Di Taxi Ride and Other Stories

by Brenda Barrett

  Icey laughed, “Only the dead ones, she imagines that they are still alive and gets very upset if I don’t attend to them. Her husband Blake, died ten years ago and is the latest addition to the household. Can you imagine catering for a houseful of imaginary people?”

  “Oh…” it finally became clear to me now.

  “There is nothing really wrong with the television is there?”

  “I tried to tell you but I had to allowed you to find out for yourself, the plumber is constantly here; after Blake takes a shower there is always a leak in the bathroom,” she laughed. “That man is making a fortune in plumbing bills.”

  I took my leave of the Johnston’s house that day, totally confused.

  However, I returned whenever there was an imaginary problem that called for my expertise. Some days it was the microwave, other days it was the television, but at the end of my visits there was always a big cheque, made out to Ronald and Sons.

  Aunt Bev’s Return

  The rain was drizzling lightly and the soft patter on the roof added to the blanket of grief that surrounded the congregation. I sat between Mama and Papa. Mama leaned toward me for support, her lips quivering as she sniffled and moaned.

  Papa sat erect, in a manly attempt to stave off tears he blinked his eyes rapidly and dabbed his forehead with a blue and white striped handkerchief.

  Grandma sat in the pew in front of us, and clutched Aunt Betty and Uncle Roy’s hands.

  “Mi sweet baby gawn,” grandma whispered, as tears trickled down her weather-beaten cheeks.

  “Hush Mama, hush,” murmured Aunt Betty, as she alternatively wiped grandma’s cheeks and patted her frail shoulders.

  Friends of the family were filing in somberly. I spotted more than one wet cheek.

  The majority of the family was already there. My nine aunts, four uncles and numerous cousins sat on the same side of the church in a sea of black and grey.

  We were mourning Aunt Bev, my favorite Aunt. She was everyone’s favorite, the large congregation testified to that.

  She had an easy outgoing nature and as grandpa used to say, she had a permanent smile. Unfortunately, for some people, she had the knack of giving jokes at the most inappropriate times.

  She was one of six persons who died suddenly in a bus crash. No one could come to terms with her sudden death. Uncle Pete was the nearest to the accident site so he went to identify the body, according to him it was crushed beyond recognition.

  However, he found a red hat that Aunt Bev was wearing at the time, it was dirty and mangled and hidden in the wreckage.

  Uncle Pete can’t see well, though he wore bifocals, so we were a bit skeptical, mainly because we did not want Aunt Bev’s death to be true. After two weeks and Aunt Bev did not show, we gave up hope. The dirty red hat seemed to mock us in its finality.

  There would be no more loud laughter and off color jokes, no more cane-row hairstyles for me; nobody could comb my hair as well as Aunt Bev did.

  Since the body could not be found, Grandma decided on a memorial service where we would give our last remembrances and pay our respects to a truly loved person.

  An enlarged picture of Aunt Bev was placed at the front of the church and the red hat, which was washed by a family member, was perched on a stick beside the picture.

  The participants in the service filed slowly and solemnly to the platform. The organist started playing ‘Rock of Ages’ loudly and off-key. Everyone stood and we all sang.

  Aunt Mary stood directly behind me; it was obvious from her mumblings and her discordant tones that she could not read the hymnal’s fine print. Mama once told me that Aunt Mary’s voice was likened unto a cat on a tin roof. I can now understand why she said that. I winced as Aunt Mary attempted an even higher note.

  After the song, many prayers were said and family and friends gave their remembrances. By this time, everyone in the church was weeping. Personally, I could not understand why it had to be Aunt Bev who died, why not Aunt Cherry or Uncle Rupert?

  Not that I wanted any of them dead but everyone knew that Aunt Cherry was the meanest person on the planet and Uncle Rupert was living with Grandma so he could change her will. Why of grandma’s fourteen children did Aunt Bev have to go first?

  Pastor Moncrieffe stood to deliver his sermon; he cleared his throat several times, jolting me from my reverie. “Brothers and Sisters, Bev was a good woman, a stalwart in this church, a mother to the poor and motherless, a willing helper, but the Lord saw it fit to send her to sleep until his judgement day… Brethren he gives and he takes away...”

  Mama’s sniffling got even louder and Papa was blinking his eyes more rapidly, wiping his face every other second. It was obvious that he did not want anyone to know that he was crying, but his bloodshot eyes testified that he was missing his sister dearly.

  Grandma held Uncle Roy’s hand so tightly, I saw him grimace. Aunt Betty was rocking to and fro and muttering, “Have Mercy Lord, have mercy.”

  I felt hot and restless and the grey suit that Mama insisted I wear was heavy and scratchy. I just wanted to go home and be alone with my memories of Aunt Bev.

  I was ready to doze off, when the pastor started speaking about the uncertainty of life, repeating the same point over and over again. He bellowed and pointed and strolled from one end of the platform to the other, chastising us for our sins.

  I looked toward the back of the church and marveled at the size of the congregation, and then I saw someone hurrying down the isle in a black suit and a black veil. I thought to myself that it must be Aunt Ellen, being fashionably late so that everyone could notice her latest dietary success.

  Then I saw the figure in black heading for our bench, she was walking fast and her strides were totally unlike Aunt Ellen’s cat-walk gliding.

  “Gwaan up more Henry,” the person said to my father.

  The voice sounded like Aunt Bev!

  My first reaction was one of shocked surprise. My throat felt dry. I could not see her face well under the veil, but it was definitely her in the flesh and smiling too. Then she raised the veil and smiled. Her teeth gleamed against the very heavy lipstick she wore.

  Grandma who looked behind at that moment fainted on Uncle Roy. Aunt Mary started screaming and this drew everyone’s attention toward our part of the church.

  The church froze as if a paralysis had suddenly descended and then people started running and screaming. The place was in chaos.

  Uncle Pete not being able to find his bifocals, bumped into every bench like a blind bat. On his way to the front door, he collided in Aunt Ellen who was just preparing her grand entrance.

  I stood where I was, taking in the scene, not knowing what to do.

  Mama and Papa were nowhere to be seen in the sea of panicky people heading out in all directions. Some choosing to exit by the less convenient, but more speedy route of the church windows.

  The deacon, who had just collected the money, ran out with the collection plate while trying to keep the offering from falling out of the plate.

  Grandma revived at that moment, looked at Aunt Bev and screamed, “Get behind me Satan!” she again fainted on the seat that Uncle Roy had been occupying.

  Aunt Bev, pleasant as usual, stood, smiled and took in the chaotic scene.

  Uncle Harry who was passing slowly and painfully on his crutch, brushed against her. “Help!” he shouted, and threw down the crutch and hopped away on one foot.

  I was the only one standing with Aunt Bev in the church except for the Pastor, who was running and shouting “I rebuke you in the name of the Lord, go back to where you are coming from”.

  Even Grandma had gone already.

  “Watch ya!” exclaimed Aunt Bev. “Dem nuh expeck seh mi fi come a mi own funeral.” She laughed loudly, her ample breasts jiggling in her mirth.

  That’s when I ran.

  Most people gathered at Grandma’s house after the encounter with the ghost. That’s where I found Mama, Papa and most of the community assembled i
n the yard. When Mama saw me coming up the road she ran to me and hugged me.

  “Shi box yuh?”

  “Shi touch yuh?”

  “Mek mi si yuh face chile”. Mama looked me over, satisfied that the ghost had not touched me; she released me to go and tell my version of the event to my cousins.

  The talk in the yard was that Aunt Bev was coming to haunt the neighborhood; stark terror was seen on everyone’s face including Pastor Moncrieffe’s. He decided to continue his sermon right in Grandma’s front yard, “di Bible says in Ecclesiastes 9 verses 5 and 6 that the living know that they will die but the dead know nothing; they have no further reward, and even the memory of them is forgotten. Their love, their hate and their jealousy have long since vanished; never again will they have a part in anything that happens under the sun.”

  We all gathered around him, taking comfort in his words.

  “Mi neva harm Bev in anyway, mi was always kind to har. Mi hope shi nuh come a mi yard come trouble mi.” Aunt Cherry said, to no one in particular.

  “Yuh is a mean woman Cherry,” Mama whispered loudly, “shi a guh haunt yuh and di one Rupert fi di rest a unnu life.”

  Aunt Cherry whimpered in fear and slunk to the back of the sizeable crowd. No one saw when the lone figure in black stood on the verandah, until an earsplitting scream was heard from Aunt Ellen, who pointed silently in that direction.

  “The duppy, the duppy,” was the fearful whisper in the crowd.

  Everyone gathered in a tight circle closer to Pastor Moncrieffe.

  “Gwaan Pastor Moncrieffe, gwaan guh rebuke har”.

  Pastor Moncrieffe stood trembling, his mouth slightly agape.

  “Auhm,” he cleared his throat, as Aunt Bev stood on the verandah and laughed.

  “Re… rememba weh mi seh people, dis is jus a trick di devil a play pon unnu I…I… rebu…rebuk…rebuketh,” he stammered.

  “Gwaan guh get some garlic,” Uncle Pete said to Aunt Betty.

  “Is only vampire that work pon, yuh fool,” Aunt Betty whispered. “Push Pastor Moncrieffe forward, it look like ‘im need some help fi move.”

  “Ssssh,” said the duppy.

  Everyone became silent, only Aunt Mary’s wheeze could be heard.

  “Cherry! weh yuh deh?” the ghost asked eerily.

  Aunt Cherry whimpered.

  “Answer har,” someone at the back of the crowd whispered.

  “Yes,” Aunt Cherry replied weakly.

  “Is you tek weh di sheet set from Mama?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mi want yuh give it back, yuh mustn’t steal from yuh owna madda.”

  “Yes, yes,” Aunt Cherry said feverishly, “and mi will give back the knife and fork dem, weh mi borrow from Dorothy and mi will give Trevor lunch money fi di rest of di year.”

  Trevor was the only cousin who was going to college at the time; the whole family took turns to finance his education except Aunt Cherry.

  “Rupert,” the duppy said loudly.

  “Yes,” Uncle Rupert answered gruffly, his whole body seemed to tremble. He went to stand beside Aunt Cherry in the clearing where we all parted to give them way.

  “Why yuh nuh stop try fi change Mama will? How much time now yuh try fi change it?”

  “Only… only two,” stammered Uncle Rupert.

  Everyone gasped, until now it was only a rumor that he was trying to change the will.

  “Who get what?” asked the duppy.

  “Mi give mi and mi pickney dem all a di land and mi lef di house fi di family.”

  “You are a tief,” was the pronouncement from the verandah.

  Grandma started crying, she refused to hear anything bad about her children and the revelation from Rupert was a shock.

  Aunt Betty hushed her as she leaned on an orange tree and wailed. I held her hand and she squeezed it tightly

  “Di right will nuh deh ya, mi woulda neva leave di right will inna di house,” she sobbed.

  Rupert’s expression was priceless.

  The ghost on the verandah laughed and removed the veil. “Okay, okay unnu stop di duppy argument, mi come off a di bus long before it crash. I was spending some time with mi friend Susan in Westmoreland. When mi come back mi hear seh unnu have funeral fi mi.”

  A loud sigh of relief went through the crowd and we all took turns in hugging and touching her and checking that she was real.

  Aunt Cherry huffed and walked off. However, she did keep to her end of the bargain with the ‘duppy’. After the incident she was remarkably different, she became kinder and more loving to her family members.

  As for Uncle Rupert, he moved out of Grandma’s house and in with Aunt Betty; allegedly, he had heard that Grandma had given Betty the ‘right’ will to hide.

  It has been many years since the eventful day of ‘Aunt Bev’s return’, and since then, I have shared the story with my children countless times.

  Whenever I return to the place of my youth, I relive that day with great amusement with my favorite aunt, who is still up to her usual antics.

  The Haunting

  I had a feeling that I was going crazy but I was not sure. I laid in the five bedroom family house in Manchester and tried to sleep but the wooo-wooo of the weeping willow trees sounded eerie, so I had to convince myself that I was not afraid.

  “Yuh going to regret the day, yuh get that house,” I heard Aunt Edith’s voice whisper in the wind.

  Talk about fulfillment, I should probably pack up and go back to St. James, but the novelty of owning a house and land was still in my bones, so I stayed.

  I had no idea that my grandfather would have left the family house and the three acres of land that surrounded it to me. He gave everybody else, his five surviving children and numerous grandchildren a big plot and told them to sort it out, but to me he gave the house and land.

  I am beginning to regret his decision.

  The smiles and the welcome that I received when I came back to Knock Patrick in Manchester were wearing thin. The family started to treat me as an enemy, after the will was read.

  Aunt Edith, Grandpa’s oldest child, was the most vocal with her disagreement.

  “How ‘im fi give you three acres a land?” she would ask me incredulously, “yuh live in Mobay fi ten years now and wi hardly hear from yuh.”

  She would shake her head and bitterly pronounce. “Di house haunted yuh know, even Dada,” she referred to her father, “had to move out.”

  “But Aunt Edith he went to a nursing home?”

  “Is so yuh feel, ‘im move out because ’im hear voices.”

  “He was probably becoming senile,” I rebutted.

  “If yuh think suh,” she said slyly, “wi could probably tell the lawyers them that ’im was senile, that’s why ‘im leave the house to yuh.”

  That was water under the bridge; they had already contested the will and lost, so I did not reply to her taunt.

  She would harrumph and mutter, “‘im probably did mad long before wi know.”

  I realized that the issue of the house and the land was becoming a big deal for the family, so I tried to stay away from them.

  However, well-meaning cousins and other relatives would show up at the house in the days and reminisce about how haunted the house was and how they doubted that a young lady, such as myself, could live there alone.

  The only cousin I trusted was Peter. He would keep my company but left when it got late.

  “Carlene are you sure you don’t want company?”

  “I am sure Pete.”

  “Alright, but if anything happens or yuh see anything, just memba fi call mi pon mi cellular, alright.”

  I nodded, warmed by his concern.

  But tonight the howling of the willow trees sounded closer, giving me goose pimples on my arms.

  “Carleeeneee,” I heard a whisper outside the window, “Carleeene.”

  I crouched even lower under the sheets; I was trembling like a leaf.

  “Carleene gal, a coming
fi yuh.”

  I could not think, I could not move my head; it felt twice its normal size. I thought haunted houses were a thing of the past.

  The whispering stopped just as suddenly as it begun but I could not sleep.

  I am sure I was wide-awake and not dreaming when I heard the low calling of my name.

  I did not move for the rest of the night. I was scared out of my wits and the night passed interminably. As soon as I heard the crowing of the rooster, I got up; my body stiff from the inert position that I was in.

  I grabbed my cellular and called Pete. He did not answer his telephone, leaving me to suffer alone. I had family members living all around me but I was afraid that if I told them what happened they would say ‘I told you so’.

  The house was a huge, old-style Georgian design with a wrap-around porch, made mostly of wood. The little creaks and groans that the floorboards made, as I walked toward the veranda, had more than the usual significance this morning.

  I laughed softly to myself as I thought of my stupidity. In the light of day everything was so much brighter and fresh. Life was good, why waste it on a vague nighttime memory.

  The air was nippy and had the unsullied feel of a rural dawn, I huddled under a thick sweater that once belonged to my grandmother and held a cup of fever grass tea in both hands to keep me warm as I watched the morning dawn.

  I saw Aunt Mavis tramp up the walkway; her back hunched under the strain of a black crocus bag she was carrying on her head.

  “Mawnin gal,” she said smiling and baring her gums.

  “Good morning Aunt Mavis, how are you?”

  “Could be better, mi hear seh Lucy duppy was walking last night, shi nuh come over here?”

  “Lucy, who is Lucy?” My blood ran cold and I felt as if a vise was tightening on my head. It was as if the ‘life is good’ speech to myself was swept under the rug of fright.

  “Lucy was Dada’s youngest sister, but shi used to talk how the house and land should belong to the family and not one person. But Dada get it from his parents and now you get it from ’im. Yuh know weh mi can’t understan’?”

  I shook my head.