Free The Backpacker by John Harris Page B

other spun the papaya around in quarter turns, her lurid blue nail varnish like lapis scarabs clinging to the side of the dark green fruit.
    Watching the fruit being prepared made me so hungry that I completely forgot to question how she had known I was awake, and after taking a quick bucket shower and dressing, I opened the door and walked outside. She was gone. There was no mess, no peel, just a huge bowl of chopped tropical fruit sitting in the middle of a small red cloth beneath my hammock.
    I quickly jumped off the veranda and looked around the rear of the hut. She was nowhere to be seen. I walked around the hut twice, not quite believing the past ten minutes had really happened. I expected to return to the front and find the bowl of fruit gone but it was still there, shining, mouthwatering, like a mirage.
    At first I was reluctant to eat it. I wasn’t sure whether I was being suckered into some scam whereby I ate the fruit, watched by beady eyes, and got pounced upon and presented with an outrageous bill. So, hesitating for about two seconds, I picked up the bowl, arranged myself in the hammock, hesitated for another second or two while scanning the beach, and started scooping up the fruit whilst swinging to and fro.
    A door opened in the next hut along from mine and Dave the American emerged, stretching and yawning. As he came out his hand went down the front of his shorts as though searching for something, his face frowning and confused. Funny how people look different when they don’t know they’re being watched. I struck the side of my bowl with the spoon. Bing!
    â€˜Hey,’ he said, quickly dropping his hand and walking to the edge of his veranda. ‘What’s that you’ve got there John?’
    I watched him through my swinging knees, ‘Fruit salad,’ and struck the spoon against the bowl again.
    â€˜Fruit salad?’ He looked at his watch – which wasn’t there. ‘Jesus, are they open already?’
    â€˜Don’t think they are,’ I said happily. ‘You could check though.’
    He wrinkled his nose. ‘So where’d you get that?’
    â€˜Some woman’s walking around making them.’ Another succulent piece of pineapple was slurped into my mouth. ‘Jush left.’
    â€˜How much?’
    â€˜That’s the thing,’ I said, grinning, ‘they’re free.’
    â€˜Fuckin’ what? Don’t kid me now John. Don’t bullshit me.’ He leaned over the handrail, balancing on his stomach. ‘You tellin’ me you didn’t have to pay for that?’
    â€˜That’s what I said.’ Barely able to contain my laughter, I stuffed the rest of the fruit into my mouth and nearly choked. "Ucking tashty, too.’
    Dave vaulted over the side onto the sand and stormed off between the huts towards one of the restaurants. A minute later he was back, empty-handed. ‘You’re shittin’ me John, there’s no one there yet. Just some old guy picking his nose.’ He stomped onto the wooden deck of his hut and leaped heavily into his hammock. The rope snapped and brought him crashing onto his back. ‘Fuckin’ Jesus!’
    I sniggered. ‘You OK, Dave?’
    â€˜Arrgh!’ He rolled over onto his side and rubbed his spine. ‘You just eat your free food John, don’t worry about me.’
    Suzy appeared at the door, looking down at Dave and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, no doubt awoken by the thump. ‘Thought you navy boys were used to hammocks and all that? Morning John,’ she said, noticing me.
    Dave heaved himself up. ‘Modern ships don’t have hammocks, Sooze. I was on the USS Enterprise , not the fuckin’ Mayflower .’
    She raised her eyebrows towards me, took a towel off her washing-line and went back inside.
    I steadied my hammock by placing one foot against my door. ‘You were in the navy, Dave?’
    â€˜Bet you didn’t guess that