by Isobel Chace
Fortunately, before I could leap to the defence of my side of the family, Wilfred appeared with my luggage. He plonked it down in the doorway, leaning against the wall, saying nothing but just watching me. What a handsome man he was! I feasted my eyes on his fair, square-cut face and his large grey eyes that were almost too feminine to look well on a man.
“I was thinking, cousin,” he said at last, “that you might like to get out and have a look round our little city?”
“That would be lovely!” I agreed quickly. The sounds from the street were tantalising and I badly wanted to see for myself all that was going on. I wouldn’t admit to myself that I also wanted to escape from the rather oppressive atmosphere of the house, but I think there was a little of that in my eagerness, too.
“You’ll need a wrap,” he said. “It’s cool when the sun goes down.”
To me it was delightfully warm. I pulled a light stole out of my bulging suitcase and hurried down the stairs, stopping only to make sure that Wilfred was coming behind me. My uncle was standing in the hall and he beamed with pleasure when he saw that we were going out together.
“That’s the spirit!” he said. “We’re all friends in my house. We always have been and we always will be. Have a good time, the two of you!”
A fine aroma of mixed spices, chickens and kerosene lamps hung over Charlotte Street that night. In the corner of Independence Square, not far from the house, a steel band was playing. Considering that everyone in it was an amateur who had himself beaten out his own instrument and tuned it with elaborate care, the music sounded sweet and true. The performers swayed back and forth with the rhythm and I was amused to see some of the passers-by begin to dance as they hurried along. Indeed I was sorely tempted to myself.
“Where are we going?” I asked Wilfred.
“I don’t know,” he replied indifferently. “Perhaps you’d like to try the oysters? Most tourists go for them in a big way.”
I was quite willing to try anything. I wanted to look at everything on the way though which made our progress rather slow. I had never been in a place before where everyone came out in the cool of the evening to walk and to look at each other. Nobody was in a hurry to go back to the homes. They stood on corners and gossiped and laughed more than any other people I had ever met.
“I’ll take you to the stall of a friend of mine,” Wilfred said suddenly. “He always manages to get the best ones going.” He grinned, looking very much more relaxed and friendly. “Tell me, Cousin Camilla, do you think you’re going to like Trinidad?”
“I think it’s lovely!” I said truthfully. “Tell me all about these oysters. Do you ever go and collect them?”
“Sometimes. When the mood stirs me that way. They’re tree oysters, did you know that? Ostrea mexicana! It’s easy enough to pick them up in the mangrove swamps on the ebb tide. You find them clinging on to the exposed roots. If you want to know if they’re the real thing you can always look over a stall’s wares and see if the odd bit of bark is still stuck on to the shells. Don’t let them cheat you. The Ironsides aren’t tourists to be done by any smart boy on the street!”
“I’ll be very careful,” I promised gravely.
He looked at me suspiciously, but he said nothing. For a mere shilling, or its equivalent, he bought us each a dozen oysters which the stallholder prepared with a deft flick of the wrist. Trinidad is justly famous for these oysters, and I could see why when I tasted them. I wondered if in centuries to come these oysters would be the food of the rich as those in Europe had become, for once there, too, they had been the luxury of the poor as they still were here.
“Patel,” Wilfred addressed the stallholder urgently when he had finished serving a group of customers. “Patel, this is my cousin from England.”
The young Indian shook hands cheerfully. “So you came?” was all he said.
“Of course she came!” Wilfred retorted. “We Ironsides stick together!”
The Indian looked at me curiously. He had a pleasant smile and I found myself liking him. “You’re daft,” he said to Wilfred. “If you ask me, your whole family is round the bend!”
“Why do you say that?” I asked him.
He laughed softly. “That’s what ambition does for you!” He paused, wiping his fingers on his trousers.
“Are you ambitious?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so,” I said.
“Just as well,” Mr. Patel said simply. “You’ve come to the wrong place if you are. Everyone else is going to England to make their fortunes. Everyone except the Ironsides!”
I laughed, feeling suddenly ill at ease. “But they’re doing very nicely here,” I objected.
“Is that what they’ve told you?” Mr. Patel snapped
“Oh, shut up!” Wilfred cut him off rudely. “She doesn’t want to hear all about our troubles. Anyway, Patience will be waiting dinner for us. We’ll be back tomorrow for some more.”
“Okay,” Mr. Patel dismissed us with a wave of his hand. “I’ll take you to get them if you like—some time, when you’ve settled in.”
“I’d like that,” I said.
We wandered back down the street back to the house. Wilfred strolled along beside me in silence for several minutes and then he said wryly: “Well, that didn’t go quite the way I had intended!”
“Didn’t it?”
He grinned. “You know quite well it didn’t. I wanted to show you how well known and liked we are here in Trinidad,” he added engagingly.
“I believe you,” I said calmly.
“Even after Patel’s remarks?”
“Why not?” I returned smoothly. But to tell the truth I was beginning to be quite concerned about my family. There was something in the atmosphere that I didn’t quite like, a sourness in the attitude of my two cousins towards everything and a peculiar antagonism that underlaid everything my uncle had to say. Why? I wondered. Was it that they had lost their money and didn’t want me to know? Or was it that that was how they behaved all the time? I wished I knew because then I would know so much better what to do myself. As it was I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t even know if I was truly welcome to stay with them. Oh well, I thought, time would soon tell that, and I could always leave if I wanted to. The thought of the money that stood to my credit in the bank gave me a great, warm feeling of confidence. Nothing really mattered when one was financially secure, I told myself luxuriously. It was a buffer between oneself and the harsher side of life in all its aspects. It was a gorgeous, lovely sense of freedom!
The smell of cooking pervaded the street as we walked along it. It made me feel very hungry indeed and I quickened my steps as I saw the house ahead of us and thought of the meal that would be waiting. And a bizarre ritual the meal was too! My uncle led the way into the dining-room, taking me by the arm in a way I had often read about but had certainly never expected to experience. Patience was standing over the table, her hand already out to remove the covers as soon as we had settled ourselves and decided where we were all to sit. My uncle put me on his right hand, with Wilfred opposite himself and Cuthbert opposite me. It was only then that I noticed that a fifth place had been laid beside Cuthbert’s, and here Patience seated herself, her great bulk flowing over the rather pretty spindly chair that she had given herself to sit on. I don’t know why it should have surprised me that she should join us for the meal, but it did. I hid it as best as I could, but I could tell from the quick smile that formed on Cuthbert’s face that he, at least, had noticed. I hoped rather anxiously that he wouldn’t think me a snob.
My uncle bowed his head and said a short grace and then Patience served each of us from the lavishly filled dish in front of her. It was a stew made from various kinds of seafoods. I recognised the pieces of fish, the oysters, the mussels and the clams, but some of the constituents were strange to me and were coloured in exotic oranges and blacks, pinks and pale yellows. Whatever they were, they were all quite delicious and so were the vegetables that came with them.
/>
“You see,” my uncle claimed in triumphant tones, “we’ve made no special arrangements for you. The poorest man in Trinidad could eat what we’re eating tonight! I thought you would prefer it to a lot of fuss.”
“Oh yes, indeed!” I replied hastily.
“Good, good. We’re not given to making a lot of fuss in our branch of the family. No one ever made a fuss of us!”
I said nothing, but I was aware of the way in which Wilfred anti Cuthbert watched me all the time Uncle Philip was speaking. They seemed to get a kind of malicious amusement out of their father’s needling tone. For myself I was not yet sure whether he was sorry for himself, or whether my parents had deliberately ignored him and his family. Certainty I had heard very little about them in the past, but families do get split up when they live in different parts of the world and I was surprised that anyone should find it in any way remarkable.
Wilfred raised his glass towards me. “Here’s to you, cousin,” he said with a laugh.
“Thank you,” I muttered, blushing hotly. Such toasts had not been a usual feature of my life.
“Here’s to grow richer!” he said solemnly. He and his brother exchanged looks and they both appeared to be on the verge of collapsing into laughter. Only Patience was enjoying her food, eating her way through an enormous plateful as if the rest of us were not even there.
“Very pretty!” Uncle Philip remarked dryly. “Did my brother tell you that I was an uncivilised wretch? Ungrateful, too? Never answering any of his letters? Though why should I have done? What I made of my life here I intended to keep to myself!”
I swallowed a single oyster whole and nearly choked. “I don’t think he mentioned you often at all,” I answered briefly. “I—I don’t remember his doing so.”
“But you knew about me all the same?”
“Why, yes!” I exclaimed. “After all, I was brought up in the same house where Daddy and you had both been children.” I smiled, remembering how my uncle had left his mark on the nursery walls and furniture. “I had all sorts of relics to remember you by!”
My uncle grunted. “What’s happened to the house?” he asked.
“It was sold,” I said slowly. “Everything was sold when my parents were killed. There was no son to carry on and the death duties swallowed up everything anyway.”
“I have sons,” Uncle Philip reminded me bitterly.
I blinked. “I don’t think the lawyers knew that. There was really nothing left to inherit. Even my school fees couldn’t be paid, but happily I was old enough for it not to matter. I was even rather glad to leave and get a job in London.”
My uncle grinned. “Done pretty well for yourself now!” he teased me.
“Oh, that! That was luck!” I smiled back. “It could have happened to anyone. I could hardly believe it myself!”
“Speaking for my sons and myself,” he said with an odd, courtly air, “we couldn’t be more pleased. You must have been through a bad time, my dear, losing your parents so suddenly—in a car crash, wasn’t it?”
I nodded, not wishing to dwell on that peculiarly painful incident in my life. “And now the fates have brought you to us,” my uncle went on. “We couldn’t be more pleased!” he repeated himself. “It makes one see that families are really meant to stick together and so we shall in the future. I’ve always frowned on the saying that blood is thicker than water, but your arrival has made me see the sense in it. You’re a true Ironside, my dear.”
I was embarrassed, but I tried not to let it show. My cousins gave me a mocking stare and I tried hard to laugh with them, to show that I wasn’t taking any of these pretty speeches too seriously, but it wasn’t a very successful effort. All I could think of was the cool asperity of my father’s humour and how much he would have disliked this kind of talk. I did myself, I thought suddenly. They might be my closest living relations, but they were all strangers to me and all the fine speeches in the world couldn’t alter that! It would take a lot of time for us to grow accustomed to one another and, at that moment, I wasn’t sure that I wanted to spend my time in that way.
“You’se ain’t eatin’ nothin’,” Patience said suddenly, staring at my plate. “You’se eat up like a good girl, I’se tellin’ you now!”
Obediently I addressed myself to the excellent stew and left the talking to the men, hardly even bothering to listen. I was tired after the long flight and the welter of new impressions that I had received ever since the aeroplane had landed. When I put down my knife and fork I was very nearly asleep.
“Come along of me,” Patience bade me. “You’m can’t sleep here.”
I apologised to my uncle and my cousins, getting almost eagerly to my feet, so anxious was I to get to bed. My cousins rose languidly to their feet, nodding their goodnights. My uncle showed no sign that he had noticed my departure until I reached the door into the hall.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he snapped suddenly. “I have some business to discuss with you.”
“What about?” I retorted, genuinely bewildered.
“Nothing that need bother your pretty head now!” he said affably. “Goodnight, Camilla.”
“Goodnight,” I replied. I had no intention of bothering my head with anything at that moment, but I had reckoned without my unruly thoughts that suddenly took up a life of their own, making all thought of sleep and peace impossible.
“You watch that uncle!” Patience said grimly in my ear. “You watch all of ’em—and all that money of yours, too!”
I swung round on my heel and stared at her. “What do you mean?” I demanded.
“What should I mean?” she went on relentlessly. “They be your relations! They’re none o’ mine! And it be your money too—while you’se still has it. You’se won’t be havin’ it long!”
“But they’ve made me very welcome,” I protested bleakly.
Patience tossed her head in the air in a magnificent gesture of contempt. “You’se call that hospitality? My, my, sugar, you’m in Trinidad now! You ain’t seen nothin’! I’m tellin’ you sure! You ain’t seen nothin’!”
Her great big arms came round my thin body and she cuddled me close. “Never you mind none,” she said. “I’se here, sugar. I’se here whenever you call. I’se big and slow, but I is loyal. I’se Hendrycks loyal, born and bred. I’se see you right, Miss ’Milla!”
“Hendrycks?” I repeated stupidly. “Daniel Hendrycks?”
Patience shook with laughter. “You be knowing Mr. Daniel? ’Twas his aunt that married your’n uncle Philip. My, my, but she was the loveliest thing you ever did see!” Her eyes rolled, swelling with tears. “You listen to what I be tellin’ you, Miss ’Milla. I’se here whenever you call, just like you was her. You understand?”
I nodded. “Thank you, Patience,” I said slowly.
“Mind you,” she added, “they’re her boys an’ I’m not hearin’ a word against them!”
I laughed. “Certainly not!” I agreed. I kissed her soft black cheek and she hurried me up the stairs and into my bed. What an odd day it had been, I thought, but it hadn’t all been bad. And I went to sleep half hoping that Daniel would come calling in the morning and knowing that he wouldn’t, but even so his dark features haunted my dreams.
CHAPTER THREE
I awoke to see the sun dancing on the blankets of my bed. The strong light came directly into the room, filtered only by a gigantic, king-sized cabbage palm, the leaves of which were just stirring in the gentle breeze. I was immediately wide awake and jumped out of bed, curious to know what the view from my room would look like in daylight.
I was fortunate in having two windows in my room, one of them looking out across Charlotte Street, and it was to this one I went first. From it I had a view of sharp mountains covered with the dark green of tropical growth. Only the palm trees were tall enough to have their own silhouette against the bright blue sky. The royal palms, smaller and with droopy leaves that did look a little like crowns, vied for attention, giving a pleasant feeling of
wide, sandy beaches and eternal sun. From the other window I could see down into the courtyard of the house where Patience was already hard at work, sweeping the dust back out into the street. It was a losing battle, for it swirled upwards and descended again a few seconds later in much the same place.
“You’m awake, Miss ’Milla? I’se bringin’ breakfast right now!” Her wide grin was catching. I stood and watched her for a while, her strong, muscular arms flailing about her with the broom in her hands. She was reassuringly solid and friendly and looked just right to live in this sunny, yet still strange place.
When she went back inside, I went back to my bed, luxuriating in the unaccustomed business of having breakfast in bed. It was a lovely feeling, lying there waiting for my food to be brought and wondering lazily what I would wear and what I would do on this delightful day. Should I explore the solitary beaches? Or should I look round Port of Spain and see what this small capital city was really like?
Patience knocked at my door and, barely waiting for me to answer, came charging into the room, the tray held at arms’ length and a grim expression on her face. “They tell’t me to bring these with me!” she announced stonily. She shoved the tray down across my knees and pointed at a pile of papers that practically engulfed the toast-rack.
“What are they?” I asked innocently.
“They be bills!” she retorted with venom. “Shall I put them out, Miss ’Milla?”
“N—no,” I said uncertainly, “don’t do that. I’d better take a look at them.”
“It be just the same as it ever was!” Patience said darkly. She took a deep breath, and I knew what was coming. The bills had been shock enough for one moment, I thought. I could do without another long dissertation on the beauty, and the charms of the late Mrs. Ironside to boot.
