How Friday Landed in Paradise

1

Friday noticed two things when she got off the plane in Saint-Marie. The first was the noise. The people of Saint-Marie predominately spoke English and French, both languages she was fluent in. What she wasn't expecting was the shift in accent. The Caribbean accents were strong in the air, with lilting vowels and strong consonants. It was like listening to an entirely new accent.

The second was the heat. Friday was from Australia but had been working in London for four years. To say she was new to the heat would be false, but she'd certainly grown used to the cold.

The climate was hot, higher than 30 degrees she estimated and very very humid, the sort of weather that got on to people's tempers and under their skin.

She pulled at her collar as she signed the missing luggage form. She was glad she'd packed a spare change of clothes. She'd worn a button-up shirt and tailored pants with a navy blue blazer that was now stuffed into her backpack.

"All sorted?" enquired the commissioner of the Saint Marie police force, Edgar Belcredi, Friday's temporary boss, who'd come to meet her at the airport.

He was an aging man who spoke with an accent that could've resembled both British, Irish and Caribbean all at the same time. He had a severely receding hairline that showed off a pale scalp. Thankfully, his head was mostly covered with a black visor cap embellished with the Saint Marie coat of arms that matched his beige uniform.

"Yes, my suitcase should turn up at some point."

He nodded, gesturing to the police car outside. "Shall we?"

The said police car was a warm yellow Land Rover with blue stripes along the bonnet and sides, marked with the Honore police crest, a shield the colours of the French flag with the outline of a yellow hummingbird in the middle.

Leaning against the bonnet, arms crossed, was a young man in a police uniform. He had warm brown skin and floppy hair that stood in tufts here and there.

"Officer Jean-Duval," the commissioner gestured on Friday. "Detective Inspector Barnes,"

He looked her up and down once, judgement clear in his eyes, before he stuck out a hand.

"Mateo,"

Friday shook it firmly. "Friday," she said, it only being fair since he'd shared his first name.

"Interesting name," he remarked, an eyebrow raised.

"Interesting parents," she said as if that would explain everything.

"Saint Marie was first colonised by the French," the commissioner explained on the drive to the police station. "They lost it to the British who lost it to the Dutch,"

"Who then lost it to the French who handed it over to the British in the 70's meaning about thirty per cent of the population is still French," continued Friday absentmindedly, staring out the window.

They were winding across a narrow road next to the coast and she was mesmerised by the view as the palm tree flicked past. The beaches were almost pristine, the pale sand leading down the turquoise water that glinted and shone under the sun.

The commissioner looked at her in the rearview mirror, impressed. "You know your history, Barnes."

She shrugged. "I read a lot,"

Mateo pulled up into a street that went up through residential areas.

The road was made of uneven rock and pavement, making the SUV jump and shake.

She clutched her backpack in her lap. She hoped if heat stroke didn't bother her, the roads wouldn't either.

Mateo pulled into the driveway in front of a building next to the bustling marketplace that looked more like an old house if it weren't for the Honore police sign out the front.