Wednesday: the Beach at Bim

On the train from Clapham Junction to Gatwick airport a sudden shock: my backpack is open at the top. My purse is missing.
The purse contains the entirety of my travel money. A few hundred dollars.
I empty out the entire backpack.
The purse is not there.

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Eueka moment: I remember I'm wearing a bum bag.
The purse, including money, is in the bag, safely strapped around my waist.

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Uneventful flight on Virgin Atlantic.
Watched The Descendants. Then the tail end of Tinker Tailer Soldier Spy (I've seen the whole thing in the cinema, but I love the ending).
Then Mildred Pierce.
Long queue at Grantley Adams International Airport.
No Left Luggage department. Have to take suitcase in taxi.
Got a taxi to the Golden Sands Hotel.
Spoke to Michele Johnson, the proprietor, a friend of Cousin Rod. She says I can leave suitcase in office, and use changing rooms.
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The little yellow house is still standing, but it's green now. The beach is empty. The water is cold. A short swim, a lie in the sun, then back to the airport.
Bim is nice, but I'm hungry for home.

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Nobody to receive me at Cheddi Jagan International Airport. I take a seat to wait.
Approached by a man: am I Miss Cox's daughter?
Yes.
He thought so; I look like her.
Leads me to the car.
Mum is there, leaning on a Zimmer frame. She is so frail, so tiny.
It is night. The ride to Georgetown, an hour long, so familiar.
The names of the villages: New Hope, Land of Canaan, Garden of Eden, Agricola, Houston, Eccles.

That old familiar bend in the road at Diamond Estate!

 The sweet-sickly smell of the sugar factory!

 I know I'm home.