‘A lot going on in the house.’
‘And the wedding?’
‘Well that was something else Henry.’
He look at me. ‘Gloria, you smart. You good business woman. You caring and beautiful. You everything a woman would want to be. Not your fault that sometimes other people not see it.’ Henry got brown eyes and long lashes for a man. And he got majestic grey hair that just touch gentle on his collar.
It quiet between us for a while and then I say, ‘Tell me ’bout Fay.’
‘Fay?’ He take another drink of the ice water and then pile some rice on his fork. He chew and swallow.
‘When Fay born, her head, blonde hair. Imagine that, Chinese-African baby with fair skin and blonde hair. Nobody believe it. And it stay just so until she almost five years old. Long curls. That is what she had. It make all the maids and everybody fuss her like she princess. She love it. She like Shirley Temple on the
Good Ship Lollipop
every single day. The only person that take exception was Cicely. What Cicely think was that Fay spoil from the day she born. That was how it start. And nothing change since then. All that different now is Fay big enough to argue back. She stop being little child that Cicely chastise morning, noon and night. Because as Fay grow she understand more and more how Cicely feel, and she let out her own anger over how her mother treat her bad.’
He pick up some corned beef and cabbage, and then he rest down the fork. ‘Cicely beat her, and lock her in room with piano. Sometimes she even leave house with child lock in there.’
I don’t know what he expecting from me so I just sit there with my attention full on him because I can feel that there is a lot Henry want to say and I don’t want to be getting in his way.
‘Fay go inside self. That was what she do, because under the anger was pain. Deep, deep hurt inside. And that is what you do, Gloria. You inside self.’
He tek me by surprise because I wasn’t expecting him to suddenly start talking ’bout me like that.
‘Is that what yu see the day you pick me off the road?’
‘That day? No. What I see that day was you have mind of your own. You your own person. That not easy thing for woman to be. Most women just do what somebody else want them to do, whether it their mother or father or husband. There always somebody else they paying better attention to than themselves. Women not trust themselves. You notice that? But not you, Gloria. And not Fay. Cicely, she think she do, but she spend too much time calling on the good Lord to convince me that it true. You, Gloria, not calling on nobody help you.’ Henry finish his food and sit back in the chair.
‘What make yu think I not calling on nobody?’
He look at me quizzical. And then he rest his elbow on the arm of the chair with his thumb on his cheek and his hand spread out across his forehead. And I see how his long, thin fingers end in neat-neat cuticles and perfect filed fingernails. Henry Wong got a beautician giving him elegant hands. Hands that are graceful and full of tenderness.
‘Who you calling on then?’
‘I didn’t say I was calling on anybody. I just don’t know what make yu so sure I am not.’
He reach out his other hand and pick up the glass of water and sip it. ‘Your loneliness.’ And then he look at me straight in the eye and say, ‘You strong woman, Gloria, who I think been made that way by the many, many woes you have from early age. That is what I believe. And that strength come out in how you do things now. You are in charge. You not letting nobody take liberty with you. You happy talk straight and conduct business way you want to. On your terms. You tough. But inside, you lonely. And I think if there was somebody you calling on, then that emptiness inside of you not be there.’
And just as we sitting there Abraham come to the door to ask if there is anything else we need this evening. So Henry get up and step inside with him and say it all right, he can go home and we will see to everything.
When he come back, Henry is carrying a bottle of Appleton Special. He pour out two glasses of rum and set the bottle down on the table, and then he sit back in the chair.
‘Fay got that loneliness inside too. Oh yes, she hard on outside, because that the only way she see to survive her mother. But inside, she just like you. She crying out for somebody to reach in and see who she is. Well, that is one part anyway. The other part is that if anybody try reach in, she more likely bite off their hand than welcome it. So with her it is always come-come, go-go.’
I ask myself is it true? Not ’bout Fay, I don’t know nothing about her. But is it true about me? I take a drink and turn my head to sea. And I know Henry is right. There is a wall inside of me. A high concrete wall that I am stuck behind. A wall that I am always trying to climb to the top of and reach over. But I can never make it. All I do is stand back here and listen to the people on the other side who sound like they belong together. They included in something.
‘And what about you, Henry?’
‘Me?’
‘You. Are you inside yuself as well?’
He think on it and then he say, ‘I am Chinese man living in fancy house uptown Lady Musgrave Road where I don’t know anybody and nobody know me, where I come and go like a ghost. But that what Cicely want. Just like she want import all the furniture from England and surround herself with servants and fine living, and serve Earl Grey tea every afternoon.’ And then he stop and drink some rum.
‘You not got no say in any of that?’
He swirl the liquid ’round in the glass a while and then he say, ‘I am like one of those women I talking about earlier. Just doing what Cicely want me to do.’ He take another sip from the glass. ‘Me and Cicely start out as convenience. She need husband and I need wife. Good African wife to make me part of community so I not pose threat to anybody who maybe think I criticising them by not joining in. I just set self up in shop. I trying to make way. Marry Cicely good for business.’
We both reach for the next taste of rum. ‘Why did she need a husband?’
‘She expecting baby.’
‘But it not yours, Henry?’
‘No. Not mine. It a difficult situation for her. So we get married and all the problems solved.’ Henry get up and pour some more rum into the almost empty glasses.
I say to him, ‘Yu should be careful with that. I don’t know how well yu can hold yu liquor.’ And he laugh and swallow down some more.
‘I sleep in separate room on old-fashion wood and canvas cot. Not in oak-frame bed that Cicely got all over house. I keep clothes in same camphor-wood chest I bring from China all those years back. That how it always been except for when Cicely want next child. First Fay, then Daphne, and after long time when nobody except her think she can do it, she get Kenneth. Daphne, she one of those waiting for her mother tell her what to do. Kenneth, unruly and heading for trouble, but he still just child. Fay only one got strength stand up to Cicely. Me, my head been bowed to her since the beginning of time.’ And he take another drink.
‘This don’t seem like you Henry. To me yu are a strong man who come to this country and made his fortune with a dedication that most people would envy.’ He just laugh. Not a big throw-yu-head-back laugh, but one that start low and disappear into his chest.
‘You see, you can fool all the people all the time.’ And he raise the glass to his lips again.
‘I live in exile, Gloria, but I not have courage enough to leave and go Chinatown. I lazy. Lazy coward who never lift finger, or voice, to help Fay when her mother cuss and cuss, and beat and punish her. Never once. But I can pick you off the road and show you some kindness because I not have to cross Cicely to do it.’
We sit there in silence and finish the rum in the glasses. And then he say to me that the mosquitoes biting and we should tidy up and go inside. So we clear the table and stand up in the kitchen while I scrape and rinse through the dishes and Henry watch.
Afterwards I make some coffee and Henry say he going put on some music. What he choose is a Mario Lanza record, which surprise me because I never take Henry to be the sorta man to like that kinda thing.
We sit on the settee next to each other while I pour the coffee from the pot. And as we settle back I say, ‘What is it, the hold Miss Cicely got over you?’
He stare down into the cup. ‘She the only person I ever fully give myself to. I wouldn’t know what to do without her, even though most times I think she be happy to do without me.’
Henry’s spirit dipping down. So to raise it up I say, ‘What happen to Miss Cicely’s first born?’
‘Stanley? He grow up wild and when war come he go to England and join Royal Air Force.’ And then after a while he say, ‘I think he happy to say goodbye to his mother and Jamaica and everything that remind him of who he was.’
‘Who he was?’
‘Who his father was.’ And as soon as he say it, it make me think of all the questions I ask my own mother about who my father was and never get no answer.
‘Who was that?’
‘Stanley Johnson. The man young Stanley believe was his grandfather. And it true. Stanley was his grandfather. But when young Stanley turn fifteen Cicely decide tell him truth. I don’t know why. I sure she had own good reasons. Maybe it was to make the boy feel sorry for her for the disgrace her father bring upon her. But that is not what happen. Young Stanley blame her for shame instead. And after that he barely had two words say to her. And as soon as he could, he leave Jamaica and she never hear a word from him since that day.’
I sit there and watch Henry as he close his eyes and lean back in the chair. And then I reach over and take his hand remembering the first time I do it that day in Franklyn Town. But this time it wasn’t to reassure him. This time it was something else. I caress it. Stroking with one finger the back and the palm. Slowly and gently. And then I start work my way over and across each and every finger, up the outside and down the inside, from the thumb to the little one on the end. Back and forth, top and bottom, while Mario Lanza was singing ‘Be My Love’ and ‘The Loveliest Night of the Year’ and the music was vibrating through me like it was playing deep inside my body.
Henry just sit there and let me do it without saying a single word or even opening his eyes. And after some long time, when the record finish, he get up and say we should go to bed.
I go in the bathroom and when I come out I step into the bedroom I always sleep in up there in the house. It the second bedroom. And then I hear Henry come out the bathroom and go into the other room and close the door. I wait to see what going happen next but all I hear is the click as he turn off the bedside lamp. How long I was laying there in that bed I don’t know, with the rum spinning my head and my mind turning over every question about what I should do. And no matter how much I try to fall asleep there was something constantly pulling me back, urging me to just get up and take the short walk to Henry’s room. So after I toss and turn and toss some more, I finally decide to get outta the bed. I wrap a shawl ’round my shoulders and slide my feet into the slippers to cross the cold tile floor.
When I open the door I can sense that he is laying there wide awake. Even in the pitch dark I can feel it. But he don’t say nothing to me. So I just walk over and throw the shawl on the chair and get into the bed next to him. And in that silence all I could hear was his breathing, deep and even like he was concentrating on calming himself. He didn’t move. Not one inch. So I just lay there and after a time I fall asleep.
Next morning when I wake up I can hear Henry in the kitchen talking to Dolores, Abraham’s wife, who do cooking and cleaning for him. I tiptoe back to my room and pull on some clothes and as I go into the kitchen I see Henry is showered and dressed and sitting at the table eating some saltfish and callaloo.
‘Yu sleep well Miss Gloria?’
‘Yes, thank you Dolores. And how are you today?’
‘Cyan complain Miss. The good Lord is providing well for me. That is the truth.’
Henry’s head is down like he don’t want to raise his eyes to me.
After breakfast he decide to show me the banana plantation he live on when he first come to Jamaica. So we drive out there and even though it still working, it seem a little run down. But it nuh matter. Henry get one of the workers to lend him a horse and cart and we ride the narrow path through the trees with the hands of fruit hanging full and low. When we get to the top of a big hill he stop and point down to the Great House with its eight white columns out front and the lattice windows and red tile roof. And gardens that lay out prim and proper like some grand English mansion you see in the school books.
‘When I come here I was young boy. Mr Johnson, Cicely’s father, plantation foreman who bring me from docks in Kingston to do cooking and clearing-up for all the African labourers because he think it better for time and money if all of them eat together instead each family fend for self. I cook and clear, fetch and carry, and help with laundry when Great House overburden. That is how I earn my way as the only Chinaman on this plantation. I live here ten years and in all that time I never see white Englishman that own this place, or any member of his family. Never once. That was how it was. All I had every day was cooking and washing, and smell of burning and horseshit, and self for company. And when I finally leave I realise that only people I know was Mr Johnson and Cicely. Imagine that, after all that time. I use money I save and gold mother give me when I leave China to buy shop in Ocho Rios. And that is how it all start.’