“Caroline?”

“Yes, Nicole?”

“The children have gone for more drinks. How do you feel?”

“Shattered! Er, very tired”

“He is a handsome man, no?”

“Um, I suppose so, yes”

“Please be careful. This meal tonight, it was a generous thing, but do not dream too much. He has the puces, the cards for the pictures. Take time before another meeting, yes?”

I felt myself sagging more than a little. What exactly had I been doing, after all, apart from dancing with a nice man anxious to let his daughter have a laugh and a decent meal? There were so many stories at the airports, of older women finding themselves married to pool boys or waiters of half their age, predatory men they fell for on holiday, and the perpetual refrain: “But my man’s DIFFERENT! He really loves me!”

I wasn’t thinking that, of course, but I understood Nicole’s concern, and resolved to let Pablo seek further contact. Give it a couple of days, and get some more snorkelling in. The birds could wait.

Two days later, and there was an envelope for me at reception, holding two memory cards and a couple of sheets of paper with lists of scientific names, obviously from his scientist friend. There was also a note from Pablo.

‘Rita says thank you for the dinner and the dancing. I have another day without my office job on Thursday and I have another water place for the birds. I must ask for money for it, as ever, but this time, if you would be willing, I can carry you and save the cost of the taxi. Please send an e-mail if you wish to go.
Pablo’

I was ready far too early, trying to decide what to wear, how to tie my hair, so many stupid internal arguments. I was going on a birdwatching trip, saving taxi money by riding pillion on a scooter with a tiny engine. I mean, my last bike, when I was still doing my best to be ‘bad ass’, had been a ZZR1100 Kwak, so a 250cc toy wasn’t something to scare me. In the end, I went with cargo pants, polo shirt and gilet, along with my lightweight canvas boots. I wondered whether Cuba could offer any equivalent to the nasty little Scottish bastard the clegg, one of which had managed to bite me in the foot all the way through my sock and the very canvas boots I was wearing.

Bastards.

I filled my rucksack with my optics, half the breakfast buffet for later, and a copious supply of anti-mossieness. He had said we would be heading for some wetland area or other, and still water and bitey little shits went together like jam and wasps, so I was as prepared as I could be.

Down in the lift and along to the turning circle, the little bundle of CUC in a zipped pocket in my gilet. Ten minutes after my arrival, and he was there, with a grin and a cheeky comment that my footwear was far more appropriate than my heels would have been. On with the lid, straddle the tiny scooter, and off onto the pothole chicane. Apart from a smile, a nod and a quick “Ready?”, he didn’t say a word until we had ridden some considerable distance, pulling up where a slipway dipped down into a shallow but rather wide creek. I took a few seconds to stretch my back, and lock away the helmet, and then he started to describe what we might see.

“There is a river to the West of your hotel, but it is just water. Here, there is mud, and there are reeds. We have another stop, which is more of a coast bird place, so no trogons. I want to give you a chance to see different… habitats? That is the word, yes?”

I nodded, and I was gifted another smile. We set off for the mudflats upstream from the slipway, and he was, of course, spot on. Most of what we spotted were herons and ducks, but there were several different rails, a decent selection of waders, plus a few warblers and other passerines in the bushes and small trees that punctuated the reeds and lined the riverbank. I was more than content, and was looking forward to a lunch break when Pablo handed me the helmet once more.

“I know a better place than here to eat”

It turned out to be a low cliff, no more than twenty or thirty feet above the sea, with a few eroded outcrops to sit on, and the steady sea breeze pushed away all the previously mentioned bitey little bastards. There were actual seabirds there, from brown pelicans to boobies, and it was utterly different to the stifling heat of either the reedbeds or the forest we had first visited. Some of the gulls were familiar, but I picked up a couple of ‘Americas’ specialities, and in the end, did I care? I found myself leaning back as the breeze cleared my damp sweatiness and actually rendered my cobbled-together breakfast doggy bag almost edible. I handed half to Pablo, as I had on the previous trip, and he grinned, handing me a small greaseproof paper package.

“Rita insisted I bring these. She isn’t a… how would you say it? She can cook some things, but is not an expert?”

“Beginner, or ‘just learning’, that would do”

“Yes. She can do some things well, but they are not general things. Not a complicated meal. She can make cookies, though, and she asked if ‘Caroline the nice lady’ would like to try some”

I opened the package, and recognised one of the two different types of biscuit there, something Mum had taught me to make, called ‘melting moments’. The other biscuits were coconut, so I tried one of each, and while they could have been better, they were tasty, and Rita had made them specifically for me, so of course they were wonderful. I wiped the crumbs from my mouth, revelling in the sweetness, as Pablo pointed out another novelty for me, a sodding great dragon-sized iguana. I’d seen several lizards already, of course, as well as the ubiquitous crabs on the beach, but this thing was on a different scale.

“They are vegetarian, Caroline. Do not be frightened of it”

Frightened? I was entranced! It was exactly the sort of thing I had flown the Atlantic to see, and after Pablo had thrown it some of the bread crusts, I took a lot of video and multiple stills. It was utterly gorgeous.

“Are you ready for a longer ride? There is another type of habitat to see, but it will be hot and the roads are not good ones”

I kept my silence on the subject of pothole chicanes, and simply smiled.

“What sort of habitat?”

“Open land, with a few bushes. There will be mosquitoes, and it is a[something Spanish]”

“Sorry?”

“Holes underground. Ess peely oh logico”

“Ah! We call that caving, and no. Never”

Sudden realisation lit up his smile.

“Ah! You mean ‘no’ for going under the ground, but not for the over the ground”

“Exactly. If it was evening, and there were bats coming out, yes, but if it means going into holes, no”

He laughed out loud, shaking his head.

“I agree! Riding my little bike is enough excitement!”

Something cheeky stirred inside just then.

“You didn’t find that tango exciting, then? Laurent and Nicole?”

Tanned as he was, I could still see the blush.

“Caroline… I did not know which way to look, especially when she… those things with her feet, oh!”

I laughed with him.

“Do not expect to see me do that sort of dance, ever! I am not a dancer, normally. When I was, it was a different sort of dancing”

“Eh?”

“I was a rocker. Heavy rock music, you know?”

“With the head shaking and the long hair?”

“Yes, basically. I still listen to that, but I have always been more of a one for classical music. That is something nice at the hotel, you know”

“Music?”

“Yes. They have the band and the dancing by the big pool, but over past the other one, they have late night music. People sing, play flute or violin or piano. It was jazz one night, but others were all classical”

“I am not as familiar with that music. Rita is finding her tastes, but I am trying to show her other things than shouting men. It is difficult, though, to help her love words when those words are always in English. Shall we ride now?”

I got back quite late to the resort, as we had been caught up in the local ‘rush hour’, which involved all sorts of traffic from tractors hauling trailers filled with standing people, through horse-drawn wagons to bicycles with sidecars. The scrubland he had taken me to had been really productive, and both my camera and little notebook were filling up steadily.

As I handed him back the helmet, he asked the obvious question.

“When is your return to England, Caroline?”

“In four days”

“Ah. I have no more time for another bird trip. What time is the flight?”

“Five o’clock in the evening, this Friday”

“You have the taxi reserved?”

I had a sudden vision of straddling the back of the scooter, a bag in each hand, and laughed silently at the idea.

“There is an organised group, a package tour, and their representative has agreed to take me in their coach”

“Oh. Perhaps, then, I may wave at the airport, with Rita”

“That would be great! Hang on”

I pulled my little notebook out, and quickly scribbled down my address and e-mail.

“These are my details. Tell me: how do you listen to music, at home?”

“With my ears, of course”

“No! I mean, by CD, or cassette tape, or vinyl record?”

“Ah! We have records, but I also can play the CDs through my computer. Why do you ask?”

“Well, it was a thought. If I find some good music, something Rita might like that isn’t rap?”

“I understand. May I take the little book?”

He quickly wrote down a street address.

“This is where we live. The mail will be delivered to the… We have a building, in the village, where we have the television for those without their own, and the doctor. The mail goes there. Now, I must see that Rita is fed. It has been a delight to watch birds with you, Caroline Nelson”

A sudden impulse took me, and I stepped forward to hug him, kissing him on the cheek.

“And me you, Pablo”

He rested one hand in the small of my back for a few seconds, then pulled back a little to fasten his helmet.

“If I do not wave to you on Friday, with Rita, then have a good journey. Adios, Caroline”

He was gone, the little engine whirring away, and I found myself reluctant to move from the spot. Exactly how stupid was I being? He was a paid guide, taking me to places he thought would be good for birds, and that, after all, was how he picked up his trade, by good internet reviews. Who was I to him? There was also the rather important fact that he must have picked up on what precisely I was, despite the years of hormones and that little stay at the Nuffield just outside Brighton.

Shirley bloody Valentine, that was me. I made my way down to my block, the towel sculpture in my room turning out to be an elephant that time, and I took a long shower, rinsing off the dust, sweat and insect repellent along with a short session of tears.

Stupid, stupid bloody tranny, that was me. Four days to go, and they would be four days of what my new friends called ‘lying face down in the sea’. I dressed in a long skirt and loose blouse, my hair still a little damp, and made my way to the dining room, where Laurent and his family were waiting. I ordered a mojito as I entered, and shortly after I took my seat, it arrived. Nicole was all smiles.

“How was today, Caroline? We saw you leave on the motorcycle”

“It was a lovely day, Nicole. We covered three different habitats”

“Habitats?”

“Types of countryside, of terrain. Some muddy ground, some open, well, savannah? And a sea cliff”

She was smiling at me, but there was a little something else in her expression, and she left it there as we ate our buffet selections, and I stayed with mojitos, until I needed to visit the loo, which was when I found her on my shoulder as I entered. We did our business, but she was there as I washed my hands.

“You are confused, Caroline. We are worried, Laurent and myself. Even the children, they ask if you are attached to Pablo”

“He is a guide, Nicole, and I am a client”

She shook her head, a sad little smile in place.

“He is a man with a child, and that child has no mother. He is a man who clearly finds your company to be pleasant, but he remembers his daughter at all times. And you…”

She looked away, with a suck of air through her teeth.

“Caroline, if we are wrong, Laurent and myself, please do not take the offence. We have a friend, mon mari and myself, who we think is like you. She is needing to learn of how to be the woman, and from moment to moment, there is a hesitation. She was our friend with a different name, before. Now, she is happier”

I stared at her, but of course she had known. In the end, behind all the ‘confidence’ I pulled on as armour, I was still far too vulnerable. Of course they had seen through the tits and the hair and the swimming costume and skirts. I looked down, and nodded, and Nicole simply pulled me into a hug.

“Poor, poor Caroline!”

Bloody tears, but there was tissue in the cubicles, and a sink to rinse my eyes out afterwards. Nicole was quiet for a while, then started a polite interrogation, her voice so, so soft.

“You did not come for the romantic meeting, did you?”

“No. It was for the nature, the birds and fish”

“And now, that has changed, no?”

“I suppose so. He is a very nice man”

“And you are a good woman, Caroline Nelson. Perhaps…”

She paused, looking off into her own memories, then turned back with a smile.

“Our friend, yes? She found a man she liked, but it was a mistake. She tried, but, well, no history that I can reveal save that it was not a good choice. It did three things for her, though, and one was to show her how a woman is with a man, how one must dance about the other. The second, that was the acceptance, that she was, the English word, um, a woman who is attracted to men?”

“Straight?”

“Yes. Straight. It let her know herself better that way”

“You said three things, Nicole”

“Yes. Three, the third, it was to help others see her as she was, and one of them was another man, a man with more courage, and much of love in him. They have the fiançailles, the wedding to come. That is the third thing, the opening of eyes”

Again, her voice softened.

“Do we have the right, once again? Is this your moment of discovery of who you are?”

I just nodded, and her hug was fierce.

“Take courage then, my dear one, and now we must return so that my man and myself may scandalise our infants”

I didn’t dance that evening, nor did I desist from the mojitos, and when I said my goodnight to the Canadians, I received a whole series of hugs. I found myself walking past my block to the late-night bar, and this time the musician was the soprano once again. I ordered a fuck-it-I’ll-have-another-mojito, and settled back to listen, Ten minutes later, I realised that she was taking requests, clearly filtered through her own repertoire, and I found myself on my feet.

“Do you speak English?”

“Yes I do. Do you have a favourite you wish me to sing?”

“Well, I hope you know it. It’s an older song, by Purcell”

Her eyes lit up.

“Oh! Do you speak of Queen Dido? The lament? Such beauty! Yes, I know the aria. You wish me to sing it?”

I nodded, and she smiled, waving at the man on the piano.

“I have not the orchestra, but Esteban here, he knows the tune and can adapt. Please to take your seat again, and when I am finished with other people’s songs, we will perform”

I settled into my armchair once more, and there was a fresh drink awaiting me, and twenty minutes later I was sobbing as she gave a more than adequate performance of the soul-destroying bleakness of Dido’s Lament.

‘Remember me…’

It was well past my normal breakfast time when I woke up, lying across my bed, still dressed. I hadn’t done that for years, not since the earliest days of my transition, and I felt like shit. Yet another shower helped a little, but I made a slightly fragile decision that I needed to get out of the room before I ended up losing the entire day. I pulled on my cossie, added the usual lightweight skirt and top, and made my way down to the beach. A cold drink in the little café helped, and then I set off from the beach, heading for the swathes of dead coral to the West rather than the busier waters around the coral heads and fish.

I finned steadily out over the seagrass meadows until I hit the dead white limestone of the dead zone, and simply kept going. There were small groups of ocean surgeons moving across the bottom, and a flatfish erupted at one point, swimming in a bizarre manner but at some speed. The swell was getting up a little, the water a little murky, and I was floating away in two senses.

What had I been doing, in the end, apart from deceiving myself? What disturbed me most was that I hadn’t seen it coming. So many years being utterly and obsessively careful, keeping my barriers up and my privacy secure, and I hadn’t spotted how open I had been leaving myself until it was almost too late. What must he have thought? Nicole and her family had clearly known what I was from the moment we had met, so how could Pablo have missed it?

Clarity was there in a sudden stab of pain as reality hit me. What did I actually have in my life apart from work? I got up, I went to work at whatever hour my shift roster demanded, and I came home again. I chatted with work colleagues, occasionally with customers, and then shut my front door on everyone but whatever face filled the TV screen. I had nothing and nobody, but at least I wasn’t reduced to performing for pampered foreign tourists.

I carried on for another twenty minutes, finning slowly across a desert peppered with small holes, the occasional tiny bright jewel of a fish popping out to look at me, and then the level plain dipped into a small underwater gully, and FUCK!

Stay calm, woman, pull the camera to you and cover its shiny bits as you back away, turn and swim as gently as you can towards the shore, leaving six or seven fucking feet of barracuda roosting or resting or lurking or sodding whatever it was doing, and did it matter what the sharp-toothed thing was doing as long as it didn’t follow?

I thought the thunder of my surging heart rate must be more than enough to ring its dinner bell, but it clearly had better things to do, and so I started to relax as I approached the shore, finally feeling safe enough to turn and follow the beach back towards the little outcrop of rock, full of squirrel fish or goat fish or aardvark fish or whatever they were called, and as I saw some of the prettier creatures appearing, my spirits started to lift. It is hard to be depressed when looking at the cartoon smile of a porcupine fish. It was only the rumbling of my stomach that reminded me I had not only missed breakfast, but lunch as well. After a quick sweep of the coral heads, and yet another futile attempt to collect a sand dollar without seeing it crumble, I set off back to shore, and then back to my room, and finally as brave a face as I could manage for dinner with my friends.

I stuck to beer for the last few days of the holiday, at least as far as dinner was concerned, but it was mojitos all the way as I sat in the other bar and fretted my way through a collection of rather talented musicians, and the days counted down.

Swim. Eat. Drink. Ensure I left a few tips in each place I lingered, and as I packed everything away on my last day, I made sure that I placed the hotel toiletries, along with a much bigger tip, into the middle of the towel sculpture of two swans my cleaner had left me. Time to say farewell.

Laurent and his family had left two days previously, which had meant a small bright segment, as we had celebrated something or other, perhaps just being alive, and I had found myself dancing with both Laurent and Yves in turn. Hugs, and promises, and addresses were all exchanged, and my last couple of evenings had been missing more than a small piece of what I was realising I needed.

I sat in the lobby area reading for a couple of hours until the package tour courier called for boarding, and I rode an air-conditioned coach to Holguin airport rather than an antique American car. Like a good little girl, I had the cash ready to pay for my exit visa, and then it was queue for check-in and bag drop, queue for security and exit visa purchase, and sit around for a stupid length of time until our plane finally arrived at the gate.

We took off on time, turning to the North-East as we climbed away from Cuba, the sea bright beneath us as the sun gilded huge banks of cloud, and there hadn’t been a sign of Pablo.