Excerpt from work in progress 'Stranded in the Seychelles'

Third book in the series of the adventures of Carol and Bev.  5,000 words done, 40,000 to go (or maybe even 40,001).  
If there's something you don't like, now's the time to tell me!


Stranded in the Seychelles
One


     Older but not wiser, we perused the Times Educational Supplement for jobs on a dull afternoon in August at my house in Milton Keynes.  Outside, nothing was happening.  Inside, the walls remained perfectly aligned and painted magnolia. Carol sighed. It was time to set out again into the world, united and determined to have some fun.     ‘There’s one here for a maths teacher in Bejing,’ I said.     ‘No thanks,’ replied Carol.     ‘Too much of a culture shock?  Don’t want the Saturday morning military training?’     ‘Nah.  Can’t stand Chinese food.  All those wriggly bits. And oyster sauce – can’t eat oysters since Alice!’     ‘In Wonderland?’     ‘Yeah.’     ‘The Walrus and the Carpenter?’     ‘The very same.  Poor little oysters…’     I realised that, cartoon horror apart, this would be a deal breaker.  Food was top priority.  Followed closely by sunshine, a great beach and a good library.     ‘What about this one?  English teachers required by the Seychelles government.  Sounds interesting.’     ‘Aren’t they in the Indian Ocean?’ Carol sat back in her chair and poked a finger into her ear.  She was as beautiful as ever.  How I had missed her!     ‘I believe that is correct, you lovely tart,’ I replied, pretty sure that Carol knew a lot more about the Seychelles than she was letting on.     ‘Capital?’ she asked.     ‘Mahe.’     ‘Climate?’     ‘Tropical.’     ‘Food?’     ‘Fish. Creole style.’     ‘Chips?’     ‘I think it’s more likely to be rice,’ I said, although I was not entirely sure.     ‘Fish and rice with curry sauce!’     ‘We can make our own chips sometimes,’ I said, reasonably.  ‘Just need a chip pan and some Trex.’     ‘Granted.’ Carol chewed the pencil we were using to circle ads.  It had also served as a coffee spoon and more recently, to kill an ant.     ‘Shall I read the rest of it?’     ‘Don’t see why not,’ she said.       ‘The National Youth Service of the Seychelles seeks-     ‘The National what!’     ‘Youth Service.  Must be something like the Department of Education.’     ‘Go on. Let’s hear it.’     ‘The National Youth Service seeks qualified teachers of ESL to instruct secondary school students on the island of Ste. Anne.’     ‘Never heard of it.  There’s Mahe and Praslin and some kind of bird island.  Let me see.’  Carol grabbed the paper. ‘Twelve-month contracts. Flights and accommodation provided. Interviews to be held in London on 14th/15th August.’ She closed the newspaper and got up.  ‘Want a cuppa?’     I followed my friend into the kitchen, thinking that the interviews would be at the end of the week.     ‘Where d’you keep the biscuits?’ Carol was opening cupboards.     ‘There are some jammy dodgers in the cutlery drawer,’ I told her.     She eyed me and I eyed her back.     ‘Are we going?’ I asked.     ‘Book it Danno,’ she said.

If you want to warm up for this one, why not click on 'One Summer in France' and/or 'Bunny on a Bike'?  Both at the top of the page on the right.  Good for a giggle on a Sunday afternoon.