by Isobel Chace
“Why don’t you sit down?” I had asked at last.
“All right.” She had sat awkwardly on the stool in front of the dressing-table. “Camilla, do you think you’ll be happy here?”
“I expect so!” I had said lightly.
“But you don’t know, do you?”
I had been surprised by her concern. “I suppose not,” I had admitted. “But I’m pretty sure.”
She had turned to face me, a sincere expression on her face, her eyes full of anxiety. “It’s different coming down here for twenty-four hours. Have you thought of that? I mean, I’m terribly pleased you asked me if you could come, but it isn’t the same as living here, is it? I mean, ever since you got here you’ve had Daniel at your beck and call and all my family to see that things are running smoothly, but it isn’t like that all the time!”
“I wouldn’t expect it to be.”
“But you don’t understand!” She had paused dramatically. “It will be so lonely for you here. I know!”
Even now in the clear light of day, I had no idea what her motives had really been. At the time I had suspected the worst. Oh yes, I had thought, you don’t want me here, that much is obvious, but why not? Could it be because Daniel had kissed me and she was jealous? It had seemed a likely theory as I had tossed and turned in an unfamiliar bed, but now, brooding upon it as we sped along the Highway back to Port-of-Spain, I was not so sure. I couldn’t really believe that Pamela lacked confidence in herself. Besides, I was pretty sure she knew exactly why Daniel had kissed me, and that was surely more humiliating to me than it was to her!
“You won’t be accepted here!” she had come out with at last. “Don’t you see that?”
“No.” I had said obstinately.
She had sighed, her pretty face charged with emotion. “My mother isn’t alone in feeling as she does about your uncle,” she had explained. “When I think how lonely she’s been! And she has none of your disadvantages!”
I had laughed, of course. It had seemed the only proper response, but I had known that the laughter was hollow. Mrs. Longuet’s attack on my uncle had left a nasty taste in my mouth, t had begun to think that our relations with other sugar growers in the area would be decidedly sticky and, even now, as the bus rushed through the countryside towards Port-of-Spain, the remembrance of the panicky dismay I had felt still lingered in my memory, refusing to be dismissed as a matter of no importance. It did matter to me. I wanted to be liked just like every one else did! And why should the Longuets be able to poison everything for us by a few words of spicy gossip?
“Did Mrs. Longuet say goodbye?” Patience’s voice broke in on my thoughts.
I shook my head. “No. Pamela said she never got up much before noon.”
Patience cackled like a rather irritable hen, her double chins shaking with agitation. “That ain’t so, Miss ’Milla. I’se tellin’ you straight. Why, man, that woman has somethin’ up her sleeve! She ain’t been straight with you!”
“How do you mean, Patience?” I asked.
“That place ain’t paid a cent in years. Did she tell you that? Her with her airs and graces! I’se tellin’ you, Miss ’Milla, jest like my cousin telled it to me. It weren’t love of the place that took Miss Pamela workin’ at the refinery, no, sir!”
I cleared my throat. “I think—” I began.
“No, it sure weren’t! They needed every cent of it, I’se tellin’ you!”
“I think,” I said again, “that Pamela is very fond of Daniel.”
Patience swivelled an indignant eye round in my direction. “And what would she be wantin’ in that quarter?” she demanded.
I could feel myself colouring and the muscles in my throat grew stiff and unmanageable. “I think they’re in love with one another,” I explained timidly.
“My eye!” Patience responded caustically. I could have kissed her for her disbelief even though it made no difference to the facts.
“But it’s true!”
“Someone’s been tellin’ you stories! Mr. Daniel has more sense than to pick one with a mother like that one’s. Now don’t you worry none, Miss ’Milla. I’se known Mr. Daniel since he was in his cradle!” She laughed exuberantly. “I sure has!”
My eyes smarted with tears that I blinked hastily away before Patience’s sharp eyes should see them. “Oh well, it doesn’t matter,” I said wearily. “It’s all been decided for me. I’m going to buy the Longuet estate whether I like it or not—Aaron and Daniel have made up their minds, and that’s what counts!”
Patience relapsed into silence, shaking her head from side to side with wonder that I should allow myself to be bossed about so easily. Indeed, I wondered at it myself! But the difficulties of doing anything else seemed too great and too imponderable to be feasible. Besides, I was tired. Tired of my uncle and my cousins doing nothing and tired of being told that they were no good for doing the one job they seemed to actually want.
The fact that Daniel spent most of his time down on his own estate and in the refinery didn’t matter to me! It never crossed my mind. That is, I wouldn’t allow myself to be swayed by such unprofitable considerations. Daniel was just Daniel. There was nothing special about him. On the contrary, he was conceited and far too sure of himself, in my opinion. How could I like him? It was no more than a silly attraction because I liked his looks and the gay laughter that filled his eyes. But I was not a teenager to think that such an attraction could last! Why, such an idea was laughable, I told myself grimly.
“I’ll be askin’ Mr. Daniel why he ain’t buyin’ that estate for himself!” Patience suddenly announced.
“Yes,” I said amiably. “Why not?”
Patience gave me a reproachful look. “Course, if you ain’t interested, Miss ’Milla?”
My eyes met hers. I took a deep breath, ready to deny that anything to do with Daniel could possibly hold any interest for me. But there was something in Patience’s expression that prevented me. “Yes,” I said meekly, “I’m interested. I’d really like to know. Patience.”
Patience yawned with sheer satisfaction. “That’s what me and my cousin reckoned,” she said.
I was stiff by the time the bus ran into Port-of-Spain. The journey seemed to have taken twice as long as the one going the other way, and yet the bus station was just exactly as we had left it. Tickets were still being sold for the Tobago State Lottery and the same fine-limbed young men were sweeping away at the same streets.
Both Wilfred and Cuthbert had come to meet us. They were standing side by side on the pavement, leaning against the wall in the sun. They looked ridiculously alike, each with the same hand tucked behind them to protect them from the harshness of the wall, and each with the same foot shot out in front as if they were about to take their first step in a complicated ballet movement.
“Hi there!” Cuthbert called out when he saw Patience and me emerging from the bus.
“Yes, hi!” Wilfred echoed him.
“The bags are in the back,” Patience told them with a scolding frown. “Don’t you keep Miss ’Milla hangin’ round now!”
Cuthbert grinned at her. “Wouldn’t dream of it!” he cheeked her.
Patience grinned at him cheerfully. “Now then, now then, you’se jest excited about havin’ an estate again!” she accused him.
“He might be,” Wilfred butted in dolefully, “but I’m not!”
“Why not?” I asked him sharply. It was ridiculous to expect gratitude, but I wanted to know why he wasn’t pleased as I had expected him to be.
“Don’t pay him no heed!” Patience said to me, shaking her massive head.
“No, that’s right,” Cuthbert added. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about!”
“Oh, don’t I?” Wilfred said crossly. “And what would you know about it, little brother?”
“I know about sugar,” Cuthbert said stoutly.
“And that’s all you do know, muttonhead! Shut up now, you’ll worry our dear cousin with your eagerness!”
“I’m far more worried about your lack of eagerness!” I retorted helplessly. “What do you want, Wilfred?”
“I want to stay here,” he said slowly. “You wouldn’t understand,” he finished abruptly. “Come on, let’s get the luggage and be gone.” He put an affectionate arm round Patience. “I thought you wouldn’t be able to resist being back in time to play mas’ with us!” he teased her.
“No, sir!” she agreed. “Has you got your costume ready yet, Mr. Wilfred?”
“All but,” he told her.
Patience giggled delightedly, her previous anger with him completely forgotten. “And you got Miss ’Milla’s ready?”
I was astonished. “You mean that I have to have a costume for this carnival thing too?” I asked.
Wilfred grinned. “Lady, speak with respect. Don’t you know that the Islands stop for the days of Carnival?”
“You ain’t seen nothin’ till you seen that!” Patience added with a sigh of pure pleasure.
I was still of the opinion that Carnival was not really quite my style, but I didn’t want to disappoint them, so I put the best face I could on it and tried to interest my cousins in my visit to the Longuet estate.
“Stop chattering, Camilla my love,” Cuthbert said at last. You must have done something else but talk to Daniel?”
“The immaculate and much revered Daniel,” Wilfred added vindictively.
“Well, yes, I did,” I said defensively. “But he’s going to be one of the trustees.”
“He’s a trusty right enough!” Wilfred exclaimed bitterly. “Everybody trusts Fearless Dan—’ceptin’ me.”
“Why ever not?” I said angrily, annoyed with myself for leaping so quickly to Daniel’s defence. Hadn’t I myself objected to his being made one of the trustees?
Wilfred shrugged his shoulders. “He always thinks he has only to say a thing is so for it to be so. I don’t see why he should always be telling us what to do, though, do you?”
“No,” I said reluctantly. The two men had shouldered our luggage and they led the way out of the bus station into the street. “Should we take a taxi, or can you manage?”
They laughed. “Sure we can manage!” they responded, and set off at a great rate, laughing at us as Patience and I hurried along behind.
I was pleased to see the house in Charlotte Street again. The stuffy Victorian furniture seemed homely and comfortable after the elegance of the Longuet home. My cousins set down our cases in the hall and threw themselves into the easy chairs, their legs stretched out in front of them in an attitude of extreme exhaustion.
“Can I tell you all about it now?” I pleaded with them. “Patience can bring us all something to drink while you listen.”
“What about your Uncle Philip?” Patience asked doubtfully from the doorway.
“Oh yes,” I said, wondering how he had come to slip my mind so completely. “Where is he?”
“Not here!” Wilfred said sourly.
“You can tell me,” Cuthbert encouraged me. “I’m keen to hear all about it. Is the house nice? Will it give us all a good wage?”
Wilfred laughed at him openly. “With Daniel at the helm? You’ll sweat for every cent you get!” he said nastily.
Cuthbert looked abashed. “It won’t be as bad as all that,” he protested.
“The house is gorgeous!” I began firmly. “It looks sort of Chinese on the outside and all the rooms are large and airy. I liked it very much. I liked the look of the estate too—”
“Is it paying?” Cuthbert shot at me.
“Well,” I said doubtfully, “I suppose it must be. Patience’s cousin seemed to have a few doubts, but I suppose all the figures will be looked at by Aaron and he would hardly allow me to buy if it wasn’t, would he?”
“No,” Cuthbert agreed. “Aaron is one of the best. A good deal less stand-offish than some others as well!”
“Unless Daniel has already pulled the wool over his eyes!” Wilfred drawled.
“But he couldn’t do that!” I protested.
“That’s what we thought last time,” Wilfred said. We thought not Cousin Daniel! He wouldn’t do it to us! But he owns every acre of our land now just the same. He has to feed that refinery of his. It’s the only thing he cares about. Nobody else has a refinery, you notice. Most people were content to ship their raw sugar out to countries all over the world as it was until he came along with his big ideas. And now he has to feed that great monster, and that takes land, man, acres of it! And land he’s out to get!”
“I don’t believe it!” I said stubbornly.
Wilfred rose and bowed laughingly in my direction. “You must, of course, do exactly as you please!” he said, and walked carelessly out of the room.
It was Cuthbert who broke the silence that followed his going. “Don’t take it to heart,” he advised me. “Wilfred has always been bitter over what happened.” He looked up suddenly, looking so like his brother that it was ridiculous. “He might not come with us. You won’t mind, will you?”
“No,” I said wearily, “I won’t mind.”
There didn’t seem anything to say after that. I made myself go up to my room, carrying my case up the stairs with me, and spent the next few minutes unpacking the things I had taken with me. Why, I wondered, was I going to so much trouble to buy this estate if nobody wanted it? I could have cried, only it seemed weak-kneed to do so. Besides, I was far too cross to cry. I was deep-down angry, angry with the lot of them! To make matters worse, my uncle had put another pile of bills on my dressing-table and most of them, I discovered, were for the most trivial luxuries that we could all quite easily have done without.
I sat on the end of my bed and wept and all the while the little steel band below my window went on playing the same tune, and I wept the harder.
Uncle Philip was extremely interested in all I had to say about the Longuet estate.
“I’ve cut sugar there once or twice,” he told me. “Mr. Longuet was always a fair man to work for.”
“He struck me that way too,” I admitted. “I’m not sure about his wife and daughter!”
Uncle Philip laughed easily. “I’d not know too much about them. Oh, once I did, but Mrs. Longuet bears a grudge for a long time and I never saw anything of her when I was down that way. You don’t like the daughter, did you say?”
I blinked. “I didn’t dislike her exactly,” I hedged. “She’s pretty and probably rather nice really—”
“And hanging out for Daniel?”
“I wouldn’t say that!” I replied quickly. Too quickly.
“No. But is it true?” my uncle insisted. “You see, girl, I can’t understand why Daniel is being so helpful all of a sudden. He’s not gone out of his way to put butter on our bread before this.”
“You think he may be doing this for Pamela?” I asked. I found I disliked the idea with an almost physical distaste.
“Can you offer any other explanation?” Uncle Philip said sourly. “If you can, I’m afraid I can’t.”
I shook my head sadly. I couldn’t believe it. I wouldn’t believe it! But neither could I explain it. Aaron would have to do that, I thought. And it would have to be a very good explanation or I would call off the whole deal. I felt a flutter of pride in my independence. There was nothing to stop me saying that I wouldn’t buy. It was my money. Tomorrow I would go and see him and get the whole business sorted out.
I escaped from mv uncle as soon as I decently could. I wanted to be alone, funnily enough in the most West Indian of ways because it wasn’t a physical aloneness I was seeking, but the losing of myself in the crowds outside, to get away from the people I knew and join in the anonymous rejoicing outside.
There was no one in the hall when I slipped out into the street. It was not yet dark, but most people had finished their day’s work and were relaxing by getting ready for Carnival. Some of them had been at it ever since New Year’s Eve, but the excitement mounted day by day as the season approached. I knew now why Trinidad was
called Calypso Island, for everyone here was an amateur bard. The steel bands had come into being on V-E Day in 1945 when the whole population had grabbed whatever they could to beat out a rhythm of triumph during the parade in Port-of-Spain. Dustbins, buckets, oil drums, pots, pans and biscuit tins were all pressed into service and, such is the Trinidadian’s natural musical ability, they managed to make a pleasant harmonious sound that resulted in the steel bands. They’ve been going strong ever since. I had hardly been out of earshot of one ever since my arrival. They were the trade-mark of the Island and I was already as proud of them as everyone else was.
People pushed against me as I hurried along the crowded street. “Gettin’ ready to jump up?” a smiling couple of Negroes asked me. I shook my head, not understanding what they meant.
“Jump up, man! Jump up!” the man roared, suiting the action to the word by jumping feet into the air as a preliminary of starting an impromptu dance with his wife.
I grinned at him. “Is that what you call it?” I said.
“You’ll see, come ‘Joo-Vay’!” he told me, rolling his eyes round. “‘Joo-Vay’! ‘Joo-Vay’! ‘Joo-Vay!’” he chanted happily in time to the nearest band.
It was a fascinating scene. Dancing had broken out all around me, but I was too shy to join in. I enjoyed watching though and as nobody appeared to mind I stared to my heart’s content.
At the end of the street I ran into Cuthbert. He clutched at my arm to prevent us from being parted as soon as we had met and we laughed together.
“What does ‘Joo-Vay’ mean?” I asked him.
“It’s a Trinidadian corruption of the French ‘Jour ouvert’, the first day of Carnival,” he replied immediately.
“Oh!” I exclaimed. “So that’s when they all ‘jump up’!”
“Traditionally,” he agreed. “It doesn’t look as though they’re doing so badly now, does it?”
He cavorted happily beside me, doing a few steps here and a few steps there, catching at the rhythm of first one group and then another. “Let’s go to a tent tonight?”
