Michael thrust his hands deep into his trouser pockets.
‘You want me carry the child?’
Calvin was awake and restless, but Leila could manage.
‘No.’
‘I think we should maybe start trying from here onwards,’ said Earl, his thin body almost invisible underneath his bulk of clothes. ‘There's usually a few signs round these parts.’
Michael agreed.
Leila followed as they turned abruptly into a long straight road with houses along one side only. On the other side of the road was a high steel-wire fence and behind it were tractors and bulldozers and building equipment. The ground was churned up and the men seemed like ants doing their little jobs in busy isolation. This must be the park, thought Leila. They walked along this empty road looking up to their left for signs, but the first three they saw gave Leila an idea as to what to expect. ‘No coloureds’,‘No vacancies’,‘No children’. Nobody said anything and they walked on. Then, twenty yards down the road, they saw a hastily scribbled sign on a piece of cardboard that had been thrust into the downstairs window of a house. ‘We have vacancies’ it announced confidently.
‘This looks like a place for us,’ said Earl.
They climbed the half dozen steps and Earl knocked loudly at the door. A white woman in her fifties, small, well-dressed and with her hair carefully brushed back, stood before the three adults and the child. She spoke first, giving them no time to state their business.
‘I'm sorry, but it's only a small room and I can't take all of you.’ She moved as if she was going to shut the door but Earl leaned forward.
‘But it's just for my friends here. A married couple.’
For a moment the woman looked hesitant, her eyes meeting Leila's. Then she broke contact.
‘Look, I'm sorry, but it's only a small room and I really don't want any couples or babies.’
Earl continued to argue, but Leila turned and walked back down the steps. The woman's eyes followed her, and Leila now stood with her back to them, looking out across the road. As Earl began a new sentence the door slammed.
Five houses further down the road there was another sign. It too looked hastily written. ‘Rooms to let’. Earl rang the bell and a younger woman of about thirty answered the door. She kept her composure, raising just the one eyebrow.
‘Hello. I expect you've come about the rooms, but I'm afraid I can't make any decision until I've talked with my husband, and he's not here at the moment, and anyway the rooms are occupied at the present time. It was the future that we were thinking of, so if it's now that you're thinking of moving in somewhere then I'm awfully sorry but we just can't help you at this particular moment.’ She smiled, or rather beamed, as she closed the door.
They walked a little slower now, but the rest of the signs were explicit. ‘No vacancies for coloureds’. ‘No blacks’. ‘No coloureds’. Leila felt grateful for their honesty. Earl was philosophical about the whole thing.
‘Well, some people just don't like us and I guess we have to deal with it.’
At the end of the road Earl stopped.
‘Look, you see this bus coming.’ He spoke quickly to Leila. ‘You can get a three penny from here to the hospital. Just keep looking out of the window and you going see it on your left after you pass over a big roundabout. Then this afternoon it's the same bus you get back to here. We should be back before you so don't worry about knocking anyone up.’
Leila listened carefully. Then she climbed aboard the bus. It did not take long to get to the hospital.
Leila sat for over an hour with her mother, who slept with her mouth open, clearly still finding it difficult to breathe. She held Calvin close, hoping he would not cry out and wake up his grandmother. Then the nurse came in with a cup of tea. After Leila had drunk it the nurse whispered she would like to speak with her in the corridor. Leila left her mother, knowing that she would not wake up for at least a few hours more.
‘The doctor is very concerned over the way in which you left yesterday.’
Leila looked at the woman, not caring what she or the doctor thought.
‘Do you have an address or a telephone number where we might contact you quickly if we need to?’
Leila shook her head.
‘Are you looking for somewhere to live?’
‘Yes.’
‘I see,’ said the nurse. ‘It's difficult these days.’ She paused. ‘Look, I rent a small flat from an estate agency in Marble Arch. I know they have properties, so I could let you have their address if you like, and I'd be happy to let you use me as a referee.’
‘Thank you.’
The nurse disappeared. She came back and gave Leila a card.
‘It's really easy to find. You just get on a number 6 bus and ask the conductor to put you off at the stop before Marble Arch. Then it's right there on the left. Just show them this card with my name and I'm sure it'll be alright.’
Leila listened and wondered. Then, when the nurse had finished, she went back in and sat with her sleeping mother.
She asked to be put off the bus at the stop before Marble Arch, and the conductor came to her personally and told her when it was time, and how to get to the estate agent's, and she thanked him. Leila pushed open the door and stepped forward on to the carpet, which was so soft and deep she felt as though she was going to fall with every step she took. The woman behind the desk looked up and knocked the ash from her cigarette into an ugly thick ashtray.
‘Yes, madam, can I help you?’
Calvin fought with her and Leila nearly lost hold of him.
‘Please, take a seat as we don't want you to drop the baby now, do we?’
Leila sat down. She handed the woman the card. She looked at it and gave it back to Leila. It did not seem to be important.
‘And what is it that we can do for you, Mrs . . .’
‘Mrs Preston.’
The receptionist stubbed out her cigarette and turned her attention to picking her teeth. Leila noticed that the woman's teeth were crooked and too big for her mouth.
‘I'm looking for somewhere to live.’
‘For just yourself and the baby?’
‘No, for my husband too.’
‘I see. Well, we have somewhere that I think you might find suitable. It's a small house, a terraced property, near to a bus stop and shops, and close to the schools so you can be assured that it has all the conveniences. The rent is very reasonable at £3 a week. Interested?’
Leila nodded.
‘Fine.’ The receptionist picked up the telephone. ‘I won't be a moment.’ She dialled a number and waited a few seconds before speaking. As she waited she curled a watery smile in Calvin's direction. Then she had her short conversation and put down the telephone.
‘It's awfully cold for this time of the year,’ said the woman, flicking disinterestedly through a diary on her desk.
‘Yes,’ said Leila, and together they waited.
‘Mrs Preston.’ He stretched out his friendly hand to greet her.
‘My name is Jansen and I understand that you're interested in our Florence Road property.’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. Well, the property is available immediately which, as I'm sure you understand, is very unusual. You need only pay us £12, which is a month's rent in advance. If that's alright with you we can draw up the lease this afternoon, you can come in with the money in the morning, then we can give you the keys and you can be well and truly installed by this time tomorrow. Do we have an agreement?’
‘Yes, thank you.’
Mr Jansen beamed cheerily. ‘Right, then, we'll see you tomorrow morning.’
Leila hesitated. ‘About nine o'clock?’ she asked.
‘Just fine.’ Mr Jansen held the door open for her.
Leila stood in the street, suddenly realizing that she would have to go all the way back to the hospital to catch the bus back to Earl's. This was complicated, but at least she had ensured that this would be their last night wi
th Earl whom, almost without realizing it, she had come to loathe.
‘When you move in?’ asked Earl.
Michael cleared his throat. ‘Tomorrow. We pick up the key in the morning according to Leila.’
Earl stood up. ‘I guess you all better go out tonight and celebrate, for even though you still don't have a job you really arrive in England now. I can babysit for you.’
Leila wiped some food from Calvin's mouth. Michael stood up and went across to Earl and extended his hand, but Earl turned away from him like a spurned wife.
‘I just want to say thank you for looking after us.’
Earl laughed. ‘Now wait, you mean to say you think that is it? It's over now and you can deal with this country on your own.?’
Michael looked puzzled. Then Earl laughed again and slapped him on the shoulder. ‘You two go out and have a good time. You both deserve it.’
At the time when things were normally stopping back home they were just beginning in England. The night was wet after rain, and the glare from the streetlights dazzled. They were going to the cinema. Sheltering in the doorways they walked past, Leila saw men huddled together, collars erect, bodies shivering, hands striking matches to burnt-out cigarettes, and in the brief flicker she could see the stubble that lay thick on their faces like a salty mask.
The shaft of light crashed through the rising smoke. The colour and noises left Michael spellbound for the full three hours of the film. In the darkness Leila cried, for her mother. And then it was over.
As they got off the bus she looked up in momentary alarm. The sky hung so low it covered the street like a dark coffin lid. The cars that passed by were just blurry colours, and the people rushed homeward, images of isolation, fighting umbrellas and winds that buffeted their bodies. Leila wanted to sleep, wanted the day to end painlessly so she could begin again tomorrow. They walked home in silence.
It was sunny outside as Leila took Calvin, and Michael took the suitcase, and they made their way to the estate agent's to sign the lease and pick up the keys. Then they went to the tube station where they would begin the real journey. As Leila signed the lease she had made sure that her writing was more than just a name, it was a signature.
The underground frightened Leila, and Calvin cried. But, beside the ever-present fear that they might have got on the wrong tube, there was also the fear that the train was going so fast that it would not be able to stop. Each time it braked they seemed to be already halfway out of the station, and they held on to the straps and swung back and forth into each other until they reached the end of the-line.
On stepping back into the daylight, the houses offered precious little comfort to Leila's eyes. Like Earl's neighbourhood they disappointed in their filth. Unlike Earl's neighbourhood they were small, clearly cramped and uncomfortable, even on the outside. Again they were all joined up, and although Number One, Florence Road was not hard to find it was hard to believe.
It stood at the corner of a main street which ran downhill and away under a railway bridge, and a side-terraced street that ran dead into a brick wall. Leila stood at this junction and looked up at their home. Two of the upstairs window panes were broken in, and the door looked like it had been put together from the remains of a dozen forgotten doors. Like the street down by the park where Earl had taken them yesterday morning, the women stood, arms crossed, out on their doorsteps, and they watched the newcomers' every move. Luckily, thought Leila, children played safely in this street, for the traffic was easy to control as it came only from one direction.
Michael pushed the key into the door, opened it and groped the wall. The light switch did not work. The house was dark and smelled of neglect, and there were no curtains to open to let the light in, and there were no doors to prop open to let the air circulate. In the living room there was an old settee, an empty fireplace and a table so scratched and battered that it looked as if someone had made a bad job of shaving it. Michael put down the suitcase and went to open a window. He strained and pushed till the veins stood out on the side of his head, but it would not open. Leila stood in the centre of the room and rocked Calvin in her arms. Michael gave up and turned and walked past her.
‘I'm going to take a look upstairs.’
Leila heard him but she looked away through the dirty and stubborn window.
Upstairs there was a solitary bedroom. A soiled double mattress lay prostrate in the middle of an otherwise naked floor. The two broken panes of glass stared at Michael and he slammed the door behind him in anger. The small bathroom consisted of a toilet bowl and a wash basin. That was all. There was no bath, and the door to this room hung from its hinges. What looked like a door to another room turned out to be a cupboard, and it was in here that the water heater was. Michael made his way down the wooden steps and into the front room. Leila had not moved. He strode to the far side of the front room.
The kitchen was small and filthy. The cooker looked as though it had never been cleaned in its life. It was complemented by a set of ill-matching and ill-fitting cupboards, some full of dirt and empty packets, some bare. He left the kitchen.
‘They tell you what this place was like before you handed over the money?’
Leila looked across the room at him. ‘They told me it was a terraced property near to the shops and all the conveniences.’ Leila turned Calvin over in her arms.
‘Well, when you done take a good look at your terraced property I think you better think again about whether decent people can be expected to live in a place like this.’ Michael pushed his fingertips into one of the damp patches on the wall. ‘We don't travel halfway around the world to live in a place like this.’
‘It was all they had.’
‘Well, it won't do.’
Again Leila turned and looked out of the window.
‘I'm going out to seek some work but I don't expect to find the place like this when I come back.’ Michael moved past her.
‘I have to go to the hospital,’ said Leila.
He slammed the front door and Leila remained still, feeling suddenly cold, like last night when she had felt cold in the bathroom, unable to decide if the greater mistake was coming to England or agreeing to spend a third night by Earl.
Leila waited a few minutes, then sat down and wondered about her mother, whom she knew she would not see today; but this was hardly solace for her mind and she felt angry, not so much at Michael's disappearance but at the fact of his blaming her for the state of the house. After all, neither he nor Earl had found a place, and despite the state of the property it had a roof and four walls, and for a while, at least, was theirs. As the sun began to catch the filth on the windows Leila blinked vigorously, then rubbed her eyes. Though she saw again the filth on the glass the day was brighter now, but also dirtier, and she felt sleep creeping back into her body.
It was on the train coming up to London that Leila had realized all her old worries about Michael were now much more intense. Two weeks of non-communication on the ship had only served to deepen her distress. So much between them still remained unspoken. Back home, before they were married, but after she had agreed to marry him, they had sat together for almost a whole day just looking down the street at nothing in particular, but without speaking. As hour after hour slipped by, Leila grew more anxious until she finally recognized this state of anxiety as one she lived in perpetually, his silence baffling and hurtful, his moods unpredictable, his distrust obvious and murdering any chance of a durable base to their relationship.
Then Michael had stood up and walked away a few paces, his hands in his pockets, his feet playing loosely with the dust. The sun was setting.
‘I think I better go back down to Sandy Bay now,’ he said. Leila squinted and tried to shield the sun from her eyes. She stared into the back of his head.
‘Alright,’ she said. ‘Are you going to come up tomorrow after I've been to church?’
‘Maybe,’ said Michael. ‘It depends on how Bradeth's feeling. Things are a bit slow at t
he moment, so maybe he don't want no work doing.’
From inside the house they both heard Leila's mother cough and then it was quiet again.
‘I better go now.’
He did not turn around to look at Leila, or come and kiss her. It was as if there was something on his mind of which she was no part; he simply shut her out, left her on the ground like an extra nut, his mind having spent the day assembling the other pieces.
Slowly, as Michael rode down the road and into the bend and out of sight, Leila stood. She went through to her mother's bedroom to see how she might help, but her mother was asleep and had merely coughed without knowing it.
And now the two-week passage seemed to have reintroduced her to the unhappiness she felt on that day, and on many others like it. It made a nonsense of their reunion, for her marriage was again to be tolerated, not shared. It seemed to her that no matter what she said or did Michael had decided to give her nothing in return, except for his anger or his all too familiar silence. But Leila preferred this to conflict, fearful that her mother might think her a failure if they were to separate yet again.
On her first night in their new home Leila lay in bed alone. She could hear Michael outside the front door feeling for the key in his pocket. But he had forgotten his key and she had left the door open. In his absence Leila had worked unceasingly and now every muscle in her body ached.
The cupboard doors were either put back on their old hinges or taken off completely. It looked neater that way. The windows were washed and the floor swept clean. She found an old bedspread which she draped over the settee in the front room. It was now alright to sit on it. Leila gave the crooked shaven table a tablecloth for a companion, and around it there stood three proud but shaky wooden chairs. Most important of all, she had started a fire burning in the grate and put a bundle of wooden staves in a metal pail so the house would be warm.
The Final Passage Page 15