Island in the Sun

Perhaps I ought to leave this island, take
Sylvia with me, make a fresh start somewhere.

- Do you think that'd be best?
- Do I have any other choice?

I can see myself
walking into the club.

Anybody for tennis?
There's Fleury.

He's perfect for mixed-doubles.
His grandmother's a bit on the dark side, you know.

Your roots are here.
Your life is here.

Oh, it's easy to talk about making a fresh start.
But what would you do?

Where would you go?
What do the Fleurys know
except how to run a plantation?

Think it over.
Talk to Sylvia.

Think it over.
Talk to Sylvia.

Now, above all,
we must keep our heads.

The great thing is
to do nothing hasty.

Behave as though nothing
extraordinary has happened.

Otherwise people will say,
"Oh, look at the Fleurys.

They daren't
hold their heads up in public."

Go to the club tonight.
Behave naturally.

Don't avoid people, and, uh,
don't send them too many drinks.

No. I won't come. I don't want it
to look as if the clan was mustering in force.

But behave as though
nothing had happened.

- Lunch is ready, ma'am.
- Thank you, Mary.

That was a fine series of articles,
the best things I've read about the island.

As for that one today,
that was- that was the goods.

You said things
that needed saying.

From my point of view,
I can't tell you how grateful I am.

- In what way?
- In every way.

I've not been trusted.
The people here, West Indian...

they thought of me as a Fleury, a feudal planter,
bought their ancestors in the marketplace.

But now? I'm standing for the legislature.
Why not?

I combine black and white, the new and the old.
I've a foot in both camps.