PART SIX

I

Gwennie push open the gate and walk up to the door, the big blue woollen sweater she have on over her frock pull up close to her neck. It was only September, but already the evenings starting to blow cold. She never even glance at the letters she pull out of the mailbox, the hurry she in to get inside the house, put down the bag of groceries and sit down rest herself a little before Clive come over.

The house was dark and cold the Friday evening. Gwennie switch on the passageway light and lock the door behind her. She made her way into the kitchen, dropping off the bills and bags on the small enamel table with the four matching chairs. Her brother, Samuel, used to keep it in his basement. Gwennie never stop to turn on the kitchen light or to put the two packages of chicken inside the refrigerator, she made her way into her bedroom instead, kick off her flat shoes, fling off her sweater and crawl underneath the heavy comforter.

The house was quiet except for the clock hang up on the wall in the living room going tick-tock, loud and plenty. She buy it from the department store not too far from where she live. Outside, two cars pass, but except for that, the street was quiet. Not a baby’s mouth hollering for it hungry and want feeding. No sound of children making plenty noises as them jump around playing hopscotch or dandy-shandy, or even skipping. No man or woman laughing and chatting and bawling out ‘howdy-do’ for them glad to see one another. Nothing. The houses on the street just big and far-in-between and cold, especially with the winter coming on.

Gwennie’s ears and nose start to thaw out. She could feel the tension that cause her neck and shoulder to ache and throb plenty, easing. She take long, deep breath as Percy used to tell her: in, out, and in again. She miss Percy in truth. Him did plan her going-away party, inviting almost everyone from the meeting. Them was sorry she leaving, for she used to care whole heap about country people who don’t get good representation in government. Them hope she would be able to bring her good work elsewhere.

The week before leaving, she ask Percy if him think she would find meetings like these abroad. Him never answer for a long time, face cross as usual, plenty lines on his forehead. She wasn’t sure if him hear her. ‘Percy, you think . . .’

‘I hear you, Gwennie,’ him sigh long, shaking his head from side to side. ‘The situation abroad different. Them have meetings like these, but the government don’t like it. It ten times worse than when Jackson was in power out here. You remember how him wouldn’t put money towards social programmes, wouldn’t even turn the black of his eyes look at poor and illiterate people; people who don’t have work. Everything go into tourism and further build-up of what done build-up already. Over there them have meetings, but them underground.’

Gwennie look over at him, her eyes searching around his face: long and thin and smooth, almost like baby’s. Him have a scar over his left eyebrow.

‘I have a friend over there,’ Percy continue on. ‘Now and again him attend the meetings, maybe hand out the newsletter them used to publish, now and then do a little fundraising. Him wasn’t involved in any kinda government overthrowing or anything. And shit!’ Percy’s fingers start to dance round the steering wheel, ‘him say all hours of day and night him would notice people watching his apartment.

‘Sometimes when him come in at night, him buck-up into strange-looking people just lurking around. Sometimes after him arrange his apartment a certain way, when him come home, everything arrange differently. Him say him was afraid, for the very same thing was happening to plenty people in his group.’

‘So what him do?’ Gwennie ask, wide-eye.

Percy shrug, hands calming down. ‘Nothing. You can’t really hide from the government over there. I suppose them either kill you or lock you up on various bogus charges. If them see that you not too dangerous, them probably leave you alone. I really don’t know. I don’t think me friend go to the meetings as much, anymore though.’

Gwennie never say anything when him finish talk. She face the road ahead, forehead puzzle-up. ‘It don’t spell sense a tall,’ she say to Percy long after. ‘After him wasn’t doing anything bad, all him want . . .’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Percy cut in. ‘Same way you hear people out here bad-talk communism, same way over there. When them hear the word, first thing come to mind is Cuba and Russia. Them hear the word and them think how people can’t own anything for themself. Them can’t have three cows when everybody else have only two. Them can’t own a shop or supermarket and so on. The government in America not any different. Them want to own the whole damn world. Communism is a big threat to them.’

Gwennie understand. She still hope she’d be able to find a meeting to attend nevertheless, for she like things of that nature. It was of surprise to her when she arrive and ask Samuel and his wife, Dorothy, if them know about any, and all them could suggest was the Caribbean Club that have party every weekend, no community involvement whatsoever.

But apart from the meetings, she still miss Percy. Him was so keen when it comes to how things should be arranged, or how a room must decorate. The children soon come, she need beds, dinette set so everybody can sit down while eating, winter clothes and boots, she need curtains, rugs for the various rooms. She want somebody she can browse around with from store to store, like she and Percy used to do. She don’t make plenty friends, yet. And yes, Clive was nice, but she and him have completely different taste in furniture, furthermore him lacking that little quality that was special about Percy.

And is not that Samuel or Dorothy wasn’t interested in helping her, for them used to drive her places, and show her where she can buy furniture and such, but she never have the money then. Every paycheck either go to the damn thief lawyer man, or to the bank for the down payment on the house or to the children, back home. Now that she have a little bit more spare money, for things clear up with the lawyer, it look like them not willing to help her as before. And she know it wasn’t out of grudgeful and bad feelings, for kinder than Samuel and Dorothy you can’t find, but Clive say probably them want her to fend for herself now, and she think maybe is true.

‘Them want you to stand up on your own two feet,’ Clive tell her the evening down at the Caribbean Club.

Gwennie didn’t say anything. She sip her drinks.

‘Them find you the house, them find you work, them find you lawyer. Them carry you around, show you things, introduce you to people. Now them want you to do things for yourself. Them want you to be independent and have your own place.’

She remember that after buying the bedroom set and finally moving in, Dorothy and Samuel used to come over often. Sometimes them bring dinner, sometimes a set of dishes, candle and candle holder, calendar, things to make the house smell good. Sometimes them just used to come over and keep her company, the days she wasn’t living in at her housekeeping job. And then them just stop. Them still call sometimes. But all-in-all, she barely see them. It used to bother her at first, for she wonder if it was something she say or do, but it spell plenty sense to her as Clive explain it. She also get more time to herself now, too.

Working just about every day, she glad to get the few hours to herself, for nothing please her more than to just chat to herself as loud as she want, cooking whenever she feel, without a worry about children and the plenty energy them take up, about husbands and them sometimish nature, about family and them whole heap of problems. During those times she like inviting Clive over, for whenever him in a good mood, it’s a pleasure to be around him.

Sometimes them drive to the top of the Blue Hills, park the car and watch the sunset, for Clive romantic that way. But other times when him come over, him can’t get her to budge. She don’t have any energy whatsoever, she just want to sleep all the time. And Clive would always say to her: ‘Gwennie, since you miss the children so much that you unbearable to spend time around, it spell sense you just send for them.’

But it wasn’t that easy. She just can’t bring her children to Foreign without first providing beds for them to sleep on. It already take her four good years and plenty money to get permanent citizenship, now she have to wait another two years before it okay for the children to come.

‘Times and times again, I wouldn’t mind letting them come for vacation,’ she say to him one evening while at his house, her forehead knit-up plenty and her face pucker-up like she ready to holler, ‘but it too expensive. Might as well use the money to buy one more chair so them can sit down comfortable when them come.’

And as Clive would never quite know what to say to her during these times when her feelings low, him always just clasp her two hands in his and press them to his jaw, his own face puzzle over.

Them keep her more than busy at the place where she work though, and she prefer it that way. Plenty time on her hand just cause her to worry and fret herself over her children back home. Her evenings off, she make sure she keep busy. She watch the little black-and-white television in her room, other times she listen to the radio and read plenty. The man she work for, is a professor at one of the universities in the area, so him have plenty books about the house, plenty leather-bound, nice smelling, interesting books. Every week she read a new one, when is not Dickens or Austen is Thackeray or Edgar Poe. Them remind her of high school back home in Miss Mullins’ class.

Sometimes she write one or two letters to people back home, but it always leave her so cut up inside and tired, she don’t look forward to it especially whenever she have to write Rudi. Even after so many years, she still can’t write Rudi a letter and don’t holler and depress for the remainder of week. And every time she get depress, a certain letter Percy did write her a long while back always flash cross way her mind.

It was towards the end of her two months’ vacation. Time soon come to return home to her family. But Gwennie was having second thoughts. The little money she earn under the table from day’s work was giving her a certain independence. The thought of going home to Walter never bring her comfort and joy. She like the splendour Dorothy and Samuel have. Maybe if she stay and work, she could have it too.

Not that things weren’t dangerous sometimes, especially on Main Street with all the shootings and killings going on. Everyday she listen to the radio, and when is not news about somebody’s pickney getting kidnapped, is news about accidents caused by rum-drinking. Just last week them set fire to a supermarket close to her street, to get insurance money she hear. Winter was another story. Sometimes the air so cold, if you not careful, you freeze right there at the bus-stop waiting on the bus to come.

But even with them things, she know if she work plenty she can have something for herself, something she can call Gwennie’s. Dorothy have her own car separate from Samuel’s jeep. When she ready to go about her business, Samuel can’t say anything to her cause is her name on the registration. Well, is so she want to have something for herself, something that don’t belong to husband, but to she and her children. And so Gwennie did write Percy and tell him, she think she going to stay. Better opportunities, over here, she tell him in the letter, children can go on to college, them can find work easy, and for she, Gwennie, change of direction in her life.

Him write her back, the letter running almost five pages. And after him talk about the two little girls whom Gwennie still never meet, and about the wife and divorce papers, about school and the meetings, him express how proud him was of her, and how much respect him have for her decision, even though her life will be sheer hell.

‘For everytime you see a child that resemble yours, you going to start the bawling,’ him tell her. ‘And especially since you know how crazy Walter is, that alone will cause you to worry more and more. Sometimes you will want to jump on that plane so bad and come back, only ambition, plenty strength of heart, good friends and memory of Walter’s nasty ways will hold you back. Sometimes, Gwennie, you going to wonder if it’s really worth it, if maybe you mustn’t stop and try work out things with Walter and go back home to the children.

‘But Gwennie, if I know you like I think I know you, you are stubborn and strong, mule ownself. And if you suffer and go through what you go through with Walter, because of your plenty children, you can go through any damn thing.’

And when Gwennie think about it, Percy wasn’t too far off from the truth. Every time the young boys come to the house to visit the professor, she think about Rudi back home who can’t even start college sake of the responsibilities she hand him. She think about Jeff who want to turn doctor, Dave pilot and Del school teacher like herself. She isn’t even there to encourage them. And she can’t count on Walter. The evening them deliver the encyclopedia set she save up and buy so the children could have decent things to read, Walter was so mad with her, curse and quarrel the whole night about how she just wasting her money for him could use it on other things. But she never care. Every other evening she used to drill Del with spelling words so she could enter Spelling Bee. Now she don’t even think Walter talk to them much, probably only curse as usual whenever them come home with bad report cards.

The ringing of the telephone interrupted Gwennie’s thoughts.

‘Hello,’ Gwennie say into it.

Clive was on the line. On his way over.

‘Alright,’ Gwennie tell him. ‘But I don’t have anything readily prepared. Bring something if you hungry.’

The house was quiet again, except for the clock. Gwennie sigh long and hard and crawl back under the cover. She wasn’t in the mood for Clive or anybody, she was tired. She just want to lie down and rest and keep to herself, so her thinkings can flow.

She stay inside the bed about five more minutes, then she get up and turn on the light for the room was in complete darkness. She fold back the cover on the bed, neaten it up, change her clothes, haul on back her thick sweater for the house was chilly, and push her feet inside the house slippers with the fake fur around it. She brush up her hair and run little lipstick crossway her mouth, then she make her way back into the kitchen, flip on the light and start to put away the groceries.

Gwennie turn on the fire under the kettle. She might as well sip little Plantation Mint tea before Clive come over. It wasn’t as good as the mint Grandma grow in her garden, but it will pass. She turn on the thermostat too, for as big as Clive was, when it come to cold weather, him worse than baby. It was always summer over his house all year round. She remember the first time she meet him down at the Caribbean Club. Going on year and a half now. She remember liking him right away, for him could joke around plenty one minute, yet serious, sensible-talking, caring, interested in her children back home the next.

At first she used to laugh to herself every time him open his mouth. Him come from Trinidad and his accent was worse sing-song than hers. But she get used to it. She like the way him carry himself, too, always tidy, trousers always tuck in, shirts always clean and without stains. She like his big shoulders and wide chest, his round belly and deep voice that boom plenty. Him wasn’t bad looking either. Face long and narrow with a little tuft of moustache over his top lip resembling Hitler’s. Him was several years older, but a more kind and gentler man one couldn’t find. Him remind her a little bit of Percy and even Luther, the way him would show her how to do things and expect her to do it on her own after that. The only thing she didn’t like much is the way him pressure her sometimes.

Gwennie was still sitting down around the table sipping her tea when Clive ring the door bell. She turn up the thermostat one notch more on her way to open the door.

‘Jesus Christ, Gwennie, why the blasted house so damn cold,’ Clive boom out, fitting himself through the door. ‘You not cold?’ Him touch her nose with the back of his hand.

Gwennie draw back. ‘How many times I must tell you to stop bawl out the Lord’s name in vain?’

‘Cho,’ him kiss his teeth. ‘You too Christian-Christian.’

‘I turn on the heat, it soon come up.’ She lock the door behind him and follow him into the kitchen.

‘I didn’t bring any food,’ him say, pulling up a chair next to hers. Him wouldn’t allow her to take his jacket. ‘We can go out and get something. A nice little rest . . .’

‘I don’t want to go out, Clive.’ She hand him a mug-full of tea. ‘I just want to stay in and rest. I tired. I can’t wait for the children to come so the older ones can help me work. I tired to hassle out meself.’

Clive take a sip of the tea. Then him put down the mug, watching his reflection swirling round and round. ‘You wouldn’t have to work so hard if you come live with me.’ The heat start to come up, the heaters were cling-clanging.

Gwennie take a deep breath. She could feel a little twinge of pain in her back. She try relax. ‘Don’t bother start with that again, Clive. How many times I must tell you I want something for me children and meself. I live with husband too long. When them own everything in the house, them think them can own you too. Them boss-boss you around as them have a mind. I want a different life. I didn’t come all the way to Foreign to put up with the same damn foolishness.’

Clive was still looking at his reflection. ‘You mean that after how long you know me, you think me and you husband cut out of the same piece of cloth?’ Clive’s voice was losing the boom. Now it was just deep and low. ‘You must know that I’m different.’

‘Of course I know you different.’ Gwennie pour more water in her cup. ‘But I want to live as I please. I want to come and go as I have a mind. I working hard for good reason. So me and me children can live in peace and quiet. When I was doing community work, I used to see baby’s belly push out from lack of food, for the worthless father done lose his paycheck to gambling. I see plenty women with faces hang down almost to the ground, for family life giving them hell. I go through it, I don’t want it any more.’

Clive never say anything. Only the clock and the heater making noise. Gwennie sip her tea. She like Clive plenty. But him don’t understand. Him can’t understand where she coming from. Him don’t talk much about his wife, but sometimes she wonder if him is another Walter, and that’s why the wife leave him. No, him don’t go on like Walter. Him don’t even drink. But him not a God-fearing a tall, and that bother her plenty. Nevertheless, him is a good man and she like him. But as Grandma used to say, to know dog is one, but to live at home with him is different business.

‘Come we go to the restaurant.’ Gwennie cover his hand with hers. ‘Maybe we can even see a picture after. Some good ones advertise in here.’ She push the newspaper towards him. ‘Look for a good one. I going to get me jacket and put on me shoes.’

Gwennie put the two cups inside the sink. Clive’s cup did still have plenty tea inside. She turn on the tap and rinse them out. Then she step inside her room for the house key and rest of things. She know him vex now. It happen every time them talk about living together. It going to take a whole heap of coaxing before she get him to start talk and liven-up again.

‘You ready?’ she call out, putting on her coat, switching off the bedroom light.

‘Yes.’ His voice almost faint now.

‘Come on, then. Leave on the kitchen light. I don’t want damn thief to break in and take out what I don’t have.’

Them step outside into the chilly night air, the heater and the clock making plenty noises behind them.

II

Daybreak Saturday morning catch Gwennie at the bus stop waiting with four other women, for the bus that would take them to do day’s work in Simsbury. Gwennie recognize one or two of the women, for she see them every Saturday morning. She nod her head in greetings, ready to start up a conversation, but them only nod in return, face stoney, the duffle bag that contain the extra pair of flat shoes and old frock that best to do house work in, hang off firm from them shoulder.

The one woman she talk to plenty, from Montserrat, Miss Daphne, wasn’t there that morning. Usually while waiting for the bus, Miss Daphne would always write down names of West Indian stores where Gwennie can get food to buy. Miss Daphne is a woman who like her Caribbean food gone-to-bed. She say she can’t stand American food a tall, it’s too bland.

‘Me dear, I have to boil-up plenty green bananas and yam and eat it with mackerel mix-up with onion and baby red tomatoes before I can step outside the house each morning,’ Miss Daphne tell Gwennie one morning while waiting. ‘I too used to the big strong breakfast to turn around and eat cereal and dry bread. I would drop down dead from hungry belly.’

Gwennie only laugh when Miss Daphne say it, for she wonder if after living in America for twenty years like Miss Daphne, she going to still love the food from back home. Hardly a day pass when Samuel and Dorothy don’t cook Caribbean food. Only Clive alone not too fussy. Him eat anything when him hungry, pasta, lasagne, turkey pot pie . . . Gwennie’s mind run on last night. She wonder how much longer she and Clive will make out. Seems as if them quarrelling more than usual these days. Gwennie kiss her teeth under her breath.

It was only after plenty coaxing inside the car, that him finally turn back around to his old talkative self again. Them never bother with the movies, since dinner ran late. Clive drive her home, instead. And all through the driving back him was lively, and she was feeling more and more happy and comfortable with him. But then the silence start again when him turn off the main road and onto her little street at the foot of the hill, with the sad-looking houses on each side. Him cut off the engine when him reach her gate. The car was silent, except for the fan inside the hood humming. The street was dead.

‘Thanks for the dinner.’ Gwennie fasten the buttons on her coat. ‘I glad we decided to go out after all. The food tasted good in truth.’ Gwennie pull up the lock on the door of the big, silver-grey Buick.

Clive never say anything.

‘You busy tommorrow?’ Gwennie look towards him, but she couldn’t make out his features inside the darkness of the car.

Clive sigh. It was a long time before him answer. ‘You want me to come inside with you, Gwennie?’ His voice sounded gruff, as if preparing for some major disappointment.

Gwennie bend over and start to feel for her pocket book. It couldn’t be too far away, she just take out her house key. She wasn’t quite sure how to answer Clive when him get like this, demanding-like even though it don’t quite sound that way. For is not that she didn’t want him to come in and sleep with her, but sometimes that is all she want, somebody to lay down close to and hug, so that when she turn during the night, or when she wake up in the morning, the bed won’t feel so big and wide. But she won’t even bother to fool herself and think she will only get closeness. Is long time she in this world. She know which package come with string and which one empty.

And is not that anything was wrong with the string. For as far as she was concerned, except for the ring around her finger and the people gathered inside the church that Saturday afternoon, and the certificate down at the registry, she and Walter finish. As far as she was concerned, she single. And is not that it take her almost four years in Foreign to find out. She did know long time. She did know from the time she set eyes on Luther and lay up with him inside Grandma’s house. She did figure it out then that she and Walter didn’t have further to go.

But she did still go back to him and start to have more children. Maybe to try and build back something, maybe to just do her duty as wife, maybe to save face, she can’t place her two hands on it right now. But in the middle of everything she still wasn’t at ease with herself. The meetings used to help, them used to keep her busy, but at nights she did still have to go home to him. And his every touch used to cause her skin to bringle and his presence made her face fold up and his chuckle never cause her belly to shimmer anymore, instead it add one more crease to her forehead and squeeze out one more hiss through her teeth.

With Clive it was different. She know him would be good with Rosa if not the others. But what she can’t understand is how her belly bottom always feel funny when Clive inside her house. Sometimes when him inside her bed, she can’t sleep good. Plenty times at night, she wake up, twisting and turning, wondering what Dorothy and Samuel think about she and Clive. If Grandpa was to hear about Clive, what him would think. It embarrass her to tell them Clive stay over sometimes. And it don’t even make sense, for the house belong to her and she neither have children or husband or friend to report to. But she still feel shame, nonetheless.

Gwennie turn around in the seat and face Clive. She could make out one half of his Hitler-looking moustache.

‘Clive.’ Gwennie’s voice was soft. ‘Is not that I don’t want you to come inside. I just don’t want what come with that. I tired and I have to get up early in the morning. Maybe Saturday night. But I don’t know. I want to get up early Sunday morning and watch Billy Graham on the TV, and then catch a early morning service at church.’ Gwennie pause. She push her finger under the latch and pull it. The car door creak open. Cold air burn her face.

‘I will call you tomorrow from work.’ Gwennie put one of her hands over Clive’s. It lay rigid on his lap. ‘Take care.’

Still, Clive never say a word. His hand never even twitch under her touch.

Gwennie lift up herself out the car and slam the door shut, house key ready in her hand. She didn’t want to look back at Clive, she could just imagine the sadness on his face. She let herself inside and lock the door behind her. The house was nice and warm just like inside Clive’s car.

Clive’s car was still outside when Gwennie finish brush her teeth and turn down the little button on the thermostat. Even after switching off the kitchen light, turning off the lamp in her room, setting the alarm clock on her bureau and climbing underneath her comforter, she still never hear the engine start up. Not even when she doze off. And Gwennie have a dream that night, not a long one, but disturbing enough to leave her restless the remainder of night, and thinking plenty about her relationship with Clive.

In the dream, all the children were here, except Peppy. She and Clive was getting on well. She was only working one job now, for Del and Rudi was working. Clive used to come over plenty. But she would never allow him to stay over, for she never want to set bad example. But anyway, it so happen that one Saturday night Clive did have to stay over. But she was careful, she make sure him sleep out on the couch. The house did have plenty more furniture by then.

Rudi went out the same Saturday night and didn’t return till early the Sunday morning, day barely dawning. And the first sight that greet him, when him step inside the house, was Gwennie and Clive sitting close around the enamel table and sipping mint tea. Gwennie was still in her night clothes and Clive was only in pants and undershirt, no shoes in sight. The house was quiet. Everybody else was sleeping. Outside birds chirp noisily.

Gwennie take a big mouthful of the tea, for all of a sudden, her stomach was feeling poorly. And Rudi just brush pass them in a gale of coolness, forehead knit-up, face tight, no utterance of a greeting whatsoever. Something about the expression on his face remind Gwennie of Walter.

For the remainder of week, Gwennie and Rudi don’t exchange five words total. Him tell her ‘howdy’ in the morning and evening as usual, but when him say it, them eyes don’t meet. Gwennie look up in his face, but Rudi’s eyes seem to always lodge themselves somewhere far pass her head-back, the scowl on his face overbearing. Him used to sit down at the kitchen table and eat dinner with her. Used to tell her stories about the people back home, the ones him work with at the import company, and the ones him encounter on the train. But these days not a word between the two.

She decide to tackle him about it, for she couldn’t stand the silence any longer. So one evening as him sit down comfortable and was starting to eat, she approach him. She could feel the tension thick in the room. Her own belly was weak from the thought of confronting him. But she carry on nonetheless, for it was better to nip it in the bud now, than to wait till it grow out of proportion. ‘Then Rudi,’ she start out, her voice poorly, ‘why you won’t talk to me, man.’

Rudi lodge a spoonful of rice in his jaw corner, forehead wrinkle-over.

‘How you expect me to live?’ Gwennie continue on. ‘You don’t expect me to have friends? You expect me to be by meself. You expect me to be lonesome all the time.’ Gwennie’s voice was starting to rise little by little. ‘I notice how you children treat him. Whenever him come over, everybody clear the room. Nobody anxious to see him.

‘Del don’t talk to him, you don’t talk to him, only Rosa talk to him. She alone respect and act decent towards him. The other day him was over here watching TV, and Dave did have the music up loud in his room. Him knock on the door and politely ask Dave to turn it down a little. Dave tell him to go to his own house and watch TV if him want peace and quiet.’ Gwennie pause to catch her breath. ‘What kind of behaviour is that? I don’t know how we going to manage, you know, for all you children will have to get used to me friends. If is Walter you children miss, you all can go back home to him, but him not going to come here and bother me peace . . .’

The alarm clock did go off same time, leaving everything fresh-fresh on her mind.

Gwennie notice the women starting to shuffle around. The bus was coming. She shuffle around her bag too and join the line them form. She hope Bob was driving this morning for she like him. Gwennie wait till the other women get on. Then she climb up. It was Bob own self.

‘Gwennie, how are you?’

‘Alright, Bob.’ She show him her bus pass and sit down at her usual spot, across from him.

‘You work too hard, Gwennie. You’re going to kill yourself before you know it.’ Bob laugh, jaw and chin shaking, same way his belly, for him was a little bit fattish.

‘Aw, Bobby. Can’t go any better. I have to eat.’ Gwennie laugh. She like Bob, for him was a very kind and jovial man. She can’t forget that morning, when on route to her very first cleaning job and did ask him for directions, how detailed and generous he was in his instructions, pointing out places of reference so she could remember and then asking her to recite it back to him, patiently smoothing out all errors till she finally get it right.

And she was grateful, for she’d not too long come to Foreign and did just get the weekend work. But him never think twice about helping her. And after offering out the directions, them start to talk, conversation leading first to his family then to hers back home. All during the conversation, she could feel the eyes of the other women on the bus boring deep into her neck-back. But she never pay them any mind.

The next Saturday, she bring him a small basket of fruit, for Grandma used to say people must always repay kindness with kindness. She hand it to him the morning as she was leaving the bus. She never see him the next Saturday, but she see him the one following. And from she set foot inside the bus the morning till she reach her destination, twenty minutes later, him never finish talk about her kindness.

‘You make it worth my while to drive this bus, Gwennie. In all the twenty odd years, I’ve been doing this, no one has ever given me anything. Sometimes people don’t even say thanks when I help them.’

Gwennie only grin, for it wasn’t any big thing to her. Back home people give and take like every day is Christmas. Here in Foreign, it look as if people make gift-giving into big thing. She tell Bob him welcome and is nothing. But even when him stop to let her off, him was still talking about the little basket of grapes and banana and orange and tangerine and the one big Julie mango she get from the West Indian store Miss Daphne tell her about.

III

Gwennie did have about quarter mile to walk after the bus let her off. The path ahead was long and winding after leaving the main road, and it was up hill. Every time she walk, by the time she reach her destination, she always have sweat running down her neck-back, pass her ears temple and gathering-up underneath her armpit.

Gwennie grab on to her duffle bag. She look crossway the road two times, then cross the street. A man, a woman and them big black dog pass by. The dog was pulling the man, but him hang on tight to the leash. Them turn around and look on Gwennie, face empty. Then them continue on, heads turn back around, the dog pulling the man same way, not a word spoken.

The road leading to the Duncan’s house was lined with plenty trees. With the approaching winter, colours were starting to turn, some red, others yellow, purple, orange. Gwennie look up at the trees. In three months’ time all the leaves will fold over dead, every thing cover over white. She can’t wait till her children come so them can see these wonders, she know Rudi especially would enjoy it, for him sensitive that way about nature. His fingers can make any flowers grow, bring back any seedling to life. Clive promise was to bring her up to New Hampshire, where the colours of trees even more dazzling. That was one year ago. Gwennie shake her head. That was the other thing about Clive she don’t like, him love make promises him won’t keep.

The dream last night flash cross way Gwennie’s mind. She wonder if she should mention it to Clive. But then him so analytical about things, him would probably blame the dream on her nervousness about the relationship. It puzzle her too, why Peppy wasn’t in the dream. She wonder if Aunty Cora plan not to send her after all. She remember Aunty Cora’s visit several years back and the endless conversations about the lump moving around in her stomach, beating with a ferocity as if it have its own heart; her son in England; Leslie and how him is a royal needle in her backside and Miss Gertie and her stinking tobacco breath. Aunty Cora did put Gwennie’s hand on the lump. Gwennie remember thinking how big it felt, about the size of her fist double-up, and just as hard.

Them did spend a long length of time discussing Peppy. Aunty Cora had plenty to ask, especially about the business concerning Peppy and the rest of siblings. And as the two of them lay stretch-out on Gwennie’s bed, the only bit of furniture inside the big, empty Foreign house, Aunty Cora tell her: ‘Me love, when that pickney come home the night and tell me that her brothers disown her, that them beat-beat her up and mash-up the dolly, I didn’t know what to do. I don’t know how me and you was going to make out.’ Aunty Cora clap her hands and shake her head slow. ‘I was ready to cross you off me syllabus as no-good and damn careless.’

And Gwennie never say anything, for she wasn’t sure what to say. She take a sip of the Diet Sprite she have lean up on the floor against the bed. ‘Guiding Light’ was playing on the TV out in the kitchen on the little enamel table. Now and again when she have the time, she watch it, for it always sweet her to see the deceitfulness in people’s heart, the way the characters lie and cheat on one another.

‘But thank God for that letter you send, explaining everything. For if you never have a good answer about your secret plans to travel abroad, and about this fellow, Percy, I was going to cross you off as damn worthless.’

Gwennie take another sip of the Sprite, her mind far back to the letter she write in response to Aunty Cora’s. She write it one evening before her meeting start, sitting down inside Percy’s car.

‘I plan was to come up there,’ Aunty Cora tell her, breaking into her thinking as she shift around on the bed. ‘I figure letter-writing wouldn’t be enough. Me and you was going to have to sit down and talk woman to woman. But me heart did soften a little,’ Aunty Cora say to her. ‘For me heart soften for any woman who have plenty pickney, who work, who have family life with husband to look about, and on top of that, find time to do little community work.’

Gwennie breathe free and easy after that, for she did write in her letter about how plenty times she wanted to come up and talk to Aunty Cora but sake of the meetings and the plenty time them take up with everything else, she couldn’t find the time.

‘For in me young days,’ Aunty Cora continue on, her fingers caressing the location of the lump on her belly, her eyes out of focus and far off, ‘when Anderson was alive, I was on a whole heap of board meetings meself.’ Aunty Cora raise her fingers off the lump and start to count. She still wear her two married rings. ‘Me was on coffee board, school board, church council board, road building board, and it never easy. Sometimes for days Anderson alone running the shop for I was so busy.’ Aunty Cora shake her head and push out her mouth.

‘And him never like it a damn tall. Him wanted to go out and look after the livestock, to farm and plant yam and potato and banana. Him wasn’t interested in shop life and to weigh out flour and sugar and measure out oil and cut tobacco. Miss Gertie used to help plenty, and thank God for Miss Irene, she look after all the children so me could go about me business.’ Aunty Cora stop to catch her breath and to sip a little of the Foreign rum.

‘But I couldn’t figure how you manage to allow the children to beat up Peppy and . . .’

Gwennie sigh deep. ‘The man was reading me letters. And after him finish, him tear them up. I didn’t know she was coming. All the letters from Samuel and from the Immigration office, I don’t let them go to the house. I give them me school address, for I can’t put down a thing in peace. Plenty evenings me come home and find the place turn upside down. Walter looking for what him don’t put down. Him looking for papers. All me clothes take off the hangers and search, all the drawers pull out, boxes that keep assignments for me students at school turn upside down. One suitcase I have underneath the bed that have birth certificates and receipts and insurance forms, him tear off the lock and turn it over.’

Gwennie raise up in the bed and look across at Aunty Cora. She try read the expression on Aunty Cora’s face, but it was mask ownself. Gwennie remember the Sunday, the Sunday evening Walter come back from New Green, the big quarrel them did have, the last quarrel. She know it was Aunty Cora who tell him she leaving for Foreign, but she couldn’t figure out how Aunty Cora find out, for she did warn Grandma not to tell anybody. Walter was not to be trusted.

‘Good thing I let me friend Percy keep them at his house,’ Gwennie continue. ‘I not sure how much Walter tell you,’ Gwennie pause, choosing her words careful, ‘but Percy is the fellow I met up at the school and turn friends with ever since.

‘The week before I leave, I call the children oneside to tell them. It wasn’t easy.’ Gwennie’s mind wasn’t on Aunty Cora or the letter anymore, it was back inside the house at Porous where she was sitting down inside the off-white couch, her children around her—she looking on them with sadness in her eyes, hoping them will understand, them looking back, eyes shifting round as if wanting to understand but not quite able to grasp what was going on. ‘I tell them I going away to get some rest. For if I don’t go, I will drop down in front them. I tell them I love them and that them Uncle Samuel and his wife kind enough to invite me to spend time and to get a little rest.

‘And I look at them all around me, Aunty Cora—Rudi, Del, Dave, Jeff, the baby was sleeping, and them just look back on me, not saying anything, almost like them dead inside. I tell them it would only be for two months. By the time them open and shut them eyes, the two months will be over, and I would be right there back with them. Well, is two months going on four years.’ Gwennie sigh out loud and the eye water start to bubble-up around her eyes. She reach over for the half-empty can of Sprite, and Aunty Cora raise up and change her position. Outside a motorbike roar pass and after the noise die down, Gwennie continue on, her voice hoarse.

‘Del don’t even write. Since I left she don’t pick up pen and paper to write. Almost as if she vex with me. Dave write, but after him complain how him hate living with Grandma, him send a long list with things I must send. Sneakers and sweat pants and so. No little tenderness inside the letters. Only Rudi alone write . . .’

And with that song, the bubbles in her eyes burst forth and run down her face. And even when Aunty Cora reach over to rub Gwennie’s hands in her own, the crying never stop. And Aunty Cora rock her and sway her, all the time muttering over and over again, ‘Aah gal, life not easy a blasted tall.’

And after what seem like a good ten minutes, Gwennie take a deep breath and start again, her voice little bit more strong and the bubbles under control. ‘When Samuel see how me worry-up and fret-up meself over me children, him go and get the lawyer. The fellow come from back home too, but him damn expensive nevertheless. Samuel file for me citizenship, for me couldn’t get any more extension on me visa. Me time was up.’

Gwennie turn around inside the bed and face Aunty Cora. It was the first time since Aunty Cora’s visit that she feel relax all the way. The feeling she have now remind her of when Mr Anderson was still alive and she and Samuel used to go over to New Green every Christmas and spend time with Buddy, Aunty Cora’s son. Aunty Cora’s face was stronger then, her hair not as white, jaw not as slack.

‘So me file for them after the lawyer clear me.’

‘What about Peppy?’ Aunty Cora’s eyes cease from wandering around and look hard at Gwennie.

Gwennie catch her breath. She wonder if Aunty Cora think she avoiding the little girl. ‘Me file for everybody, all me children.’ Gwennie pause long. She feel an aching coming on.

Aunty Cora turn the rum-water glass to her head and drain it. ‘You must write to write her, Gwennie. She will keep good correspondence.’

Gwennie nod her head. ‘She ask about me?’

‘But yes.’ Aunty Cora’s voice harden at the edges. ‘After all she don’t know you a tall.’

Gwennie sigh again. ‘What she ask?’ Her fingers were starting to twine around one another.

Aunty Cora scratch her head. It was silver all over. Since her arrival, Gwennie been combing it, parting and plaiting it every day. Usually she don’t get to comb it but once a week for she wear the wig all the time. ‘You know,’ Aunty Cora wrinkle her brow, ‘things pickney ask . . . Lord, I can’t remember now.’

‘Well, things will be better when she come.’

‘No,’ Aunty Cora grunt. ‘Write her now. Make friendship with her, first.’

‘You think she alright with Walter?’

Aunty Cora shrug. ‘She and Rudi get on. She don’t mention much about Walter in her letters.’

‘Rudi always mention her in his. Say him glad she there. The two of them get on in truth.’

Aunty Cora shift around in her bed. ‘You ever think about him, Gwennie? Peppy’s father?’

‘Sometimes.’ Gwennie let out a long sigh. ‘Sometimes I wonder if him know about her. But I don’t think about him often. That pass and gone.’ Gwennie raise up. ‘Come me fix you another drink.’

Aunty Cora never say anything else. And Gwennie wasn’t sure what to say herself. No, she don’t think about Luther, often. But then she don’t have to think about Luther to remember. Things like these don’t go any place but deep inside you belly where them sit down and form things hard like the lump inside Aunty Cora’s belly.

And even months after Aunty Cora left, Gwennie would still find herself thinking often about Peppy, even looking forward to her visit. The other children too, but Peppy mostly. She wouldn’t arrive till later though, according to how she and Samuel figure, but that alright. Aunty Cora say she playing the organ nicely at church and her brain quick in school, love to chat and argue just like she, Gwennie. Gwennie did smile to herself. Maybe if them hit it off when she come, them can talk. Maybe she might have interest in some of the meetings, she, Gwennie used to be involved in, but don’t have time for anymore. Maybe she will turn out ambitious, make something of herself, so that she, Gwennie can feel proud of her.

Gwennie reach the gate, damp with sweat and out of breath as usual. She careful not to take off her sweater outside, as hot as she was. Samuel tell her that is grounds for pneumonia, for Foreign weather and back home not the same. She pick up the little envelope with the housekey from out the mail box and step through the gate. Only one car was in the driveway, the Volkswagen. That means Lucille on call, and it was Bill’s weekend off. Gwennie kiss her teeth under her breath. She hope Bill have plans for the day, for as much as she like the two of them, she still don’t want them in her way while she working. Them always want to chat. And is not that she don’t like to sit down and chat with them, but she have plenty things to do and she would rather just do her work and go home, for she tired.

Gwennie never have to use the key, for the front door was wide open. She step inside the kitchen.

‘Good morning, Gwen.’ Bill was sitting down around the table drinking coffee from the big ‘Good Morning America’ mug. Him get up and pull out a chair for Gwennie, handing her an extra mug. Him was bright and cheery. Gwennie wonder what it was. ‘Doesn’t this coffee smell wonderful?’ him say out loud, filling up her mug.

Gwennie puzzle-up her face. Him was too cheerful. She wasn’t really a coffee woman, but she sip some anyway. Then a small smile start to gather-up around her mouth corner. It spread crossway her face. She take another big sip of the coffee. ‘Oh! So you buy the coffee from back home. Blue Mountain. You like it?’

‘It’s really wonderful, Gwen. Lu even took some to work.’

Gwennie grin even broader.

‘And you know what else, Gwen?’ Bill’s grin was almost as broad as Gwennie’s. ‘Last night Lu and I went to that restaurant, the one on Talbot Avenue that your friend, Daphne gave you the address for.’

Gwennie look up at him. Surprise write all over her face.

‘The food was so good, Gwennie. I ate like a pig. I had that Escovitch Fish you were talking about.’ Bill lick his lips.

Him did have on thick, black frame glasses that morning. They make him look younger than his thirty-four years. Him was still wearing pyjamas and his wavy brown hair with the sprinklings of white look as if him run neither comb nor brush through it since morning.

‘Lu had goat, Curried Goat. She drank about a quart of water with that. It was so peppery, but good. We’re going back there, Gwen. We’re going to take our friends. It was too good.’

Gwennie put her hand to her jaw. She never know what to say. She just look at the grin spread crossway Bill’s face. She did hand them the address last week, but she never expected them to go. Something about Bill remind her of Rudi. She can’t quite put her fingers on it. Maybe is the way him was always trying to please her, always trying to get on her good side. Sometimes when she arrive at work with her face a little-bit longish, him would always want know what is the problem. When she just started working there, and him find out where she was from, him went out and bought several cassettes of popular singers back home, playing them over and over till him learn the words by heart. Now his collection even bigger.

But then sometimes him and Lu quarrel, and him turn into completely different person. Fling and break things, and a whole heap of cursing. She remember one Saturday morning, after letting in herself as usual, a whole heap of door slamming and bangarang greet her from upstairs. Fear grab her same time, and she couldn’t tell whether or not it was damn thief in the house, or if the two of them was up there killing one another.

She grab a heavy dish pan from out the cupboard, and head towards the stairway, only to see Lu running down the stairs, face red and blotchy and tear-stained, while upstairs Bill was cursing ‘bitch’ and ‘damn’ and ‘shit’, brushing offhand-full of things off dressers, slamming doors, breaking bottles against the wall, flinging out books through the window.

And Gwennie just sigh long and hard, wait till her heartbeat settle down back to normal, then head back to the kitchen to put down the heavy dish pan.

Lu was leaning up against the counter, inhaling deep and exhaling slowly one cigarette after another, grey-green eyes glaring at the curling smoke. ‘Listen to that asshole up there breaking up all that shit,’ she grind out through her teeth between pulls on her cigarette.

Gwennie never say anything, for it wasn’t her business. Not that she don’t expect them to quarrel, for them young and married only five years. But Lu is a woman who love to complain at length to Gwennie about Bill. And it wasn’t that she didn’t want Lu to confide in her, for in a way Lu remind her of an older version of Delores, but she don’t want to get mix-up mix-up in them affairs. She’s only a worker; them relationship different. She don’t want to make recommendations one way or the other, causing bad feelings to develop, giving them reason to fire her. For them pay well and better to get on with than Professor Stevens and his wife, Mary-Jane, her during-the-week employers.

‘All because I don’t want to go to his mother’s house for Thanksgiving. I hate that woman,’ Lu drag hard on the cigarette. ‘She hates me, too. And he knows it. So I don’t know what the hell he’s trying to prove. I told him I was never going back there again, and I’m dead serious.’

Still Gwennie never say anything. Standing cross way from Lucille, her back leaning against the sink, all she could think about was what a damn shame it was, for things so expensive. Her own house was there big and empty, yet this big man upstairs was mashing up the furniture like a blasted child. Furthermore, if the blasted woman didn’t want to see his mother, then so let it be. Married don’t mean Bill say, Lu do. Gwennie wanted to kiss her teeth the morning, but she try and control herself.

‘Gwennie,’ Bill break into her thinking. ‘You’re going to have to cook some of that wonderful food for me and Lu sometime. You could cook it here, or invite us to your home or something.’

‘That’s not a bad idea a tall. I’ll think about it though.’ Gwennie get up from around the table. She finish her mug of coffee and pour more into Bill’s big mug. ‘Right now I have to start the little cleaning.’

‘Goody.’ Bill return to the Hartford Courant, and Gwennie pick up her duffle bag, making her way briskly upstairs, for the coffee rejuvenate her.

She didn’t mind cooking for them a tall, but she don’t want them at her house. Maybe when she buy more furniture and a decent set of pots, them can come. But she don’t even have nice plates to serve things on, either. Gwennie kiss her teeth. Maybe when the children arrive, and the house look more like somebody living in there, she can invite them. She would have to buy wine, make a cake for dessert, but then she don’t even have any dessert forks and spoons, she don’t have wine glasses either, and she can’t jolly-well give them wine inside the same glass she drink water out of. Gwennie wonder when she will finally feel settled, and America feel like home to her.

Percy write and tell her she won’t find happiness and feelings of settlement in housekeeping and child care. It won’t happen till she comfortable with her life, till she start taking classes again, start teaching, all her children living comfortable with her and maybe a new love in her life. She know him was correct, for in truth she don’t right like housework. She spend too many years in school for this, and especially for the children, it wasn’t good example. But them soon come, and housework don’t require much skills, and she want them to be comfortable. After that she can think about herself.

Inside the bathroom, Gwennie shove her feet inside the mash-down-back shoes, and put on her old frock. Then she hang up her good dress in the closet, sitting down her pair of shoes, side-by-side on the floor of the closet. Next she take out the vacuum cleaner, and the pail with Windex, Fantastik, Ajax, sponge, brush and mop pile-up inside. And after she have everything ready, Gwennie make her way into the private bathroom, for she was going to start cleaning in there first.