You know the rainy season has properly kicked in when you wake up in the night and wonder if the world is ending. Rain bounces off Quest's coach roof so hard, it's like it's knocking for your attention and the wind as its nasty side kick, swinging the boat around. Don't worry it's just rain, you think and thank the Lord you're not in it. All this week, it's been sunny one moment and biblical the next, except on Tuesday when it just pours without pause. We decide to take matters into our own hands and go to the capital. Not just to ballet and do the obligatory shop either but to get out. Look around. So we leave Fin on Quest peering at us through the cockpit door, still perched on all four legs at the top of the saloon stairs before her usual banana-slip crash down to the bottom, watching us bicker about the fact it's started raining again after we just squandered a solid half hour of dry weather. 'We'd have been ok if you weren't cleaning,' Jack says bitterly as the rain drips off his head. 'Sorry but I just can't leave a dirty boat,' I say and 'Delphine, if you'd just looked for your own jumper,' Lulu says, before she's socked by her sister and then gets her own hair-pulling revenge back. By the point we reach the dinghy dock, we're soaked, I'm physically separating them and Jack is threatening everyone again with boarding school. A small crowd of workers have gathered in the boat yard, openly staring. Some are shaking their heads and grinning. What, I think, this isn't a typical dinghy ride?

We lock up Evil Edna and clamber off on land in silent mutiny. However, it's our lucky day because before we even have time to get our slightly broken umbrella out and walk the mile to the top of the road where the number two bus to town stops, Bernard, a guy who always wears a t-shirt over long sleeves and likes to say, 'I'm not a bad guy,' offers to give us a lift all the way to St George's. He's right, he's not a bad guy. Whenever he says this though, I can't help but remember Wreck It Ralph, when Ralph sacrifices himself and falls into the volcano at the end, yelling, 'I'm not good and that's not bad!' Still, now's not the time. Instead, we get into the fancy white Grenada Marine pick-up truck, thank Bernard, barrel out again into the pouring rain at St George's waterfront and cross the road to the Police Station to apply for a temporary Grenadian driving licence, essential here for renting cars. The Police reception counter has a TV in the corner playing a very green and civilised Wimbledon. A old-fashioned hat lays on the desk with the royal 'ER' insignia badge stitched into the hat. 'Remember, we drive on the left-hand side here,' the Policeman warns us after he's filled in a huge ledger and then a triplicate receipt. No computer in sight. We nod very seriously, barrel back out and take shelter under a corrugated roof, watch the sky weep its way through a funeral, give up the idea of walking and catch a bus to the bus terminal. 

The bus terminal is in the old part of town, built around steep streets and colonial red-brick buildings. A large market square is here too and next to it, the tiny shop called Mr. Rin's. Mr. Rin, a tall man who gives away fruits from his garden with each purchase, has dispensed with unnecessary restaurant-like formalities and sells his 'doubles' out of two large cool boxes. Doubles are Trinidadian sandwich delicacies made of chick pea bread and chick peas. It's like chick pea overkill. Ben and Phil introduced them one Saturday when the girls were dancing but the Ormerods have yet to try them and you can imagine how excited they are about all those chick peas. 'It's like stuffing without the chicken,' Jack says. 'Can't we go to KFC?' Lu says, pointing across the road at the red sign. Underneath the sign, the chicken heaven is so busy that a queue is forming from the front door. Delphine doesn't even waste words but wags her finger dismissively. 'Look guys,' I say, 'has anyone seen the exchange rate today? Just eat it.' 

'Shall we visit the church today?' I say when they've washed their food down. 'Which one?' Lulu rolls her eyes. 'I don't know if you've noticed but there's a number of churches here.' She points to three in our immediate vicinity. There are a lot of churches in Grenada and in 2004, Hurricane Ivan wrecked every single one on the island. I heard that afterwards, the various Christian religions came together to say the collective church damage was so extensive, it could only have been an act of God's wrath on the people. Was anyone tempted to get the old Inquisition chair out for good measure? The one with the hand clamps and the foot holders? 'I was thinking of visiting the Anglican one,' I say. Until recently, it had a weekly outdoor service within its remaining  walls. 'Which church is that?' The Ormerods face the steep hill, squinting downwards. 'It's this way.' I point in the other direction and brace myself. At the top of the road are a series of steps that go even further upward. 

'Why would I want to go up there?' Jack implores. 'I'm not going up there,' Lulu says. Delphine plants her feet the opposite direction. 'No way.' 'Only you would do such a ridiculous thing,' they take turns puffing out as we climb slowly up and, 'A stairway to heaven would be less painful than this,' as we wipe the drizzle out of our eyes. Still, despite its patchy rendered facade, the church is alive with activity but not for an outdoor wedding, funeral or any other kind of service. The church is full of workers around workbenches working with spinning lathes and long pieces of wood. A brand-new, beamed ceiling gleams over our heads. One of the workmen stops to acknowledge us and afterwards I ask, 'When did you put the roof on?' 'Last November,' he says, 'so now we're doing up the inside.' We nod and follow his finger around. The walls are frayed and the stone plaques on the walls are faded, their inscriptions eaten away by the weather. Meanwhile, sawdust flies around the air and machinery squeals. Delphine puts her hands over her ears. 'Let's go!' she mouths and leaves without waiting for us to respond. We nod at the workman more sheepishly this time and follow. 

'See, Mum I told you that would be crap,' Lulu says when we get outside. It's finally stopped raining and the air is a cool, damp cloth. I catch Jack's eye. 'What, I didn't say it!' he exclaims,  unable to wipe the smile from his face. 'Do you think Fin's ok?' Lu asks then. Fin! The tip of the bus terminal is just visible from our lofty position and for the first time all day, no one argues. We all sing the same hymn. 'Last one's a loser!' Lulu calls. Delphine cackles behind her, and sways down the slope, right on her heels.

Love from F/F Quest and her crew xx