Father Francis interrupted his thoughts. ‘As I have said before, everyone can find themselves a church in Georgetown.’
‘But you can take your pick. I cannot.’
Father Francis’ voice was insistent. ‘But there is a church – many churches, in fact – available to you. That is the point.’
‘I cannot attend the church I want to attend. That is my point.’
‘We cannot have everything we desire. This is the world we inhabit and we must be grateful to God for that.’
‘You and I, Father, we inhabit very different worlds. And yes, indeed, I am grateful for that. Good day.’
When the Silent Temple held their next gathering, Song put forward his proposition to build a church. ‘Not only a church. I want to provide a place of worship for anyone who wants one. Anyone who feels their spiritual needs are not already provided for in this community. A synagogue. A temple. Let’s make sure everyone feels they have a place.’
‘The way we’re going we might as well build a second town,’ Mr Ting-Lee said, chuckling.
‘If we’re not free to live in this one,’ Mr Hing said, ‘perhaps that’s not such a bad idea.’
‘Is this for our betterment ?’ Mr Ebenezer asked. ‘In the long term ?’
‘It is the long term, I think, that we can be most confident about,’ Song said. ‘But it might be difficult in the short term.’
There was a knock at the door. It was Mr House. He was more out of breath than usual, with beads of sweat on his brow. ‘Sorry I’m late, but I’ve got good reason. Bad news. It’s not public yet but it seems they’re going to announce a new tax system.’ He looked at Song. ‘Sounds like they’re targeting Omaia.’
‘Any more details ?’ Mr Ting-Lee asked.
‘There’ll be a threshold,’ Mr House said. ‘If you’re above it, tax payments will jump. Maybe double. Maybe more. It aims to hit the most profitable businesses.’
Song had to think hard and quickly.
‘They can’t get away with it,’ Mr Hing said.
‘Of course they can,’ said Mr Ebenezer. ‘They can get away with anything they want.’
‘It should come as no surprise,’ said Song.
‘It’s a reaction to the Silent Temple,’ Mr Ebenezer said.
Song surveyed the room. ‘I think we’re going to need an accountant in this group,’ he said. ‘And a lawyer.’
Song hired Tobias Shelf, a young accountant who was fresh out of school. He arrived at Sugar House breathless, apologetic, carrying an over-polished leather satchel and shoes that squeaked as he walked.
‘I need your help, Tobias. I need a young pair of eyes that can see possibility.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Now, listen. This is in strict confidence.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘A new tax system is being implemented. I don’t know the details, but if Omaia isn’t turning a profit, then there can be no tax bill, right ?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then I need you to ensure that we’re not turning a profit. Here are the books.’
Tobias looked over the declarations. ‘The company has made a lot of money. Every quarter.’
‘And now it cannot.’
‘Yes, sir. We have to find a reason why it would suddenly stop making money.’
‘It’s a goldmine. It could dry up overnight. That’s a reality.’ Song thought how innocent Tobias was.
‘That sounds easy.’
‘That is what I like to hear,’ Song said.
‘There are a lot of employees. It could even make a loss over the last quarter, if you like. I’ll go ahead and prepare the books, and submit them to the colonial administration building.’
‘By the end of the day, Tobias. No later.’
Within a few days, Song and other prominent businessmen of Georgetown received an invitation to Governor’s House. Song was one of the first to arrive. He took a chair towards the back of the room. Men drifted in, mostly recognisable from church or Song’s visit to the British Club. Members of the Silent Temple were also there, but they deliberately didn’t associate with each other. When the room was filled, the governor rose to his feet.
‘Gentlemen, thank you for coming. Why are you here, you may ask ? I’ve brought you together because you are the highest earners in this colony. Yes, congratulate yourselves, gentlemen. Thanks to the fair rules and safe structures of Her Majesty’s Government, you live and work in an environment which allows you to be productive and profitable. And in turn, it must be said, the colony is better off because of your contributions.’
There were murmurings in the room.
‘London has always been generous. Tax adjustments have only ever been slight and that hasn’t given rise to enough regular income. We in Georgetown are addressing that, starting from the first of next month. Those at the top who can afford to pay higher taxes will be asked to pay more. Remember the colony’s motto. Damus Petimus Que Vicissim. We give and expect in return.’
Song was passive on the outside but angered by the remark.
‘Naturally,’ the governor said, ‘for those of you who earn a more moderate sum there may only be a slight increase. Not all of you will be affected.’
The governor held up an envelope. ‘My secretary will be sending out letters to everyone with the estimated rise in your forthcoming tax bill. Any questions ?’
Mr Winkworth, a successful sugar broker, sat a few places along from Song. ‘When you say not all of you will be affected, who do you mean by that ? Who specifically will not be affected ?’
‘I’m afraid you will be, Mr Winkworth. All brokers will be.’
‘By how much ?’
‘As I said already, the rise will be in accordance with your income. Now, are there any other immediate questions ?’
Song could see the resentment fizzing in some quarters of the room. He wondered if he could play the split in opinion to his advantage. There were lines being drawn.
‘What about civil servants ?’ Mr Boyle said.
‘Civil servants will not be affected,’ the governor said. ‘Your tax rate will remain the same. This change is primarily for commercial businessmen. Who have had a jolly good time the last few years. Wouldn’t you agree, gentlemen ? You know who you are.’
Song thought how laughable it all was. But he also knew how difficult it would be to fight this.
There was a rise in the noise level of the conversation. A few voices were expressing their disapproval. But there was a ripple of laughter in another corner of the room. Perhaps this time the governor had gone a step too far, Song thought. It could, in fact, be his undoing. This might be his chance to recruit more support for the Silent Temple.
There was a question from the front row. Song couldn’t see who it was but he recognised his voice. ‘And the plantations ?’
‘You’ll be pleased to know, Mr Carmichael, that the plantations are also exempt from this change. They are co-operatives and will not be subject to the tax rise.’
Song was not surprised, but that did not make it any easier to swallow. Mr Carmichael. Forever unanswerable.
‘So who exactly is affected, other than me ?’ Mr Winkworth asked again.
The governor ignored the question. ‘As I have already said once, you can make an appointment with my secretary if you have any questions specific to your personal situation. Remember gentlemen, these changes will eventually come into effect for all the colonies, not only British Guiana.’
Mr Winkworth might be a candidate for the Silent Temple, Song thought. The man’s anger was palpable.
Song raised his hand. ‘Why are we doing this ahead of the other colonies ? Does an early uptake of an elevated rate of tax benefit us in some way ?’
‘Good question,’ Mr Winkworth said.
‘Hear, hear.’
Song was quietly surprised. Here was the support of people who had long cast him as a foe.
‘Here in British Guiana, at the governor’s offic
e, we have something called initiative,’ the governor replied. ‘That is why we are doing this now.’
‘Initiative to pay more tax than any of the other colonies ?’ Mr Fereira asked. He traded spices at the port.
‘As you well know, Mr Fereira, Her Majesty’s Government has been extremely generous to men like you, and you should be grateful for that. What we are doing is coming into line.’
‘No one else is in line. How can we come into line when there isn’t a line ?’
‘Why penalise us early ?’
‘And why now ?’
‘There’s no time like the present, gentlemen. Any other questions ? No ? Then I adjourn the meeting. I look forward to building a stronger British Guiana together.’
Mr Fereira tapped Song’s arm as he made his way towards the door. ‘What do you think ?’
‘Am I surprised ?’ Song shook his head in answer to his own question.
‘What can we do ?’ Mr Fereira asked. ‘I can’t afford it.’
Song realised that he was turning to him for leadership.
‘If you and the rest of us can’t afford it, they won’t be collecting any taxes at all.’
‘True,’ Mr Fereira nodded. ‘If they put us out of business . . .’
‘Come to Sugar House tomorrow night, Mr Fereira. I’d like to introduce you to some other people with views on this matter.’
The Silent Temple swelled over the next few weeks. Song looked around the room in satisfaction. There were more than twenty men coming from a broad representation of trade and business, as well as those in law, accountancy and even public service. He wondered if this latest legislation from Governor’s House would turn out to be the making of his community. Together they drew up plans to protect their businesses and each other. Could it be that the outsiders were in such numbers that they were becoming the insiders?
Since the accident, Song had travelled up to Omaia as often as he could. They were usually short sharp trips; he discovered it was upriver where he wanted to be most, perhaps hoping that spending time supporting his workers might assuage his guilt.
He was rarely home and when he was, he retreated to his study. Hannah caught him at the door, as he was about to leave again.
‘So soon ?’ she said.
‘Not for long.’
Hannah sighed. ‘We’ve lost you, Song. Do you know that ? Not like the nineteen, but I’m losing you every day.’
Song was taken aback. ‘But I’m here. I’m here now.’
‘Then don’t go again. Don’t go so soon.’
‘What’s the matter ?’
‘You’re never here. Even when you’re here, you’re not here. You’ve forgotten us. Phillip. Me. The baby coming soon. Mama. She’s not well. But I don’t think you’ve even noticed. ’
‘Mary Luck. Unwell. She’s indestructible.’
‘Maybe I’m wrong. I don’t know for sure. But I know. If you know what I mean.’
‘Can we ask Dr Patel to see her ?’
‘She won’t agree. Too much fate in that woman’s head. “When it’s your time, it’s your time,” she’ll say. I know her.’
‘I can’t imagine her even off-colour. But then you know she’s always scared me.’ Song had lightened the mood and Hannah laughed.
‘Mama doesn’t scare you.’
‘Course she does. Ever since I placed an order for one of everything and she accused me of trying to steal her ideas. Terrifying.’
Hannah laughed again. ‘You make me feel better.’
‘You make me feel better, too.’
‘You know the baby’s coming very soon. It’s not long now.’
‘Yes, of course.’ But Song had forgotten. Time had become indistinct since the collapse of the mine.
‘Please don’t go.’
‘I won’t,’ Song replied. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know what I’ve been doing. Coming and going. Back and forth. Maybe you’re right. I’ve been lost.’
‘Remember the mine, Song. But don’t forget your family.’
‘I won’t,’ he whispered back.
Before the end of the week, there had been two important arrivals at Sugar House. The first was a baby girl, Florence, born swiftly one afternoon. Song watched Hannah cradling their newborn and felt a powerful wave of love for them both, and an even greater desire to look after his family.
The second was a letter from the governor’s office. Song opened the envelope; his tax rate of 10 per cent had been raised to 33 per cent. Song leaned back in his chair, rocking on its two back legs. He had done what he could for now but he knew his work wasn’t over. They wouldn’t stop here. He wouldn’t either. He had to come up with a way around the system.
CHAPTER 30
Construction of the Lucky Sports Club had begun and continued apace. The main pavilion was already standing. There were foundations for grass tennis courts, a swimming pool and a racetrack beyond that. Song had ordered that there be no boxes at the races, only open stands. Anybody could sit anywhere – with expansive views across the track.
Song was surprised at the speed of progress. His plan was becoming real. He was taking on this town and its injustices, like Father Holmes had intimated he should. The English sneered. The only ones who showed interest – like Edward Hoare – were already outside conventional colonial life. Song realised that the Silent Temple wasn’t actually helping him integrate into Georgetown life, although perhaps he always knew that. He was in fact separating himself and his community even more. A parallel world. The difference was that he felt he was in control, even directing the tearing apart, the ever-growing rift, the deepening divisions.
One afternoon, several months after Florence’s birth, Song found himself summoned again to Governor’s House.
‘This is becoming something of a habit,’ the governor said. ‘And not a good one. Do you have an idea what it might be about this time ?’
‘I can’t imagine.’
The governor lit a cigarette. ‘Are you sure about that ?’
Song looked across the desk at the governor and nodded.
‘The administration received your filed accounts. It seems this is the first ever quarter that Omaia failed to turn a profit. And there was negligible income too. A remarkable and sudden change in fortunes.’
‘That’s mining,’ Song said. ‘I always feared Omaia could dry up.’
‘Do you expect me to believe the timing is a coincidence ?’
‘Coinciding with ?’
Governor Bolton spat out the word. ‘Tax.’
‘The tax rate has risen in the past and Omaia continued to turn a profit.’
The governor fanned the smoke away from his face.
‘If you check the dates,’ Song continued, ‘you’ll see my accountant filed our numbers before we were notified of any rise in tax. The two are unrelated.’
‘Explain to me how you’re building a sports club without a shred of profit to your name ?’
‘I’m not building the sports club. It is the project of a charitable foundation. There are some extraordinarily generous members of this community coming together to make it happen.’
‘And you’re not one of them ?’
‘I’m a minority.’
‘In every way,’ the governor laughed. ‘Want me to teach you something ? There are rules and regulations in a civil society. That’s what makes it civil. That’s what makes it different to everything you have ever known.’
Song felt his anger rising, but he kept it in check.
‘You won’t get away with it,’ the governor said. ‘I’m making it my personal mission to ensure you don’t.’
*
When the Lucky Sports Club was finished the following year, the Silent Temple planned a large celebration. There were no individual invitations. Instead they put a notice in the newspaper and posted bills across town:
‘The Lucky Sports Club inauguration party, on the third Saturday of the month, is open to everyone. Please come.’
�
��Hundreds are coming, Song,’ Hannah worried. ‘The whole town’s getting new dresses cut. Will there be enough food to go around ?’
‘We’ll order more.’
‘There’s people journeying in from Berbice and Lethem and even New Amsterdam. You should hear the gossip: who’s going with whom, the speculation as to the number of bottles of rum on ice, how many dishes are being prepared. Phillip is so excited. He thinks it’s his birthday party.’
Song found Phillip in the kitchen with Little A. ‘I hear you’re having a party,’ he said to his son. ‘Can I come ?’
‘Yes. You can,’ Phillip said emphatically.
‘Do you know what we’re celebrating ?’
‘My birthday.’
Song smiled. ‘It’s your birthday – and it’s also the opening of a new sports club. It’s a place to get together – open to all. That’s how it should be. Remember that.’
‘But there’s already a sports club,’ Phillip said.
‘You’re right. But not everybody can join it.’
‘Why ?’
‘There’s no good answer to that because there’s no good answer to that. But this’ll be different. And it’s named after your mama. Lucky! And I’m lucky because I have her and because I have you.’
*
A few days later, Edward Hoare arrived in Georgetown. He and Song took a walk up to the sea wall. Nothing ever changed there. It looked no different to when he and Father Holmes had walked there all those years ago.
But Song thought how much older Edward seemed, his hair thinner, a stoop. He wondered if Edward thought the same about him.
‘I want to ask you something, Edward,’ Song said. ‘Will you do me the honour of joining the Silent Temple ? We need you.’
‘Me ? An Englishman. A civil servant. You don’t need me.’
‘That’s exactly why we do need you.’
Edward sighed. ‘You’re a man of ideas, Song. Ideas and dreams and energy. I don’t have your fight. That’s why I live in Bartica. I’m not trying to beat the system. I’m trying to avoid it.’
‘We need someone like you.’
‘A white face ?’
‘It’s true I want representation. Should it matter that you were born in England and I was born in China ? It shouldn’t. Join us, Edward. Just on paper. I don’t know anyone who will cross the line other than you.’
Song Page 36