by Di Morrissey
‘Can we look around?’
‘Dere be nothing to see. De dormitories, de dining hall, some offices. Dis place be very basic.’
Madison felt there was more behind the facade of simple buildings than she was being allowed to see. And whatever it was, she suspected Lester was part of it. Could this be the seat of a new political movement?
As if to support her thoughts, a man came through the gate and hailed Lester as they reached the taxi. Lester exchanged greetings and shook hands. The man was a striking-looking Amerindian with coppery olive skin, a broad flat face with wide dark eyes, a finely sculptured nose. His sleek dark hair was woven with red threads falling in a long tightly bound braid down his back. He wore a coarse cotton shirt with a geometric design woven into it.
The brief exchange between the two men meant nothing to Madison until Lester waved a hand in her direction. ‘Madison Wright, a new visitor to Guyana. She be goin’ to look for diamonds in de interior.’
Madison gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘Well, it would be nice. I’m not quite sure how to go about it all . . . I’m actually here visiting my brother.’
‘I am Xavier. Xavier Rodrigues.’ The Amerindian man flashed her a wide smile showing perfect even white teeth. ‘You’re not English.’
‘Australian.’
‘Ah. Another outpost of the former British Empire. I hope you do come to the interior, Miss Wright. We are persuading visitors to our country to come and see for themselves.’
As Xavier grinned, Madi noticed behind him a business-suited man hurrying into the hostel. For a minute, he reminded her of Antonio Destra, the man she’d met at the airport. Then two bright-eyed girls came out of the building carrying half-finished woven baskets and sat on the ground under a tree, chattering softly as they began weaving the long strands of dried grasses. As the men talked about a meeting planned at the hostel, Madison reached into her shoulder bag looking for her camera. She put her books and the tiny carved frog on the ground beside her bag and lifted out her camera, giving Lester a querying look.
‘Sure, sure it be okay. Dey making tings for de shop.’
She crouched down before the giggling girls and took their photo. When she turned back Xavier was holding her wooden frog.
‘Where did you get this one?’
‘I bought it from an artist friend of Lester,’ she said. He handed the carving back to her and stared at her intently. ‘You chose well. The golden frog will always look out for you.’ For a moment Madison felt something quiver inside her, a hint, a portent, that this would not be the last she’d see of this intriguing man.
Matthew’s car was in the driveway when they pulled up. Madi paid Lester and took the scrap of paper on which he wrote his home phone number. ‘If yo need to go anywhere, phone me, okay?’
‘I will. Thanks so much, Lester. It’s been a great morning.’
‘Enjoy de day.’ He drove off with a wave as Singh held the gate open.
‘Mr Matt back. He worried where yo be, mistress.’
Madison ran to the door and was halfway up the stairs as Matthew came down and they met on the small landing in the middle, hugging effusively. ‘Hey, Madi. You had us in a bit of a stir.’
‘I’m sorry the time got away, I had such a fascinating morning. Oh Matt, it’s so good to see you.’ She hugged him again and he grinned at her.
‘I’m glad you’re here, sis.’ He only called her ‘sis’ in moments of extreme affection. Holding hands they went upstairs.
Hyacinth appeared in the kitchen door. ‘I figured dat taxi man spirit yo away,’ she said with a relieved smile. ‘Yo call other taxi next time.’
‘No, no, Lester was great. I’m going to hire him all the time.’
‘Where did you go, what took so long?’ asked Matthew. ‘Come on out on the balcony. Hyacinth, bring us some tea and Madison’s lunch please. So what news from home?’
‘I’ve brought you Vegemite and Vita-Weats and Mum and Dad have sent you a new beach towel.’
‘A beach towel? Have you seen the beach!’ Matthew laughed. ‘God luv ’em. Are they well?’
‘Fighting fit. Now tell me, what’s happening with you? AusGeo won the management contract, but what does that mean?’
‘It means we have to get the mine producing more bauxite more efficiently. Kevin has to get the whole system working better so I can sell it off. The local boss Lennie Krupuk has departed. Gawd, we’re starting to uncover some ludicrous expenditure and waste. You must come out and have a look around. It’s a great trip up the river. We went in the luxury company cruiser Krupuk bought. Now that and the weekender he bought for the company are being sold. Bit of a drive but not too bad.’
They talked while Madison ate her sandwiches and cake.
Matthew laughed heartily at her story of the money-changing and the devious way Lester had managed to get her access to the bookshelves at the library. She showed him Gwen’s book and he glanced quickly at the photograph. He smiled and handed it back to her. ‘It sounds like Annie Get Your Gun. Should be a fun read at least.’ He stood up and looked at his watch. ‘I’m going to the office in town so I’ll see you later—about five. Kevin will be home tonight and a few of our new friends could drop in for a drink before dinner. You’ll meet some really fun people here.’
‘Terrific. But I’m feeling utterly exhausted at the moment.’
‘It’s the climate. The humidity gets you. Have a shower and a kip and you’ll be right.’
‘I might try out the hammock on the verandah off the bedroom.’
‘Great idea. Everyone gets the hammock habit here. Some, I reckon, never get out of it.’ He gave her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Glad you made it, sis,’ and bounced down the stairs.
She woke up two hours later, amazed she’d slept so soundly. She went into the kitchen and cautiously plugged in the kettle, nervous at the shredding electrics. Cords were frayed, plugs went into adaptors that sort of fitted the sockets. ‘Jiggle dem’ had been Hyacinth’s advice. Meatballs and what looked like crisps were set in bowls under a cloth. She tried one of the crisps, which looked like a hard banana slice dusted with chilli. It tasted spicy but tangy. No one seemed to be about, so she had a cup of tea, showered and changed. She decided to start a letter to her parents and got lost in her description of her first day in Guyana.
Then Matthew was home calling to her and introducing her to Kevin Blanchard who was staying down for a couple of days before going back to the mine. Matthew called to Singh to bring ice and glasses and picked up a bottle of rum. ‘There’s rum and coke, rum and water, rum and ginger, rum and milk, rum and ice, or rum punch made with some ghastly bottled cordial.’
‘Doesn’t Hyacinth know how to make proper punch? We should keep a jug in the fridge,’ said Kevin. ‘Madi, bring the hors d’oeuvres.’
They trooped through the kitchen, down the back steps and through the garden to the small gazebo where Singh was setting out the glasses and emptying ice trays into a plastic bowl.
‘Ah this is the life.’ Matthew settled himself and Madison sank into an old cane chair. Kevin handed her a rum and coke.
‘I’m having just ice, so I’ll have the ten-year-old,’ said Matthew as Kevin picked up a different bottle of rum. ‘Smooth as silk this, Madi. Try some.’
She took a sip. ‘It’s like a liqueur, an old brandy.’
‘Aged rum, can’t beat it. Cheers. Welcome to Guyana, Madi.’
At that moment there was a ‘Hoy!’ and Connor joined them, giving Madison a grin. ‘I see you’re right into it.’
‘The rum?’
‘No, life in the fast lane. I saw you earlier today standing in a drain with some black fella. Stealing flowers by the look of it.’
Soon others arrived including Sharee and Viti from the scavenger hunt. Madison found herself thoroughly enjoying the group’s company. John and Ann da Silva were neighbours down the block. John was of English and Portuguese descent, born in Guyana. His wife was English and both were sophisticated,
worldly, well travelled. Madison took an instant liking to their unpretentious and bubbling personalities. Both were passionate about Guyana.
‘We love it, but we aren’t blind to its problems which can drive you crazy. We have a wonderful lifestyle here. I go back to see my family in London. And all John’s relatives—dozens of them—are here,’ grinned Ann.
John ran the City Garage with his brother, and Madison soon realised Ann knew as much about cars as he did. ‘Is that because of the business?’
‘No, I race them,’ she answered. ‘I’ve just come back from a rally in Belgium. Jolly good fun. Would have been more fun if I hadn’t blown up and lost my leading position.’
‘Let’s not run the race again,’ groaned John good-naturedly. It turned out they’d met when Ann had been competing in a car rally in Guyana.
Madison leaned over to Ann. ‘Would you give me a few pointers some time? I’ve always had a secret ambition to race a car.’
‘You have?’ Matthew raised an eyebrow. ‘As well as chase butterflies up the Amazon?’
‘You’re going into the interior, of course,’ said John, passing the rum.
‘I’d really like to but I’m not sure how to go about it on my own.’
‘You don’t go into the interior on your own!’ exclaimed Connor Bain, joining the conversation.
Then Ann, who gave the immediate impression of being a strong, organised and no-nonsense woman, turned to Madison. ‘We will fix a trip, don’t worry. If you haven’t gone up the river and out into real country, you don’t know Guyana.’
Madison raised her glass. ‘Thanks, Ann.’ And she had no doubts Ann would fix something.
Madison was feeling very relaxed, maybe it was the rum, but she decided she wasn’t going to get hassled about Connor Bain’s abrupt comments or anything else. She had the distinct impression things would simply ‘happen’.
‘Six o’clock,’ came an exuberant and united chorus and everyone laughed. Madison stared around the group, looking for the joke. No one had looked at a watch. She picked up Matthew’s arm and glanced at his watch. ‘All right, I give up. What was all that about?’
‘The six o’clock bee! Listen. Quiet everyone,’ ordered John.
And there, buzzing loudly around the lush garden, flew a large fat beetle-like bee.
‘It appears at six on the dot,’ he continued. ‘It’s sort of an alarm clock to start the evening. All the other noises will start now, frogs, night jars and so on as they wake to the night. And others are singing good night as they head home to bed.’
Madi stared at John but realised he was stating fact.
‘This country is amazing,’ Madi laughed.
‘I’ll drink to that. Pass the rum,’ said Connor.
The six o’clock bee continued on its rounds in the garden, its buzz now drowned by the clink of ice and laughter. The sun began to sink behind the huge bougainvillea-covered fence and the breeze from the sea cooled the garden at last.
SIX
As Madison piled her golden hair on top of her head, small tendrils, blown by the overhead fan, flew around her forehead and high cheekbones. She dabbed at her damp upper lip and checked herself again in the mirror, pleased with the crisp white sundress she’d chosen to wear. The overall effect was cool and classy even if she did feel warm. The temperature was in the mid-thirties and very humid.
She was looking forward to this lunch with Connor. She’d surprised herself by impulsively saying yes to his invitation when he casually suggested they lunch at the Georgetown Club. He had annoyed her on a couple of occasions with his patronising attitude yet she had to admit there was also something about him she liked. Somehow she felt safe in the company of this strong West Australian who always said what he thought.
But there was also a slight feeling of deja vu, which wasn’t so different from the first feelings she’d had when Geoff had swept her off her feet in the early days of their relationship.
Now in her thoughts she wondered, when did a relationship change? And how did one know what would last? But she had no intention of stumbling into that trap again unless she was very, very sure.
Madi and Connor had been paired at several dinner parties they’d gone to with Matthew and Sharee, Kevin and Viti. But this lunch would be the first time they’d been alone together since the trip from the airport. Well, she reasoned, this would test whether she liked him or not.
Singh held open the gate for them with a smart flourish and a cheerful salute. ‘The shorts, barefeet and singlet spoil the effect a bit,’ grinned Madi. ‘Singh seems pleased with himself. Some days he’s only half awake.’
‘Depends on the rum intake, I guess.’
On the way to lunch she asked Connor if he was going to attend the American Ambassador’s reception which she had been invited to as Matthew’s partner.
‘Yes, I’ll be there working the room. All in the course of duty.’
‘Working over cocktails is a nice way to work.’
‘In Guyana, it’s absolutely essential. The usual rule book doesn’t apply in countries like this one.’
‘Banana republic rules, eh?’
‘That’s right, Madi. You’re catching on fast. But it makes the job interesting.’
‘What exactly is your job? I’ve only really got a vague idea that it’s something to do with the International Funding Organisation, a bank that specialises in Third World country projects in conjunction with the United Nations. You work out of New York and you’re subsidising Matthew’s company to prepare the mine for sale.’
Connor sighed. ‘Heavy stuff for midday traffic in Georgetown, but in a nutshell I’m a supervisor on projects designed to kick-start development in countries like Guyana. Through the banking network I can get the backing of big companies and big money if the project warrants it.’
‘Sounds a bit risky. What if you get it wrong?’
Connor leaned back and raised his hands in a gesture of mock horror. ‘Get it wrong? Don’t even suggest the possibility.’ He became serious again. ‘No, so far no major disasters. We have built-in checks and balances, but yes, there are mistakes sometimes because we’re dealing with places like Guyminco and also a gold mine here called Columbus, that usually don’t have enough skilled workers and administrators. And there’s been a lot of power plays—mostly crooked. These countries are vulnerable to a lot of very shonky wheelers and dealers in business circles.’
‘You mean some businessmen are criminals? Why is it like this?
‘Well, in the case of Guyana there were too many cooks for the broth. The educational infrastructure just hasn’t been there to cope with the development of mineral resources that’s now heading the agenda here. The real action in Guyana is just beginning. If they don’t get the right help now, and learn to handle their finances properly, corruption and greed will ensure that all this bauxite and gold mining will make a few rich people richer and leave the poor wondering what the hell it was all about.’
‘And that’s where you are making your contribution?’
‘Yes, but it’s hard to get across sometimes that the income from natural wealth needs to be invested in essential infrastructure to make the economy attractive to foreign investment. You may have noticed a certain laissez-faire attitude about the place.’
‘Yes, it’s quaint the way they can complicate the simplest task and find extraordinary ways of going around in circles.’
‘Nicely put,’ said Connor as he did a U-turn in Main Street. ‘Here’s the club, and let’s change the subject to something a little more digestible for lunch. Right?’
‘Your turn to pick the subject then.’
Connor gave her a quick approving glance. ‘I have a splendid subject. Details later. By the way I’m glad you’re wearing a skirt. Ladies in trousers, even smart silk ones, are not welcome.’
‘You’re joking.’
‘This is the Georgetown Club, a bastion of conservative attitudes, class snobbery and discrimination.’
They drove into the members’ carpark to be greeted by a uniformed guard. At the top of a small staircase leading into the club, a plump, dark woman welcomed them in fruity English tones. ‘Will you be taking a drink before luncheon, Mr Bain?’
‘Yes, we will, thank you.’
‘You shall be called when luncheon is served.’
Madison lifted an amused eyebrow as they walked through onto a spacious airy verandah with deep cane lounges and chairs grouped on highly polished timber floors. The sloping wooden shutters stood angled open, channelling the breeze and screening guests from the gaze of passers-by in Main Street.
They drank Banks beer and chatted easily about people they now knew in common and the coming long weekend trip to the Essequibo River where they’d all been invited by Colonel Bede Olivera—a former politician, now turned political commentator.
‘I’ve heard some wild stories about the Essequibo resort area where the high flyers have their holiday places,’ said Connor. ‘It’s called New Spirit but some call it “Happy Valley” like the place in Kenya where the Brits had their escapades in the 1930s.’
‘White Mischief, the murder of Lord whatshisname,’ said Madi. ‘Wasn’t that a movie starring Greta Scacchi? Good grief, are we going into that sort of colonial scene?’
Connor laughed. ‘I doubt it. Most of the colonial trappings in Guyana have been replaced by the fashion called Miami high life, it seems to me.’
The waiter informed them lunch was served and on the way downstairs to the dining room they paused to study the old framed photographs from the early days of the club; cricket teams, past presidents and committees, all male, white, British and socially elite. Women appeared in photos at balls and social functions. ‘Looks like something out of the Raj,’ said Madison.
‘Those days are gone,’ came a pleasant voice behind them. Madison swung around to find Antonio Destra standing there. She realised she’d been too busy to call him.
‘Hello there. How have you been?’ she asked.