‘You have no idea if the church stood full or empty. Bartica might have benefited from the visit of a vicar after Father Holmes passed on. But you never came. Not once.’
Father Francis frowned. ‘You are in no position to tell me what I should or should not be doing. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Let’s not forget where you came from. There are different churches for different kinds of people and my first duty is to look after my congregation. I will not be christening any child of yours in my church.’
This was not the language Song had expected to hear. Nothing this strong. Not now. Any leftover sentimentality he had for the church evaporated. He had observed Father Holmes’ faith with respect and admiration but this man’s ideology was something else entirely. He would not be silent in the face of these remarks. ‘Trouble only comes to those who stand out.’ Those were his papa’s words. But he didn’t want to hear them echoing about his head any more. He wanted to take on Georgetown. He wanted to write his own future.
When Song travelled back to Bartica, Edward Hoare joined him and it was in Song’s own boat.
‘I could get used to this,’ Edward said. ‘Look at you now, Song. A house in Georgetown. A boat of your own. A mine upriver. A family on the way. You’ve done good.’
‘I haven’t finished yet.’
‘I don’t doubt it. Edward looked at the name painted on the side of the boat. ‘The Dartmouth, eh ? What’s that then ?’
‘That was the boat that brought me here from China. I lived a hundred lives on that boat. Everyone dying around me. I figured you can’t forget where you came from.’
Back in Bartica, Song made his way to his room opposite Louis’. The space was breathless. Song noticed Jingy must have recently passed by to put orchids in the glass by his bed. He went to the window. Bronco feigned a salute. Song smiled back. The view, the street, it was all so familiar. Another home, in a way. Another life.
That night he went to Ruby Lou’s to hear the B Boys. He missed their music. He missed them breaking their set to join him for a few words, and to take up his offer to buy them all a drink. He missed the way the girls nodded at him as they passed by, and the way Ruby Lou dragged up a chair to tell him how old she felt.
Jackson suddenly struck a top C and held his finger down hard. The girls stopped their chatter. For an instant it was the only sound. The echo of the note. Some closed their eyes like they were praying. Song lowered his head as if in mourning. Then Boney opened his mouth and used his smoky voice to churn up nostalgia and longings for better times. It was a voice made of a thousand cigarettes and one big broken heart. Boney could make the hardest pork-knocker weep with his last set of the night.
The music stirred Song slowly. When he was listening to the B Boys it was the only time he was in no rush to go anywhere fast. The music carried him to a far-off place of muddled memories that he longed for and loathed, in equal measure. He saw in his mind San San lying next to him, restless, fidgeting, playing with the features of his own face. He imagined them floating on a field of water, holding hands, but there was a current pushing them apart. He was losing his grip on her tiny hand. He tried to hold on but her fingers were slipping out of his grasp. He called out her name but he lost her.
Boney’s voice bounced him back into the room. Short John was strumming like a crazy man. The sweet melancholy rose up from Song’s toes like the beginnings of a good orgasm. As Jackson tinkled the top notes Song could have whooped out loud. But instead tears streamed down his cheeks. Ruby Lou arrived at the table and slammed down her glass of rum. ‘Take it easy, Song. Give yourself some time.’
‘These boys are killing me tonight,’ Song said.
‘Gotta pause now and then,’ Ruby said. ‘Think what it is you want from life, what’s important.’
‘This place stops me in my tracks,’ Song said.
‘Door’s always open for you.’
Song didn’t plan on seeing Maia. Not ever again in that way. He was walking home from Ruby Lou’s and she was walking home from Josie’s when they came across each other in the street.
‘Maia.’ He didn’t even want to say her name again.
‘You look like you’re fighting life again. Like the world’s against you.’
How did Maia always get it so right ? Song thought to himself. But he didn’t want to want her.
‘You have another home here you know,’ she said. ‘Come back with me. I need some company tonight.’
‘I’ll walk you home,’ he said. But he found himself following her up the back stairs. Maia slipped down to the bar and came back with a drink. ‘Not for me,’ he said.
‘I know.’ But she took a gulp, and put her mouth upon Song’s. He felt the liquor pour into his mouth.
This was Bartica, he said to himself. This wasn’t his life. Maia. Bartica. It didn’t feel real, at least that’s what he told himself. After their lovemaking he lay there smelling the sweat on Maia’s skin, hearing her light snoring, until he himself drifted.
When Song woke it was still dark. He left quietly without waking her. He promised himself he would never walk through Josie’s door again.
The next day Song went to find Old Man Kuros. Bronco had been right about Wednesdays. Farad was out playing bridge and the shop was closed.
Song went to the back of the house. He was carrying something for the old man. ‘Mr Ashkanzi,’ he called out. ‘It’s Song.’
He heard a noise inside and waited. Sugar came to the door. ‘Hello, Song.’
Song could not hide his surprise. ‘Hello, Sugar. What are you doing here ?’
‘What are you doing here, more like ? I live in Bartica, remember ? Some of us remember where we come from. What’s that under your arm. It’s disgusting.’
‘Is Mr Ashkanzi in ?’
‘Course he is. Do you think I’d just be hanging out here if he wasn’t ?’
‘I really don’t know, Sugar. You’re full of surprises for me today.’
She nodded her head for him to enter.
Song followed Sugar into the house. It was as dark as the shop and even more untidy. It smelled of mould and candle wax.
Sugar pushed open the door. ‘You ready ?’
The old man was still buttoning up his shirt. ‘Do you not wait for an answer ? What’s the point of asking if you don’t wait for an answer ? No, I’m not ready.’
‘You so slow today,’ Sugar said sleepily.
‘You’re slow, not me,’ Mr Ashkanzi said. ‘Let him in then.’
Song edged into the room. The air was heavy with sweat. ‘Good afternoon, sir.’
‘Took your time. I’ll want interest on that payment I’m due. Did you bring back my eagle ?’
‘I’ve got it here.’ Song approached the chair where Mr Ashkanzi was sitting. He gently held the bird in front of the old man. ‘You can put your hands out.’
Mr Ashkanzi reached out and touched the harpy eagle. He moved his hands tenderly over the wings the same way he had when he let the bird go. ‘Feels about the same,’ he said.
‘It’s not,’ Song said. ‘It’s all tidied up.’ He called for Sugar. She approached and wrinkled her nose. ‘Sugar,’ Song said, ‘describe the eyes to Mr Ashkanzi.’
‘But it’s dead,’ she said.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ Song repeated. ‘Tell him about its eyes.’
‘Dark,’ Sugar said. ‘Dark like Boney’s voice. A bit frightening. It’s like he’s looking at me. Or looking through me. But he looks sad, too, like a mother mourning a child. Or like he wants to fly away but can’t.’
Song looked into the bird’s eyes and thought how perceptive Sugar had been. Wanting to fly away but unable to. He wished he could give the harpy eagle back its wings, too.
The night before Song left to go upriver he went to see Chi’s family. There were the shadows of two figures on the porch. As he drew closer he saw it was Dorothy sitting with Yan. He was glad not to see Nina around.
Yan jumped to her feet when she saw Song. ‘No bad
news ?’
‘What’s the matter ?’
‘Hurry up and tell me, Song. Is everything all right ?’
‘I haven’t been yet, but everything’s fine. I’m going up tomorrow. What’s wrong ?’
‘Nothing,’ Dorothy said drowsily. ‘Woman’s got a feeling there’s been an accident.’
Song put his arm around Yan. ‘We’d have heard. I only came by to see you before I left. To see if there were any messages.’
‘Who in God’s name would I have a message for ?’ Yan said. ‘Some good-for-nothing pork-knocker who doesn’t know his own children and don’t remember to send a penny home.’
‘You mad at me, too ?’
Yan smiled. ‘I will be if you don’t want any dinner.’
‘I’m starving.’
Yan went inside. Song turned towards Dorothy, slumped in the chair. She had one leg raised up on the swing-arm of the Berbice chair and was twitching her toes back and forth. ‘Your sister’s jumpy,’ Song said.
‘That’s the only way they know, the women of pork-knockers,’ she said. ‘Glad to see the back of them. Worried senseless while they’re away. Happy to see them back for five minutes. Sick of them after ten.’
‘Yan’s not like that.’
‘All women like that. You men don’t even notice. You don’t think ’bout nobody ’cept yourselves.’
‘What’ve I done so bad to have you two on me tonight ?’
‘There’s a few of you is exceptions,’ she said slowly.
‘I’ll take a seat then, if I’m welcome ?’
Dorothy gestured beside her. ‘You a rich man now, I hear. I remember when you was dirt poor. You’re just as nice now as you was then.’
‘I’m not so sure. Don’t feel as nice.’
‘You still nice.’
‘Better not get richer then. Otherwise I might get mean. How’s Berbice ? How’s Gloster ?’
‘Berbice is still being rocked to sleep by that sea breeze of hers. Only place in the world like it. You gotta see it one of these days, Song. You keep saying you’re coming. And Gloster ? He’s another one of those men I been talking about. That damn man’s too handsome for his own good. Ladies love him. Hell, I love him. That’s why I come down here to Bartica. Can’t bear to witness it. If I’m not there, it ain’t happening as far as I’m concerned. I can live out my old lie, like the whole rest of the world lives out theirs—’
Song understood. Living two lives apart. Hoping they would never meet. Bartica, Georgetown, Georgetown, Bartica . . .
Yan came back with a tray.
‘—and come see the best sister in the world,’ Dorothy added. ‘We all living our lies, ain’t we, Yan ?’
Yan nodded. ‘Guess so,’ she said, putting the tray in front of Song. ‘Potato curry. No meat. You can tell Chi we’re waiting on him for a bit of meat for our guests. There’s a message for that old fool.’
‘If it’s wages you’re waiting on, we can sort that out tonight,’ Song said.
Dorothy whistled. ‘This is one of the good ones.’
‘Hannah’s a lucky lady, let me tell you,’ Yan said.
Song thought of Hannah. Was she lucky ? He felt she deserved better.
‘How’s married life treating you ?’ Dorothy said, as if she was reading his mind.
‘I’m the lucky one. I couldn’t ask for a better wife. Hannah’s made a nice home. We’re expecting our first child. She says she likes Georgetown, although in truth we’re both finding it hard.’
‘Moving to a new town is always hard,’ Yan said. ‘Especially with the way you are now. If you were an empty-handed pork-knocker who drank in the bars and used the whores, Georgetown would take you on as a son. Waltz in with a goldmine and that’s something else entirely.’
‘I know. Hannah said as much. You women are quicker than me.’
‘Don’t you worry about Hannah. She’ll find her way. And if she don’t make friends in Georgetown then that city’s a meaner place than I imagined. She’s a sweet woman.’
‘Glad you got a sweet woman,’ Dorothy said. ‘You deserve it.’
‘This man don’t know how to treat a woman bad,’ Yan said.
Song couldn’t bear to hear them speak this way. ‘I’m no saint. Don’t make me one. I hope Hannah sticks with me.’
‘That’s what women do,’ Dorothy sighed. ‘Men walk. Women stick.’
‘I’m sorry we do,’ Song said.
Before Song left, he went to Yan’s biscuit tin on the top shelf in her kitchen. He stuffed a handful of money into it. ‘You can tell that man he can stay there as long as he wants,’ Yan said, ‘but his family needs more than rice and potatoes.’
Song walked home in the cool night. He turned earlier so as not to pass close to Josie’s. He was done with living out two lives apart.
CHAPTER 25
By the time Song reached Omaia it was almost two months since his last visit. He was amazed by how quickly the camp had grown. They must have felled a hundred or more trees. Shacks had sprung up. The entire area was latticed by laundry hanging on ropes slung between posts and trees; the washed blue-grey shirts and trousers hung limply in the humid air. It was almost its own village.
Chi appeared out of a shack that he’d turned into a makeshift office. He had lost weight but he looked stronger, too. One of his front teeth was chipped. His cuticles were deep red from the earth.
‘You’re looking all right,’ Song said.
‘You’re looking soft,’ Chi said. ‘Thought you’d given up on us.’
‘I was in two minds but your wife insisted I bring you a message: “No meat. Send money.” Does it slip your mind to leave her even a penny ?’
‘Women ain’t never satisfied. You could leave them all the money in the world and it still wouldn’t be enough.’
‘Something’s giving Yan the willies. Nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw me. Thought I was coming to break bad news.’
‘No rhyme or reason to women,’ Chi said. ‘Now you want to hear the good news or the bad ?’
‘Only good news. I’m not interested in bad.’
‘Good news is you didn’t lose your eye for nothing. Bad news is you lost your eye.’
Song smiled. He had missed Chi’s cheek. ‘You’re funny. But that’s not news. Give me something fresh. How much you got sewn in your shirt ?’
‘In my shirt ? If I had it in my shirt I wouldn’t be able to pull myself up in the morning. You ready for this ? Seven pounds.’
‘Seven,’ Song repeated softly.
‘Gold is pouring outta here faster than if it was molten. We’ve got rocks, too.’
‘Rocks ?’
‘Diamonds. Sammy said they often come together.’
‘Gold and diamonds,’ Song said.
‘They don’t look nice as they are. But they’ll polish up.’
‘Where is it all ? In the office ?’
‘Not a chance. It’s up a tree.’
‘What ?’ Song said, breaking into a laugh. ‘Why ?’
‘Where the hell else am I going to put it ? I’m not stowing it away where it’s obvious. I swear I’ve never slept this bad. I’m going to get a knife in my back.’
‘Everyone seems to be afraid of a knife in their back these days. So, how are the men ?’
‘They’re good. Conditions here are better than anywhere. But I think that’s exactly why I’m going to get a knife in my back. They’re too good.’
‘If the knife hasn’t already gone in with you sitting on seven pounds I think you’ll be all right. Sammy been around much ?’
‘In and out. Says he’s ready whenever I need a break.’
‘I’ll need you to make a trip down to Bartica. If it really is seven pounds.’
‘You better send word to him then. ’Cause if Sammy ain’t here, I ain’t going nowhere.’
‘Anyone standing out ? Good or bad ?’
‘The young ’uns are very keen. I’m only ever hiring young from now on. Haven�
�t had any trouble yet. The camp’s in good spirits. Honeymoon period though.’
‘It’s a nice set-up you’ve sorted here. Good job. Treat them well, and they’ll treat us well. I want them all to get a bonus this month. Now take me to this tree of yours.’
After two weeks, Sammy arrived to take over managing the camp. He brought some young boys from the village, too.
Song greeted them in Arawak and they smiled.
‘You sure about this ?’ Chi said to Song. ‘I trust Sammy, but these other boys. Mixing them with the team and everything.’
‘Nobody’s going to step out of line with Sammy here. My only concern is that Sammy and his boys will want to get back before we return. We can’t be too long. They’re the restless sort. Like all of us, perhaps.’
Song made sure the men saw his bond with Sammy, so they would know he was part of the chain. What had Jingy said ? Not breaking the chain, that’s the thing.
Then Song and Chi headed downriver. They had over eight pounds of gold on them. Chi was carrying a pound, split and sewn into every seam of his clothes. Song carried the remainder in a bag at his feet. He didn’t feel so calm either.
‘I’m as jumpy as a rabbit,’ Chi said. ‘Like I say, too much gold can weigh a man down. Bring back too much and you’re headed for trouble.’
‘Bring back too little and you’re headed for trouble. ’Specially with Yan at home.’
‘Too true.’
*
When they were a day outside of Bartica, Song and Chi split into two boats. Chi travelled on to Bartica to declare the pound. Song went directly to Georgetown.
Song longed to find Hannah, yet couldn’t face her. He headed first to see Ebenezer; he wanted to find some worth in himself before he went home. When he arrived, the old man’s door was locked. Song yelled up to Nanny and was relieved to see her at the window. She shook her head when she saw Song but he heard her heavy footsteps on the stairs and then the lock slide. A key turned from the other side. Then another lock slid open. Finally Nanny lifted a latch.
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