The Sugar Planter's Daughter (27 page)

W
innie came back
to me that night. We were having dinner in the cramped hallway at the cramped table, Ma and Pa and Mama and me and the bigger boys; and suddenly she was there, standing in the doorway. I leapt to my feet and rushed to her and only then I remembered, and stopped.

But she held out her arms to me.

‘Winnie, I' I began, but she put her fingers to her lips and she said, ‘Shush, George,' and so I said nothing but only stepped into those arms and they closed around me.

‘Yoyo told me everything,' she whispered into my ear, and if I had not known before that I had the best woman in the world, well, in that moment I knew it.

She let go of me and drew away and stooped down and held out her arms again and the boys rushed forward into them. Ma got up to fetch another plate and filled it with cook-up rice and chicken and we all sat down at the table again and it was as if nothing had happened, almost; and even the great sadness that hung over us all seemed banished for the evening.

But it wasn't. That night when the boys were in bed and Winnie and I were at last alone we wept together. We wept for our Gabriella Rose, the little girl who had hovered for a while at the periphery of our lives and then was swept away, it seemed, on the breath of God. She was gone, and in the vacuum left by her departure Winnie and I filled spaces in each other's souls, and in each other's bodies, and we were one as we had never been before.

Later, much later, I told her about the property in Lamaha Street and the house that would be our home.

‘The vendors have sorted out their problems,' I told Winnie. ‘The loan was approved. Today I signed the papers. The place is ours.'

‘As long as we are together,' she whispered to me through the darkness, ‘I don't care where we live.'

‘How can you still love me, after all of this?' I still couldn't believe it. I did not deserve her love. How could she forgive the ultimate betrayal?

‘George,' she said slowly then. ‘I do love you and always will. But…'

‘But what?'

‘But – I don't know. I'm trying to find the words.'

In her hesitation I knew there was something serious she had to say; that she knew very well what she had to say, but was afraid to say it.

‘What is it?'

‘It's just – well. You've changed, George, over the years. You're no longer…'

She paused again. My heart pounded so hard I could feel it thumping away in there: thumpity thumpity thump. I feared what she would say next.

‘No longer the George I fell in love with. The passionate strong fighter, the man who would change history. The man who wanted to avenge his best friend. Do you remember what you told me, George, after the trial?'

‘I told you many things!'

‘No, but those few words stuck with me. You said:
This is bigger than both of us, Winnie. Bigger than our little personal lives. Bigger than our love.
And you know, those are the words, more than anything else, that bound me to you. That made me give up all I had, to come to you. You were so strong, so determined! You were my hero.'

‘But that was then, Winnie. Now we have children. Now we have to live in reality. I can't be that reckless revolutionary and still be a good father and husband. That's something for single men. I have to care for you. I can't'

She hugged me, snuggled into me. ‘You're the best husband any woman could want, the best father. It's just – perhaps a bit too much? You put me on a pedestal, George, and that's not right. When I came into your life you were so young and so full of drive for something marvellous – you were going to change history! You and all the others. And I loved and admired that – yes, I fell in love with you, the person, but there was something behind you, just like you say – something bigger than both of us and our little romance and that is what is missing in our lives. I remember that first rally I went to, on the Sea Wall – do you remember? When the police came afterwards and you didn't know I was there and you were so cross and swept me up into your arms and hid me in a boat and commanded me to stay put! Oh, that was marvellous, George! That was the real George! And I bet you, I bet you anything, that that George wouldn't have been seduced by Yoyo! You'd have sent her packing! Because it was big, George, so big! And when we first married it was the same. The Saturday rallies! The moment you began to speak, I'd feel a thrill all down my spine, and when you sang, oh, my heart melted! You had the gift of moving crowds, George. Inspiring people. You would leap into their hearts and make them want to do good things, brave things. And then you gave it all up because you wanted to be a good husband and father!'

‘Being a good husband and father isn't wrong! It's important.'

‘Of course it is! But I don't see why the one has to exclude the other. Look, when I committed to you I also committed to that, to your work. I told you, didn't I? I'd be right there at your side. It was bigger than both of us and we'd work together. It's what I wanted, George – it's what I still want!'

‘You mean – I should go back? Go back to the rallies, go back to being Theo X?'

‘Maybe not – maybe Theo X, that hot-headed young man, can be put to rest. But you can still inspire, George, and you should. It's your God-given gift. You shouldn't give it up for me. Maybe you can just be George – speak to them, sing to them. They need it!'

I'd never known Winnie to talk so much. I listened, and as she spoke something began to grow in my heart. Just a tiny sprout, or a flicker, of light – a spark. I watched that spark, and felt it grow in strength, like a tiny flame fanned. Every word she spoke was like a breath of air that fanned that little flame. I could feel it, deep inside, gaining strength and confidence. And as I watched it I knew that she was right. It was the thing I had lost, my essence. Lost it under the weight of responsibilities. But it wasn't lost! There it was again, eager to grow, straining back into life. I took a deep breath. Yes! There it was again! Strong and full of courage and upright and invincible. The real me.

I
am
no longer needed in Georgetown; tomorrow I return to Promised Land. Winnie's story is intriguing, and I must see for myself. Yoyo, contrite and confessing and begging for forgiveness? It seems an impossible thing, a miracle. Can a person change overnight, into the very opposite of her former self? But then, maybe it is not so much a change Yoyo must have gone through today at the hospital; rather a shedding of her not-self, a removal of a cloak of iniquity.

I do believe in the inherent goodness of all people. That we are all born good – are not all children sweet and innocent, until they learn the crooked ways of adults? Are we not drawn to that innocence in children, because we know that it is in ourselves as well? That we all wear cloaks of not-self, distorting that inherent goodness? Applied to Yoyo, this means that she was desperately unhappy because she saw and felt only her own dark cloak, a cloak of envy and selfishness, distorting her inherent goodness and blinding her to it. She has asked for forgiveness, and been granted it. Is this a new beginning? Will a new Yoyo await me when I go back to Promised Land? I hardly dare hope.

I
need not have worried
. The Yoyo who received me when I arrived home was a transformed person: a fresh-faced shiny-eyed angel of a daughter. Gone, the complaining grump finding fault with every little detail of plantation life. Even Jim noticed the change, and remarked on it. Jim, of course, knew the whole story, had seen it in its infant stages, and now that Yoyo had confessed, Winnie knew the truth and George was absolved, we were finally able to discuss it.

‘That Christmas Eve, suddenly George was standing at my gate and asking for a bed,' Jim told me. ‘He was trembling, a wreck, and he stammered out a story about Yoyo in his room, naked. Must have been a sight to behold! Poor George!'

I chuckled. ‘Some men might say,
lucky
George! What a titbit placed in his hand!'

Jim laughed too, and his belly shook. ‘Not our George! He must have leapt out of his skin and hightailed it over to me: “What shall I do, what shall I do?” Well, what could I say? “That girl is trouble, George!” I told him. “Better to stay away!”'

‘And he did – for years,' I said. ‘But I suppose it still bristled somewhere deep inside. The things we bury have a way of surfacing when we least expect it.'

‘It'll have bristled in Yoyo too – she won't accept defeat. I bet she's planned this for years.'

‘You think so, Jim? You think it wasn't just an opportunity she grasped? That it wasn't spontaneous, but planned?'

Even as I spoke the words I knew they were true. Yoyo was just not the type to humbly accept defeat. That's what made her such an excellent businesswoman, capable of seeing through even the most difficult decisions to the end. But socially, it made her hard and unyielding and, in this case, had led to disaster.

And now, as I write this down, I'm beginning to believe that disaster is just what she needed; that disaster was the only thing that could wake her up and bring about change. A warmer, softer Yoyo – I have seen that new side to her today, and I can only hope it lasts.

T
hree months later
.

Rereading those last words I can say this much: Yes, it has lasted, more or less. Yoyo is making an enormous effort. She is kinder to the labourers, and she gets along with Jim at last. She tends to be as close-lipped as ever towards me, though – I think she has still not really forgiven me for deserting her as a child. That will take some more work; but I am hopeful. Of late especially she has been particularly gay, almost sparkling; and today I found out the reason.

This morning she drove off in the car, but didn't say where she was going. She was gone all morning; I wondered if she had gone to town – if so, it would be the first time since the hullabaloo with George. None of them have seen each other again, and rightly so. It will take some time before we can be a normal family again, even with the change in Yoyo and the peace she has made with Winnie.

As the sun reached its zenith and began to descend and Yoyo had still not returned, I began to worry. If she had indeed been going to town surely she would have told me? Perhaps she had gone only to New Amsterdam – but what business could she have there that would have taken so long? My great fear, of course, is always that she might have an accident. Yoyo drives too quickly, and she is reckless. A stray dog running into the street, a child chasing a ball, a donkey cart in her way – all kinds of hazards waited for her on the narrow coastal road.

But finally, at just past five, I heard the roar of the motor and the crunch of wheels on gravel and I breathed a sigh of relief – she was back. I watched from the window as she handed the car keys over for Harold to bring the car round to the garage, and walked towards the front stairs.

No, she didn't walk. She skipped, she danced, she twirled – this was a happy Yoyo coming up the stairs! I opened the front door for her and she leapt into my arms.

‘Oh, Mama, Mama!' she cried, and tried to swing me round in a clumsy polka. ‘Mama! At last, at last! Mama, I'm going to have a baby!'

I froze and stared, stunned into silence. It had been plain for years that marital relations between Yoyo and Clarence had ceased completely; it was there for all to see. Not just that they slept in separate rooms; it was their coldness to each other, and Clarence's blatant and undisguised preference for African and Indian labourers, his own employees. Girls he could master, and who bore his children. He had at least three such bastards; he acknowledged them and supported their mothers, and made no secret of it. Yoyo's baby had to be from George.

I can't say the thought had not occurred to me before – and obviously I had hoped that there would be no such consequences. But I assumed she had taken precautions, seeing as it was a planned encounter, and since she would certainly not risk bearing George's child. It seemed obvious. But this! This joy, this elation! It was a mockery of everything; a mockery of George, of Winnie, of her so-called confession, her so-called repentance.

‘Well?' she said after a pause. ‘Aren't you going to congratulate me? You know I've always wanted a son! Aren't you happy for me?'

‘Happy? Happy? You expect me to be happy? What is it about you, Yoyo, that makes you love hurting your sister so much? What devil lives inside you?'

I turned and stormed away, sick to my stomach. But Yoyo ran behind me, grabbed my arm.

‘Mama, Mama no! It's not – not what you think!'

I swung round. ‘Don't tell me this is Clarence's child because I won't believe you!' I cried. ‘And it's not something you'll be able to hide, is it! How far along are you?'

‘The – the doctor says three months. But'

‘Well, there we have it. Three months. You couldn't get your husband into your bed so you get your brother-in-law to father a child. What a despicable thing, Yoyo! And don't tell me that wasn't your intention – if it were a mistake you'd be horrified, not joyful!'

I turned to walk away again, but she pulled me back.

‘Mama, please just listen. You're adding two and two and getting five. I can explain it all but you have to listen! You see – you see…' She paused, as if struggling for words.

‘I see nothing!'

‘You see, Clarence and I – well, I always wanted children but it's hardly possible if your husband rejects your bed! Clarence is incapable of – of relations with me. Just with me! He seems to have no problems with other women, as we all know!'

She grimaced. It can't be easy for a woman like Yoyo, a woman every other man seemed to covet, to be rejected by her own husband, and to see him, at the same time, running after every young skirt on the plantation. Clarence is such a bastard! But we are stuck with him by the terms of the contract; he is de facto master of the plantation, even if Yoyo runs it herself.

‘I'm too strong for him,' she continued. ‘It puts him off. He prefers docile women. Well, he knows I want, I need, children and since he can't give them to me he agreed that I should be free to find another – shall we say – seed donor.'

She made another face. The subject was obviously distasteful to her, and no wonder. What woman likes to speak of these private matters, and especially to her own mother!

‘And he agreed to pretend to be the father, give his name to the child and so on, so that it would all be perfectly respectable.'

‘But why
George,
of all men? Your own brother-in-law! It will be so obvious! The child will be dark and the world will know – but mostly, Winnie and George will know. It's a slap in their faces!'

‘I told you, Mama, the child is
not
George's! Why would I choose a darkie as father? Of course not! There was – someone else. I have a – companion in Georgetown. I have kept it very discreet – only Margaret knows. She arranged it, in fact. I go to town once a month to meet him, during my fertile phase. There is such a phase, you know, and a clever woman can time these things perfectly. Haven't you noticed that I run off to town for a few days each month? Well, it's for that. For baby-making. Just for that.'

‘But then I understand even less why you should run after George, entrap him. What a risk! What if it turns out to be his baby, after all – it will be so obvious!'

‘I told you – it's out of the question. For a start, if you remember, I stayed in town a week longer than usual that time. So I was past my fertile phase. And secondly, um, well, you see, George didn't finish. He didn't – well, you know. We were – interrupted. As well you know.'

She smiled then, as if to make a joke of it. I would have no such thing.

‘But it was a risk you willingly took. And it's not as if you could pass George's child off as Clarence's. If it did turn out to be George's the world would know immediately.'

‘Well. It won't happen. And you know, a few of George's boys are so fair you can't even tell!'

That's true: Humphrey, the eldest, is very light-skinned – but he has dark, very curly hair. The fourth son, Charles, though, is so fair he could very well have been fathered by a white man. It is certainly remarkable what nature will do with a man's seed!