We hugged warmly and then she held me at arms length as she inspected my face with a smile.
‘I’m so glad you made it, Erna. Come in, come in!’
We followed Conrad as he struggled up the steps with my suitcases; Lion taking up the rear, his long shaggy tail wagging.
‘I hope I’m not being too forward,’ Monica said as we approached the front door, ‘but I’ve taken the liberty of planning a little dinner party tonight. I wasn’t sure exactly how long you’d be staying with us here in the mountains, so I thought it would be nice to introduce you to a few friends.’
A rotund, dark-skinned, middle-aged woman wearing a red flower-print scarf and matching apron appeared in the doorway.
‘I’m sure you must be tired,’ Monica continued, ‘so maybe you’d like to have a bath and a nap before dinner and then we can catch up?’
‘Oh, that would be perfect,’ I replied.
‘Jessie,’ Monica said, ‘please show Miss Mullings to her room.’
Jessie led me upstairs to a large room at the back of the house that overlooked the rolling gardens, which were only partially revealed in the pearly moonlight. Beautiful pieces of handmade furniture gave the room a lovely warm feeling. A four-poster bed rose high up from the floor, necessitating a cute wooden stool to help climb into it. My two suitcases stood side by side at the foot of the bed.
‘Your bathroom is through there,’ said an irritated sounding Jessie.
I had the distinct feeling that she thought me just another jumped-up islander who had lived abroad and was now back thinking I was better than everyone else. She wasn’t alone in that feeling; I was almost giddy with the conflicting emotions of guilt and appreciation that I was feeling, but in the stark contrast between the world of my island-past and this unexpected island-present, I also considered that maybe it was okay for me to be here, in this house, at this time. Maybe I deserved it.
The bathroom was luxuriously appointed and with a small squeal of pleasure I lowered myself into the warm water for my very first roll-top bath. After a few minutes I found myself nodding off, so I had a quick splash before climbing out. I dried myself, rummaged in my case and located one of the new pairs of white cotton pyjamas that I had bought specially for the trip. I hoisted myself up on to the four-poster, and laid out flat on my back with my eyes tightly closed. I couldn’t be sure whether I had actually fallen asleep, but it felt like no time had passed at all when I heard a gentle knocking at the bedroom door.
‘Miss Clacken seh har friends a come soon,’ Jessie said through the half-opened door.
‘Thank you, Jessie. Please tell her I’ll be down shortly.’
I rolled off the four-poster and came to my feet. I felt even more tired than I did earlier. I went into the bathroom and splashed my face with cold water and returned to my bedroom where I checked the time. I had slept for nearly an hour.
I opened a suitcase and pulled out my clothes, trying to decide what would be appropriate for such a stylish occasion. In the end, I chose a simple green dress and a pair of red leather sandals. I opened the door and peered across the landing at the grand staircase. Sounds were coming from below, so I followed them downstairs, where I discovered a huge kitchen at the back of the house that would not have been out of place in an English country mansion. Red earthenware tiles covered the floor and two of its walls were lined with sage-green wooden cupboards. A substantial dresser containing beautiful glassware and ceramics stood against another wall, alongside a massive metal frame fixed to the ceiling, from which hung dozens of highly polished copper pans. Next to the door, a substantial wine rack was filled with bottles. Pots simmered on the huge stove and at a solid wooden table Jessie and a young woman in a white apron were busy helping Monica put the finishing touches to the dinner. Hearing my hesitant cough, Monica turned to me with a smile.
‘Are you feeling rested?’ she said, walking towards me.
‘Much better, thank you,’ I said. Only too aware that I had picked up that uniquely English habit of saying I was fine, when I felt the opposite. ‘Your house is absolutely divine, Monica!’ I added, gazing round the vast kitchen.
‘Come on,’ she said, taking me by the arm, ‘come and meet my guests.’
I followed her across the tiled hall, through a doorway next to the front door that opened on to a large dining room. Standing around the gleaming mahogany dining table, chatting and drinking wine, were three people who could not have looked more different if they tried. They stopped talking and turned to me as we entered the room.
‘This is Erna, everyone,’ Monica said, ‘she just got here this afternoon.’
‘Welcome to Jamaica, Erna!’ said a middle-aged woman in a dramatic yellow linen dress, with closely cropped hair and perfectly rendered red lipstick. ‘Or should I say, welcome back? I’m Irene,’ she added, holding out her hand.
‘It’s welcome back,’ I said, shaking her slim, silver-beringed hand.
‘Irene is a professor of history at UWI,’ Monica said. ‘And this is Daisy,’ she continued, introducing the young woman standing next to Irene, who looked like the twin sister of Angela Davis. She was dressed casually in a blue shirt and white jeans and sported a huge Afro. ‘Daisy is my favourite artist, she painted that wonderful picture over there,’ Monica added, pointing to a vast, colourful watercolour on the wall opposite the window. ‘And last, but not least, this is Forrest.’
Over a long and delicious dinner I discovered that Forrest, bushy-haired and spectacled, was a writer and sculptor from New York with roots on the island. He seemed to take a fatherly interest in me and was fascinated by my tales of growing up in Little Hammon. He was convinced that we were distantly related, as his grandmother hailed from a neighbouring village. I, in turn, was fascinated by his tales of New York and the writing community of which he was a part. Most of the rest of the conversation, in which everyone took an active part, was about my island: the many changes that had taken place since I’d left, and those things which remained the same. There were plenty of gaps in my knowledge, of course, not least because I’d grown up in a part of the island where life was uncomplicated, but my growing understanding of the political landscape in England, along with my interest in the Arts, meant that I felt confident joining in. I was aided by Monica’s assiduous attention to my comfort and the seemingly unending supply of wine. I felt not only warmly included in this august company, but joyous about the many exciting things that were happening on the island. I discovered that my island was arty, academic, politically active and sporty. My island was making waves on the world stage.
The wine worked its magic on us and we ended the evening singing and dancing along to the lilting rhythms of our beautiful island home. Even Forrest joined in. Then the jet lag caught up with me and, after profuse promises of future meetings, I reached the sanctuary of my room, where I collapsed gratefully on to the bed and did not emerge until late the following morning.
Chapter 46
We’d just returned from an extensive tour of Monica’s delightful gardens when Jessie appeared at the top of the steps saying a man had arrived and was asking for me. I ran up the steps towards her and then around the side of the house to the front drive where I found a tall, well-dressed young man, lounging against the ticking bonnet of a shiny blue American pick-up truck. He looked at me with amusement.
‘Same Erna with har buck teeth,’ he laughed, ‘but bwoy, you sure put on some weight. Must be the good life in old England Town!’
‘Tony?’ I said. I could hardly believe my eyes.
‘What, you mean you don’t recognise me, cousin?’ he smiled, standing up and walking towards me.
‘Well, I do now,’ I said. ‘Oh my God, look how you’ve grown up!’
He held his hand out, but instead of shaking it, I gave him a big hug. Then I held him at arm’s length and studied him.
‘My, how you’ve filled out,’ I said, ‘but it suits you. And you’re darker than I remember.’
‘I
was just thinking the same about you,’ he said, ‘but the other way round. Yuh use to be real shiny black like yuh grandmada, but now we look like we’re de same colour. Too much England cold for you and too much island sun for me, I reckon!’
‘Hello, who’s this?’ said Monica, appearing on the drive behind us.
‘This,’ I replied, ‘is my cousin Tony, and I’m just about to remind him what happened last time he mentioned my buck teeth!’
Tony burst into loud laughter. ‘Yuh want fi try to fight me again, Erna?’ he grinned. ‘Pleased to meet you, mam,’ he said, turning to Monica.
‘Likewise,’ Monica replied.
‘Bwoy it some place you got here,’ he added, ‘look like my cousin moving in high circles now!’
‘Will you have some breakfast with us?’ Monica asked. ‘Jessie’s just about to serve it on the terrace.’
‘No, tank you kindly, man,’ Tony said. ‘I’ve already eaten today. I’m happy to wait for Erna though.’
‘Well, come and sit with us anyway,’ Monica said.
‘I appreciate you coming all that way from the country to collect me, Tony,’ I said, as we followed Monica back around the side of the house on to the terrace.
‘Anything for the old man, mi glad to help out,’ Tony replied.
However, after accepting a cold soda, Tony asked if he could be excused and he followed Jessie into the house.
‘Well, it looks like you’re leaving us already,’ Monica sighed.
‘I’m sorry to be going so soon, Monica,’ I said, ‘it’s so beautiful here, but I’m desperate to see my grandfather.’
‘Of course,’ Monica said, ‘he sounds like an amazing man. I hope he’s okay.’
After breakfast I returned to my room and re-packed my suitcases with a bittersweet mixture of regret and relief and then went downstairs to find Monica to say goodbye. Even though we’d only just met, she felt like an old friend and I was looking forward to seeing her again in a few days’ time. When we walked back to the drive, we found Tony sitting on the wall chatting to Angela, the young woman I’d seen in the kitchen the night before. Lion, who was lying on the gravel in front of them, clambered to his feet as we approached and Monica petted him fondly. Tony had already loaded his truck with my cases and he seemed anxious to get going, so I hugged Monica and thanked her again, and, with a final wave, I climbed into the front of the pick-up next to my handsome cousin.
‘It’s better to start out early, while we still got the light,’ Tony said, as soon as I’d got in, ‘and keep yuh backpack somewhere on the floor in front of you,’ he added, ‘safer that way.’
Then he started the car with a roar and in a spray of gravel we were off. I just had time to wave to Monica and catch one last glimpse of her lovely home and then we were bouncing down the track towards the main road.
‘Strap yourself in, Erna,’ Tony said, ‘we do the seatbelt ting here now too.’ He laughed, handing me a bottle of water. ‘Yuh going to need plenty water, the journey to country is long and hot, maybe even longer than it was when you were here, caus some of the country roads well mash up now, what with us getting a hurricane somebody or another practically every year. The woman ones are particularly lethal,’ he added with a wink, as we swung on to the tarmac road and headed north.
I lay back in my seat and gazed in delight as we drove through tiny villages, past rushing rivers and gaggles of children who waved as we passed. The whole time, Tony chatted away about the chicken business that he’d set up in the district after returning from America, where he said he’d managed to make a bit of money.
‘You look like you’re doing good though, Erna,’ he said, peering sideways at me, ‘but just a little precaution. People tek one look pon yuh and them know seh yuh is from foreign. So, I would avoid too much of de talking. Even more than de clothes and de walk, the English talking mek people want to bada yuh more.’
‘I hear yuh, coz,’ I replied, ‘but mi sure seh, mi wi drap back innah de lingo in no time. Yuh nevah really lose it when yuh born pon de island, man. Dis is jus fimi landing voice an yuh nuh se seh mi put on jeans an t-shirt like heverybody helse.’
Tony roared with laughter. ‘Yuh nuh easy, Erna, dat’s nat bad at all! But de people will still know seh yuh come from foreign. Someting happen to the England people dem, man. Give dem five years in that cold place and they all sound foreign.’
‘So how was my Grandpa doing when you saw him last?’ I said, reverting to my London voice.
‘Saw him before I left out. He is good, man. His hand shake like the clappers, but his mind is as sharp as his old cut-throat. Yuh remember the cut-throat, Erna?’ Tony laughed. ‘How Uncle Sippa use to scrape every last hair from Sonny head? To be honest, part from the nerve ting with his hands and the legs not carrying him any more, he’s doing real good for his age.’
Suddenly we emerged from the misty depths of a high mountain pass to a spectacular view of the north side of the island.
‘Oh my God, that’s breathtaking!’ I said, grabbing my backpack. ‘Can you pull over over a minute so I can get a picture?’
‘If we keep stopping so often we’re never going to reach country today!’ Tony said.
‘Sorry, Tony,’ I said, ‘I hadn’t realised we’d stopped that often.’
‘You seem to want to take in every bush and tree! I understand, this island is our very own paradise, but one week is not long for your visit. You’ll see a lot to remind you of what you left behind, for sure. That is why I can’t leave it again,’ he added, pulling over on to the verge. ‘True the money ting nuh run here properly, but bwoy I’d rather live in paradise with little money than in hell with plenty money.’
‘Well, I’m taking in everything I can,’ I said, climbing out and stretching my legs.
‘You tink you could live here again?’ Tony, said, joining me on the side of the road.
Shading my eyes with my hand, I gazed at the vast blue ocean stretching to the horizon where it merged seamlessly with the cloudless sky.
‘It’s too early to tell,’ I said, ‘but I’m loving it so far!’
In no time we were driving along the coast, with palm trees and fishing villages swishing past in the late afternoon sun. I was still pondering Tony’s question. Even though I was loving every minute, moving back for good was not a question I had considered in a long time, and it was certainly not something I could answer after less than two days back on the island.
‘We will do a proper stop soon to get you something to eat,’ Tony said, handing me another bottle of water. ‘There’s some nice little fish places up ahead. I take it you still like your fish?’
‘I still like my fish,’ I said, smiling.
Ten minutes later we pulled off the main road and bumped towards a cute little beach restaurant with a large sign, which read simply: Jed’s Place. But before we reached the restaurant, which was really no more than a wooden shack, we had to run the gauntlet of women trying to stuff plastic bags of cooked king prawns through the windows. The women continued to bombard me after we parked up and I stepped from the car. It was as though I was the first customer they’d seen in days.
‘Come nuh, miss. Tek wan bag from mi noh, miss!’ pleaded a large woman in a blue and white headscarf.
‘Yuh waan cane? Pear? Mango? Wi ave hevery ting yuh need, Miss Hinglish,’ her skinny companion added.
‘She nuh Hinglish man! She a Hamerican,’ said the first woman.
‘No, man! Yuh se she a wear shorts an bobby socks?’ her companion cried. ‘She a Hinglish woman, man!’
The two higglers got so involved in their debate about where I was from that they appeared to have forgotten that they were trying to sell me their wares.
‘Ladies,’ I interrupted, ‘mi is from right here soh. Just been away awhile.’
‘Wi know dat, man,’ the skinny one said, ‘but yuh ave foreign stamp all ova yuh now. And mi right still. A Hinglan foreign yuh is.’
‘Yeah, man, yuh right still,
’ I laughed.
‘Mi know seh yuh a try hard fi still drop de lingo,’ the large woman said, ‘but it nuh sound artentic again. Soh jus do yuh Hinglan ting, man. Is aright.’
‘Sistren,’ Tony smiled, taking my arm, ‘if you don’t mind?’
The two women sucked their teeth and returned to their debate as they wandered back towards the highway, lugging their plastic bags along with them. We made our way to a bamboo table that faced the gently rippling ocean and a young man in cut-off denim shorts and white t-shirt appeared from inside the shack and handed me a menu.
‘Snapper good today, miss,’ he beamed.
‘Thank you,’ I said, taking the menu.
‘Mi wi come back wit de drinks,’ he said, without asking what it was we wanted to drink. He returned a moment later with two glasses filled with ice-cold coconut water, which we received gratefully. I sipped at my drink while Tony ordered our food. It sounded delicious – I chose the snapper and roast breadfruit and Tony ordered char-grilled mahi-mahi with a full complement of island hard food. While we waited for our food to arrive, I gazed towards the sea where a small fishing boat bobbed at anchor. There was no denying it, I was in paradise. Then the food came and I tucked in with relish. I considered that if anything could bring me back to my island, it would probably be the food.
‘I don’t know if you came to this beach before yuh lef fi Englan,’ Tony said between mouthfuls of fish, dumpling, banana and yam – I’d never seen a person cram so much food into their mouth at one time – ‘but it used to be a beautiful piece of coastline until storm Gilda eat up most a de beach a couple o’ years back. Dem dead corals use to be way out a sea, but when de storm done, dis was all dat was left of Jacob’s beach.’
I followed Tony’s pointing finger, but it still looked beautiful to me.
Soon, Tony and I were back on the road and I could feel my stomach churning with excitement. By five in the afternoon, we reached the outskirts of the village. We’d already met the deep red earth and scorching heat some time back, and the temperature inside the car had built to an almost unbearable level as we were forced to keep the windows shut during the final stage of our journey to keep out the swirling red dust.
The Day I Fell Off My Island Page 31