If I Never Went Home

by Ingrid Persaud

  Is one thing to talk about me like this in the family, but Nanny’s mouth never tired. Granny Gwen came for a Saturday visit. She doesn’t make it so often any more but when you think you haven’t seen her for a while she pops right back up on the veranda drinking tea and quoting scriptures. The old lady ain’t reach too long before I heard Nanny bad-talking me. She’s carrying on about how I am happy to settle for a job in a café where I only getting paid ten dollars an hour and the minimum wage is twelve.

  I feel like cussing the whole lot of them, but I took a deep breath and went in my bedroom with a magazine. While I living under the bitch roof I have to learn to chill. Instead of being proud that I get a job she can’t resist putting me down in front everybody who set foot in this house and probably half the people in church too. Don’t think it ain’t crossed my mind to put a drop or three of castor oil in she food. That would shut her up for a good while.

  I was bored hiding in my room away from the old ladies so I decided to do over my nails. The red colour is chipping off. It’s hard to keep them looking good but I like to try. I was lying down on the bed letting them dry properly when someone knocked on the door. Is Granny Gwen calling for me. If my nails get smudged I will be real vex. I managed to open the door carefully.

  ‘Yes, Granny Gwen? You going now?’

  ‘I getting ready to go but I wanted to ask you to come by me tomorrow.’

  ‘Me and Nanny?’

  ‘No. Just you. I want you to come and spend a little hour with an old lady. You could do that for me?’

  ‘Of course I will, Granny Gwen. What time?’

  ‘Come about four o’clock. You want me to send the car for you?’

  ‘If you don’t mind. Bus does run slow on a Sunday.’

  ‘No problem. Good. So it’s me and you tomorrow. You will get to taste my home-made coconut ice cream, and the tree have chenette for so.’

  ‘Okay. Thanks, Granny Gwen. Tomorrow then.’

  I closed back the bedroom door carefully. No smudge. Now what was that all about? She has never asked me to come visit her alone before. I wonder if she saved up speaking out all this time and she finally ready to confront me about the hundred dollars. If she asks I will have to play dumb. She can’t prove a thing after so long. Or Nanny might have put her up to this. She probably beg Granny Gwen to “talk some sense” into her wayward granddaughter. I have no bone with Granny Gwen. I will go tomorrow, eat some ice cream, get a bag of chenette and come back home in time to catch The Simpsons on TV.

  Of course it was wishful thinking that I would get off easy with only coconut ice cream. Granny Gwen showed me around the house. I had only ever been on the outside patio where they seem to spend most of the time. This time I went inside. She has a nice sitting room that is perfect. I don’t think she allows anybody in there, much more let people eat and drink in it. And the bedrooms all have beautiful quilts with matching pillowcases. I can’t imagine actually sleeping in such a pretty bed and messing it up.

  The dining room is a separate room with a huge mahogany table and eight matching chairs. The table is set with fancy plates, glasses and napkins like she expecting the prime minister or Brian Lara for a visit. We sat down in the kitchen and it was then I realise what was missing.

  The house was empty.

  Granny Gwen is living in this big house all on her own. I thought her son Mr. Robin who runs the hardware lived here with his family, but she said he has his own place. Mr. Kevin, a half-brother or cousin, I’m not sure how he’s related, has always been here the few times I visited, but again this is not his house. Granny Gwen is alone.

  ‘You don’t get lonely here, Granny Gwen?’

  ‘You know my big son Alan who died used to live with me. Is he that I miss when I here by myself. The Lord knows why He chose to take him. We don’t know His plans.’

  ‘I went to the funeral. I was little but I remember it had a lot of excitement.’

  Granny Gwen laughed.

  ‘At the time I was so vex, you hear? But now I look back and laugh. Alan was always in some confusion with the ladies.’

  She took the ice cream out of the freezer.

  ‘How much you want? Two scoops or three?’

  ‘Only one. I have to look after my figure.’

  ‘Alan was a kind soul. Everybody liked him. And I have one granddaughter from him. Bea. She ain’t come to look for me since the funeral. But young people today busy. I suppose she will make it back one day.’

  I tasted the ice cream. It was creamy with real coconut flavour. You can’t buy this in Hi-Lo supermarket.

  ‘Granny Gwen, this is real delicious. If it was in our freezer it wouldn’t last a day.’

  ‘I glad you like it. When my grandchildren were growing up I used to make all the time. Now is only when I feel like it I do a batch.’

  I never knew Granny Gwen had had such an interesting life. She wasn’t always this old church lady. She showed me pictures of her when she was young. Gosh, she was pretty in her high heels and makeup and fancy dresses. And she was skinny like a size zero. She told me how every Saturday she and her friends used to go to dances up at a girls’ college that close down now. And her husband was one good-looking man too with his black hair all slicked back with a ton of hair cream and his drainpipe pants. And the albums were full of pictures of her children. I didn’t know she had lost a son before Mr. Alan. This poor lady has really seen some trouble.

  Then she said she had a special picture to show me. It was of a little girl standing behind her birthday cake with candles glowing.

  ‘Who this remind you of?’

  ‘That is super weird.’

  ‘I don’t know how long I been meaning to bring the picture to show you.’

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘That is my granddaughter Bea when she was about ten or eleven. But it could have been you. I can see your face in it. I tell myself I must show Tina how she resemble my granddaughter for so. You could pass for Bea’s sister easy-easy.’

  I took the picture and looked at it again. ‘But Granny Gwen, I don’t look like her now. At the funeral I remember she was so short. I’m five-eight.’

  ‘Yes. Poor child. That is from her mother side of the family. Her mother Mira must be five foot at most. That family is a set of short people.’

  ‘But I must say we did look alike at that age.’

  ‘You see, for me there is still a resemblance. I think that is why I take a liking to you from the start. I saw little Beezy in you.’

  I concentrated on scraping up the last of my ice cream because for some reason my eyes had welled up with tears.

  ‘You want more ice cream, Tina?’

  ‘No thanks,’ I said, wiping my eyes quickly. ‘Like you want to make me fat?’

  ‘You have a long way to go before anybody could call you fat.’

  ‘I wish you were my granny.’

  ‘Never mind, child. You should think of me like a next granny.’

  The place was cooling down so we went outside and sat on the chairs under the chenette tree. It had bunches and bunches of the little green balls of fruit. I love when you crack the shell and suck the pink flesh. When I was small I used to be afraid of swallowing the seed inside, though now I don’t know why because it ain’t a tiny seed.

  ‘When the driver come back I will ask him to pick some for you. The tree only ever have sweet chenette. My late husband, God rest his soul, planted all the fruit trees, but this one is my favourite.’

  It was turning into such a nice visit. No one barking at me. No one telling me off because my skirt too short or my nails too long or they don’t like how my hair do. I wish she was my grandmother instead of the witch rocking in the veranda back home.

  It is so easy talking to Granny Gwen. I told her about the café and how the men like to call me ‘Reds’ but I could give as good as I get. And I told her how the staff does treat me like the baby. Gerry gives me a drop home any time he can and the girls and I meet up to lime
in the mall sometimes. Granny Gwen asked if Gerry is my boyfriend. I had to laugh. She has clearly never seen how ugly Gerry is. I’m sorry. He has a good heart but that cannot make up for his four gold teeth.

  And while we laughing I couldn’t help but think of the wrong I done this old lady taking her money. Yes, it did get put back, but that is not the point. I took from this sweet person who has only ever shown me kindness. It’s at the tip of my tongue to tell her, but what will happen then? You can imagine the trouble that would cause once Nanny hear? And Granny Gwen would never invite me again to come over for ice cream and to sit so peacefully under her chenette tree. I wish I could tell her, though. Maybe there will come a time when telling her won’t be so bad and she would forgive me and there would be no bad blood between us. But that day is not today.

  ‘Tina, you look like you loss away.’

  ‘Sorry. It so quiet and calm here.’

  ‘How much years you have? Is seventeen?’

  ‘Almost eighteen. Why?’

  ‘Your Nanny been talking to me.’

  So all the ice cream and sweet talk was to soften me up for the kill.

  ‘Tina, she worried about you.’

  I got up and shook a branch of the chenette tree.

  ‘She don’t have to worry about nothing. I have a job. I paying rent. What more she want?’

  Granny Gwen let out a deep sigh. ‘She find the place you working a little too rough for a girl like you from a good Christian home.’

  ‘I never complain.’

  ‘Well, I have a better idea.’

  ‘What?’

  I am so glad now I didn’t confess about the money.

  ‘Why you don’t come and work in the hardware back office? The girl we have could teach you how to do secretarial work.’

  My head was spinning. Granny Gwen kept talking, which was great because I did not know what to say.

  ‘Nanny say how you not even getting the minimum pay he suppose to give you. I could pay you well and you will be working in a nice little office where nobody will trouble you. This hard work on your feet whole day can’t be easy.’

  I finally looked her in the eye.

  ‘Nanny put you up to this? You all had a good gossip about me and decide everything before I even reach here today? I wouldn’t be surprised if she hand in my notice for me already.’

  ‘No. That is not what happened. Yes, your Nanny give me the story about your working, but it was my idea to offer you a job here.’

  I looked away.

  ‘I swear on my late husband’s grave that I ain’t say a word to a living soul. To be honest I ain’t even check with me son Robin. But he will do what I tell him. Is you I asking. And if you don’t want it that is not a problem. I will never say a word to your Nanny.’

  I can’t understand why she would be so nice to me. I am nothing to her and if she really knew about me she would not be making this offer.

  ‘I don’t know what to say, Granny Gwen.’

  ‘Look, think about it for the week, and when I come by you next Saturday you can tell me if you want the work or not.’

  I don’t know what to do. I like that I have a job that I found all by myself and don’t owe nobody nothing. This new offer is somebody going out of their way to help me. I don’t think I felt wrapped up in so much kindness since the time when I was little and Miss Celia used to give me bottles and bottles of sorrel at Christmas.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  It was dusk by the time the casket had been properly covered with earth and flowers placed on the fresh mound. It had drizzled, that annoying constant drizzle, too slight to justify an umbrella, but eventually it made everything and everyone damp, humid and sticky. The unknown wailing woman had asserted herself further by staying at the graveside and joining in the singing of ‘Amazing Grace’ and ‘Kum Ba Yah’ as they lowered the casket into the waiting hole.

  Bea nudged Aunty Doris and asked if she knew who the woman was.

  ‘Truthfully, I have never seen that woman before today.’

  ‘And what about the little girl and her grandma that were at the wake? They’re here today. You think she is my half-sister? Should I go talk to them?’

  ‘I told you before, I don’t feel that is true. Don’t go creating any kind of confusion.’

  ‘But what if it is true?’

  ‘If they have something to say they would have said it by now. That child must be at least ten years old.’

  Aunty Doris sighed.

  ‘Bea, your father was the life and soul of every fete from Port of Spain to Point Fortin, but he was also the village ram goat.’ She put a finger on each side of her head to form little horns. ‘I surprise is only one woman behave bad in the church. After family the first two pews was full of woman who he love up on. God rest he soul, but Alan Clark couldn’t keep he thing in he pants.’

  Bea had heard enough. Let that be Aunty Doris’s mean memory if she wanted. Her father was not that man.

  A posse of men who had not quite made it all the way inside the church had set themselves up near the graveside under a sprawling flamboyant tree with flasks of Vat 19 rum. They had joined in at the graveside only long enough to throw packets of cards and sprinkles of rum on the coffin before the fresh earth was shovelled back into the hole. Wherever he was, they wished Alan Clark could make a game of five-card stud and take a drink of rum like he used to do with them every Friday.

  Bea kept her eyes firmly cast down. Behind her she could hear Mira and Michael talking in hushed voices.

  ‘It would’ve been a shorter service, but that crazy woman didn’t know when to shut up,’ said Mira. ‘And nobody even know who she is. That is Alan all over for you.’

  ‘But it was a good service,’ said Michael.

  ‘When the fat fellow got up and sang ‘You Lift Me Up’, that was nice.’

  ‘Yeah, he had an amazing voice.’

  ‘I think he is one of Alan friend from school days. His face familiar,’ said Mira. ‘I must ask Granny Gwen about him.’

  ‘And Bea’s holding up well. She looks good in the circumstances,’ said Michael.

  Mira twisted her face. ‘Yes, but the sleeves on that blouse too long and the skirt don’t have no shape. You would think she could dress better.’

  Back at Granny Gwen’s place the mourners gathered one last time to collectively grieve the loss of the man they had known. Bea was fenced in by well-wishers, many of whom were puzzled that she did not recall them by name from childhood. They certainly remembered her. A few minutes alone to compose herself would have eased the strain, but there was no escaping the throng encircling her. In the distance she could make out Michael and Mira standing together, their arms around each other for comfort. Uncle Kevin was talking to them. She caught his eye and he waved to her. So many people wanted to relay their condolences and hear about her absent years. The news would be passed on to the less fortunate who had not secured an audience with Alan’s daughter who had made her home abroad and was now fatherless.

  When Bea eventually managed to push her way through to Michael he was with a group of her relatives. Mira was begging him to have more tuna sandwiches or a slice of cake – he looked in need of someone to fatten him up a bit.

  ‘Mira, leave him alone,’ said Uncle Kevin. ‘He’s a big man. If he want food he go eat.’

  ‘I only looking after him little bit,’ she replied, and squeezed Michael’s hand. ‘I’m so happy you come. You grow up real handsome. I hope Bea treating you good. She don’t know how lucky she is to get a man like you.’

  Bea attempted a weak smile to hide her embarrassment as Michael playfully reached forward to put his arm around her shoulders.

  Again they were interrupted. People needed to share their shock and grief with Bea before she vanished to a place they needed a visa to visit. Bea rubbed her face dry, tried to smile, and continued to field the good wishes and enquiries with whatever grace she could muster. Gradually she managed to reduce the volume of v
oices swirling around her. In her mind there was no annoying drizzle that would not let up, no groups huddled under the chenette tree, no coffin in a fresh grave. There was no Mira, no Michael, and no Granny Gwen. There was no unknown Chinese woman who had cried loud and long. There was no little girl who might be her blood relation. There were no neighbours. There were no strangers. Nothing could reach her.

  The lack of serenity continued into the next morning. Granny Gwen wanted to discuss Alan’s will. Bea went alone, leaving Michael to work and then go sightseeing with Mira. She had tried to avoid the meeting altogether by making it clear she neither expected nor wanted anything. But Granny Gwen had insisted she and Uncle Robin come alone to the house. Alan, it was soon revealed, had left all his worldly goods to his surviving brother Robin.

  ‘I feel bad he only mention me,’ said Uncle Robin. ‘You is his only child. He should’ve left it all to you.’

  Bea smiled and sipped the weak milky tea Granny Gwen had offered. ‘I’m okay. He knew you are the backbone of the business.’

  Robin wrung his hands. ‘Take anything you want,’ he said. ‘Anything at all.’

  Bea reached over and gently touched his hand. ‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘Really, I don’t want anything.’

  Robin paced around the room. ‘And it seems he had a piece of land in Toco of all places,’ he said. ‘I have no idea why he gone and buy land so far behind God back. Man, years ago I went up there to see them massive leatherback turtles lay eggs. But that is the only good reason I know to go Toco.’

  Bea continued to politely sip the lukewarm tea she hated, hoping that nothing in her body language betrayed the gnawing well of hurt that was filling her belly. It was not the money. Alan had not been a rich man. But not to have been mentioned at all was unexpected. Was she dead to him before he was to her?

  When they had talked enough, and Bea had reassured them several more times that she did not want an inheritance, she was released to return to Mira’s house. She tore off the jeans and T-shirt she had been wearing and curled up in a ball in bed wishing she never had to get up again. In spite of every story she told herself about being loved, about not being rejected, there was no denying her father’s ultimate act. Bea knew this familiar pain of rejection for which there was no consolation. She sobbed hard into the pillow until her head throbbed and her stomach knotted. She tossed around in bed. Slowly the day passed through noon, slipped into afternoon, slid into evening; and still the pain refused to yield.