by Jacob Ross
Miss Maddie finally dropped her hand and glanced down at the mound. Paso’s tiny headstone was veined and wondrously luminous in the evening light.
In loving memory
Paso
1947–1974
‘Blood-love,’ she said. ‘Blood-love – that’s what I see between you and Paso from the first time. Blood-love. Past all the hate you feel you ought to hate us, you can’t run way from blood.’ Miss Maddie turned her gaze up at the hills, squinting as if she were facing an early-morning sun. ‘If the Old Man was alive, I know what he would’ve done. He would’ve put you two stand up in front of us. He would’ve point at the way y’all turn out and laugh at Gideon and me.’
The sun had left an orange scar at the western edge of the Kalivini sky. It would remain like that for another hour – half-drained of light, and so purple it coloured the whole world blue – and then the darkness would be absolute.
Pynter struck a match and allowed the flame to creep right down to his fingers. Miss Maddie watched it burn.
‘So how you been? You and, erm … ’
‘Peter.’
The old eyes had gone soft and vulnerable, as if what he said from now on would make all the difference in the world.
‘Like we always been,’ he said. He knew he was not telling her much; but what was there to say, unless she wanted all nineteen years of his and Peter’s life laid out before her? Still, he had no right to deny her this, because, for ageing women like Miss Maddie, remembering was all there was to look forward to.
He struck a match and held it to his candle. ‘Peter got Pa body and Pa voice. My brother carry all of Pa inside him.’
‘I want to see him,’ she said. He saw the agitation in the shifting of her shoulders. ‘You de smaller one, not so?’
‘Smaller but taller.’ He lit another candle. This time Miss Maddie averted her eyes.
‘You had one uncle pretty like you – y’know that?’
‘Michael – yes. He kill a boy an’ then himself.’
She looked surprised. ‘You heard ’bout him?’
She began pulling at the weeds around the grave beside Paso’s. ‘Dey’ll like you – girls. Take my advice, sonny. Get one girl – you got a girlfriend?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘She nice?’
‘I like her.’
‘She from good family?’
‘She thinks so.’
‘Stick to her, then. Like that you get to know your children.’ She lifted a candle from her basket, lit it and brought the flame to his.
Pynter turned towards his sister. ‘I goin away tomorrow – to Germany. Fo’ good, perhaps. Got to pack my things tonight.’
Miss Maddie straightened up and wiped her brows. ‘Germany,’ she coughed. ‘Dat a far place to go to, not so?’
‘I need to cross a whole ocean to get there,’ he said.
‘The girl – she go with you?’
‘No.’
‘You send for her?’
‘No.’
‘She wait for you? You can’t go closer? Trinidad? Go Trinidad and let the girl come meet you dere.’
‘I’m goin to study.’
‘Study what?’
‘I don’ know.’
She lifted the end of her frock and wiped her eyes as if to clear them and noticed that she’d made a mess of her clean blue dress. ‘Gwone, son. Paso was glad to see yuh.’
Pynter turned to walk away, lifted his hand and waved. He did not look back.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Deep-felt gratitude to:
David Godwin, my agent, and Nick Pearson, my editor/publisher, for offering something more valuable than support – a belief in the work.
Bernadine Evaristo, without whose wonderful gesture of solidarity and friendship this book would have taken much longer to arrive.
Manisha Amin, Jackie Clarke and Raksha Thakor, for the quality of their insights.
Yvonne Malcolm and Anthony Grainger, for timely reminders of weather and plant and season. And Pauline Cohen, for the virtue of forbearance.
Copyright
First published in Great Britain in 2008 by
Fourth Estate
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers
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Copyright © Jacob Ross 2008
1
The right of Jacob Ross to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
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EPub Edition JANUARY 2009 ISBN: 9780007287284
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