Authors: Alex Wheatle
Thirty yards to the right of Mister DaCosta’s home, underneath the shelter of water-coconut trees, sat the cock-pit, ringed by corrugated sheets of metal and warped lengths of wood. Two squawking cocks were held aloft in the air by a red-skinned man; Welton DaCosta’s son, Enrique. He invited a baying crowd of young men who had their hands raised clutching cash, to place their bets. Wagers were taken by Enrique’s younger brother, Luis. The cocks were tossed into the pit, their claws reinforced with tacks, and fought each other under the light of kerosene lamps to wild cheers and curses.
In moon-shadowed clearings beyond the cockpit, men chanced their luck by rolling poker dice and those merry with fortune purchased cannabis and lambs bread from Mr Patterson’s son, Samuel, who stealthily crept here and there, his eyes on the alert for any member of the DaCosta family. His customers rolled their herb in brown gummed paper and smoked it raw. Others watched perched in trees the proceedings of a domino tournament, played out on two tables by the left of the house next to Mr DaCosta’s small pick-up truck. The contest was a sober affair with men stroking their chins as they flicked their eyes from the dominos that were played to those in their hands. Elders shouted out their advice freely and wasted no time in yelling their disapproval if they saw bad play. “Wha’s ah matter wid yuh bwai? Yuh sure yuh ever attend school? Ya papa never give yuh any sense? Ya brain inna ya black bamboo?”
As they approached the party, Hortense and Jacob could hear the alley-cat piano play of Jelly Roll Morton sounding from the cranked-up radiogram that was broadcasting one of New Orleans’ more lively radio stations. Young men and women were dancing deliriously upon the apron of hard ground in front of the verandah. Older men, their wide-brimmed hats concealing their silver-topped heads, slouched around eyeing the young women while toking raw
tobacco. They complained that the Yankee DJ from New Orleans wasn’t playing any blues or big band music.
Mr DaCosta’s female kin were serving hot curried goat with rice, fish fritters, fried and heavily seasoned chicken legs, and the family rum punch that no outsider knew the recipe of. It was served in paper cups and its lethal effect was soon apparent judging by the unsure steps and silly grins of many guests. Red Stripe beer was piled in crates in a corner of the verandah and cool-looking men, crowned with pork-pie hats, sporting clipped moustaches and pulling on Craven A cigarettes, posed with two bottles between their fingers, sipping each in turn. Children ran here and there, sucking on sugar cane and lipping box juices, enjoying their freedom from parental control. The night air was filled with chatup lines, put-downs, laughter and cussing, and, although many of the guests were dirt poor, nobody could party quite like them.
Intoxicated with the excitement before her, Hortense unwrapped her arm from Jacob’s, ran up to where the rum punch was being served, downed a whole cupful in one take and before Jacob realised what had become of her, she proceeded to jig wildly to the liquor-house boogie-woogie of Kid Stormy Weather, hitching up her dress to give her legs more freedom. Men’s heads turned immediately and as Jacob was asking for a beer, Hortense found herself being encircled by whistling, clapping men. She raised her dress to reveal her thighs, laughing as she did so, and this act was met with hollers of approval. A commercial break interrupted Hortense’s energetic dancing and she was bombarded by offers of a drink. She opted for another cup of punch, downed in time to skip to Champion Jack Dupree. Jacob, his fears realised, caught sight of her and shook his head. Hortense’s female peers, including Elvira, looked at her from the corners of their eyes in silent admiration and envy.
Greatly appreciating Hortense from his position next to the radiogram was Cilbert. His bottle of beer poised just below his mouth, his eyes refusing to blink as he blessed his eyes upon Hortense’s dance moves. “Hey, Wire,” a friend called him. “Yuh
t’ink yuh coulda control dat. Lord bless me poor mama knee-bone! Wha’ ah pretty, bamboo-stiffening sight!”
“Yes, mon, ah fine sight.” Cilbert agreed licking his lips, not diverting his gaze. “Fe true! Ah great prize she is an’ any mon who capture her heart would feel mighty wid her ’pon him arm.”
An hour later, while Amos Milburn was complaining about ‘
Bad
Bad Whiskey
’, Cilbert saw Hortense slumped on a chair upon the verandah, fanning herself with a piece of cardboard. Cilbert asked his cousin to look after the radiogram and walked up to her. He put on his best blue-swee smile and adjusted the angle of his hat. His heart was pounding inside his chest and he couldn’t remember ever feeling so nervous before ‘fishing fe ah pretty girl’. “Me. Me been watching yuh dance fe de last hour an’, er. Me. Me come to de conclusion dat yuh mus’ dance professional like! Yuh mek de udder girl look like. Like dem ’ave splinter. Yes. Like dem ’ave splinter inna dem foot!”
Hortense laughed out loud while giving Cilbert a complete eye-pass, even craning her neck to check how his backside fitted his slacks. “Well, me hear better compliments dis fine night so before yuh talk to me once more, wash out ya mout’ to clear out de goatshit dat wrap around ya tongue! Yuh like ah rooster dat find ah small rockstone inna him mout’ before him start sing to signal de marnin. Ha ha! Lord me God yuh mek me laugh.”
Quickly turning around to see if any of his friends had witnessed his embarrassment, Cilbert smiled away his obvious shame. “Sorry. Sorry to boder yuh, sister. Me. Me jus’ did ah waan to applaud yuh on ya fine dancing.” He was about to return to the radiogram while thinking up excuses to tell his friends.
“Where yuh go!” barked Hortense. “Yuh give up so easily? Yuh sen’ out one fishing line an’ me mek ya feel shame so yuh go ’long an’ lef’ me? Bring me ah drink an’ come mon an’ loosen ya tongue! Don’t give me nuh half-full cup. An’ clean off de sweat ’pon ya forehead.”
Unsure if he could handle Hortense’s jousting and remembering his failure with Jenny, Cilbert paused momentarily, thinking of further possible injuries to his ego. He looked at her again, losing
himself in her eyes and decided she was worth the risk.
“Give me some ah dat rum punch,” Hortense ordered. “An’ nuh worry yaself. Me don’t bite.”
On his way to fetch the drinks, Cilbert gave a thumbs-up sign to his friends. Upon his return, he found Jacob sitting beside Hortense. “Er, excuse me, sa,” he addressed Jacob, his excitement of the chase checked. “Me don’t waan to intrude. Me jus’ ah bring drink fe de young lady.”
Jacob, who wanted to depart the riotous party as soon as Hortense was ready, looked bewildered. “Nuh, mon,” Hortense replied. “Me nah wid him. Let me introduce yuh. Dis is Jacob, ah mighty fine mon. Yuh don’t know him? He’s de son of Isaac, de preacher mon who wag him tail at anyt’ing inna frock. But Jacob nah like dat. Him love off me sweet sister very deeply but she don’t know wha’ is good fe her.”
Cilbert gave Hortense her drink and pulled up a chair to sit beside her. He tipped his hat in greeting Jacob and the preacher’s son wished for a hole to appear in the verandah floor and swallow him. “So, does loveliness ’ave ah name?” Cilbert asked, displaying a clean row of front teeth.
Before Hortense could answer, a young woman marched up to Cilbert, hands on her hips, her fury obvious.
“Almyna!” Cilbert called, his eye-brows rising near to his hairline. “Wha’? Wha’ yuh doing here?”
Almyna leaned towards Cilbert, nearly headbutting him. “Ah surprise, Cilbert! Me come all de way from Orange Valley wid me sister, Myrna, fe ya benefit, an’ when me reach me find me very mon ah carry drink fe ah nex’ girl! Me don’t even get ah welcome!”
“Almyna. Me jus’ serving drink. Dat is all. Cool ya fire!”
Hortense ran her eyes over Almyna and saw that she was indeed pretty. But she had never liked the ‘
I’m better than you ways
’ of ‘red-skin’ women, so she offered Almyna an evil look. She then turned her attention to Cilbert, giving him a fabulous smile. “Well, Cilbert. If yuh was
my
mon me would always keep yuh in sight. T’ank yuh kindly fe bringing me drink. Enjoy de res’ ah de night! Mebbe we will meet again under de sweet moon one night?”
Almyna glared at Cilbert and he ushered her away with sweet words and poured her some rum punch. She didn’t see Hortense’s eyes following her. “Red skin bitch!” Hortense muttered under her breath. “Yuh t’ink ya so nice. Well, me nicer! An’ me don’t ’ave nuh white mon blood to stain me. Me gwarn tek away ya mon!”
An hour later, Jacob was walking Hortense home. The crickets and cicadas were in full cry and the stars shone brightly above their heads. Two roosters, whose internal alarm clocks had gone awry, could be heard in the distance announcing the morning five hours early. The breeze had gone and the land was still. The formless shadows towards the horizon were now at an unguessable distance but the invisible Natural Mystic remained, a feeling and a presence that Jacob and Hortense could both sense. It was soothing for the soul and they believed it protected them from Old Screwface whenever the sun took its rest.
“T’ank yuh, Jacob fe teking me out dis fine night,” Hortense said. “Yuh know, me realise me full ah nettle an’ fire but sometime me feel dat me life ah nah go nuhwhere. Y’understand?”
“Yes, I understand. Claremont don’t ’ave too much to offer. But as fe meself my family been inna de service of de Most High fe generations. An’ I feel it is my duty to serve de people who live an’ work ’pon dis land.”
“Dat is admirable,” replied Hortense. “But yuh don’t waan ah life fe yaself? Dat’s wha’ me always tell Mama, me waan to live me own life, yuh know. Go far away from Claremont an’ let me kidren see somet’ing different to de far-off mountain an’ plenty, plenty tree. Me know people ah susu behind me back an’ say Hortense too wild an’ Hortense mout’ too labba labba. Even Jenny sometime tell me to quiet me mout’. But me jus’ letting off frustration, yuh know. Dem expect ah young girl to praise de Lord every day, do dem chores an’ be polite to we elder. But it seem to dem dat ah young girl cyan’t have fun. Me love her dearly, but even if me try me coulda never be like me sister. We’re too different. We ’ave been very close but she cyan’t understand dat me need me space, yuh know, live me own life.”
Jacob paused, forming an image of a smiling Jenny in his mind.
Hortense read his thoughts. “Yuh really love her, isn’t it? Nuh worry yaself, Jacob. In time you’ll win her love. Me know Jenny. She ’ave plenty fire inna her belly an’ she full of emotion. She like one ah dem new fizzy drink can dat’s been shaken. Storm ah grow inside de can but de outside remain cool. She still dealing wid Papa disappearance an’ even Mama don’t know how much she really feel it. Mama don’t know many t’ings about me an’ me sister. When nuhbody about apart from me, she talk about Papa all de while. Yuh see, she ’fraid of ah mon bruising her heart once more. Y’understand? Give her time an’ ya devotion will be paid in full. But yuh affe realise dat her waters run deep like lake wid nuh bottom.”
“Yes, Hortense. Yuh well fiery but yuh cyan read my mind. Jenny tek my heart fe ah long time now but I never know wha’ she t’inking becah she don’t say too much.”
“She don’t even say too much to her own mudder but believe me, deep down she respect yuh an’
will
love yuh. Me promise yuh dat.”
“Don’t yuh miss ya papa?” asked Jacob.
Hortense paused, her eyes staring blankly ahead. “Papa never love me. Me don’t know why. Me gran’papa say him have nuh choice. So me learn to deal wid it. It’s funny, yuh know. Jenny t’ink dat Mama never love her an’ me t’ink Papa never love me, but me nah worry about it nuh more. Yuh see, me still miss David. It’s David me talk to inna me prayers. He was de only one who me really an’ truly love.” Hortense trailed off, her expression betraying her loss. “It’s David foot dat me waan to follow.
Not
Papa or Mama.”
Fifty yards ahead, Hortense and Jacob both saw a figure standing outside the family home. It was Amy, standing still with arms crossed, peering down the road. Hortense went up to her. “Mama? Yuh nuh tired yet?”
Producing a welcoming smile, Amy ignored Hortense’s question. “Yuh ’ave ah good time? Jacob, t’anks fe escorting me daughter home. Me sure Jenny’s foot will heal an’ nex’ time she cyan go sporting wid yuh.”
Hortense turned to Jacob. “Well, t’ank yuh again. Me gone to me
bed now. Don’t let de bugaboo bite yuh ’pon ya way home an’
don’t
give up ’pon me sweet sister.”
Hortense went inside. “Yuh don’t ’ave to trod home yuh know, Jacob,” Amy said. “Yuh cyan stay wid us fe de night. Me will mek up ah bed fe yuh inna de store-room.”
“Nuh, Miss Amy. I’m nah ’fraid of de dark like my papa an’ him generation. T’ank yuh fe de offer. But I affe look about me papa business inna de marnin an’ I waan ah early start. Goodnight, Miss Amy.”
Watching Jacob disappear into the night, Amy thought he would make a fine son-in-law. When he was out of sight, Amy poured a little rum in a mug and sprinkled it over the threshold of her home. “Old Screwface,” she smiled. “Me don’t know why yuh ah wait an’ loiter becah me will
never
forget.”
Then she returned to her vigil of peering down the road, her arms crossed.
Six days after Elvira’s birthday party. Hortense had volunteered to work the family stall all week – much to Jenny’s surprise, for in the past she had always described it as ‘work fe woman who cyan’t find nuh mon’. Jenny was glad to take a break from the market and busied herself helping out her mother while hoping to see Cilbert at church the coming Sunday; Amy noted Jenny’s new obsession in how her mother met her father and how he courted her. At last! Amy thought, a thawing of their relationship. “Me eldest daughter come back to me,” she whispered at night before sleep claimed her.
Jenny had dreamed of Cilbert every night since she met him and at quiet moments prayed to God, pleading forgiveness for her fleshly desires. It was the only intimate secret she had kept from her sister. He would surely come to church if him waan to claim me heart, Jenny thought. Mebbe he would ask Mama fe permission to tek me out? Hortense had none of her sister’s qualms, however. So one morning, when she saw Cilbert walking through the market carrying a broken transistor radio, she hailed him. “Wire! Wire!”
Recognising the battered cart, Cilbert realised that Jenny and Hortense were sisters. “Ya red skin girl ah still pull ya rope?” Hortense opened with, pushing out her chest, striking a pose like a Kingston madam.
“Nuh, Hortense,” Cilbert strongly denied, disliking the jest. “She jus’ ah girl who me grow up local wid, yuh know. Mebbe she t’ink we ’ave ah future togeder.”
“Is dat so?” asked Hortense. “Almyna too maaga anyhow. She don’t ’ave chile-bearing hips an’ she waan put chain ’pon ya ankle. An’ her eyes are full of deceit. Remember dis, Cilbert, de blacker de plum de sweeter de juice.” Hortense flashed Cilbert a sexy smile so he could be in no doubt of her meaning.
Two days later, they arranged a liaison in an isolated spot near
Crab Foot Gully; a patch of narrow sloping land that ran parallel to a dry, clay gulley where the grass grew long and the crickets multiplied. Under the leaves of a Blue Mahoe, lust overcame Cilbert as Hortense allowed him to paw and suck her breasts, his hands sliding over her toned midriff before diving between her legs. Titillation overcoming him, his fingers intruded under her knickers. Hortense slapped Cilbert’s face, abruptly stood up and adjusted her under-garments. With a sideways grin, she commented. “Ya hungry! An’ mighty
firm
. But me have me family reputation to t’ink about! Yuh nuh know me’s an innocent Christian girl?”
They next met in secret after Sunday church; Jenny was desperately scanning the flock for Cilbert, wondering when she would see him again, while Jacob was staring at her, distracted from his altar-boy duties. Hortense, who knew Cilbert would be waiting for her in a jackfruit grove half a mile away, sang her heart out. This time Hortense allowed Cilbert to pull her drawers off and, as she moaned with pleasure as he stroked her crotch, he wondered if indeed she was a virgin as she claimed to be. Sensing her excitement as well as his own, he mounted and prepared to enter her. Hortense punched him, man-like, in the forehead, causing a welt to appear over her suitor’s left eyebrow. “Wha’ kind ah girl yuh t’ink me is? Me know so yuh ’ave one woman already an’ yuh waan to grine me! Nex’ time dat red piece ah shit, Almyna, come up to see yuh from de wild bush she ah live, tell her yuh
done
wid her. Sen’ her back to her liccle shanty hut where de fowl neck are scraggy, de dahg dem maaga an’ de women ’ave tough toe like tree root!”
Hastily pulling on her clothes, Hortense marched off cursing Almyna’s very existence, leaving Cilbert still aroused. He shook his head as he watched her leave. “Mon! Wha’ ah blasted nettle ah tease but me affe grine her even if it kill me! Yes sa.”
On her next weekend visit to Cilbert, who was lodging with Mr DaCosta’s family, Almyna learned that Cilbert harboured no plans for them to get married. She cussed him for giving her promises and taking her virginity, but Cilbert, fazed only by the prospect of making full love to Hortense, ignored her shrieks and pleas and
flailing arms. He offered to walk her to the bus stop. Almyna walked daintily with her head held high as if she was born from aristocratic stock, but the curses that spewed from her mouth betrayed her poise.
Cilbert, embarrassed whenever a passer-by offered disapproving glances, looked upon Almyna with wearisome eyes. “Almyna, t’ings change from we parents time. Ah mon don’t affe marry de girl nex’ door or de girl him ah first court wid. Ah mon now cyan marry anyone him please – even if him parents don’t give dem blessing.”
“Cilbert! Ya words were different when yuh tek me virginity,” stormed Almyna. “Yuh don’t remember how yuh feel so sweet when yuh push yaself inside me? Yuh forget how yuh kiss me behind an’ all over? Saying yuh been to heaven. Becah ah yuh, me affe lie to me papa, who ah wonder if me having ‘relations’ wid yuh. Everybody inna we village pass dem remark how we look so nice togeder. How me gwarn to tell dem dat we bruk up? Cilbert, yuh mek me look like ah damn fool an’ me know wha’ some ah me girl friends will say. Dey will say dat Almyna gwarn to be ah chileless mule! Me nineteen now an’ still nuh marry! So don’t try to sweet me wid any words becah yuh spoil me life fe true.”
“But Almyna, ya still very pretty an’ nuff black mon me know go fe ah red skin girl. So me cyan’t see nuh problem ketching ah nex’ mon. It’s jus’ dat me nuh ready to settle down jus’ yet.”
“Mebbe me shoulda stick to me own complexion!” Almyna roared, aiming to injure Cilbert’s self esteem. “Me nuh know why me ever tek up wid yuh! How cyan yuh treat me so? De blacker de mon de more uncivilise dey behave wid woman. Dey don’t possess manners an’ respect. Dat is wha’ me gran’mama used to say an’ me shoulda lissen to she more keenly when me grow. Me cyan’t believe ah
black
mon refuse me!”
The cursing never stopped until Almyna had informed everybody in her village of Cilbert’s refusal to marry her. She secretly regretted not becoming pregnant and trapping Cilbert but she had always shoved Cilbert off her as he was about to climax, fearful of what her father and other villagers would say if she had fallen pregnant before marriage.
Mr DaCosta, counselling his young relative, asked Cilbert, “Hortense, ’ave yuh by ya seedbag an’ madness ah claim yuh wid dis girl. Yuh sure yuh mek de right choice?”
Cilbert paused before answering. “Yes, me sure, uncle. She different from Almyna. She ’ave ah fire. She only follow her own mind. She never tek nuh shit from anyone. Me love de way she walk! We both waan ah betterness in we life. We both waan to move on from de country, start afresh somewhere else. An’ she is de prettiest girl me ever see. Wid Almyna, becah of her red skin, me always feel…below her, yuh know. Like she done me ah privilege by courting wid me. Her family? Dey used to look ’pon me wid de corner ah dem eye. Sometime me used to t’ink dat me woulda be better off if me tek me mudder’s complexion. Wid Hortense me is her equal; me nuh feel inferior. Yes, sa, she is de one.”
A week later, Hortense invited Cilbert for Sunday dinner. She had risen early and swept out the front and back yards. She cleaned out the chicken coop and even sponged down the walls of the house as she sang gospel hymns. Jenny watched her suspiciously. Amy’s eyes followed Hortense with a smile, glad to hear song around the house once more. Realising it was a big day for her youngest daughter, Amy bought a goat from Mr DaCosta – he offered it to her at quarter price following Amy’s gift of prize pumpkins, avocados and all the scallion she could carry. Hortense, only thinking of Cilbert, ignored the stares from her family and put on her best dress for church.
Jacob conducted the service on this day as his father was ill. His eyes kept seeking out Jenny but she only responded with a listlessness that he couldn’t understand. Her mouth kept firmly closed at the singing of hymns and it seemed that Jenny couldn’t drag her eyes from the floor. Meanwhile, Hortense sang with vigour and heart, impressing the elders. Upon the return home, Amy scolded Jenny for her indifference. “Sorry, Mama,” Jenny said in her defence. “Me don’t feel too well today an’ me t’roat ah liccle dry. Me never mean to embarrass yuh, Mama. Me mek sure it don’t happen again.”
“Yuh shoulda say somet’ing!” replied Amy, looking concerned.
“Me will boil up some ginger an’ lime when we reach home.”
“T’ank yuh, Mama. Dat would be Godly. Yuh know, Hortense woulda usually do dis t’ing fe me an’ look out fe me when me sick. But she too wrap up wid dat cocksmon, Cilbert. By de sound ah him me don’t trus’ him, Mama. Me hear some wild stories about dis Cilbert. Some say him ’ave woman here an’ der. Mama, yuh sure yuh waan give ya blessing to Hortense an’ Cilbert relationship? Sweet Hortense is fragile an’ me don’t t’ink she could ah cope if ah mon bruise her heart. She still missing David so she vulnerable. If somet’ing go wrong wid dem it will be
me
who would ’ave to repair Hortense’s loving heart.”
“Well, him coming today so we cyan all check out him intention.”
Dressed in a grey hand-me-down suit and a brown stetson that he had borrowed from Mr DaCosta, Cilbert arrived at the Rodney home at four o’clock in the afternoon. He was bearing a gift of a bottle of finest Appleton’s rum; Amy was quick to mix the spirit with goat’s milk and shared it out to all in mugs, Kwarhterleg hobbling in assistance.
“T’ank yuh, Miss Amy, fe inviting me ’pon dis fine Sunday afternoon,” began Cilbert, wary of the dogs who were yapping around his ankles. “It’s an honour to be here.”
Amy collected Cilbert’s hat and hung it up inside the house. Hortense was strangely subdued as she introduced Cilbert to her family. Cilbert tensed up as he proffered his hand to greet Jenny. “Hortense, wha’ ah fine looking family yuh come from. An’ dis is Jenny? Mighty fine to meet yuh, Jenny.”
Cilbert was unable to meet Jenny’s eyes but Jenny herself smiled warmly. “An’ mighty fine to meet yuh too. Hortense ah me younger sister so if yuh don’t look after her right yuh will ’ave
me
to answer to!”
For a stretched second there was a certain tension in the air but it faded when Jenny laughed. “Cilbert,” Jenny chuckled. “If yuh gwarn to be wid ah Rodney woman den yuh mus’ learn to tek joke!”
“Me will drink to dat,” interjected Kwarhterleg, raising his mugful of rum, wondering if a top-up would be permitted.
“Cilbert, yuh ’ave any cigarette yuh cyan give me?”
“Yes, of course.”
Cilbert went over to Kwarhterleg and gave him two cigarettes. Kwarhterleg was eager to chat to Cilbert for a while for since Joseph’s departure he had been denied conversations with fellow men; Levi would only drop by for a few minutes. Hortense went to assist Carmesha with the cooking while Jenny, no eyes upon her, shot baleful glances in her sister’s direction, her breathing becoming heavier.
Managing to compose herself by the time the family had settled down to dinner, Jenny indeed proved to be the perfect hostess, serving drinks and food to everybody with a ready smile. Cilbert talked of his ambitions and dreams. Hortense grinned girlishly beside him, laughing at his jokes. “Yes, sa, me soon off to de big city, learn me trade, an’ wid Hortense by me side, live ah good life.”
Amy and Carmesha responded by clapping their hands and embracing Hortense. They assumed that they had just heard a clumsy proposal. Jenny stood up and complained of an upset stomach. She excused herself and walked rather theatrically to the pit toilet where she remained for half an hour.
During Jenny’s absence, Levi arrived on the family donkey. He was wearing Joseph’s old clothes that were much too big for him and the family tried hard to stifle their laughter, save Hortense who collapsed in giggles. “Sorry me late,” Levi said. “Me hope dat some dinner still lef’. Me bless yuh all ’pon dis fine day.”
Securing the donkey’s reins to a post, Levi then went to greet everybody at the dinner table; Cilbert regarded him with unblinking eyes. “Carmesha,” Levi said. “Cyan me jus’ steal yuh fe ah minute. Ah delicate t’ing me wish to discuss wid yuh.”
“Carmesha!” Hortense laughed. “Ya wild mon finally find courage.”
“Hortense! Quiet ya mout’,” Amy rebuked.
Blushing, Carmesha walked away with Levi to a nearby field. “Wha’ about ya dinner!” Amy called.
“Me will soon come fe it,” returned Levi who was fishing in his pockets.
His left hand emerged with a beautifully carved wooden hair clip that had the image of a Doctor Bird engraved on it. Shyly, he looked into Carmesha’s eyes. “Fe yuh, Carmesha. Fe many t’ings yuh do fe me.”
Accepting the gift, Carmesha pressed it to her chest. “T’ank yuh, Levi. Me will treasure dis.”
Smiling, Levi said, “yuh always accuse me of talking in riddles. Well, dis nah nuh riddle. Me waan to live like ah mon. Becah me is ah mon first before anyt’ing else. Y’understand?”
Nodding, Carmesha grinned broadly.
“After me ’ave me dinner,” Levi continued. “Me waan to show yuh de place where me live. It beautiful up der. An’ ya presence will mek it complete.”
Fixing the hairclip into her hair, Carmesha replied, “only if yuh fry me some grunt fish fe ah late night supper.”
Looking on from fifty yards away, Amy remarked, “dis romantic t’ing mus’ be ketching!”
Three hours later, Kwarhterleg was smoking his pipe under his favourite tree. He was peering into the heavens, reflecting on some long-held memory. He couldn’t make out Cilbert and Hortense’s whispered conversations, who were thirty yards away in a field, snuggled up to each other. They too studied the star-lit sky, thinking of their futures.
“Cilbert,” Hortense called affectionately. “Yuh really mean wha’ yuh say today? Dat yuh waan we to live togeder side by side? As mon an’ wife?”
“Of course! But me affe go ah Kingston an’ study fe de nex’ t’ree years. Me ’ave family inna Papine me cyan stay wid. Den when me get me papers we cyan invite everybody an’ get marry.”
“Me don’t waan to wait dat long! Nuh, sa! Me waan to get married
now
. Who knows wha’ might happen to yuh while yuh study inna Kingston. Anoder red skin bitch might tek ya fancy an’ yuh will forget about me! An’ look ’pon poor Carmesha! She was waiting fe de day to marry me sweet brudder, David. But dutty police batter an’ kill him fe not’ing inna stone cell. Nuh, mon. Yuh
better mek me ah honest woman
now
or forget de whole damn t’ing!”