Granny Gwen put she hands over she ears and started to bawl.
‘Stop your damn lying! You’re a nasty liar.’
‘I am not lying. Bring him here. Yes, why we don’t call him up and bring him here right now and ask him. I bet you won’t do that because you know I talking the truth.’
Granny Gwen wiped the sweat and tears from her face.
‘Listen, madam. You can talk to your Nanny anyhow you like but don’t try that on me. To think of all the things I do for you.’
Suddenly, you know what? I gave up. I had enough. I’m not going to fight with anybody. If they want to call me a whore let them. I deserve it. But leave me alone. The only thing I not compromising on is that I never want to see that f-ing Robin, Uncle Robin, as long as I live. The rest of the Clark family – I couldn’t care less about none of them.
All this time Bea was in the corner staying quiet, but then she get up. She said I am her sister and there is no way she going to hide that. Who want to talk could talk and eventually they will get fed up and move on to talking somebody else business.
‘Tina is my responsibility now.’
She looked at me and smiled the way Mummy used to smile at me.
Granny Gwen’s face fix up like thunder and lightening.
‘While you busy talking big, why you don’t take she with you? I don’t want no little madam who was sweet on she own uncle hanging around here. Lord help us if Doris ever find out.’
‘Fine. She can come with me.’
Just like that. I looked at her because I can’t imagine that she really mean it. Granny Gwen get in there first.
‘How you going to manage the dirty wretch? You don’t know the girl from Eve.’
Bea look like she serious.
‘She’s my sister. That’s good enough for me. If she wants to come I am happy to have her.’
Now she asking me point blank if I want to go Boston with her. How I going to answer that when I not even sure where Boston is? I know it have to be near New York because one time Charmaine and her family went on holiday to New York and they drive to Boston to see Charmaine’s cousins. It can’t be that far if you could drive there.
I burst into tears again. Seems like you only have to say boo to me and I will cry.
‘I don’t have a US visa so I can’t go nowhere.’
‘We can organise that.’
Bea came and started smoothing down my hair.
‘I used to have hair like yours when I was younger.’
I can’t stop crying.
‘Tina, if our father were alive he would expect me to take care of my little sister, and frankly you look like you could do with a little break from this place.’
‘What if I go up there in Boston and I don’t like it?’
‘You’ll have a return ticket. You can come back any time you like.’
‘What if I go and you don’t like me?’
She burst out laughing right in my face.
‘You and I have been only children up to now. To get a sister is a gift. Any way you look at it, this is a gift from the gods. At least come spend a couple months and let us get to know each other.’
Granny Gwen watching all this. She let out a big, fat steups.
‘Take she and the mess she make here. Go along. America is the best place for she.’
Bea walked over to Granny Gwen and put her arms around her. She stiffen up.
‘Granny Gwen, you now have another granddaughter and from what people say about my father I’m surprised you only have one grandchild we didn’t know about. Don’t make the same mistake you made with Uncle Kevin. Seems you liked Tina before today. Don’t start hating her now when she is your blood.’
Aunty Indra wanted to know if Bea mean what she say, so she say it again. Then I start to think. I wonder if it making cold? I don’t have a single sweater and of course I don’t have coat and boots and all them things. You must need stuff like that because people say it does be cold in July much more coming up to Christmas.
‘I’ll take you to Filene’s Basement and we’ll get you some clothes. You’ll love that store.’
Granny Gwen face still twist up. She mad as hell. But then she get up and stuff her dirty handkerchief back down she front. She look at all of us sitting on her good red chairs with the cream antimacassars and ask if anybody want some fresh grapefruit juice the helper squeezed this morning.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Bea opened her powder compact and used the mirror to apply lipstick for the second time. Tina’s flight was almost two hours late into Logan Airport. Soon her newly-acquired sister should be bursting through the dark glass threshold that separated the baggage hall from the public waiting area. She stole a glance at her reflection in the partition and smoothed her spiky hair into place. Her jeans and sweater looked old and worn. A dress and heels would have been smarter, but it was too late now for regrets.
Unusually for her, Bea had acted on impulse, though she preferred to think of it as instinct, when she invited the girl to Boston. The subsequent two weeks had been steeped in anxiety. They were sister-strangers. At nearly twenty-one, Tina had never left Trinidadian soil, and this gave Bea the extra responsibility of teaching her to navigate a big city. She would have to learn to use the T, Boston’s subway system, and occupy herself while Bea was working. But aside from these practical matters, Bea’s worry was this: would they like each other? She did not want to break the heart of a girl who never had the love of a longed-for father and who grieved for the lost love of her dead mother.
Bea was curious too about what they might have in common. She wanted to know everything. Were they both wired with a propensity to slide into black holes? Did they both enjoy hiking? Was Tina a film buff too? The big and little details of each other’s lives had to be assimilated with care and tact.
Each time the baggage hall door flew open and Bea caught sight of a young woman she held her breath. How different their lives would have been if all those years ago Nalini Ramlogan had been open about her baby daughter’s father. Had Alan really never known Tina was his, or was it an inconvenience he had swept aside? Bea had accepted his playboy lifestyle, but surely even he was not capable of such profound disregard?
And while she breathed in the indignation she felt on Tina’s behalf towards Alan, she was pricked by the extent to which Mira had been purged from her own life. They had barely managed an evening of small talk, and neither had reached out to the other after Granny Gwen’s birthday party. All that resolve about going back, straightening out her life, and she had returned to Boston as lost as ever. Mira had not been given an olive twig, much less a branch. Alan was not the only Clark to have mastered the art of cowardly denial.
The baggage hall door was opening and shutting more frequently, but no Tina pushed through with a trolley of suitcases. From the mixed ethnicity and dress of the passengers Bea knew it was the flight from Trinidad that was clearing. Tina would be out any minute. Bea pulled her sweater straight. She shoved her hands into the front pockets of her jeans and waited.
An older couple came noisily through the partition. They each pushed a trolley with precariously stacked suitcases of varying sizes. One looked in danger of falling off at the slightest bump. As they pushed past her a large green suitcase came crashing down almost on Bea’s feet. The procession halted. And that was when Bea looked up from the suitcases and met her eyes.
It must have been twenty years since Bea had last seen her, but they recognised each other instantly.
‘Eh, but hello! Is Bea?’ asked the older woman with beautifully coiffed hair. ‘You remember who I is?’
‘I know you,’ replied Bea. ‘You were our hairdresser when I was growing up.’
The woman pulled her trolley aside to let others pass by. Her husband was trying to haul the green suitcase back onto the trolley.
‘You don’t remember my name?’ she asked loudly.
‘I’m sorry, but I know we used to go to your salon all the tim
e.’
‘Is Judy. How you could forget?’
‘Of course. Judy’s Hair and Beauty Salon.’
‘I recognised your face straightaway. You ain’t change one bit. Mira’s daughter, right?’
‘Yes. Bea.’
‘But oh my, you gone and cut off all your hair. You uses to have long long hair and dead straight.’
‘It’s easier to manage short,’ said Bea running her fingers through the spiky cut.
‘You used to come to the salon with your mammy. You was a pretty little girl. But now you gone and cut your hair you don’t look so good.’
Bea fixed a polite smile on her face, unsure of the best response. The husband took a large suitcase off Judy’s trolley and replaced it with a smaller one.
‘So you still have the salon?’ asked Bea.
‘It there, but I don’t really do much nowadays,’ she replied, adjusting the case so it was better balanced. ‘I do two days every week but my son Ranjit is the one running the business now.’
‘I’m glad it’s still doing well.’
‘Yes, man. But we not in the small place you would remember. We move years now and take over a house in St. Clair. And don’t think you can come by we just so, just so. You have to make appointment at least a week before you want a cut or colour. We busy for so. Next time you in Trinidad you must come see us.’
‘I’ll do that.’
Judy leaned forward and propped her elbows on the trolley handle.
‘So, you living up here now?’
Bea glanced at the baggage hall door.
‘Yeah.’
‘And how often you does go back home?’
‘Not often.’
The husband came and stood between them.
‘This is my husband, Tony,’ said Judy. ‘This is Bea. You know Mira Clark? Well this is she daughter.’
Bea shook his hand.
‘I know your mammy,’ he said, smiling. ‘But she wasn’t on this flight.’
Their trolleys were obstructing other passengers leaving the baggage hall. Tony herded them to one side while Bea kept an eye on the door that was swinging open and shut. Tina must not panic that Bea was late or had forgotten.
‘So, is not your mother you waiting on?’ he repeated.
‘No,’ said Bea. ‘My sister’s arriving.’
Judy straightened up, frowning, her mouth half open.
‘We up here to see my son,’ said Tony. ‘He married a girl from up here. We taking a little holiday to see them before it get too cold.’
Bea smiled. ‘You must be a proud papa.’
Judy nudged her trolley gently so the edge of a protruding suitcase bumped Bea’s arm.
‘You meeting your sister?’ asked Judy. ‘What sister is this? I never know Mira to have other children.’
Bea took a deep breath.
‘It’s my half-sister. She’s my father’s daughter.’
Judy’s eyes opened wide.
‘Well, look at that. I had to come quite Boston to find out Alan, God rest he soul, had an outside child. All you keep that real quiet because I never hear that talk before. And trust me, I does hear everything in my salon.’
Bea looked away, concentrating on the baggage hall door and hoping Judy would move on.
‘So who is the girl’s mother?’ Judy persisted.
‘I doubt you would know her.’
‘Try me. Like I say, I know everybody business.’
‘It’s a woman called Nalini Ramlogan. She died a while back. She died before my father.’
‘Wait a minute. I know that family. It have two daughters – the Nalini who passed and another one named Indra.’
‘That’s right.’
Judy pulled her scarf closer and held onto the trolley handle firmly.
‘Well, it’s nice to catch up after all these years, even if is in the airport.’
‘Nice to see you too,’ said Bea.
But Judy wasn’t looking at her. She was staring into the middle distance.
‘Life strange, yes.’
She looked down at Bea.
‘I remember the confusion when that Nalini died and nobody could say who the child father was. And imagine it was Alan Clark child all this time.’
She made to push the trolley but stopped.
‘Mind you, Bea, if anybody did ask me about that Ramlogan girl with a Clark boy, I would’ve bet my bottom dollar on the next brother. What he name now?’
‘Robin,’ said Bea, her eyes wide open.
‘Well, like I said, if she was sweet on any Clark boy, it was Robin, the quiet one. Not Alan. I never liked that Robin. And he was married. Your father Alan was a nice man. He was always laughing and talking with everybody. Robin? He was a tricky one.’
Bea shot her a hard look. ‘Why would you say a thing like that?’
Judy sighed.
‘Look, don’t take me on. Is just I sure when she was alive I did see she a few times with Robin Clark. But that was donkey years now. I could be wrong. Anyhow the Ramlogan lady done pass and you mustn’t speak ill of the dead.’
Bea was silent and suddenly cold.
‘Anyhow, if they say she had child with Alan, I glad for you to have a sister.’
Bea said nothing. Judy began moving away.
‘Well, it was good seeing you. Tell Mira I say hello. God bless.’
Bea managed a half smile, then turned around in time to see Tina coming through the baggage hall door, her eyes frantically darting around. Tina was her sister and nothing would change that. There had been enough mistakes. Together, strangers or sisters, they were going home.
Acknowledgements
My parents, Lucy and John Steward, without your unconditional love and support it would have been impossible to complete this book.
Our sons, Anish and Ishan, your encouragement and enthusiasm for this project were invaluable. Home is wherever you are.
Jeremy Taylor, thank you for being so generous with your time and expertise.
Claire Capstick and Trisha Barnes – I am forever in your debt.
Ingrid Persaud was born in Trinidad and calls both Barbados and London home. She came to writing fiction after careers as a legal academic and fine artist. She lives with her husband, twin boys, Rosie the rescue dog, and Jack, the unbiddable Jack Russell. This is her first novel.
Author Photo: Electric Villages
Cover Design: Jane Dixon-Smith
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Acknowledgements
About the Author
; filter: grayscale(100%); " class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share
If I Never Went Home Page 24