by Alex Wheatle
“Nuh. Me was scrubbing ya favourite dress an’ all of ah sudden it jus’ tear up. Me cyan understand it. Mrs Walters mus’ ah made some kind ah mistake. Me very sorry. It jus’ tear up jus’ like dat.”
Suspicion upon her face, Hortense walked towards Jenny. Jenny dismounted from the donkey and went to look for the washing line to hang the clothes upon. Hortense caught up with her just outside the storage room. “Wha’ yuh mean it jus’ tear up?”
“Me cyan’t explain it! Mebbe de stitches were loose or somet’ing like dat. It jus’ come apart.”
Hortense went to retrieve the dress. She studied it like a juror scrutinising a murder weapon. She found that the dress wasn’t just torn or coming loose from the stitching. “Lie yuh ah tell, Jenny! Me bes’ dress! An’ yuh tear it up to spite me about somet’ing. Mebbe becah me look so nice inna it. Mebbe becah me don’t spend so much time wid yuh nowadays.”
“Hortense! How yuh coulda say such ah t’ing?”
Hortense threw the frock down to the ground in disgust. “Why yuh tear up me dress? Tell me before me strike yuh down as de Most High is me witness!”
“Me nah tell nuh lie! Mek de Lord strike me down if me nuh tell de trut’! It jus’ come apart as me washing…”
Before Jenny could finish her sentence, Hortense clenched her right fist and swung a right hook that connected with Jenny’s left cheek, knocking her to the ground. Chickens scattered and the dogs began barking. Fine dust scattered in the air as Jenny found herself sprawling on the dirt. Hortense sprang and straddled her sister’s back, proceeding repeatedly to cuff the back of Jenny’s head, forcing her to taste the dry earth. Reacting ferociously, Jenny, with a mighty shrug, managed to force the heavier built Hortense off her and began to kick her about the head.
Hortense spread her palms across her face to protect herself, not quite believing the intensity of Jenny’s assault; in their previous fights Jenny had always been the first to cry off complaining to Amy that Hortense had been too rough. The kicking had paused, enabling Hortense to peer through her fingers. Her eyes widened in fear of what she saw next. Jenny had picked up three stones and with an untamed rage, ran up to Hortense and hurled one. It struck at the small of Hortense’s back. Hortense grimaced and writhed in pain, trying to scramble away for Jenny was readying herself to hurl another missile, levering her right arm behind her. “Yuh Old Screwface loving Jezebel! See me don’t cramp an’ paralyse yuh – yuh dutty bitch!”
It was Carmesha who stayed Jenny’s arm. “Wha’ yuh doing? Yuh waan kill her? Me cyan’t believe me eyes!”
Still furious, Jenny looked upon Carmesha for a tense second with rigid brows. She then tossed the stones behind her and stormed off into a field, mouthing choice Jamaican expletives. Carmesha tended to Hortense and later in the evening, Amy, who had returned from her stint in the market square, boiled her some bush tea that included a stalk of sinsimilla, to ‘fling away de pain’; Levi bought it for her from his neighbours in the foggy hills. Amy fiercely scolded Jenny, demanding what had ever come over her, but Jenny ignored her, remaining tight-lipped. Hortense stared at her sister throughout the evening, concluding that perhaps the dress did come apart in her hands. Why would she ketch such a fierce rage? It was only after midnight that Jenny felt remorse seep into her heart. Sleeping beside Hortense, she snuggled up to her and began to stroke Hortense’s head. Hortense didn’t hear Jenny whisper, “me so sorry, Hortense. Me nuh know wha’ come over me. Me cyan’t believe me strike de one me love de bes’. David tell me to look after yuh an’ look wha’ me do. Me will ask de Most High fe him forgiveness. Sleep well.” Although fast asleep, Hortense seemed to sense a comfort with her sister’s touch that she had known since birth. Instinctively, she manoeuvred herself into her sister’s embrace, sighing pleasurably. Amy, secretly looking on, smiled.
In a simple ceremony in March, 1954, attended by family and close friends, Cilbert and Hortense married in Isaac’s church; Jenny was the chief bridesmaid. The reception, held at Mr DaCosta’s plot, was a subdued affair with Cilbert’s father, Constantine, still sore about the Almyna issue. He begrudgingly sank his wedding punch drink while constantly eye-passing Hortense, finally realising that the black-skinned Cilbert’s opportunity of climbing the Jamaican social ladder by marrying the lighter-complexioned Almyna, was now denied. When Constantine wasn’t studying Hortense, he stole glances at his own caramel-skinned wife, wondering what possessed her to marry him.
Blissfully unaware of the politics that surrounded her wedding, Hortense was the happiest she had ever been. Mrs Walters had adjusted and embellished Amy’s old, white baptism dress and Hortense appeared radiant in it; Mrs Walters left no doubt as to who had customised the dress. She named it ‘de Angel’s Frock’.
Looking forward to his wedding night, Cilbert had to almost drag his new bride away from her dancing, much to the amusement of the guests. The couple spent their first night of marriage in the home of Mr DaCosta’s nephew, Hernando, who lived in isolation three miles to the west of Claremont; his family remained at Mr DaCosta’s for the following week.
Even Levi, now coupled with Carmesha, attended the wedding; he wore Joseph’s old marriage suit that Carmesha had fashioned and shortened for him. Daniel, now accustomed to living in the country, ran around with his new friends but received a beating for staining his new pants with guava juice; Neville, picking up his errant great-grandson, rebuked Carmesha for her assault.
It was only Jenny who seemed to register her father’s absence. Jacob, her escort, felt a certain pride linking arms with Jenny all the way from the church to Mr DaCosta’s home, but when he found her alone in Mr DaCosta’s backyard, reflecting sorrowfully on whatever grievance she bore, Jacob couldn’t even hazard a guess on what was troubling her. “Jenny,” he called softly. “Look how long we know each udder. Yuh cyan’t tell me of de mighty burden dat seem to lean ’pon yuh?”
Jenny didn’t even meet Jacob’s questioning eyes. “Jacob, ya sweet like sugar inna milo, becah only yuh ah sense me bruise soul. Me lose me sweet sister today. Me bes’ frien’. Me never did t’ink either of we coulda ever marry. Y’know, becah we so close. Me t’ought dat we would be togeder fe ever. Y’know, Hortense an’ meself against de world. Everyt’ing happen so fast. Me lost Papa an’ Hortense soon gone. Not even yuh cyan help me now. Dis is between me an’ de Most High. He’s been very cruel to me. Papa always said He’s ah spiteful God. Yuh know, me try an’ live me life good, de way de Most High waan we to live. But der mus’ be somet’ing inside of me. Somet’ing bad fe Massa God to treat me dis way. Me cyan’t understand it.”
“Jenny, He don’t expect we to be perfect an’ nuhbody ah expect yuh to be so. Least of all me. He will understand dat ya feel dat ya sister abandon yuh. He knows how close yuh two is, especially after ya papa run an’ gone. An’ wid de grievous loss of David. Ah long time I ’ave been watching yuh try an’ be de perfect Christian girl. Why yuh don’t try an’ be yaself? Living ya own life. Hortense had to grow up one day. An’ she don’t depend on yuh so much as before. Yuh affe let her go.”
Jenny momentarily shot Jacob a cancerous glare, thinking how dare he tell her to let Hortense go, but she soon recovered her composure. “Go’long Jacob, me will be fine inna short while. Gwarn an’ enjoy yaself.”
Hortense had only five days to enjoy her honeymoon, for Cilbert bade her a tearful farewell before he set off to Papine. He promised he would return every weekend and he kept to his word, catching the first Saturday morning ‘bungo bungo’ bus from Crossroads, Kingston and arriving in Claremont just before noon. He would collect Hortense from her family home and they would spend most of their short time together in a spare room at Mr DaCosta’s, only emerging for meals and lazy rambles in the surrounding hills and groves. When they were not making love, Hortense barraged her husband with questions about the big, bad city.
Unable to capture a good night’s sleep whenever Hortense was away, Jenny loathed the prospect of weekends, despite offering her bri
ef opportunities to bless her eyes upon Cilbert. She also found herself pining for Hortense’s larger-than-life company, her cantankerous ways and her dawn singing. It felt as if some part of her being had been ripped away forever. On week-days, she craved Hortense’s attention feverishly; walking with her to the river when it was Hortense’s turn to wash the clothes, learning gospel songs together, washing and braiding Hortense’s hair even when she didn’t require it and occasionally surprising Hortense with questions about her love life.
“Jenny!” Hortense would rebuke. “Yuh gwarn so innocent an’ everybody ah say how ya nice like de virgin Mary herself. But me know better. Ya tongue ah betray yuh! Lord me God! Jenny, yuh cyan’t expect me to talk about dem kinda t’ings when me ah married woman. It nah right. We’re nah nuh two foolish teenager who ah talk stupidness while we’re stripping corn! Go look Jacob! It’s time yuh ’ave ah mon friend, becah yuh cyan’t spend ya time ah follow me around like puppy dahg dat lose him mudder. An’ Jacob love yuh more dan yuh ever realise. Why yuh t’ink him don’t find ah girl yet? Jacob waiting fe yuh! Mebbe he’s de answer to ya problem becah yuh start to get ’pon me nerves wid ya company.”
Her smile rapidly evaporating, Jenny stormed off in a rage. Hortense muttered under her breath. “An’ dey call me full ah nettle! An’ wha’ is so wrong wid Jacob? He would look after Jenny so nice.”
Isaac kept faithfully to his twice-weekly visits to Amy and it was on a Thursday in June, 1954, that he found his son, Levi, sitting around Amy’s kitchen table. Securing his donkey, he saw Amy approaching him with a mug of coffee and a freshly-picked avocado. “Now, yuh lissen to me, Isaac,” Amy ordered. “Ya gwarn talk to ya son! Nuh excuse! An’ me waan nuh argument! Me will leave yuh be becah me ’ave ah liccle shopping to do. Don’t drink off me rum!”
Amy marched off, muttering something under her breath about the stubbornness of Jamaican men. Isaac neared Levi cautiously, debating whether he should trouble the rum flask inside his jacket pocket. Levi looked on his father’s timid approach blankly, as if he was waiting for a bus to stop. The onlooking Jenny, her mind whirring with some notion, ran up to Isaac. “Preacher Mon! Mighty good to see yuh. Praise de Lord!”
“An’ good to see yuh too! Bless yuh chile.”
“Yuh staying fe dinner, Preacher Mon?”
“Yes, ya mudder so kindly invite me.”
“Den cyan me borrow ya donkey? Me waan ride somewhere. Carmesha ’ave we own up der ah family plot. She ah toil ’pon we land while yuh ah talk wid Levi.”
“Yes, of course me chile. Nuh go too far an’ give him ah water an’ mek him munch ’pon de sugar cane.”
Mounting the donkey, Jenny set him on a course to Isaac’s home. It was Jacob who answered the door and surprise struck him like a Jamaican yard dog being tossed a generous portion of prime beef.
“Ya mudder der-ya?” Jenny asked, looking over Jacob’s shoulder.
“Nuh, Jenny. She der ah market shopping. Did yuh waan see her?”
“Nuh, sa. Me come to see yuh.”
Jacob looked puzzled. “Yuh waan to study de Bible wid me, Jenny?”
Smiling with a confidence that she never knew she had, Jenny walked into the house. “How long yuh been waiting to court me?”
“From time ’pon time,” Jacob replied, trying to read Jenny’s intentions.
Striking a pose and pushing her chest out, Jenny recalled, “remember ya tell me dat me mus’ be meself an’ stop trying to be de perfect Christian girl?”
“Well, yes, Jenny. But I cyan’t see ya reasoning.”
Jenny grinned devilishly. “Well, see me here. Wha’ yuh gwarn to do wid me?”
Without hesitation, Jacob took Jenny by the hand and led her to his tiny bedroom. His bed was two mattresses placed on top of each other. A wooden broom handle, secured at each end inside an alcove, held his two pairs of suits and shirts. Church pamphlets, hymn sheets and service schedules were resting upon an aged wooden desk. Propped up on this, against the wall, was Jacob’s Bible. It was opened at the book of Proverbs.
Jenny, feeling her heartbeat accelerate, walked towards the Bible, picked it up and placed it face down upon the table. It was now or never, she thought. Me cyan be jus’ as sexy as Hortense. Me pretty like she. She then turned to Jacob, linking her arms around his neck. Without uttering another word and looking down at the floor, she began to unbutton Jacob’s shirt, kissing his chest as she did so. Jacob immediately responded by frantically pulling at Jenny’s clothes. They laughed at each other’s clumsy efforts to undress one another. Jenny refused to meet Jacob’s eyes.
Naked, they dropped onto the bed, pleasuring each other for the next fifteen minutes until Jenny pulled Jacob on top of her. She braced herself for the pain she thought she would have to endure but as Jacob entered her, she closed her eyes and the image of a smiling Cilbert filled her mind. Jacob, withdrawing at the last moment, climaxed within a minute, leaving Jenny to wonder what all the fuss was about.
An hour later, she made love to him once more, shutting her eyes tight, attempting to induce a dream-like state with Cilbert. Jacob managed to endure a little longer and Jenny found that she enjoyed it more than the first time. But embarrassment was now warming her cheeks. She dressed quickly and before she departed, returned Jacob’s Bible to its original position. As a satisfied Jacob watched her leave, he wondered why she didn’t even say farewell or arrange their next liaison. Indeed, Jenny hadn’t said a word of affection or of anything else since she first entered his room. But these thoughts were soon discarded by his glad heart.
Informing Hortense of her secret trysts with Jacob, Jenny went into every detail. “Is it de same feeling yuh get wid Cilbert?” Jenny wanted to know. “When yuh lose all control of ya body an’ yuh get dis sweetness dat ripple inside of yuh? It mek me laugh when Jamaican mon advise we dat yuh should not ’ave sex before marriage. Becah dem love it! Yuh waan to see de look ’pon Jacob’s face when him juices ah rush t’rough him black bamboo! Cilbert’s face ever look so crease up an’ mad wid excitement?”
Hortense fell about laughing. “If Papa could hear yuh now! Nuh sweet liccle Jenny any more! Jenny, of course mon love it. But we love it too. Dat’s why me don’t lissen to de cranky woman who go to church. Don’t ’ave sex, don’t do dis, don’t do dat, dem say. But me bet me last red cent dat dem love sex an’ probably did ah love it before dem marry. Yes, Cilbert gwarn de same way. Him face ah crease an’ crease up ’til it cyan’t crease nuh more, an’ when him shot him juices it’s like relief mek him eyes close an’ him t’anking de Most High fe de pleasure. It’s ah cruel God to deny anybody dat pleasure.”
Holding onto Hortense’s every word, Jenny nodded. “Yes, me affe agree, but don’t tell nuhbody! Everybody t’ink me ah nice Christian girl.”
“But yuh affe tell Mama one day, Jenny. Yuh cyan’t keep dis secret. An’ yuh doing not’ing wrong. Yuh an’ Jacob are jus’ two people who love each udder. Fe true? Me truly glad dat yuh two come togeder. Jacob will never leave yuh, Jenny. He will never cheat ’pon yuh an’ he will do anyt’ing to mek sure ya happy. Yuh find ah good mon.”
Jenny hesitated before breaking out into a plastic smile that Hortense didn’t detect. “Yes, me do love him,” she said. “Jacob is ah sweet mon.”
“Den marry him,” insisted Hortense.
Why not? Jenny thought. It might make Cilbert jealous.
Jacob and Jenny married under an overcast sky in mid-May, 1954. Refusing to wear her mother’s baptism dress for her wedding, Jenny insisted that Jacob should find the money for a new dress. After much pleading, Jacob finally received the cash from his father. A more than happy Mrs Walters designed and made the ankle-length, laced-white dress. She named it ‘the wisp of the north’. Isaac, who guessed that his son was a virgin before courting Jenny, reluctantly conducted the service. He believed that a man only understood the ways of women after bedding plenty of them.
Everyone saw the disappointment in Isaac’s eyes when Jacob said, “I do!”
As Jacob kissed his new bride, only Amy, observing Jenny’s undemonstrative body language towards Jacob, sensed something that was troubling. The photographer that Isaac hired had to work hard and tell a few jokes to coax Jenny’s smile out of her and it was Hortense who explained to guests that her sister was ‘mighty nervous’ about being the centre of attention.
Neville, who had given his grand-daughter away, whispered to Jacob, “me soon expect ah nex’ great-grandson!” Happy as any man could be on his wedding day, Jacob replied to Neville, “nuh fear, Custos. My dream come true an’ me an’ Jenny will provide nuff great-grandsons!”
The wedding reception was held in the church hall and Jenny danced longer with Cilbert than she did with her new husband who was busy accepting handshakes and slaps on the back. Cilbert, unaware of the pounding of Jenny’s heart, kissed his new sister-in-law upon the cheek at the conclusion of the dance as a gesture of congratulation. This act meant more to Jenny than the love-making with Jacob upon her wedding night, where she simply pulled Jacob on top of her and said, “me sweet darling, Jacob. Let we get dis over wid. It’s been ah long day an’ me well tired. An’ de rum punch gone to me head!”
During the summer of 1954, Amy found that she more often than not cooked only for Kwarhterleg and herself. Jenny was now living with Jacob, rarely visiting her mother’s home and Cilbert, enjoying a break from his studies, had Hortense with him at Mr DaCosta’s. Becoming bored of Kwarhterleg’s endless tale of woe about the love of his life, Joanne Lindus, Amy would trek up to Levi’s place where she was entertained by Carmesha; she would bear the gift of a bottle of rum. While Carmesha and herself drained the fire-water, becoming merry and jovial, Levi, who thought that women deserved a break from the monotony of country life, would cook a delicious fish supper. Indeed, Amy found Carmesha’s company more stimulating than her own daughters. Carmesha had no cause to question Amy’s love for her and she imagined how special the relationship was that Amy had with David.