This story was conceived twenty-one years ago when, working for UNESCO in Barbados, I met my first “Redleg” (properly, poor white; and the “Rosies” are entirely of my own making). I have accumulated far too many people in that time to say a proper thank you and sorry to. But certain names should be mentioned: Cheryll Seally in whose various homes I worked, and who introduced me to Jill Shepherd (famous for The Redlegs of Barbados and her rum punches), Fiona Morrison Graham for the RLS Award to write this book (sorry, I wrote a film), Dr. Gavin Wallace for the grant (sorry, I wrote another novel) and Lydia Conway for cajoling me into writing Barbado’ed which got this fiction going again.
Redlegs became a kind of personal travel book. Written over various trips to Barbados, and; in Grez-sur-Loing, Sanlucar, and Pamplona, as well as my family home when my elderly mum was living alone. Both she and the home have gone now. By chance I finished the novel in Japan visiting my daughter. A generational novel indeed.
Less thanks to the various people who tried to make me change the book in ways I wasn’t equipped to do and which the book itself didn’t like. But a heartfelt thanks – and sorry – to my ever-patient family. And to Rosemary, Ana, Carolyn, Bruce, and others who believed I might write something worthwhile sometime (even if this isn’t it).
But my greatest debt is to Mike Gonzalez and Allan Cameron. Mike, for years of advice and friendship and for his continuing belief in this book. Allan, of Vagabond Voices, for his passion and unstinting commitment and, together with Janice Brent, for the gift of an extraordinarily meticulous and astute editing process. Mike and Allan gave me the confidence to finally publish; without them Redlegs would never have seen the light of day.