Sugar in the Morning

by Isobel Chace

  We walked round the sugar fields until the sun slipped from the sky. Here and there was a field that was already being harvested. There were some tractors being used to haul away the piles of cane, but there were just as many drays and bullocks being used for the same job. It was a colourful scene. The black-charred leaves of the cane, the green of the crop itself, the rust red soil reflected in a rusty evening sky, and the bright coloured shirts of the men and boys, more brilliant than ever in the last rays of the sun. I was surprised to notice that some of the boys who were doing this man’s work were very young indeed. They ran about the fields, grinning broadly at all who came their way, and yet when it came to laying into the cane, their young arms rose and fell in rhythm with their elders, stroke for stroke.

  “Why isn’t this cut mechanically?” I asked Daniel, suddenly cross that these boys who should have been at school were having to work so hard.

  “It could be,” he said. “It uproots a lot of the cane so one’s planting costs are correspondingly higher.”

  “But these boys—”

  “They’re bringing good money into their families’ purses,” he reminded me. “Many people couldn’t live at all if they didn’t spend the season cutting cane.”

  I had a sudden vision of my own family coming here and working as hard as these men were doing. Cutting the cane and transporting it to the factory, mostly by hand, and getting so little for it at the other end.

  “Is this where Uncle Philip comes?” I asked through stiff lips.

  “And Wilfred, and Cuthbert,” he insisted. “Not to this estate, but they have been to the Hendrycks’ estate amongst others.”

  “And you allowed it?” I asked him bitterly.

  He nodded. “I not only allowed it, I encouraged it. They had to earn a living somehow, didn’t they? It was the least I could do!”

  “But they could have worked in the office, done all sorts of things—”

  He drew himself up, finishing the conversation with an autocratic lift of his head. “Your cousins,” he said distantly, “are the next best thing to illiterate.”

  “I don’t believe it!” I shouted at him. “I don’t believe it! And what’s more I won’t believe it!”

  He shrugged. “You’ll find out,” he said. “Shall we go back now?”

  I dragged behind him all the way back to the house. How dared he say such things about my family? There were moments when I hated Daniel! I hated his natural superiority and most of all. I hated him because I thought, as far as the Ironsides were concerned, he was probably justified.

  As we walked up the drive the last light of the day was fading. There was the last feverish activity among the birds as they made their preparations for the night, and the first of the evening sounds, an owl hooting in a distant tree and a small nocturnal animal scurrying across the open ground, hoping to gain sanctuary before any predator saw him. The house stood out against the darkening sky, the curious Chinese look more obvious than ever. Then someone turned on a light and it was followed by others until the whole house was lit from the inside and one could no longer see its outside shape against the horizon beyond. I was suddenly afraid that Daniel was not coming in with me and that I should have to face the Longuets alone.

  “Daniel—” I said. His hand came out immediately towards me, giving mine a comfortable squeeze.

  “It’s all right,” he said. “I’ve been invited to dinner, too.”

  I gave a quick sigh of relief, ashamed though I was that my feelings should be quite so transparent.

  “I—I only thought—”

  “Yes?” His amusement was justified, I supposed, but very hard to bear.

  “Well, you know,” I said, “I don’t think Mrs. Longuet thinks much of the Ironsides. It might be awkward.”

  “I’m flattered that you want my support,” he said easily. He still looked quite unbearably pleased with himself.

  “I want to do whatever is best for my family!” I insisted.

  “Oh, of course!” he agreed. He pushed open the front door and allowed me to enter the house before him. “Mr. Longuet will look after you,” he said. “There’s no need for you to worry. He’s a good man.”

  Somewhat comforted, I didn’t mind so much when Pamela came running out into the hall to meet us and bore me away up the stairs to the room that had been got ready for me.

  “I hope Daniel hasn’t exhausted you!” she breathed. “I expect everything around here is pretty strange to you. It must be very different from living in London!”

  “It is,” I said briefly.

  “You must tell me all about England some time,” she said immediately, but I had the feeling that she was not really much interested. “My mother comes from Maryland,” she added. “We always go to the States when we’re not here.”

  “You’re lucky,” I responded. “I’ve often longed to see New York and Washington—”

  “I suppose Port-of-Spain seems pretty small to you!” she rattled on. “I mean Society here is pretty limited, and so on.”

  “I hadn’t noticed,” I said honestly. “I didn’t exactly live in society in London. I spent most of my time earning my living—”

  “But you’re rich!” she exclaimed.

  “I won some money,” I agreed dryly. “Before that I had nothing but what I earned.”

  “Goodness!” Her eyes bulged with excitement and I wondered, too late, if I had been wise to tell her, but it was the truth, and what could be dangerous in that?

  “I thought, your bringing Patience here with you and all, that you were accustomed to being rich!” she gasped. Another idea occurred to her and she turned quickly and asked: “Does Daniel know?”

  ‘Yes, of course he does!”

  “How odd,” she said slowly. ‘You see, Daniel and I have always been that way about each other, if you know what I mean?” I thought I knew only too well, but I said nothing, wondering where this was leading us. “I thought perhaps he was interested in giving you a whirl because of your money. After all, this estate marches with his and he’s always wanted to see it as one place. Between you and me, he was very disappointed when my parents decided to sell now of all times. He was so sure that it would be settled on me for my dowry—I mean, I suppose I shouldn’t be talking to you like this, but we’re going to be friends, aren’t we?”

  “I hope so,” I said simply.

  “I mean, it would be so nice, wouldn’t it? You know,” she giggled, “I don’t really believe you like Daniel much, do you? Has he been beastly to you?”

  “Of course not!” I said bluntly. I wished she would go away, but she showed no signs of doing so. She pushed open the door of my temporary bedroom and pulled me in, shutting it so quickly behind me that I felt trapped. There was no sign of Patience anywhere and I must admit that I had been looking forward to her salty good humour and discussing the estate with her. Pamela made a poor substitute and I was a bit afraid I would end by telling her so.

  “Tell me,” she said now, curling her feet underneath her as she sat on the end of my bed, “what were you and Daniel doing when Daddy and I came along?”

  “What did it look like?” I returned coolly.

  “Naughty!” she said with a laugh in her throat. “I know Daniel, don’t forget! He was just as likely to have been feeling cross as romantic!”

  That came too close for comfort. “I think I ought to change my dress,” I said quickly.

  “I guess so,” she agreed pleasantly. “Just so long as you don’t take Daniel too seriously! None of us do, you know!”

  I shut the door behind her with a heavy feeling of relief. She was such a nice, anxious, pretty little thing that I couldn’t dislike her, or so I told myself. Anyone who was so anxious to please ought to be liked! Besides, if I didn’t like her, I was honest enough to know it was because I was jealous of her. As if I didn’t know that she and Daniel were that way about each other! As if it wasn’t obvious! So why had he kissed me and spoilt everything for me, just beca
use he had been annoyed with me? Why?

  I pulled a clean dress out of my suitcase and laid it out on the bed, wishing that I had brought something with a longer skirt, a much longer skirt. But everything I had was short and snappy. Such dresses looked good on me and I had no need to hide my legs. At least so I had always thought. Now, after Daniel’s remarks, I was not so sure. If he called me “long legs” again I would scream! On the other hand, if he didn’t, what would I do then? I sniffed and then sniffed again, appalled that I should be so near tears for so little reason. I was glad when a knock at the door heralded Patience and called to her to come in. She came in, beaming her usual smile at me.

  “I’se been busy downstairs,” she informed me gleefully. “If we’se comin’ here to live, I’se goin’ to scrub the whole place!” She glanced round the room with a housewifely air. “Better than some up here!” she admitted with a sniff. “But the kitchen is real bad, Miss ’Milla, real bad!”

  I allowed her to pull off my soiled dress, revelling in the luxury of being waited on. “Is you bathin’ now?” she asked me. I nodded and she hurried off to run my bath and to, make sure that I had a towel and some brand-new soap that nobody else had used before me.

  By the time I was dressed and ready to go downstairs, my ruffled feelings had been soothed by Patience’s ministrations and the gorgeous hot water that had even succeeded in allowing me to forget that I was ravenous for a few minutes. It gave me confidence, too, to know that I was looking my best, even if my best was nothing to write home about when the competition was the obvious prettiness of Pamela Longuet.

  I swept down the stairs with my head held high. I must admit I was rather glad to find only the two men in the sitting room. Mr. Longuet asked me what I would have to drink, recommending a punch of his own manufacture. I accepted the drink, knowing that basically it would be the inevitable rum, and sure enough it was, though heavily disguised by a variety of citrus fruits. “Well, my dear, what do you think?” he asked me.

  “About the estate?” I didn’t want to show him how embarrassed I was by my own ignorance. “I like it very much,” I said inadequately. “Especially this house. It has a friendly atmosphere.”

  Mr. Longuet smiled. “I’ve been happy here,” he agreed. “I’m not sure that sugar is a woman’s crop though. My wife has found it rather limiting, I believe.”

  “And Pamela?” I couldn’t resist asking.

  “Pamela worked quite happily at the refinery,” he said, glancing at Daniel to get his confirmation of this. “It’s rather different from being on one’s own for hours each day in the house here.”

  “I shall probably work too,” I said simply.

  “Oh, indeed?” He looked surprised. “I had understood from Pamela that you were a lady of leisure,” he said with humorous undertones. “What kind of work have you done in the past?”

  I told him about the travel agency and then Daniel told him all about it too, and how he had missed his connecting plane and how he still more than half thought it was my fault.

  We were still arguing about this when Pamela and her mother joined us. They were dressed as twins in exactly the same dresses of soft blue material. It made them look more alike than ever, I supposed, but I couldn’t help thinking it rather affected of them and I wondered that Mrs. Longuet liked to be compared so exactly with her daughter.

  Mrs. Longuet had not forgiven me for being related to Uncle Philip. Whenever there was a lull in the conversation, I could feel her eyes picking me to pieces as she fed on her dislike for my family. But she said little. Only once, when we were just settling ourselves at the table, did she bring the subject into the open again. “Did you know,” she asked her husband, “that Philip Ironside will be living here?”

  “Yes, I did,” he answered her.

  She bridled angrily and so did Pamela beside her. “I suppose I wasn’t told so that I couldn’t voice my objections?” she said sharply.

  Her husband laughed at her quite openly. “Not quite, my dear. I thought that as we were going to be in the States, it wouldn’t matter to you what happened here. Besides, it’s silly to make too much of that trouble with Philip. It could have happened to any number of people around here.”

  “But it didn’t!” Mrs. Longuet said in wooden tones.

  Her husband shrugged. “Let’s drop it, he said easily enough. He turned deliberately towards Daniel. “Did you get right round the estate? Have you seen all you want to?”

  “I think so,” Daniel answered. He gave me a look of enquiry that was entirely a matter of good manners and I nodded too, though everything that I had seen had become a confused muddle in my mind. It was sugar all day long, but I really didn’t seem to know very much more about it.

  “Then you’ll be contacting Aaron tomorrow?” Mr. Longuet pressed on.

  “I thought I’d give him a ring tonight,” Daniel replied.

  The whole Longuet family exchanged looks of relief. Were they so anxious to be gone? I wondered why. Even Pamela was suddenly more cheerful as though she really wanted to be done. And yet it was here that her future lay. Not in this house, it was true, but wherever Daniel was, and most of his interests were nearby in the refinery and in the Hendrycks’ estate next door.

  It was a super meal. I had not eaten so well since I had come to Trinidad, for, excellent though Patience was in many ways, her culinary imagination was decidedly limited. Mrs. Longuet, however, kept a remarkably good table and I began to think that I must have misjudged her, that perhaps she didn’t resent me as much as her manner had led me to suppose, for the dinner contained all that was best of the West Indian cuisine and she had obviously gone to considerable lengths to make the meal go smoothly and to please each one of us.

  We began with the famous calaloo soup, made of crab, okra, tomatoes and onions, and seasoned with thyme, bay leaf, and ground chili peppers. Mrs. Longuet unbent sufficiently to tell me that this was the ancestor of the famous crab gumbo of New Orleans.

  “We Americans don’t like to admit it,” she said confidentially, “but it’s true nevertheless. I think this is the queen of all the Creole soups, though Pamela doesn’t like it much, do you, dear?”

  Pamela screwed up her pretty face, trying to make up her mind if she did or not. “I’m not crazy about seafoods,” she said at last.

  I came to the conclusion that I was crazy about them. I had never tasted a more delicious soup, and by the time we had followed it with a thick steak accompanied by little green peas and sauté potatoes, and baked bananas with coconut cream, I was feeling very content with life indeed. It was worth having been half starved all day with such a repast waiting.

  Daniel grinned at me across the table. “I’ll bet you’ve never tasted food like this before!” he teased me.

  “I’ve enjoyed it,” I said. “In Port-of-Spain we live mainly on corn and sweet potatoes!”

  “But that’s a most unhealthy diet!” Mrs. Longuet reproached me, her interest caught.

  “It’s getting near another cutting season,” her husband weighed in warningly. “I daresay that has something to do with it.”

  I was glad that that they thought so, though when I considered the bills I had been paving for the entire household I did wonder where all the money went.

  “Do you grow any of your own food here?” I asked.

  “Practically everything,” Pamela answered me. “Didn’t Daniel show you the orchards? Even our fruit comes off the estate.”

  At the thought of my own orchard, I felt a stirring of excitement. I wished we had seen the orchards and where the vegetables were grown. I wished I had lingered in the flower garden in the front of the house and had enjoyed the fragrant beauty of the exotic plants that grew there. But all we had seen was sugar. Still, I thought, quite soon the whole place would be mine, and I pictured myself going out of the house in the early morning and picking an orange from my own tree, still warm from the morning sun, and it would taste quite different just because it was mine!

>   “Do you have many orange trees?” I asked dreamily.

  Mr. Longuet laughed. “A few. I’ve never counted them. I’m too busy counting sugar canes!”

  But it wouldn’t be like that with me, I vowed. They could keep their sugar and I would keep the oranges and the other sun-kissed fruits of the orchards. And, quite suddenly, I was very glad indeed to be coming to live here.

  “Why don’t you ring up Aaron now?” I said to Daniel, and I didn’t mind a bit when he laughed at my eagerness.

  “All right, I will,” he said.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Patience was in no hurry to go back to Port-of-Spain. She had found a whole new branch of her family who lived in the sugar area of the island and she would have been quite happy to have stayed amongst them for ever.

  “We’se comin’ anyways,” she said sadly as she lumbered into the bus. “Why’s we got to go home mean-whiles?”

  I didn’t bother to answer her. My own spirits had lifted dramatically at the thought of going home. The tension in the Longuet household I had found unbearable and by morning it had become worse than ever. Pamela had come into my room to say goodnight very late, long after we had finished eating and had settled all the details of the transfer of ownership to Daniel’s and Mr. Longuet’s satisfaction.

  “It’s nice to have another girl to talk to,” she had announced, standing uncertainly in the doorway.

  “Is it?” I had felt sorry for her. She had looked lonely and vulnerable standing there.

  “Men are all very well,” she had gone on, twisting her hands together. “But they don’t understand, do they?”

  “And women do?” I had enquired gently.

  “Well, it’s nice anyway,” she had assured me.

  I had been longing to get into bed, but it had seemed rather unkind to turn her out when she had quite obviously come to say something even if she had showed no sign at all of saying it.