Chapter 12 - By Martin Thomas

We had been on the island for a total of three days, attacked by sandflies, invaded by rats, drenched by torrential rain, and assailed by the sea. Yet we were resolute, and still confident that given time we could carve out our little slice of heaven on earth. On the bright side, the children had fallen instantly in love with the ‘beach island’, and Jenifer and I were doing everything within our power to ensure it worked its spell on us as soon as possible. A shift seemed to occur as our washing machine finished its first load. As Jenifer hung out the clothes on a makeshift line to dry in the gentle breeze, and we looked forward to warm showers courtesy of the newly installed water heater, things seemed just a little more promising.

The sandflies were our constant companions, although at their worst at dawn and dusk, when we generally dined in front of the fan. I would rise before dawn, start the generator, which was very noisy but essential, get the fan going, and we would all be dressed and eating our breakfast before the onslaught began. We were all itching and scratching the tiny bites that we had already received, however, and the children were looking a little the worse for wear as some of their bites had turned septic. Something had to be done.

From my internet research I knew there was a resort on a neighbouring island, Coco Cohiba, which looked quite luxurious. It was owned by a French Canadian, Christian Billard, who ran it as an upmarket fishing lodge. In the circumstances, we had begun to wonder whether we had made a mistake in presuming we could just arrive and ‘camp out’ on our island while we set up the accommodation and organised ourselves for long-term habitation. At Jenifer’s suggestion I made a trip over to the resort to see whether we could stay there for a few days while we reassessed our situation. Christian was very charming and helpful, and although the resort was not officially open at the time, he was prepared to accommodate us for a few days. We agreed that the family would move in in two days’ time. As work began on clearing the debris on our island the sandfly population was under siege - they were mean and hungry. We really had to leave.

We packed a small bag each, a large one containing insect repellent - just in case - and set off in the boat for our ‘retreat’. After the last week, arriving at Coco Cohiba was like a fabulous dream. There were no sandflies, there was continuous power, and the place, the staff and the food were simply outstanding. Christian cooked French bread daily to accompany the meals, which were simple and delicious. We had two bungalows, both very spacious. There were fresh white linen sheets, and real bathrooms with fluffy white bathmats that seemed like heaven to our feet. We swam in the warm waters and went on expeditions to explore the coastline, where we discovered seahorses, octopus, and all manner of fascinating creatures under rocks and in the tidal pools. The children fished for sardines from the pier, and caught a dozen or so, which Christian prepared for our lunch. Delicious. We were also encouraged, realising that if Christian could create something so luxurious so could we. We returned to our own island with a renewed sense of hope and commitment, and a new plan. We had decided to leave our island to the cleaners, so to speak, and go to Miami for a week. The settlement of La Dolce Villa was now scheduled to take place on January 12, after which we would be in funds and able to buy the rest of what we needed on the island, including an automated sandfly trap. In theory this would capture any sandflies that might be left after the clean-up, and guarantee us a peaceful night’s sleep. We would return to a clean and sandfly-free island, and pretend that none of this had happened.

Before we left the island a peace offering arrived by boat from Bluefields, in the form of eight native ducklings. I had told Peter we were keen to introduce birds and animals onto the island, and eventually

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