Gloria (21 page)
‘Gloria, yu smart. I give yu that.’ He sit there nodding his head and turning round the drink in the glass. ‘This I will tell yu. I don’t want to tek yu to the police station to ask yu nuh questions about Barrington Maxwell. But I need to know for sure that there not nobody else I should be looking for. Yu understand what I am saying to yu?’
‘I not going sit here and write out no confession for yu sergeant.’
He raise his eyebrows. ‘Yu think I should be looking for somebody else in connection wid this or not?’
‘That is up to you. But it almost seem like yu don’t want to catch the culprit. So why would yu be wasting more a yu time on it?’
‘Because this not about catching. It about knowing. Knowing who not to catch.’
‘Who not to catch?’ I pause and then I say, ‘They tell me yu a good man, Clifton Brown. I hope they right.’
Nineteen fifty-five was the three-hundredth anniversary of the coming of Penn and Venables. That is what the whole island was celebrating. When the English come and run out the Spanish and claim Jamaica for themself. Beryl and Marcia excited and say we must join in the jubilation and go see the touring Bandwagon show. Sybil, she not interested. She vex. She say we shouldn’t be wasting our time making merriment over the British coming here and turning us into a piece of their empire.
‘If yu want to go have yuself a good time then celebrate the fact that the People’s National Party win the election and Mr Manley become chief minister. Go enjoy clapping and cheering that. And then go put yu back into something that matter because right now there is work to be done to mek Jamaica a better place for everyone.’
This is how Sybil gwaan morning, noon and night. Marcia say she boring the hind legs off everybody in the house. Even Trevor keeping himself quiet next door because he can’t take Sybil and her politics in his ear. All he do is come in and give her the money he collecting from the loans and then he is gone with his cut in his pocket.
And when she not in the house telling everybody how things is, she at the PNP meetings in East Kingston where they busy talking ’bout how the English-speaking Caribbean islands going form a single-state federation and get independence from Britain.
Next thing, Henry come tell me that Fay pregnant again. I think it sad that is him have to bring the news but after all it under my instruction that Pao nuh mention Fay to me so I guess that is on me. She have a baby girl they call Mui, but Henry say Fay not happy. She suppose to be living down Matthews Lane with Pao and his mama and Zhang but in truth she spend most her time back up Lady Musgrave Road arguing with Miss Cicely and driving Henry outta the house to Chinatown where he playing mah-jong all hours of the day and night. He say the situation real bad up there.
‘Now priest come to house all time Fay there. Talk talk, that is all he do. Cicely, she play piano and call down all sort fire and hell and brimstone over what she think bad relation with priest.’
‘Yu mean Fay and the priest?’
‘I not know what they do. I only know what Cicely think, which, when it come to Fay, is always bad.’
I wait and wait to see what Pao going say to me ’bout the girl child, but him nuh say nothing. It almost like she don’t exist. But then it don’t seem like there is a lot he got to say ’bout anything except telling me what I already know ’bout how he and Henry Wong in business together running liquor and groceries to the hotels that springing up on the north coast due to the money Jamaica making since they discover the bauxite and all the Americans that want to come down here to catch the sun and rest in the breeze.
And then one day he tell me that he got a doctor if me and the girls or Esther need anything.
‘What, yu own personal physician?’
‘Yes, Gloria. That is what I am telling yu.’
‘So where yu get him from?’
‘You don’t worry yourself ’bout that. All you got to know is that yu nuh need to be waiting on line at no hospital or paying no more doctor bills. George Morrison going take care a everything.’
When Dr Morrison turn up at Franklyn Town he a big ginger-hair white man with almost see-through skin that burn red from the sun and podgy hands, who tek offence when Beryl call him English and say he is Scottish from Edinburgh. Like that mean anything to us. But he all right, Morrison, even if he like the taste of Appleton a little bit too much for the good teetotal Presbyterian he supposed to be.
The thing about Morrison, though, is cards. So before we know what he is asking me what I think about him running a card club.
‘Card club! Yu serious?’
He just sit there and smile like he is talking about the most ordinary thing in the world. Like maybe he just invite me to dinner.
‘We cyan have no card club running in the house, doctor. I am sorry.’ And then I think on it and I say, ‘Unless yu telling me that it Yang Pao the one behind this.’
‘No, this would just be a private matter.’
‘Well you going to have to take yu private matter somewhere else.’
He tek a sip a rum and gaze out ’cross the street at Miss Sissy rocking there in the chair with the pipe in her mouth. We sit there quiet for a spell until he say, ‘I have been thinking about it and it seems that Trevor would be amenable to host the club at his house.’
‘Yu mean Trevor next door? And his papa happy for him to be doing this under his roof??’
‘So it seems.’
‘That is good. You and Trevor go run your card club over there then and leave us outta it.’
‘The thing is, Gloria, we need a banker.’
‘A banker! Yu can’t play cards with yu own money?’
Dr Morrison draw breath before he explain to me in this deep, calm, Scottish voice how regulars would play blackjack against the house and how in time he will organise big-money poker games that players pay a stake to join. And how he going get white men he know from his doctoring and British army soldiers from Up Park Camp and such. So no matter what happen the bank always win.
I listen to him with the same patience he talk to me and then I say, ‘You a big-time gambler, doctor? Yu sure yu know what yu doing?’
He just smile like a little bwoy yu catch stealing candy from the store.
‘I know about this, Gloria. You can trust me.’
So after I talk to Sybil and she tell me it true ’bout Trevor’s eagerness to be doing something more than running ’round town collecting money I say OK. And before we can turn ’round twice men is coming in and outta the house next door and Trevor is serving drinks and the doctor is dealing cards, and we are making money and everybody is happy. Even Pops, who manage to get himself a cut for the convenience of them using his house.
When I tell Henry ’bout the card club he just say no.
‘It not your business to be saying yes or no. This is our money we using to do this. It got nothing to do wid you. I just telling yu for information that is all.’
‘Too much, Gloria. Too much activity. Too much attention.’ He strut ’round the room a little to show me how he vex, and then he walk out.
Two minutes later he come back. He stand up in the doorway. ‘This English doctor.’
‘Scottish.’
He sigh. And then he say, ‘This white doctor. He young like you or old like me?’
I cyan believe Henry actually fussing himself over a thing like this.
‘It not nothing for you to be worrying yourself about. This is a piece a business. That is all it is. This not cutting across anything to do wid you and me.’
He stand there looking a me for a good while. And then he turn ’round and walk out.
It turn out Dr Morrison got a wife, Margaret, who busy running a house for young mothers downtown. He say it was Margaret that make them come to Jamaica after she see an advertisement in her church newspaper ’bout how good Christian men and women can do charitable work helping us poor and unfortunate people in underdeveloped countries. So she pack up and come here and decide to give her attention to girls who get pregnant and got nobody to care for them.
‘I mean very young girls, Gloria. Ten, eleven years old. And she is always in need of help. Jamaican women who can set a good example. Role models if you like.’ I just laugh. Laugh out loud at the very thought of it.
‘I don’t think yu wife will be wanting no help from a woman like me.’
‘What kind of woman is that, Gloria? Do you mean kind and caring? Someone who is always looking out for others, her younger sister, her friends, her daughter? Someone who is fair and compassionate in her dealings with people? Someone who understands the black Jamaican woman’s experience? Someone who is a constant reminder that goodness can be found in sometimes unexpected places? Is that the kind of woman you mean?’
‘Yu not listening to me George. I am a whore. Yu forget that?’
‘That was an unfortunate twist of fate. History, Gloria. Something you were driven to as a result of the very same circumstances many of these young girls find themselves in. It is not who you are. And no, I am not listening to you. That is what you think of yourself. Much better than that, I have observed you and from what I see you are exactly the kind of woman to help these girls understand what has happened to them and, importantly, help them to make a better future than one might foresee given their current dire situation.’
‘I think it should be Sybil yu asking ’bout this, not me.’
‘Sybil is a lovely woman. She cares deeply about her politics. Quite admirable. I take my hat off to her. But you, Gloria, you care about people. That is the difference.’
I don’t bother say nothing to him ’bout how Sybil going regular to the school helping the little ones to read, nor the two hours she spend every week at the orphanage with Junior because even after Isaac get better he still wasn’t paying the boy no mind and she is the only family he got. Excepting his mama, whoever she might be. No, that is her business.
So I go over there and as I step through the door Margaret Morrison greet me like some long-lost friend from her Bible group. She hugging and thanking me like I already do something wonderful by just showing up.
‘George told me you would come.’
‘He did?’
‘Yes. He said he would ask you but that he knew you would.’
And then she tek me by the elbow and march me through the house into the little back yard where the girls sitting under the mango tree with their needlework. She clap her hands twice so everyone stop what they doing and give their attention.
‘Girls, this is Gloria.’ And then she say the next thing with such jubilation in her voice I thought maybe she think I was the saviour God Almighty send himself. ‘She has come to help!’ And they all cheered. They actually rest their work in their laps and put their hands together and applaud. And all I could do was stand there and realise there was no turning back. Because the gratitude on these girls’ faces let me know for sure that this wasn’t no one-off visit.
What I discover about Margaret is that even though she a holier-than-thou Presbyterian Scottish woman, she also got a good heart. She mean well. And actually, she really care for the young girls in the house. So I go there and I sit and listen and talk, hoping that maybe me giving that time might change something for these girls. Maybe make their lives different. Not that they won’t be poor or young no more, but maybe they start think different about themselves, what they worth and what they can do and what they should have a right to expect.
Then one day I turn up and the police was there. They just bring back Hyacinth after she been missing for three whole weeks. Margaret say they find her downtown in the backroom of some bar.
‘How they find her?’
‘It seems some anonymous man reported they had a girl back there.’ And she look at me meaningful like I should know what was going on.
‘She all right?’
‘She is dirty and distressed. She is in the shower right now but perhaps when she comes out and has had something to eat you could have a word with her.’
‘Me?’
‘You, Gloria.’ So I nod my head although God knows what I am going to say to her. And then Margaret rest her hand on my shoulder and say, ‘It will be fine. Hyacinth respects you and your experience.’
She thirteen years old this girl and she already have the baby we send to the orphanage. And by rights she shouldn’t even be here no more except she got nowhere to go and Margaret will never put a child out like that. We sitting together under the mango tree when I say to her, ‘Yu all right now Hyacinth?’ And she nod her head. But she keep it bowed with her hands clasp together in her lap. ‘When yu run off from here, where yu reckon yu was going?’
She shrug her shoulders.
‘Did yu have somewhere to go?’
‘No Miss Gloria.’
‘So what yu doing?’
‘I cyan stay here no more Miss. The baby gone. I pass my time.’
I breathe and then I say, ‘Yu not got no family Hyacinth? No uncle or auntie?’
She shrug.
The thing is, Hyacinth not alone. Every one of these girls got a story that would make yu weep. And in every case there is a man, father, grandfather, uncle, brother, mother’s manfriend, neighbour, shopkeeper, even school teacher that busy doing things to these girls that any decent human being would know is a act of wickedness and shame. And because they so young these men reckon the child not going get pregnant or maybe they don’t care. With Hyacinth it was her brother. So she run off and find her way to Margaret and say she never going back.
