Free The Love Beach by Leslie Thomas Page B

Nothing helps nationalism like exile, my friend. And, so I believe, he has never recovered from having that unfortunate family name. His father tried to compensate with the Christian names, but it is not the same. I can understand that.'
    The councillors sat on the back row of chairs on the dais, Mr English pulling his kilt modestly over his small knees. The heavy sporran hung between his short legs like a horse's feeding bag. One of the Chinese lanterns caught the dirk handle in his stocking with silver light. Davies looked along the line of the council. They were mostly ill‑at‑ease. some arrayed in suits, some in open‑necked shirts and grey flannels, including one of the women in khaki drill, and one in a tropical dinner jacket with white tie.
    A man in uniform appeared at the flanking door and in marched six men in suits who took their seats three each side of the two central chairs.
    'The Condominium,' whispered Pollet. 'Three and three. Very strong enemies.'
    'Pray rise for His Excellency M. Etienne Martin, French Governor‑General!' shouted the officer at the door. Half the people rose to their feet.
    'The French,' whispered Pollet to Davies and then, turning to Conway, repeated the identification.
    'Pray rise for His Excellency Sir William Findlay‑Stayers, British Governor‑General.' The other half of the people stood up.
    'The British,' said Pollet unnecessarily.
    Everyone sat down. Davies thought Sir William gave a quick glance at the Chinese hangings and appendages above and around him, and a shudder flew across his face. The first of the six Condominium men, one of the British three, stood, and said: 'Sir William Findlay‑Stayers, the British Governor‑General, will make a statement.'
    At the other extreme of the sextet a moustached man stood: 'Sir William Findlay‑Stayers, le Gouverneur General Britannique va faire un exposé.'
    Pollet sighed: 'All the way through they will do this. Everything has to be translated or the other partner becomes offended. But almost every person in these islands speaks French and English very well.'
    Sir William stood. He bowed with obvious enjoyment to his French opposite. 'Your Excellency, Members of the Condominium, ladies and gentlemen...'he began.
    The French interpreter was immediately on his feet: 'Voire Excellence, Membres du Condominium, mesdames et messieurs. . .'
    The British Governor looked at the man sourly. '...fellow islanders...' Sir William continued.
    ,.. . concitoyens de nos iles.. ' said the interpreter.
    Sir William made a quince face. Then like a single, sour cavalryman charging a platoon, burst through his momentous message at a gallop, unpausing at the conclusion of a sentence and allowing the shallowest intake of breath at the end of a paragraph. He told them, at 250 words a minute, that Her Majesty the Oueen would be visiting the Apostle Islands in six weeks' time. He completed the statement in one minute fifty‑three seconds, whirled about to enjoy the outraged looks of the speechless French interpreter and the entire French echelon, and sat down breathlessly to wild and delighted applause from the British colony.
    M. Martin raised a shadow of an eyebrow in the direction of the interpreter who, having shrugged, stood and gave an ill‑tempered delivery of the statement in French from a prepared text handed to him by a disdainfully smiling Phillip Cooper. Again the British cheered and some of the French people clapped politely.
    Then, nothing happened. A silence swirled around the Chinese hall. No one seemed to know whether they should go away or stay. Sir William looked calmly ahead towards the carved swan, but not as far as it. The French Governor made a minute examination of the creases in his trousers and then turned attention to his shoes as though suspecting that they were odd.Eventually Mr Rob Roy Englishrose and moved forward, his kilt heavy about his hips, his sporran shaggily swaying.
    'Your Excellencies,' he began, glaring towards the