by Alex Wheatle
Jenny paused from eating her fruit and regarded her mother as if she was a bad smell. “Mama, me know yuh don’t t’ink good of me but me don’t expect dem kinda nasty t’ings coming from ya mout’! Wicked yuh wicked! How could yuh ever believe dem kinda t’ing? See Massa God don’t strike yuh down! Ya old an’ cranky now an’ mebbe ya ’fraid dat Papa will tek up him foot an’ leave yuh once more. But don’t talk dem kinda ways to me! Yuh jus’ cyan’t tolerate dat Papa love me more dan yuh so yuh affe talk nastiness inna me ears. Yuh cyan’t tek it! Dog heart yuh ah dog heart!”
Smiling away her daughter’s insults, Amy replied, “Jenny, me is ya mama. Yuh cyan’t change dat. An’ me know yuh. Know yuh too well. Yuh mus’ t’ink dat nuhbody ah watch yuh when Hortense bring Cilbert here fe de first time. Yuh mus’ ah t’ink dat nuhbody ah notice de way yuh look ’pon Cilbert at Hortense’s wedding. Jenny, mebbe yuh cyan fool Papa an’ Gran’papa, but yuh cyan’t fool me. Me raise yuh an’ come wise to ya ways.”
“Yuh come wise to not’ing, Mama! Yuh did never care about me an’ de foolishness yuh ah talk is jus’ to spite me. Why don’t yuh jus’ leave me be? Becah ya heart has always been cool like mountain stream. De only t’ing yuh ever love was David an’ since him dead, yuh turn into ah somebody wid nuh feeling, nuh spirit. Ah rockstone heart! Yuh nuh more dan ah duppy! Yuh forget long ago dat yuh ’ave two girl chile. So yuh cyan’t talk to me about not’ing!”
Injured by her daughter’s remarks, Amy decided to keep her tone measured. “Yes, yuh cyan accuse me of anyt’ing yuh waan. Some of it mebbe true an’ some of it untrue. But Jenny, yuh should nah lie to yaself. From de first moment dat me set me eyes ’pon Cilbert at me dinner table, me see de way yuh look ’pon him, sight de way yuh respond to him an’ me said to meself, ‘lord ’ave mercy, dis mon capture me two daughter heart.’ Yes, sa! Deny it if yuh waan to but yuh will never convince me. Yuh always did waan wha’ Hortense did ’ave fe her own, weder it was ah dress or even ah ripe mango. Sometimes me wonder if yuh woulda hunger after Cilbert if him never did marry Hortense. Me don’t tink so! De only t’ing dat is ah surprise is dat Hortense never ketch on. Lord ’ave mercy! If she ever find out…”
Raw emotion rising within her, Jenny protested, “it nah go so, Mama! It nah go so! Why yuh nah believe me?” She clenched her fist and drew it back.
Refusing to back away an inch, Amy retorted, “yes, dat is always ya way. When people touch ’pon de trut’, yuh resort to violence. De las’ resort of somebody who cyan’t face de trut’! So wha’ yuh gwarn to do? Lick down ya own cranky an’ old mudder?”
Relaxing her fist, Jenny dropped her sight to the ground. Amy detected the tears forming within her daughters eyes. “Melody was right about yuh,” Amy affirmed. “Jus’ like Anancy yuh is. Wily, manipulative an’ secretive, always putting ’pon ah false, plastic face. Me tried to tell yuh before but yuh never did waan talk to me. Remember de time before yuh set sail to Englan’? Yuh knew dat me did ah know. Yes, sa. An’ now Cilbert dead an’ yuh dream shatter yuh come running home like de spoil girl yuh is. Leaving Hortense ’pon her own. Only caring about ya own grief. An’ yuh call me ah dog-heart!”
Grasping for the lapels upon Amy’s frock, Jenny could not stem her tears. Her expression was desperate. “We cyan’t choose de one we love, Mama. Me tried to fight it. Mama, me waan to stay here. Start afresh. Please, Mama? Let me work wid Papa ’pon we plot. Let me jus’ live ah simple life here so.”
“Wha’ about Jacob? Yuh marry him an’ yuh affe carry de responsibility of dat. He’s ah good mon. Yuh ’ave wha’ most women around here would chop off der baby toe for. Count ya blessings an’ love de one yuh wid! Dat is de way it ah go wid women from dese parts. We jus’ get on wid it, never complaining.”
“Mama,” Jenny croaked, her vision becoming blurred. “Me don’t love him. Me never did love him.”
“Dat don’t ’ave not’ing to do wid it!” Amy thundered. She regarded the now defeated expression of her daughter. “Yuh mek ya choice so yuh affe live wid it.”
“But me not jus’ ah wife, jus’ ah woman who wait fe ah mon to ask dem to marry. Nuh! Dis is where me belong, where me born an’ grow. Me waan to look after Papa when sickness ah ketch him an’ when his back start bend.”
“Dat is my duty to look after Joseph. Ya duty is to stan’ beside Jacob. An’ besides, how long yuh t’ink yuh coulda live apart from Hortense? Mebbe Hortense don’t feel dat she need ya presence now, an’ me guess dat is why yuh run back here. Mebbe yuh don’t realise it yet, but she is de love of ya life. Oh yes, sa! Mebbe yuh will see it when yuh near de end. When she moved out me know it tear yuh apart. Yuh could nah sleep at all. Even when she used to stay over at Gran’papa’s yuh kick up ah mighty fuss, causing all kinda contention wid me. Although Cilbert tickled ya fancy it was Hortense yuh follow when she move to Kingston. Yes, sa! It is ah fate t’ing dat yuh cyan do not’ing about. Yuh t’ink we don’t talk about dis? Me, ya papa an’ Gran’papa Neville? It is Hortense yuh follow when she sail to Englan’. Everybody could see how tortured yuh were widout her. Even Gran’papa Neville say so. Yuh really t’ink yuh coulda live here an’ she live t’ousands an’ t’ousands of miles away? Nuh, sa! Jenny, me know yuh, me raise yuh an’ watch yuh. Ya place in dis world is to be close to Hortense. It has been so since David dead. Fulfil ya promise to David! Me place is to be close to Joseph an’ inna Claremont. Mebbe one day yuh cyan come back here when ya back is bent an’ when it’s ya time to res’. But not yet.”
Palming away her tears, Jenny realised her mother was right. She looked out to the fields behind Amy and in her inner vision saw Hortense and herself as children, riding the family donkey, laughing and joking as they went along. She could almost feel Hortense’s arms wrapped around her waist, she could sense Hortense’s breathing into her neck as her sister cuddled behind her at night. “Jenny, if bugaboo trouble me tonight, box de damn t’ing away from me an’ stamp ’pon it’s tail fe me,” Hortense would jest before falling asleep.
“Alright, Mama,” Jenny finally conceded, making no attempt to swab away her tears. “But if yuh ever say ah word about dis to anyone, me will never say ah godly word to yuh again!”
“Still defiant an’ feisty even when yuh lose de argument,” Amy laughed. “But yuh ’ave nuh cause fe worry. Me ’ave nuh intention of telling anyone. Besides, me ’ave Hortense to t’ink about. But me warn yuh, ya better look after her right an’ be nice to Jacob. Him love yuh so much an’ will do anyt’ing fe yuh. Count ya blessings, Jenny, becah fortune don’t shine so bright ’pon de masses. Me t’ought dat living inna Trenchtown woulda teach yuh dat.”
Struggling to hold on to her emotions, Jenny blurted out, “why yuh so cruel, Mama? Wha’ did me ’ave when Papa gone? Not’ing, Mama. Yuh never love me! Me go ah school an’ people cuss me. Me work ’pon de stall an’ people still ah cuss me. Cilbert did talk to me first! Me t’ought dat Hortense would nah like it if me find meself ah bwai-friend’. ME WAS T’INKING OF HER. Why yuh so cruel to me? It was me who look after Hortense when David dead. Me!”
Pounding her fists into the grass, Jenny began shaking her head and wailing. With the reality of her mother’s words striking home, Jenny was on the verge of a breakdown. She collasped to the turf in utter turmoil, masking her face with her palms, unable to stem her screams.
Taking pity upon her daughter, Amy knelt down and stroked Jenny’s trembling hands. It deeply pained Amy to know that Hortense was obviously grief-stricken and to see Jenny in such a state. “We are all damaged an’ marked by events dat we ’ave nuh control over,” Amy said. “Me as much as anyone. Perhaps even more so. It nah nice dat me fader look ’pon me as ah girl chile an’ his eyes wished fe ah son. How did me resent dat! Me still do. Everybody marked by some grievance or some unjus’ t’ing dat ah happen to dem, including Carmesha, Levi an’ even ya papa. Yuh love ya papa so blind but yuh never stop an’ wonder why him ah give yuh so much attention. It’s becah yuh look like him mudder! Hortense love yuh blind too an�
�� she cyan’t see ya Anancy-like ways. We all ’ave to accept we weaknesses an’ carry on, learn to live wid cruel fate. Me never believe when ya fader say, ‘He’s ah cruel God’. Nuh, sa. He jus’ give we test. An’ everybody ’ave to pass t’rough His tests. Rich or poor. Me t’ought David’s deat’ would vanquish me, part of me died dat night when Isaac give we de bad news. An’ ya probably right, at dat time me was not ah fit mudder, ignoring me daughters dem. Now is de time of ya test, Jenny. But yuh will get t’rough it. Me know yuh will.”
Mother and daughter remained under the shade of the tree until the sun dipped below the western hills and when they returned home, linking arms, Amy felt she at last had regained her middle child.
Seven days later, Jenny was packing her suitcase. She had already bade a tearful farewell to her father and now she felt her mother’s concerned eyes watching her every move. A taxi driver impatiently palmed his horn outside. As Jenny zipped up her luggage, she turned around and saw Amy standing close to her with the old family Bible held in her hands. “Jenny, tek dis.”
“Mama, dat’s de Bible Gran’papa give yuh. Me cyan’t tek dat.”
“Jenny, tek it. It offer yuh comfort when yuh ah girl chile, an’ it might offer yuh comfort now yuh fully grown. Tek it.”
Jenny knew she couldn’t refuse the gift and she received the book from her mother and carefully placed it into her hand luggage. Amy smiled, kissed her daughter upon the forehead and said, “Tell Hortense we’re all t’inking of her an’ send we love. Mek sure yuh give her de rum. An’ never forget it’s not only ya papa dat love yuh. May Massa God bless ya steps.”
Returning to London, Jenny accepted the hugs and kisses from Hortense as Jacob picked up her luggage without offering any welcome. Following a chicken, rice and peas dinner, Jenny played with Lincoln before climbing the stairs to her apartment where Jacob sat brooding in his chair beside the dressing table. Jenny noticed he still had the mark of the unloved within his eyes. She wondered what he would do to her but she said to herself, ‘not’ing will keep me away from me sister’.
Taking off her coat, Jenny found her Bible in her hand luggage, cautiously sat on the bed and began reading. Jacob watched her every movement. “As yuh couldn’t deny ya love fe Cilbert, me cyan’t deny me love fe yuh,” he said. “From me ah bwai chile me ’ave watched yuh an’ me ’ave never looked ’pon anybody else. It’s funny, while yuh was away Hortense was talking about curses. She seems to t’ink dat becah of wha’ Kofi did to de slavemaster’s family, ya family has been hexed, especially de males. It’s when she tell me about her paranoia dat I realised I have my own curse – loving yuh. Even t’ough wha’ has happened, I realised I cyan’t live widout yuh. Dat is my curse.”
Jenny suffered a pang of guilt as Jacob continued. “Me main ambition now is to set up de church good an’ proper. Find ah decent building an’ increase numbers of de congregation. Dat is me first priority. An’ as me do dat yuh will be by me side every step of de way. An’ by God yuh learn to love me. Yuh will yield to sex when I need it. Nuh more excuses. Yuh will smile when we out togeder. As far as anybody else is concerned, we ’ave ah happy, blissful marriage. Yuh might t’ink dis is cruel. But yuh ’ave revealed ya hand to me – I finally know ya weakness an’ yuh ’ave been exploiting my weakness since me know yuh. An’ if yuh don’t comply I will tell Hortense everyt’ing. Do yuh agree wid everyt’ing I say?”
Raising her eyes over the pages, Jenny stared blankly at the wall. Five minutes later she finally nodded her acceptance of Jacob’s terms.
“We will start afresh,” Jacob continued. “An’ as yuh said. Cilbert is dead. An’ perhaps ah liccle piece of all of us dead since we reach here. Dey say dat ah chile should not ’ave to pay fe de fader’s sins. But my God. He meks sure we pay. Ya paying fe Joseph an’ I’m paying fe my fader.”
Epilogue
Norman Manley International Airport, Kingston
September, 2003
Jenny watched two male Jamaican deportees, accompanied by three British police officers, being met by the Kingston constabulary as she descended the steps of the British Airways flight. “Dey give we decent Jamaicans ah bad name,” she whispered to Hortense. “If it’s crack or gun dem ah deal wid, den me hope dey t’row dem inna jailhouse an’ fling de key inna de deepest pit toilet dey cyan find.”
Not paying attention to her sister’s comments, Hortense felt the burning Kingston sun upon her head and pulled off her white cardigan. Using her right hand to shield the sun from her eyes, she looked out to a shimmering Kingston harbour in the distance and in her memories saw herself and Cilbert stepping aboard The Genovese Madonna over forty years ago. Now, she would not admit it to her sister or anyone else but she felt like a foreigner. “Me forget how Jamaica so hot,” she smiled, masking her apprehension.
“Yuh soon get used to it again,” replied Jenny.
Waiting for what seemed an eternity to collect their luggage, the now silver-haired sisters, passed through customs; caution marked Hortense’s steps. “Ya sure Junior will be here to greet we?” Hortense fretted. “Me hear stories about returning Jamaicans being kidnapped an’ killed by bogus taxi driver!”
“Stop fret, Hortense. Junior will be here.”
They went through the concourse of the airport and out into the noisy, bustling forecourt where expectant families and friends jostled for room against the barrier rail, awaiting their loved ones and the chance of foreign currency. Porters, not wearing any recognisable uniforms, approached the sisters and offered to carry their luggage in hope of financial reward. “Do me know yuh?” Hortense challenged. “How me know yuh nah run off wid me t’ings? Go’long, beggar mon an’ find yaself ah proper job!”
Linking arms, Jenny whispered, “stop being so nervous. Come, Junior waiting fe we inna de car park.”
Junior, thirty-two years old and Joseph’s great grandson, had inherited the now dead Maroon’s genes and he stood by his taxi, towering over everyone at an impressive six foot five. Hortense looked upon him in astonishment, her mind not quite coming to terms that she was looking at her brother David’s grandson. He took their baggage and placed it in the boot of his car and watching his every move, Hortense recognised David’s ready smile. She felt she was observing a ghost. “Somet’ing de matter?” Junior asked.
“Nuh, sa,” Hortense replied. “Ya jus’ remind me of me sweet brudder. How is ya papa, Daniel?”
“Oh, him alright. But he did withdraw himself ah liccle when de old mon Neville pass away. Ah sore loss was dat to him. Neville reach de mighty age of ninety-eight.”
“Yes, me know dat, Junior,” replied Hortense. “Me ’ave been away fe ah very long time but me cyan read letter!”
Weary from the nine hour flight, Jenny and Hortense napped in the back seat. Driving through Kingston, the sleeping Hortense never witnessed the Americanisation of Jamaica’s capital. Advertisements for Kentucky Fried Chicken, McDonalds and Coca-Cola seemed to appear on every highway, food stores sold American rice, and the Jamaicans queueing outside the American embassy for the chance of visas seemed to be all wearing baseball caps. They stretched over two blocks with little hope expressed in their eyes. The music sounding out from Junior’s car radio was laced with Hip Hop, R and B and just a small serving of reggae.
Waking up when Junior sped through Linstead, Hortense gazed out the window. She could now see the misty-cloaked hills, lush green valleys and the road-side vendors. Old, silver-bearded men with few teeth went by on donkeys and Hortense greeted them all, her feeling of trepidation now floating away. She ordered Junior to pull up and she bought some water coconuts and a jackfruit. “Yuh sure dem sweet an’ fresh?” she challenged the vendor.
“Of course, Miss. Me would never sell anyt’ing stale, especially to someone old. Dat would be ah mighty disrespect.”
“Ya words better ring true becah if me discover dat de fruit bad me gwarn tell me driver to turn around an’ me will fling ya fruit inna ya face an’ mosh up ya cart. Good day to yu
h an’ live good!”
“Hortense! Yuh nah easy,” grinned Junior as he checked his rear view mirror and saw the vendor shaking his head and laughing. “As ah liccle bwai me hear about ya nettle tongue but me never imagine yuh still possess it now yuh head turn grey.”
“Don’t talk about me age!”
Following a three-hour journey, they had reached the Fish On The Mount restaurant, Levi and Carmesha’s home and business. They had renovated and built extensions to Isaac’s old house. Where the pig pen and the chicken coop once stood, was now a paved area for outside dining. White umbrellas shaded every round table and the tang of roasting fish flavoured the air.
David’s son, Daniel, now fifty-two years old, was the first to greet Hortense and Jenny from out of the car from the crowd that had gathered. His hair was as black as the rural Jamaican night and no cares and stresses had yet to touch his forehead. Feeling overwhelmed and a little frightened, Hortense had to be cajoled out of the car. David escorted his two aunts into the house and there inside, a crying Carmesha, now into her seventies but looking much younger than Hortense and Jenny, rushed up to them both, hugging them warmly. Even Jenny could not deny her tears and the three of them remained holding one another for five minutes. No words were necessary as numerous cousins looked on, clapping happily, many of them blessing their eyes upon Hortense for the first time. “Welcome home, Hortense!” Carmesha finally said. “An’, Jenny, t’ank yuh fe bringing her home.”
His steps unsure but his stance upright, the grey-locked Levi emerged from an adjoining room. His heavy-lidded eyes sparkled with memories and his lips curled into a warm grin. “Nettle Tongue!” he rasped as a greeting to Hortense. “Yuh don’t change at all. Yuh still ’ave fire inna ya eyes!”
Walking over to Levi, Hortense fingered his locks and caressed the bald pate upon his head. She then broke out into a knowing grin. “Levi, didn’t me tell yuh dat yuh could nah live near mountain top all ya life? Dis place is magnificent! Now, me hungry! Where de food der?”
