Hi Everyone, 

It is easy to stereotype this lady. Penetrating eyes, voice an ambulance siren when a single dancing muscle comes out of place. Sometimes I closed my eyes and wondered if I'd entered a movie set, only to open them and find Monique tapping her feet and shaking her head from its seeming despondent depths. Surely a surgeon would struggle with similar levels of precision. For Monique, it seems to cover all areas too; during dance camp she’d be there before any one else every single day. ‘Where is everyone?’ she’d ask. ‘I’m not sure,’ I’d stammer and shoot off before she had a chance to take out her expanding metal stick from her purse. 'See you later, girls, have a good day!' Then the attack in Nice happened and her eyes were huge the next morning. ‘You 'eard?’ I nodded and surveyed her not-exactly-pale but drawn face. ‘Are you ok?’ I asked. ‘It’s worse when I’m here,’ she said, ‘at least if I was at home, I’d feel part of it. But to be here makes me feel even more helpless.’ Actually, it was ‘ere, ‘ome and ‘elpless but still, you get the idea. Since then we talked every morning for ten minutes or so and every day, I learned a little bit more about Monique. About her city; Maison Laffitte, very small, her up-and-coming famous nephew whose modelling picture is on a billboard outside Lafayette, her brother whose wife’s family is originally from Poland. 

The girls also got happier as the days went by, that is once they got used to getting up every morning which I imagine must really suck after a year of lie-ins. ‘You know,’ Lu said one morning over her pile of pancakes, ‘Monique only gets on your case because she wants the best for you.’ When we got to dance camp, Monique was waiting, tapping her toes. ‘I think you must eat too much this morning, Lucia. Look at your tummy!’ Lulu blushed and headed for the changing room. 'She works hard,’ she said to me, smiling. I smiled back. Then Delphine cast Monique her usual hooded glare before also heading into the changing room. ‘It is her who is smart!’ Monique cried, gesturing at Delphine go. ‘Who remembers the next move, I say to my class? And not only is she the only one who remembers but she remembers what it is called too! I say, you are the older sister!’ 

The next morning though, Monique was quiet. ‘I had two brothers,’ she said, sitting out on the balcony, her legs thin and knees to her chest. It’s past starting time for dance but she shows no sign of heading into the studio. ‘One of my brothers was like my twin. We did everything together. But he died of cancer.’ At this moment, Jack was waiting for me down in the sun next to the stinky fishing boats, we were geared up to go diving and I could hear his voice in my head. I sat down. ‘Before he died,’ Monique said, 'I told him that I wanted two things from my life. One was to move and the other was to work in Grenada. After he died, my apartment block set on fire caused by a neighbour and I got to move. Then I met Teheria and I started working here. So both those things came true.’ She smiled. ‘You know, a little bird comes into my apartment here every morning and sits on the kitchen table. And every morning, I say, “Hello, Patrick!”’ 

We took Monique out for lunch this week to the Yacht Club. It turns out that Grenada Yacht Club is the poor man to Port Louis Marina which are opposite each other in St. George’s lagoon. The marina has a sushi restaurant, swimming pool and women, who at eye-watering prices, will not only clean your clothes but scrub the stains out too. In contrast, the Yacht Club across St. George’s lagoon has no swimming pool but self-service washing machines (hoorah!) and a vast, communist-style restaurant which catches the breeze. Indeed, our impromptu meal there of Oildown last week, the Grenadian national dish of salted ham, breadfruit, callalou and dumplings cooked in coconut milk whilst waiting for the washing machine, confirmed that this could be the best local food at the best prices. ‘Is that a car antenna?’ I asked Monique when we’d all sat down for lunch. Monique looked confused. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘Your dancing stick,’ I said and she smiled in understanding. ‘You know, it’s funny because my stick broke last week. I lost the little screw to hold it into place.’ Out of the corner of my eye, I caught both girls smiling glassily at each other. Hold on, were they in cahoots together? I didn’t get a chance to find out. 'It’s not a car antenna,’ Monique continued, 'but I think getting a car antenna is a very good idea! I should find one.’ She pantomimed breaking one off a car and we all began to laugh. Even Delphine. We could suddenly see her doing it, dressed up in a hoodie and freaking other criminals out. ‘It’d be great if I could get it electrified too, so I can give out little shocks.’ Her arm shot out as if casting an Expelliarmus spell against Voldy himself. The waiters began to poke each other when they walked past. Look at that crazy laughing bunch.  

Love from F/F Quest and her crew xx