Unique didn't cover it. Exclusive and private most certainly did. If anything happened to him no one would even know. Did he get maid service, he wondered? He found a telephone on a small stand near the sink and he picked it up, flicking the buttons. Nothing. He heard a dial tone so he knew it worked . . . or at least pretended to.

The sink water was rusty for a minute but both taps seemed to work and after running for a minute the sputtering stopped and a very light beige liquid swirled down the drain. He went behind a right-angled partition, beside the trap door and found a tiny shower pit, made from formed tin with a hole for drainage, which was serviced by a bent pipe held up by a wire strung from the ceiling.

The toilet stood precariously close by and he could see that it would get a good soaking if the shower were to be used - as would unwary passersby from the stack that simply jutted from the exterior wall. The images from the brochure filled his mind and he felt a little sick.

In an ill fitting drawer in the bottom of the hazardous wardrobe he found towels, a face cloth, bars of complimentary soap and shampoo along with a menu for the resort dining room and a peeling, tin ashtray. Somebody had been here anyway. Miller let out a groan and went back to sit on the bed. At least it was soft and sheets looked clean and crisp.

He got out his pack, pleased to see the wardrobe didn't collapse, and opened it up looking for a fruit drink and found that both his drinks and his snacks were missing. He first considered that Miguel had rifled his stuff then thought back to the two kids rummaging in the various bags on the trip in and envisioned dangling them from his platform until they screamed themselves hoarse.

He shoved the pack aside and considered his situation. Certainly he'd paid enough that there should be some refund for convenience . . . food chits weren't going to cut it for Miller. He got up and tried the phone again, surprised when a soft female voice, in precise English, asked how she could help.

"Uh, this is Mis- Senor Hunt in Casa Faro. I'd like to know exactly how I'm supposed to get myself around the grounds and I would like to have a face to face discussion with the manager."

"I will have Miguel come over immediately, Senor Hunt. All you have to do is pick up your telephone, press six and I will answer. When you arrive, Senor Estrada will be awaiting your pleasure."

"Oh- okay. Thank you. Gracias." He hung up and quickly dragged his bag out, poking through for a change of shirt and his new shorts. When Miguel arrived, Miller was out at the end of the footpath waiting and he climbed aboard with a smile and a grunt as the little cart did a u-turn, mowing down the bushes, and raced back down the steep hill.

Carlos Estrada was a mahogany coloured stump of a man, as broad as high, in a crisp yellow, short-sleeved shirt with a mottled blue tie and beige slacks. A pencil line of black moustache squirmed over his lip as his face set itself in the mandatory smile assumed when greeting guests.

"Senor Hunt, welcome to Windy Palms. I am the manager Carlos Estrada."

The handshake was firm and brief and Miller adjusted his own features to match the greeting. "Sir, I would like to discuss the change in my accommodation. You see I've been-"

"Aah si, you are in Casa Faro. A magnificent view is it not?"

"Uh yes it is . . . but the view is not my compl-"

"And you received the complimentary dinner vouchers for our renowned dining room?"

"Uh, yes I did but-"

"You are very lucky, Senor Hunt. The resort is fully booked and we have had to put overflow up at a much inferior establishment down the coast." His shrug was equivalent to a gymnastic exercise. "Our popularity has unfortunately also caused us some inconvenience as well as success." Another smile and a less extravagant shrug.

"Normally we would have two people booked into Casa Faro but our reservations manager, Senorita Gomez, insisted we not inconvenience you any more than we had already. A young lady who is here by herself had to be moved to the convention hall auxiliary meeting room . . . she is without many of the extras you are enjoying, Senor Hunt."

Miller stared, blinking. Extras? Before he could voice another objection, the manager slapped him on the back, although because of his height it was more on the rump, a kind of jock congratulation.

"I'm pleased to have met you, Senor Hunt and if there is anything else I can do for you simply ask. Meanwhile, enjoy Windy Palms many attractions and to get you started," he drew a card from his pocket and scribbled something in Spanish. "just give this to Mendoza in the bar and he will make you our famous island special. Enjoy, Senor Hunt." He moved away with amazing speed, leaving Miller gaping at the card and wondering what had happened.

The other members of the staff seemed to find seriously important things needing their attention, lasting until Miller drifted out of the lobby feeling confused and not a little dismayed. He'd been at the resort for two and one half hours already and had done nothing but get himself accused of child molestation and shuffled about like some incongruous piece of furniture.

He plodded down the steps from the lobby onto the pool court and stood for a few moments watching the children splashing in their own smaller-scaled pool. The two brats that had stolen his goodies were shouting and splashing water on one another and Miller glared at them until he noticed the father watching him with malevolent eyes.

A good stiff drink might be just the solution to get him back in the holiday mood, he felt and with a pointed snub of the father he made his way down to the bar. Maybe the accommodation wouldn't matter so much after all; he wasn't planning on spending much time in his room anyway. So what if it wasn't quite what he'd expected? He still had the use of all the other amenities, it was private and it was exclusive. He might even parlay that into a good pick-up line if he met anybody interesting. A fleeting image of the woman on the plane made him smile.

"Yes, I have the Casa Faro... by request." He rehearsed to himself. "I like to be away from the tumult on holiday when I'm watching unbelievable sunsets from my balcony, enjoying a tall drink. Perhaps you'd like to join me there and maybe stay the night." He continued on with a giddy smile, rounding the pool and headed for the bar.

Mendoza was the polar opposite of Estrada. Beneath the thatch of the bar roof all that was visible until he bent down was chest the size of a sofa and two log-sized arms. When Miller hoisted onto a stool, the head descended and showed the expected smile framed in a face like a full moon.

"Senor, welcome to Serenity Harbour bar. What would be your pleasure?" The voice was soft and higher than Miller expected. He pushed the card from Estrada across the counter and Mendoza nodded solemnly. "You are staying in Casa Faro." It sounded like a eulogy and Miller shifted uncomfortably on the stool.

"How do you know that?"

Mendoza waved the card and shrugged apologetically. "It's policy." He busied himself fixing the drink while Miller considered the connotation.

"So all the suckers that get shifted over to that creaky lighthouse get the same treatment? This isn't anything special?"

Mendoza returned with a massive glass of multi-coloured liquid and a huge dollop of cream floating on top. "More or less. Trust me, Senor Hunt. Forget fighting management. Just enjoy whatever they give you and have the holiday you hoped for. You can begin with this . . . this is special."

"You know my name?" The look was compassionate but nothing more and Miller closed his eyes in resignation. The drink however was dynamite and he let his other thoughts slide away, lost in the magic of the bartender's skill.

"By the way," Mendoza said, leaning on the counter, looking around and lowering his voice. "These are free whenever you want one." The wink that followed indicated a welcome conspiracy to Miller's damaged soul and he relaxed slightly, willing to take the bartender's advice.

The palm fronds over the bar clicked like Venetian blind slats as they scraped together in the warm breeze and the rhythmic melody from Spanish guitars traveled across the resort in its wake. There always seemed to be music playing. The temperature under the thatched roof was much lower than in the direct sun and with nothing to intrude on his time, Miller allowed his knotty start to fade and just soaked up the soothing atmosphere with pleasure.

The drink left him feeling more and more relaxed with each mouthful and when he casually glanced across the shadowed space of the bar he saw the young woman from the plane stroll up to a seat on the opposite side and his expression morphed into a silly grin.

She removed her sunglasses and glanced at him, gave a courtesy smile back then spoke to Mendoza and turned away to look at the ocean. Her hair moved softly with the breeze and she swept it away from her face with a casual finger. The lemon yellow halter slithered over her body leaving little to Miller's imagination and he slurped the last of his drink, contemplating the best approach he might use to meet her.

His Casa Faro opening seemed a little to forward to start with. This was why he came he told himself. Meet women. Make new friends. Hopefully get laid. The latter gave him a moment's pause; Miller only ever daydreamed about that. Gathering his nerve he stepped down from the stool and fell flat on his face; he'd lost his legs. Mendoza hurried out from behind the bar and helped him up, smiling at the rubbery consistency of his limbs.

"My God, what happened?"

"That drink will do this now and then, senor, especially if you aren't used to it." He gave a happy laugh and hauled Miller around to a lounge on the same side of the bar as the young woman. She glanced at him and then at the bartender, mild concern flitting across her face.

"Do not worry, senorita, he just sampled The Serenity Bar's complimentary drink for special guests. It happens to many."

"Only those billeted in Casa Faro, I suspect," Miller said, sitting up and blushing at the woman's amused interest as he brushed dust from his shorts and tested his legs by stretching them out.

"Casa Faro?' She said in surprised voice.

He sat up and looked around, pointing up the hillside. "See that leaning tower up there? That's the famous Casa Faro."

"That's where you are?" She sipped her drink and leaned forward from under the thatched roof to get a better view.

Miller swallowed as his eyes consumed the dip in her halter-top that revealed the edges of a fully tanned cleavage. "Uh- uh- it's where I'm staying."

"Really? How do you rate that?"

He blinked under her innocent stare and ran a quick, silent test on his pick-up line, I like to be away from the tumult on holiday when I'm watching unbelievable sunsets- "Rate is the wrong word," he grumbled, giving up the test and trying out his legs as he stood and moved closer to her.

His clean shirt was already beginning to cling and he cursed his choice of material for such warm temperatures. "It's the resort's consolation prize for not having my room reservation available. A storm put several rooms out of service; naturally mine was one of them." He faced her and got another glimpse of golden tan then blushed mightily as he saw her watching him.

She took another casual sip and did a little pivoting swing on the stool. Her long legs flexed with the action and Miller coughed into his fist, backing up slightly and squinting up at his quarters.

"I should complain perhaps," she said finally. "I'm stuck in the convention center in a room they use for meetings. It has no amenities whatsoever. I have to shower in the gymnasium change room and my TV is a twelve inch, black and white portable." They way she said it Miller didn't feel that she was too disheartened but he took exciting new notice of the woman and squared his shoulders as he adopted a very interested, concerned expression.

A/N: Another thoughtful heading addition from an avid reader   @ellefury