delicious cup of vanilla tea, I made them an offer, with the condition that my property in South Africa sells first. All I had to do was give it to the Lord in prayer and if it was His will then it would be mine. My heart wanted it I could not deny that.
Markl walked me home along the beach and decided it was time for a little revenge as he goaded me non-stop over my previously despicable behaviour. He found great pleasure in mimicking me – and he did it very well too I might add, but mostly he was astounded at my changed life. He kept emphasising how the Lord works in people's lives in ways we will never understand. By the time we reached my building I was out of breath and very tired. Markl, sensing my fatigue and with a promise of meeting at church the next day, reached out his arms and held my shoulders with his hands, rubbing them affectionately. I shuddered at his touch – not that it was unpleasant, it was very pleasant – but he touched my ugly scars without hesitation, without concern that I was imperfect. He was indifferent to my ugliness and smiled as he said goodbye. As I showered, I felt the touch of his hands still resting on my shoulders. How did I not repulse him?