Dancing Lessons (33 page)

“Miss Sam, this is bad,” was that child's contribution.

Up to then I hadn't been able to get a word in, and I was trying not to laugh, for although Morveen was a teenager, or so I believed, she was behaving like my grandmother.

“Come in, girls,” I said.

“Oh Miss Sam,” said Morveen as she entered and gazed around my room. She had probably never been outside of the room downstairs with the mirror, basin, and professional dryer that served as her parlour. “I know you been sick and all and that nice gentleman your friend die I really sorry to hear and the two of you look so lovely together. You wouldn't believe I scream with fright when Annie phone to tell me, Miss, and how you take to your bed with a broken heart. But Time Waits for No Man, Miss Sam, you can't let yourself go like this. Eh, Kyisha?”

Before I could say anything to this, the open suitcases and general signs of packing must have registered. “Miss Sam, you not going away?” she wailed.

I told her yes, I was going back to my home in the country.

“Country?” Kyisha piped up, as if I had said the General Penitentiary. “Country, Miss? But how you can leave Kingston to go a country? You mean to live? Forever?”

This time I couldn't control my smile. But, before I could say anything, Morveen jumped right in to chastise her. “What you know about country, Kyisha? It can be nice, you know.” And she sounded almost dreamy. “One time I did go to country to visit my Grannie, somewhere far, I don't remember where now. I was little and my mother did take me. It was sweet you see! I eat cane the whole time, cane that mi Grannie cut for me. Right from the tree!”

“Well, I did go country one time,” said Kyisha, not to be outdone. “And my Grannie pick mango for me. And starapple. Right off the tree. But when night come, it was dark, man. I fraid you see. I wanted to go to the toilet bad bad, but you think I was going to go outside in that darkness. So I …”

“Kyisha,” said Morveen sharply, “Miss Sam don't want to hear your business.”

Kyisha looked suitably cowed, as she probably was all the time by Morveen, who then turned her attention back to me, all business.

“Now, Miss Sam, we come to take you downstairs. For you must be forget. You need a good haircut and some nice colouring.” She had taken hold of my hair again as if she was sampling the quality before purchase. “Maybe we'll try a new relaxer this time. And Kyisha, you have to well try with these nails, yu know.” She seized both my hands again and held them out for viewing.

I untangled myself from Morveen's probing grasp and decided enough was enough. “Morveen, Kyisha, I'm really glad to see you, but I really don't have time these days for all that foolishness.”

“Foolishness, Miss?” They spoke simultaneously, in anguished tones, as if I had shattered the very altar at which they worshipped. “Miss Sam, you can't mean that.” Now it was Kyisha's turn to wail. “And yu was loooking so criss and stylish up to the other day. Everybody in the kitchen was talking about it. They even saying …”

“Miss Sam is when your man gone you must take care of yourself,” Morveen interrupted sharply, giving Kyisha a cut-eye. “For is them time everybody looking at you see how you draw down. Take me now, when my last baby faada did leave, him send the new matey him tek up with come dare walk down my street to check out how me look. But when she come, you know, me was ready for is them time when him leave that me a bus style, you know. A tek up mi celli and call mi auntie a Miami beg her courier down some supplies for me quick. So when the jezebel come, I just flick my hundred-dollar U.S. weave and step out in my new gold lace-up bootie and mek out like a risto. You should see how that skettle turn tail and run.”

I was as mesmerized by her language as by the revelation of her “baby faadas.” Good grief! How many children did she have? No wonder she was so free with advice. She wasn't finished with me yet. Not that I understood half of what she'd just said, for Morveen seemed to switch into a different language when she was excited.

“No, no Miss. Is when your heart is low that you must have high ambition. And I know you is no paa-paa, you is the kind of lady that pick up yourself when you batter down and rise again in glory.”

The two of them were so earnest that I didn't have the heart to turn them away completely, and they had made me aware for the first time in weeks of how awful I really looked, as I'd barely glanced in the mirror.

“Okay,” I said in my firmest voice. They broke into smiles. “But none of this hair colouring business and all that fancy stuff, Morveen. I won't have anyone to look after it once I get back to the country. So there's no point in starting now. And Kyisha, all I want is for you to cut my nails short short short. Nothing more.”

They both nodded and left smiling happily. A few minutes later I had my head bent over Morveen's basin downstairs. At lunchtime, I came out of their little room with my hair in a very short, stylish shag with blonde highlights, my nails painted cappuccino and my face fully made up and tingling with pleasure after a steaming and facial.

I knew that once I put myself in the hands of those two there was no turning back. And I didn't want to. Morveen was right. I was the type of woman who picked herself up again when battered down. Now I couldn't wait to rise in glory.

Though I wasn't sure how to take Kyisha's parting remarks as she gazed at my hair. “Lord, Miss, you look like that singer there, what she name again, Morveen? She have hair just like Miss Sam. You know, she very old …”

I saw Morveen's elbow snake out to give her a hard nudge, before she said, “You mean Tina Turner. And she not so old…”

“Thank you, Morveen,” I said.

But Kyisha would have the last word. “Well, she not so old as Miss Sam, but is same so her hair stay …”

“And you, too, Kyisha.”

As I entered the dining room all eyes swivelled in my direction. I thought, Mrs. Margo Haynes-Crosswell-Bitch, eat your heart out.

I WAS SHOCKED AT
how upset Ruby was when I told her I was leaving. Her eyes actually filled with tears that spilled over, making no difference to that mascara that was already smudged over half her face. She blinked and tried for something of her old bullying tone: “Of course you can't go.” But, as I passed her a tissue, we both knew it was a done deed.

“They've finally repaired my house, Ruby. From the hurricane. Almost two years. I can't stay away forever. You know I was only stopping here for a while.” I couldn't resist saying with some pride, “My son's down there looking after it for me, he's finally found the time,” although I hadn't heard anything further about Junior's involvement.

I'd pulled up a chair beside hers on the veranda where she was sitting alone playing solitaire, the cards spread out on a tray across her lap. Poor Birdie was so decrepit she could no longer hold the cards and her eyesight was almost gone. There were times when she couldn't hold her spoon or fork at table, her hands shook so much. Ruby had to take over and feed her like a child, Ruby herself having difficulty manipulating knife and fork. Now Birdie sat nodding in an armchair slightly to the left of Ruby, and I had to go right up to her so she could see who I was when I greeted her. It was clear that Birdie should be in a place where she would get nursing care, but Ruby was determined to soldier on for the two of them. She walked now with her arm around Birdie's waist, almost dragging her along, though she herself was tottering. Watching the two of them slowly making their way down the corridor was the most powerful signal that as long as Ruby was alive, Birdie would never pass on alone to an Old People's Home. In the middle of our little chat, Ruby leaned over and confided that she and Birdie had made a pact. She gave me an arch look, as if I should know what she meant. But I hadn't a clue.

“A pack of what?” I leaned over and whispered back.

“No, no! Caramba! Are you deaf? Pact! Agreement. You know. Together.” And she used her index finger to made a cutting motion across her throat.

“What! You wouldn't!” I was truly aghast. For her gesture had conjured up an insane image of throat slitting and blood spurting, though between them they could hardly hold a table knife steady.

“Pills,” she croaked. “We're saving up.”

I sat there with my mouth open, trying to get my head around the idea. I truly didn't know what to think, it was so foreign to me.

“Best thing for both of us. Look at her!”

We both looked at Birdie, who was now loudly snoring with her head on her chest, her mouth wide open. Unlike Ruby, she no longer bothered about her appearance, and her pink scalp showed through her snowy white hair, cut short and feathered around her head. Her face was sunken in, pale and colourless. I was amazed at how quickly she had passed to this stage.

“You think I want to be left alone with the likes of that Running Water?” Ruby asked, for so she referred to our talkative table-mate. “I'd rather die first.” She paused to light a cigarette, although she already had one burning in the ashtray, and she gave her little signature cough after the first puff.

She looked defiant, then just old and sad as she angrily stubbed out the butt of the old one. “Life's no fun anymore.” Then, recovering some of her old feistiness in a more accusing tone, “And now you say you are going too.”

I didn't respond. She took that as a sign to continue. “At least you brought a little life to the place. All your vegetables. Now I won't get a chance to plant my roses.”

“Winston…” I began.

“Winston!” she said. “That ram goat! All that man knows to plant is one thing. I'm amazed he hasn't worn it out by now!”

“Ruby!”

“You and that Ralph Bridges made such a pair, brought a little excitement to the place. You know Matron …”

“But Ruby, we were not a pair,” I protested. “We were just …”

I was glad that she interrupted. for I found I was having difficulty getting the word
friends
out of my mouth.

“Oh, I know that, dear,” Ruby said airily. “But I wouldn't make anyone the wiser. Their silly speculation was so delicious.”

I didn't quite know how to take that remark, so I fumed for a few seconds, until the next one brought me fully back to listening.

“I think it was so stupid of him wanting to marry that awful Margo Frome, or Cresswell, or whatever she calls herself. A little hurry-come-up, she's done more climbing than a passion fruit vine. She'd have sucked him dry, for that's her style, for God's sake. Two down so far, he'd have been the third. But then men …”

I didn't even bother to listen to Ruby's little diatribe, I was both shocked at her knowledge and elated at her description.

“Ruby,” I interrupted. “How did you know? About Mr. Bridges and this lady?”

“Oh, sweetheart, just because you see me here looking like an old cabbage, doesn't mean I don't know what goes on. I'm still plugged into that Florida circuit, you know. For months she's been busily telling everyone about her trousseau, at her age, for God's sake! And pestering them with her plans for home decorating. Why she would want to come back here …”

“Mr. Bridges didn't want to go and live in the States,” I said and almost bit my tongue, for I had vowed to forget about the two of them.

“Well, if he knew what was good for him, he would have been much better off with you, my dear.”

Despite myself, I felt a wave of gratitude to Ruby for her endorsement. “Except,” she continued, “I don't know about you, but the idea of living with a man with a brain like a filing cabinet is too appalling. Like Birdie's first husband.” She leaned over and whispered this, though Birdie was still asleep. “He used to run a factory so everything with him was assembly line. He had to take off every item of clothing and neatly fold or put away each piece before jumping on top of her. You can imagine how exciting that was.” Ruby cackled loudly at the thought. “My Jorge, now, was a man of terrific spontaneity. I can't tell you all the places we tried it. Caramba!”

“Ruby!”

“Okay, okay, I won't shock you. But you yourself could loosen up a bit you know, Mrs. Samphire. Although I have to say you've made a three-hundred-degree improvement in your social skills since you came here. You really couldn't stand us, could you? I could see you mentally wanting to chew us up and spit us out.”

I didn't say anything to that, I just smiled, amazed how over the time I had come to know her I had had to constantly revise my opinion of Ruby.

“I don't know,” she said, changing tack. “The turnover in this place is getting too fast for my liking. First Bridges, then that old man Turner, then the Pitts. Now you leaving …”

“Miss Pitt-Grainger?”

“Yes, didn't you know? Just keeled over one day. They all seem to be doing that. No lingering anymore. Nowadays, everything quick, quick. Not like my Jorge.” She cackled at my raised eyebrows. “Geez, when was it? Quite a few weeks now. It must have been when you were sick, so I guess no one told you. She had this huge write-up in the papers and everything and you should see the turnout at her funeral. Still, I wonder where all those Old Girls were when the old girl herself was sitting here, so lonely.”

“Yes,” I said, for I'd had the same thought when she was sick, and I felt guilty now that I had been so full of myself I hadn't even noticed her absence.

“She wasn't a bad old sort really. Just set in her ways. But boy did we love to tease her!”

Ruby picked up her cigarette that had been burning in the ashtray and waved it around, dropping ash everywhere. She suddenly looked happy. “That's what the three of us always loved to do, Birdie, Babe, and me. Take the mickey out of people. The Three Musketeers, they called us. Until we got married, we were always together, hatching up plots. Birdie and I have been friends since we were born. Our families lived next door to each other. Babe was my cousin. We were always in and out of each other's houses. I don't know why we hit it off so well, we three were closer than they were to their own sisters. I was an only child, so you bet your life I wasn't going to let go. I have to say, I have been so fortunate to have had such good friends. There's nothing to replace that, really.”