Island Summer - Part 6
by Jack Rowan Jack_Rowan@hotmail.com
For people, places and things mentioned in this part, please see the
end. Further notes about the story appear at the end of part 8.
Copyright information is at the start of part 1.
Stories by Jack Rowan: http://members.xoom.com/jack_rowan
|Comments will be very gratefully received by Jack_Rowan@hotmail.com Most authors like to receive comments. It's the only way we know that anyone is even reading the stories, and it's all the payoff we get.|
The food had been eaten, the paella dish had been scrubbed with sand, and people were spreading out under the trees for a siesta. I relaxed onto the pine needles, and the trees whispered to me as the light sea breeze caught them. Adam was close by me, I had drunk several glasses of wine, and this for me was a situation of complete security. I stared up at the sky, and the cicadas sung me to sleep.
When I drifted back to consciousness, I could hear that Pere and Adam were talking quietly.
"I'm glad that he has found an English friend. That is good."
"I agree with you, but why do you say that, Pere?"
"His parents are English. It's clear that in the end he will spend a lot of his life in England. Next year he will go to a university in London, yes? But all his friends are here."
"Also... This is more complicated. I am sorry, my English is not perfect. It is hard for me to talk about complicated things."
"You're doing fine."
"Well, you see... I think, I think he needs someone who is more than just a friend. I think he needs more than that. And he cannot find that in the village."
"Yes, Pere." Adam sighed. "How did you know that?"
"I know him since a very long time. Since we were babies, I know him. I know him well. He is my closest friend."
"It's hard for me that he has found another friend, who is so... close to him. In that way. But I know that he needs that."
There was a pause.
"Pere, you're a very good friend to him, that's clear. And thank you."
"I suppose that... that you are enjoying yourselves." The Island euphemism for sex; but Adam caught the implication.
"People have noticed that you are together a lot. It surprises them, because you are a tourist, and Kip is one of us. Do you understand that if they know, there will be very serious problems? For Kip?"
"Yes, I thought so, probably."
"People here, they don't like... that. They don't understand it, and they disapprove."
"But not you?"
"I'm Kip's friend, and that's more important. But, you see, you can't go on doing this. It can't go on."
"I think - I think both of us would find it hard to stop."
"Then you must go to England."
"I don't think that Kip will like that idea."
"You must make him understand. Later, you can come back, as friends. But if they find out..."
"Yes, I see."
"It's important. There could be a disaster, really. Make him understand. Soon, Adam."
Their conversation was making me very uncomfortable. It wasn't that I hadn't thought of these things, but the idea of leaving the Island and going to England was so painful that my mind shied violently away from it. I just couldn't bear to think of it, to spoil the dreamlike mood of our holiday together.
I turned over, rather obviously.
"I'm going for a swim."
The party went on for a long time, and Adam didn't mention anything of what Pere had said to him. I was happy to leave it, but I noticed him looking quite serious sometimes. With growing apprehension, I realised that in the end we would have to deal with it.
Finally, as the cool evening fell, we ground back up to the village in the car.
"We're invited to go out with the gang to a restaurant in the north tomorrow evening. It's in the woods. It's rather spectacular."
"Um. You go," he said. "I think I'll pass."
I looked at him.
"Is there something wrong? Have I... Are you annoyed with me?"
"Annoyed? Oh no, Kip, if I were any more in love with you, I'd burst. It's just... well, another evening with people I can't speak to... Also I cramp your style. These are your friends, you need to keep in touch."
"Then I won't go."
"Absolutely not. You go. The moment we stop doing things because we're together, we have problems. Anyhow, I need to spend some time with my dad. It's quite good, actually." He hugged me. "Go. It'll be nice to look forward to you coming back."
I didn't think it was good at all; we hadn't been apart for more than a week, and I felt uneasy at him suggesting this so quickly. But I agreed, and went.
The restaurant was deep in the pinewoods of the north, up a long winding track. The trees here were old and tall, and the place itself was in a deep hollow, so they loomed hugely above us. The lights from the terrace shone out into the forest, till its darkness overcame them.
We sat outside on benches at a long table: me, Pere and Maria, Joan and Cion, Bisbe; and Pablo with a new girl who was introduced as Montse, a mainlander. The food here was for the most part grilled and roast meat and fish of various sorts, and a wealth of salads. Wine went round, and the party quickly loosened up.
"So, Adam couldn't come, Tofol?" Cion peered at me.
"No, he had to stay with his father this evening."
"I don't understand why you spend so much time with him, Tofol," said Bisbe. "He's a tourist."
"I don't see what's wrong with that," said Pere. "Adam is English. Tofol is bound to want to make some English friends, that's natural, surely."
"Why is that natural?" said Montse.
Nominally, she was speaking the same language as us, but her rapid, slurred, metropolitan dialect made it hard for me to understand her. She made no linguistic concessions to us at all.
"Because he is English," said Pere.
"Tofol is not English," said Bisbe. "He was born in the village, he's one of us, and that's it."
"His parents are English."
"I'm sorry," said Montse, "But this interests me. Your parents really are English? But you speak our language just like everyone else here."
I had to ask her to repeat what she said, which she did, even faster and louder.
"Do you speak English?" I asked. "Or French, maybe?"
I could tell simply by looking at her that although she could probably speak Spanish perfectly, she would resent being asked to do so.
"I speak French," she said in that language. "It's surprising that you speak our language in their peasant dialect, but cannot understand it when spoken correctly."
"Not at all. I speak in the modality of the Island, which I learnt in the cradle. What is so surprising about that? As for these people, they are not peasants."
I was beginning to dislike her intensely.
"You speak French well, which is also surprising, having been brought up in this environment."
"My mother is a native speaker of French, and I learnt from her, so in effect my French is that of a native." I exhaled smoke. "I will say, however, that your French is also quite passable."
She bridled, and at that moment Bisbe interrupted loudly.
"Speak clear speech, dammit, we can't understand!"
"Your English friend was criticising my French," said Montse crossly, speaking slowly and carefully, as if to a child.
"Tofol speaks lots of languages," said Maria. "He's very clever." She was needling me, and I didn't know why.
"He is clever," said Joan seriously. "But he doesn't boast about it. He will go to university soon."
Cion started a conversation about people who had gone to university, and as it was going on, Montse continued to talk to me quietly in French.
"So," she said, her voice sneering at me, "It amuses you, as an intellectual, to take part in their life? To condescend to lower yourself to their level?"
"In no way. I was born here and went to kindergarten and school with them. They are my lifelong friends. I am not a spectator here; this is my home. And what about you? You feel you can come from the mainland and insert yourself into Island life?"
"I am a speaker of the language, as they are; we are one people. Of course I can."
"It's not an identity which many people here acknowledge, you know."
"But you expect them to identify with you, my little pederast?"
I stared at her, shocked, and she laughed rather unpleasantly.
"Oh, don't worry," she said. "Your secret's safe with me. I have many such friends, and it's not hard to recognise them. But please, don't try to tell me you are of the Island. You wouldn't last a minute if I told them, and you know it."
I was speechless.
The rest of the evening was agony. I couldn't speak, I found it hard to follow what was being said, and all the time Montse was looking at me ironically. In the end Cion noticed. I said I wasn't feeling too well, and drove back to the village alone.
Adam's house was dark and quiet when I arrived, but his light was on. I sank into his arms gratefully.
"Have a good time?"
"It was ghastly, absolutely frightful."
I described what had happened.
"And the worst of it is, she was right. If they knew, I'd be finished here."
He held me tight, but said nothing.
"Can I come to bed? Please..."
"Mmm. I've been missing you."
And when I was lying beside him he nuzzled up to me, kissing me, and his hand sought out my dick.
"Oh, Adam, just tonight, could you just hold me, that's all? I'm sorry..."
So he did, until, restless, I rolled away from him. I had a terrible night.
"You said 'no' to me last night."
We were sitting over coffee the next morning. Peter and Peggy had gone to do the shopping.
"Oh, Adam, I'm sorry. It's just... what that woman said, it made me feel awful. I wouldn't have been able..."
"I'm not cross." He smiled. "In fact I'm delighted. It means that this evening I can take you to the house at Son Fadrí, and then ask you - if I can fuck you."
I was frozen, my cup half way to my mouth.
"Maybe you'll even say 'yes'."
"Oh God, Adam, of course yes. Yes!"
"Doesn't count. You have to say it then. Now's no use."
I smiled at him for a moment.
"Then you'd better take me out and wine me and dine me, hadn't you? Maybe you can persuade me."
"I'd love that. The restaurant you were at yesterday?"
"Shit, no. I'm just a one-mil whore, remember? Take me to Sa Tanca, that's good enough for me. It's Monday, there'll be scarcely anyone there, we can walk to the house and you can get me so drunk I'll be putty in your unscrupulous hands. Besides, they do fabulous gambes."
That afternoon, I went to see if my parents were at home. My father was upstairs asleep, but my mother was sitting out the back, reading a book and taking notes, a glass of chilled water beside her.
"Hello, dear. We haven't seen much of you these last few days, have we?"
I felt a pang of guilt.
"I suppose you've been very - busy. A lot - going on."
"Mum, I'm really sorry."
"Oh, don't worry, Kip. Your face is a picture! I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, love."
"It's been so marvellous. We've been all over the place, the Little City, the Sanctuary, Binialguer..."
"Oh yes, the beach. Yes, I can just see it... The waves..."
"I'm right though, aren't I?"
"Yes." I blushed.
"Don't let yourself be pushed too hard, Kip. He hasn't been pushing you, has he?"
"No. Not at all. He hasn't pushed me at all."
She looked at me cannily.
"Ah. I see. Certain - Rubicons have not been crossed, eh?"
"No. Not yet."
"I'm intruding a little, but do you mind me asking why not?"
"I think - I think he was waiting for me to learn to say 'no'."
"Really? How exceptionally impressive. Yes. I think I approve more and more of Adam Yardley. But now things have changed?"
"I hope so."
"Big step, love."
"I know, but I want it."
She looked at me oddly, and for a moment I thought I saw a flash of sadness.
"Try this for size," she said. "Try saying this to yourself. It's corny, but it means something. Try saying: 'Take me, I'm yours.' Ask yourself, can you say that, and mean it? Really mean it?"
"Don't answer. Think about it."
"And remember, no straight man ever says that. Not in the same way a gay man would."
"No," I whispered.
"It really is the big one, Kip."
She looked at me, and flipped my nose with her finger.
"Off you go, now. I've got an article to finish. Just be sure, that's all, love."
I kissed her and left.
Sa Tanca that evening, the moon on the water and the warm breeze around us. We talked and talked, about his life and mine, and I told him things I had never told anyone else before. I knew what we were going to do, I could feel it coming closer and closer, but I wasn't afraid, just excited, as if we were about to set out on an eagerly-expected journey. Despite everything that happened after, I will always remember that place, that evening, with happiness.
Vigo looked after us with kindness and attention. I could see that he had no doubt about our relationship, but I didn't mind. To have him there at that moment seemed to me like a good omen.
Adam was saying something, but for a moment my mind wandered.
"Hello? Anyone home?"
"Sorry." I smiled. "I was just thinking. Adam - does it hurt?"
"Oh, Kip." He touched my hand. "I'll do everything I can to stop that. But I'm quite big. Probably it will hurt a bit, the first few times. But if we're doing it right - it won't matter."
"It won't matter?"
"It's hard to explain, but believe me, it's true. Can you trust me?"
"Are you frightened?"
"No. Just - well, when you're doing anything new and unknown. Excited. Apprehensive, maybe..."
"Don't worry. I'll see you all right."
"My mother said something. To ask myself, could I really say this: 'Take me, I'm yours'. Okay, it's corny, she said, but could I really say that and mean it? She said no straight man could ever say that in the same way."
"Yes, she's right. I won't hide it from you, Kip. Being fucked changes you. Being penetrated. It changes the way you look at things. It's a frontier you cross, and there's no way back."
"I understand. But I still want it."
He looked at me, and smiled.
"Then let's go."
Vigo wished us goodbye. Then I turned away from the bar, turned away from the sea and the beach, and went with Adam.
We walked through the urbanisation in silence. There was nothing else to say; we'd said it all.
We switched on the lights in the house, and I made us some coffee. We sat on the patio to drink it. I kept looking at him, and I could see he was doing the same to me, but we said almost nothing.
The coffee was finished, and he stood.
"Yes. Yes, now."
"Better shut the patio doors," he said. "We may be a bit - vocal."
I giggled. Suddenly it all seemed easy. I knew this man; we were friends, as well as lovers, and it would be good.
We went into my room, and slowly undressed each other, something we didn't usually do. Both of us were already hard, glistening.
"A condom. And some lubricant. To - to make it easier."
"A condom? Do we need that?"
"Probably not. But start as you mean to go on, Kip."
He embraced me, and we kissed, and lay on the bed, and kissed again. He kissed down my body, and I felt his mouth on my nipples, moving downwards, and then he was licking my balls and sucking me. I was so keyed up that I felt I would come if he went on, and I moved to push him away.
He arranged me gently on my side, with one knee up.
"Don't worry, just relax. Leave it all to me. Just - let yourself go."
He had the tube of lubricant now, and I felt the coolness on my hole. He was smoothing it round and round, round and round, slowly pressing into me, deliciously and slowly moving into me, his finger was in me, still going round and round. Time and again he added more lubricant, till I felt completely soft and fluid, and now there were two fingers, going deep, deeper, turning, parting, smoothing me. He touched my prostate, and I gasped at the feeling, something he had never done to me before, and he stroked it gently till I warned him I would come.
Now he had three fingers in me, and still, miraculously, there was no pain, but a stretched, opened feeling, strange, unknown, and little jabs of feeling running over me, shivers and jerks.
He rolled me onto my back, and now, finally, he had the condom, and he was opening it, rolling it onto his dick, and I was suddenly staggered by its size, its length and girth.
"This is it, lover," he said. "The moment. Say it, Kip."
"Yes. Oh yes, fuck me!"
He raised my knees, far up high, and leant over to kiss me, and as he did, I felt his dick on me, on my hole, pressing, and I wanted him inside me so much at that point I could scarcely bear it. I felt him push, and the stab of pain as he entered me was nothing but joy, nothing but delight that at last he was in me. He paused only for a moment, and then moved deeper, deeper, slowly but relentlessly, opening me, and it hurt, oh God! it hurt, but it was the best feeling ever, I wanted it never to stop; and then finally he was completely in me, his whole incredible dick was inside my body, a vast fullness pressing right against my core, claiming me, occupying me.
"I'm in you," he whispered.
"Stay there for ever..."
"Heaven. Just heaven."
He kissed me, and we seemed to stay like that for ages. And then, slowly, he was moving out, I could feel every inch, he was nearly out of me, pulling my muscles back; and then, gloriously in again; and this time his head pushed past my prostate, and I screamed at the intensity of it.
"Yes," I heard him whisper. "Now, just relax again, just let it happen, Kip, just give..."
And he started to move in and out, slowly and regularly, and the feelings flooded my body, he was gliding through me, he was through me, he was into every corner of me, and I was screaming again, rhythmically screaming, beating my hands on his back, my head turning from side to side, and he was fucking me fiercely now, faster and faster, and then he screamed too, and I could feel him throbbing in my guts, still moving, still pumping without mercy, right deep down inside me. And then, finally, he lying on me, his mouth on mine, and moaning, we were still.
"Kip," he whispered.
At some point I must have come too, because our bodies were covered in my juice, but it made no difference; the whole thing for me had been more intense than any orgasm. I was wiped out.
"I must..." he said, and slid slowly out of me, a feeling I hated, and then he was lying by me, and I was in his arms, our faces inches apart.
"There isn't a word, and 'okay' doesn't come near."
"That was a first for me too, you know. I've never done that to anyone before."
"Then are you okay?"
"Oh yes. Kip, at the moment I just feel so proud, that you would let me do that."
"It's like my mother said. You did take me, and I am yours. I felt you all through my body. It's really true, I won't ever be the same again."
"There was only a tiny smear of blood."
"Then - let's have a shower, and do it again."
And we did. This time it was just as intense, but it was gentler, and seemed to go on for hours and hours, and after we had finished, we drifted off to sleep.
For me, it was a revelation, an opening into something new and huge and wonderful, and even now I look back with happiness on that evening, like an excursion through heaven.
Even what happened next can't spoil it. Because almost at once, we were tipped into hell.
We both seemed to wake at the same time, and I turned to him, my lover, the man who had changed me. No one, I thought, will ever be the same to me. No matter what happens, this man, for me, is unique.
"Hello," I said.
"Shall I get some water?"
I went and got it, and when I came back he was sitting up in bed. I gave him the glass.
"Kip," he said, "Come back to England with me."
I stared at him.
"I know it's hard for you," he said. "I've been with you for days, and I think I know what this place means to you. But please... Kip, I need you. I'm leaving in a few days, and I just can't bear..."
"Please, Adam, please don't do this now."
"I must. There's no time, don't you see? Can't you see now, what we mean to each other? Please, my love."
"Oh, Adam, it's so hard..."
"Then explain to me. Explain to me, love. What is it?"
"This place is what makes me. I grew up here, every part of me comes from here. Do you love me?"
"Yes. I've never loved anyone else like you."
"What you love is what this place made. If I leave here, what will I be? Nothing. Once you see me over there, you'll see that. I'm just nothing over there. You won't want me..."
"Kip, that's nonsense! You won't stop being what you are when you go there. I've watched you. You can fit in anywhere, into anything. There's nowhere you couldn't go! Just because you come from here, it doesn't mean you have to stay here all your life!"
"It's too soon. Adam, you've got to give me time!"
"There isn't any time. Before long, they'll be onto us. Pere knows, so des Vigo. So does Montse. The others are wondering. It's what Pere said to me. Leave now, before it's too late!"
"I just can't, don't you see? It isn't a matter of wanting to, or not wanting to. I really just can't!"
He looked at me in bafflement, and I started to cry...
The argument went on and on, getting worse and worse, sometimes with both of us in tears, and then, later, shouting in fury. Finally, we were both reduced to a paralysed silence.
"Please, Adam, you're hurting me."
"And what do you think you're doing to me?" He leant across, his face inches from mine. "It's Paul all over again. Fuck 'em and dump 'em!"
"No!" I screamed, horrified. "I'm not dumping you! Adam, I love you!"
"Then come to England."
He said it with a dull hopelessness which horrified me.
"Adam, give me time. I have to come next year..."
"Next year! Next year! Fuck! I'm your lover, Kip, and I am asking you, begging you, to do this for me, because I need it. Come with me!"
"I can't! Oh, Adam, I just can't!"
He stood, and as I watched unbelievingly, he rapidly pulled on his clothes.
"The fact is, you may think you love me, but you love this fucking Island more. The fact is, I'm not your lover. The Island is. I'm nothing but a bit of stuff on the side."
"Adam! For God's sake!"
"For the last time. Come to England with me. Come with me now."
"Not yet! Soon, but not yet!"
He stared at me, his eyes full of fury and pain.
"Then fuck you! And fuck your sodding Island! And goodbye!"
He threw back the door with a crash and ran out. I could hear his footsteps running through the urbanisation, and I yelled his name. Then I heard the sound of his car starting, and he headed up the road with a screech of tyres.
I sat in the kitchen and screamed.
I couldn't move. I had no car. There was no phone. There was nothing I could do but wait.
I couldn't understand what had happened. The atmosphere of our wonderful holiday returned to me cruelly, and the ecstatic transformation I had undergone that night. I had thought that the world was opening up, that everything was to be glorious and available to me, that my life was going to be bright and wonderful. And now, somehow, we'd thrown the whole thing away. I wept, and raged at him and his cruelty, and hated and despised myself and my cowardice. In the dead of that awful night, I was cold, shivering, and alone. It was desolate beyond any description.
Hours later, I thought I heard a car, maybe his car, returning. I got a torch, and went out to look; and found it, parked next to Sa Tanca. There was no sign of him. I looked through all the roads, around the locked and silent bar, on the terrace, on the beach, along to the hotel, all to no avail.
Finally I returned in tears to our house.
It was, maybe, seven o'clock when I decided I could no longer sit and wait, and left the house again. It was light now. Something made me decide to go to Sa Tanca, and as I approached it, a mysterious urgency made me break into a run.
Behind the shutter of the bar, still closed, I could hear that things were being set up for the day's trade. This side of the Island was already bright with the clear light of morning, and before me the sea was like mercury, smooth and gently heaving, silent.
And there, for a moment, I thought I saw him on the open deck of the bar, hunched over a table; but at once I knew it wasn't him. The figure heard some little sound, maybe, and lifted its head. It was Josep.
He started to laugh, and there was a hysterical edge to it which disturbed me.
"You! It would have to be you!"
He laughed almost crazily, and at that moment the shutters opened, and I saw Vigo, wiping the top of the bar.
"And Vigo! Two queers together, shit..."
"Josep!" I shouted. "Where's Adam?"
"He should have stayed with you, Tofol..." He was weeping now, and then he shouted. "Why the fuck didn't he stay with you? A thousand cunts..."
"Where is he, Josep? What - have - you - done?!"
I grabbed his shirt and shook him. Vigo was by me.
"He'll be along there," he said. "Along the top, in the bushes. You know the place!"
I looked at him wildly.
"I suppose he's beaten him up, the poisonous little shit. You go! I'll call the ambulance!"
Josep was laughing again.
"I did it for you, Tofol!" I stared in horror. "I - I love you, Tofol! I love you!"
He started to weep, and Vigo slapped my back.
"Go! Go and find him! Go now!"
I ran, hurtling along the path, ran to the limits of my strength, but not fast enough to escape Josep's crazed shouts.
"T'estim, Tofol! T'estim!"
As I approached the cruising area I could see that already there was a man there, walking around.
"Help me!" I called in English, gasping. "There's someone here, hurt!"
"Help me look!"
We cast around and then he yelled.
Adam was lying between the bushes. He had been savagely attacked, his face was covered with dried blood, blackening and swollen, his chest massively bruised, his legs cut and bleeding. His shorts were round his knees, and I could see that his dick and balls were swollen too. His stillness was frightening.
I turned from him and vomited.
"Stop that!" said the man. "Come over here and help!"
He felt Adam's neck.
"He's alive. Thank God. What's his name?"
"Adam. Oh, God..."
"Adam?" he said, lightly touching his face. "Adam? It's okay, you're safe now. Wake up, you're safe now..."
Adam sighed, but didn't open his eyes. I was by him, holding his head, weeping.
"Adam, please! Wake up! It's me, Adam, I love you!"
"Carefully with him, for God's sake. Did you call an ambulance?"
"Help me," said the man. He was trying to pull his shorts up.
"We can't let the ambulance people see him like this. They could react badly."
He was right. I helped him pull the shorts up Adam's dear body, and then I lay beside him, the man who only a few hours before had been inside me, and held him gently, whispering, hold on, hold on...
He made no response. Those minutes were the worst of my life.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, they arrived, three of them, and when I looked round, the man who had helped me had disappeared. They were tending to him expertly, and I was pushed aside; then they had him on a stretcher and two of them were carrying him away.
"What happened?" asked the other.
"That son-of-a-whore at the bar beat him up."
He looked at me directly.
"This is not a sensible area to come. Why was he here?"
"I don't know. I don't know..."
I followed them along the beach to Sa Tanca, and they were loading him in the ambulance.
"Let me come!"
"No. There's no room. What's his name?"
"Adam Yardley. He's English."
"Is he here with people?"
"Tell them. We will take him to the hospital at The Port."
He swung into the ambulance, and they were off.
Vigo looked at me, and then took me in his arms.
"We had a quarrel. It's my fault!"
"Fuck that. It was Josep. Little son-of-a-whore, he's always been a nasty vicious little bastard."
"Where is he?"
"He went off. I've reported it to the guardia. I had to, Tofol, the hospital will anyhow. But they'll know what it means, that Adam was - along there."
I stared at him.
"I need to get to the village."
"I'll take you. Matheu! Look after the bar."
He took me to Adam's house. All the way he spoke quietly to me, urging me not to lose hope.
|People, Places and Things|
|Eileen Branford||his mother|
|Peter Yardley||his father|
|Peggy Jenkins||their housekeeper|
|Pere (Pedro)||PAIR-uh||Kip's best friend|
|Maria d'es Forn||Pere's girlfriend|
|Miquel (Miguel) el Bisbe||BEEZ-buh||friend of Kip|
|Pablo||friend of Kip|
|Joan (Juan) de Na Cion||Joo-AHN||friend of Kip|
|Cion (Asuncion)||SEE-awn||fiancee of Joan|
|Josep (Jose)||Joo-ZEP||brother of Bisbe|
|Vigo (Juan)||barman at Sa Tanca|
|Montse||visitor from the mainland|
|Sant Pau||Sahnt POW||St. Paul; the village|
also called San Pablo (Spanish name)
|Son Fadrí||Sawn Fuh-DHREE||holiday development on coast|
|Sa Tanca||Suh TAHNK-uh||beachbar near Son Fadrí|
|The Port||capital of the Island|
|The Little City||the other main town|
|The Sanctuary||Church of Our Lady, Queen of the Island|
|guardia||(Spanish) guardia civil, paramilitary|
|mil||British expatriate slang: a thousand|
|paella||pa-EH-lya||(Spanish) rice cooked in stock in a flat dish|
|rancho||(Spanish) group, gang|
|T'estim||I love you|
|Jack Rowan Jack_Rowan@hotmail.com|