Valmiki's Daughter (47 page)

Perhaps questions were not what he had to give, but advice. But what would
such advice be? Viveka would, in the end, like everyone else, have to cut out her own
path.

He had no advice and his glass was empty.

TREVOR LEANED AGAINST THE PATIO'S
RAILING. HE WOULD NOT FACE
her.

After a long silence, and although they were alone, she whispered
earnestly, “Do you still want to go through with this?”

“Have I indicated otherwise?”

They both stared out at the lights just beginning to twinkle alive on the
Pointe-à-Pierre jetty.

“How long do you think we'll last, Trevor?”

“Is that a serious question?”

“Well, you know who I am.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“It's a serious question. How long?”

Trevor took a drink of his beer before he looked at her. “Five
years, give or take, I suppose. How long do you think?”

“I would say two.”

“Two! Oh, come on, Vik. Show a little courage! I am exhibiting a
mountain of it, wouldn't you say?” He was terse.

It was a while before she could respond. She looked up at him, tears
welling. “You'd be surprised, Trevor,” she said. “You'd be
surprised at my courage right now.”

A DEBT OF GRATITUDE, IN NO SMALL MEASURE, IS OWED TO
MARGOT
Francis, Aline Brault, Brenda Middagh, my brother-in-law, Shekhar
Mahabir, and my brother Ramesh. My sister, Indrani Mootoo, braved the Naparima-Marayo
Road and drove me into the trenches of Rio Claro. My memories of that complicated area
— bucolic on one hand, treacherous on the other — include discovering with
her, much awe between us, the forest, the cacao industry, the farmers, and, outside the
scope of this book, the frightful surprise of foreign intelligence officers combing the
area for drug and gun smuggling and underground militia camps. Thank you, Indrani, for
our adventure. If it weren't for Dr. Brinsley Samaroo and his enviable ease with,
and knowledge of, the island, I wouldn't have come so close to the cacao lands or
met Bjashanand Hanooman. Thanks so much, Brinsley. At the time of the writing of this
book, Hanooman was the agricultural officer for the Rio Claro area. I couldn't
have had a more perfect or generous guide. He and his wife, Lutchmin, spared no trouble,
imagined what I didn't know to ask, and gave me a fascinating introduction to the
French-Indian world of cacao from which I drew. For this I am immensely grateful.

Thank you to Sarah MacLachlan, to everyone at House
of Anansi Press, to book designer Ingrid Paulson, and to my agent, Maria Massie. Words
are paltry to try to express the depth of my gratitude for my publisher and editor Lynn
Henry, who, to understate it, always “gets it.”

With every good reason and no need for explanation, I would like to
express very special thanks to Sarah Declerck.

Any resemblance of characters in this novel to persons living or dead is
purely coincidental.

SHANI MOOTOO
was born in Ireland and grew up in Trinidad.
She has lived in Canada since the early 1980s. Her acclaimed first novel,
Cereus
Blooms at Night
, was published worldwide and was a finalist for the Giller
Prize, among other awards. Her second novel,
He Drown She in the Sea
, was on
the longlist for the International
IMPAC
Dublin Literary Award. Mootoo is
also an accomplished visual artist. She has lived in Vancouver and Edmonton, and now
lives in Toronto.

House of Anansi Press was founded in 1967 with a mandate to
publish Canadian-authored books, a mandate that continues to this day even as the list
has branched out to include internationally acclaimed thinkers and writers. The press
immediately gained attention for significant titles by notable writers such as Margaret
Atwood, Michael Ondaatje, George Grant, and Northrop Frye. Since then, Anansi's
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it tremendous acclaim and solid staying power. Today Anansi is Canada's pre-eminent
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Siblin, Karen Solie, and Ronald Wright. Anansi is also proud to publish the
award-winning nonfiction series The CBC Massey Lectures. In 2007, 2009, 2010, and 2011 Anansi
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