The Polished Hoe (63 page)

“And as for me. What about me? The woman who gave him this only son?

“Whether it was because of Wilberforce, or whether it was mainly on my own account, but nevertheless, I too stood in need of nothing. Because having to feed one mouth, namely Wilberforce, he might-as.Well feed the other mouth, at the same time meaning me. How yuh like that?
That
is what Ma did-mean by telling me I was fixed-for-life. I stand in need of nothing. To this day. To this night.

“I stand in need of no material needs. In need of nothing.

“But I believe in One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church, and I acknowledge one Baptism for the remission of my sins. So, even if two wrongs don’t add-up to make one right, and even though I carry such deep hatred and animosities inside my heart for that man, that I could kill him . . .

“I could kill him dead,” she says. After a pause, she says, “Dead-dead-dead. And not shed a tear for him. Not one drop. Not one drop of cry-water will leave my two eyes.

“Not one drop o’ cry-water will leave my two eyes.

“What has he done to me? From the beginning, from that Sunday after Church, when I saw him step out of his seat in the Plantation Pew, two rows from the front, under the pulpit and to the left of the Font; and he bend-down on his left knee; and made the Sign of the Cross; and then walked slow-slow-slow, up to face Vicar Dowd; and kneel a second time on the long white stool that stretched from the front row of the Choirs on the right; to the window on the left that has the garden scene of Jesus and a little child and a little white lamb; on the stool that the Mothers Union— including Ma—embroidered; Mr. Bellfeels kneeled down and took his Communion wafer from Revern Dowd hand; and when Revern Dowd pass-back the second time, with the silver chalice, I was just being ushered along with the other thrildren from the Plantation and elsewhere from the other estates, field hands included, out of my seat, by the Sunday School mistress to proceed through to the Lady Altar, so that I had the second chance to see Mr. Bellfeels, first from the back, and then from the side—his right side turned to me—and finally, from the front; and Revern Dowd passing back the third time with the chalice-full of wine, for other kneelers, Mr. Bellfeels took the cup from the hands of the Vicar, and held his head back, just like how he drinks Bellfeels Special Stades White Rum, he took the cup and nearly drink-off all the Communion wine; and then, he made the Sign of the Cross a second time. And I ask myself, as I ask God nightly, what has he done to me—meaning Mr. Bellfeels—what has he done to me? That was the first Sunday, at eleven o’ clock Matins.

“And you would think that as a Christian, or a man just taking Holy Communion, and then coming back down from the chancel, with his two hands folded in front of him, resting on his chest, and looking as if he really had-just-had the Holy Ghost inside him . . .
‘Take, eat, this is my Body which is given to you: Do this in remembrance of me . . .’
you wouldda thought being so close to God, would have-touch his heart!”

And she stops there.

“‘Likewise after supper,’” Sargeant says, “‘he took the cup; and, when he had given thanks, he gave it to them saying, “Drink ye all of this; for this is my Blood of the new Covenant, which is . . .’”

“Thank you, Percival,” she says, cutting him off deliberately. “Thank you very much, Percy. And coming back down the marble of the aisle, his riding boots creaking like hell, every inch of the way, until he reach-back to the Plantation Pew, serious and innocent now, as a mouse. And not ten minutes later, that man is standing over me, tall as the water tower over there on the Plantation stands over the fields, passing his riding-crop over my body. And then for me to find out why Ma, ‘Miss Eunomia Irene X,’ could not raise a hand in defence of me, her own daughter, when that riding-crop, and then his two eyes strip me naked-naked,
naked
; and pass his leather riding-crop, like a cold hand, like cold water, back up, all over my body. And then for me, for I, I, me, to find out, to find out that he is . . .

“Forgive my tears, Percival. But I can’t control them, no more . . .

“But those Saturday afternoons! When Wilberforce would roam the Pasture and the cricket grounds and invade the playing field, heading straight for Mr. Bellfeels, the same minute that Mr. Bellfeels took the ball to bowl; and to the amusement of all those gentlemen on the two teams who must have smelled a rat, some who thought they knew and some who had a hint, since it was common practice on most plantations for the overseer, the driver, the bookkeeper, and don’t mention the manager, to breed the slaves, any slave-woman, from age ten to forty, fifty, sixty . . . we were common preys; you snap your finger and a slave-woman come running, and end-up laying down under you . . .
‘Hey-you! . . . Cumm-ere!”
Yes!

“It was common practice on plantations in Bimshire for a Plantation Manager to breed
any
woman he rested his two eyes on. As many as he could climb.

“And so it was with me. And with Ma. And with Ma’s mother, until we get far-far-far back, get-back on the ships leaving Africa, sailing on the high seas, crossing the Atlantic Ocean, trying to reach Amurca, before more rape and suicide and deceit and betrayal, and desperation overtake them. And they decide to jump overboard, and face the broiling green waves of the Deep; and God; taking suicides, which was better.

“Wishing that the Atlantic storms and hurricanes would have no mercy on us! That they would
wash-we-way overboard . . .

“And here I am. In this underground tunnel, just like on one of those ships, reeling in the middle of two waves, in a trough of the ocean, with the wave over my head, waiting to swallow-me-up and drown me; and I am wasting my breath, asking a stupid question,
‘What has he done to me?’
I must be out of my blasted mind, Percival. Mad. Percy, I must be stark-goddamn-crazy. Mad! A
cunu-munu
.

“You can understand what I am talking about, can’t you, Percival? That I am talking about blood. Bad blood. And blood that have a taint to it. A awful smell that not even Jays Fluid could erase.

“When Wilberforce reached ten, and from ten-onwards, he never once-again in public went up to Mr. Bellfeels, or sought him out. Never in company. Nor in public. And he didn’t have to do it, in private. It was like Wilberforce had-develop a strong-enough smell of the man, and that the memory of that first smell remained in his memory. Poor boy! And that he couldn’t any more stomach any further reminder of that scent. That smell. That taint. Perhaps, that is why he is so formal, even in addressing him—Bellfeels.

“And then, one afternoon. I caught him. A Wednesday afternoon. Just home from Harrison College, waiting for his piano teacher. Standing up by himself in the front-house, looking at a photograph he held in his hand, and holding it up to his face; looking at it, holding it to his face, looking at it, when quick-so, I spotted the empty space on top the piano, where I kept photographs of the family . . . Or was it top of the mantelpiece?

“Wilberforce had Mr. Bellfeels in his hand, examining! Mr. Bellfeels in a khaki suit, standing-up beside his horse.

“And Wilberforce is holding this photo to his face, and he turns his face to one side, and then to the next; and then is looking into the looking glass, over the mantelpiece, studying what the looking glass is reflecting back to him; and then, as if not satisfied with what he is seeing, again he starts examining and scrutinizing the photograph in his hand.

“You could see the concern on that poor boy’s face.

“I remain outside the front-house at the door, and I am shaking with, with nervousness, not knowing what to do; cause I don’t want Wilberforce to see me watching him, nor hear a peep outta me, saying a word to let him know that I am looking at him, taken up with his inspection, and in his examination. And through my mind, sudden-sudden-so, pass the words he might-have-heard passed at Harrison College, by other boys, or even by his Form Master . . .

“But what he did next frightened me.
It stopped my breathing.
I am holding my breath against detection. Wilberforce takes up
my
picture, and place it on the mantelpiece beside the picture of Mr. Bellfeels with the horse, and Wilberforce turns his head to one side, then to the other side, trying to make his sight and vision come into perfect focus, and tell his mind what his little heart was showing him.

“I saw my son that afternoon, worrying-over this question, probably said in a cruel remark at the College; and there he was, in front of me, searching in his own way for the answer to the question that every child should know. Now-remembering the remark that Ma had drop to me, years before,
‘who my father was’
; and me not being sure myself if I wanted Wilberforce to ever ask me that same question; and that afternoon, in order to make sure that Wilberforce didn’t put that question to me, I pretended that I was angry with him over something. And I rushed into the front-house. Screaming something. Or the other. At him.

“Hearing my voice, and seeing me in that state, was a shock to him, poor fellow; it was the first time in his life, I raise my voice to him; and the shock caused him to drop the picture, oh-my-God; the picture with me in it, oh-my-God,
and break it
! Wilberforce looks up at me. In this scared innocent way. Not even understanding why my voice was-raise against him. In anger.

“I got Gertrude to sweep-up the glass. Mr. Waldrond reframed the picture the next day.

“He left the room. Wilberforce. I stayed back, sitting down for the longest time, in my chair, studying; my knitting in my lap untouched, until the shadows of evening came down upon the front-house, and Gertrude brought in the acetylene lamps, and lighted them; and raised the mantles. Night catched me there, still sitting, and studying; surrounded by light, but with my heart still darkened and saddened by watching Wilberforce search for the answer; studying.

“My two eyes filled-up with cry-water. My belly burned me. I knew, even without knowing it, that I knew the answer.

“Looking back now, I was very glad that I had the presence of mind to pretend that I was angry at Wilberforce, the minute I suspected what he was searching for; and in my anticipation that I did not want him to ask me
that
question . . . and I would have lied to him, rather than tell him the truth . . . I therefore made-sure he would not have to ask the question I could see his little brain was revving-up to ask of me:
‘Mother, could Mr. Bellfeels, my father, be related to you?’

“What could I do? At that moment? Tell Wilberforce? What could I tell my child? How could I break the truth of the news to Wilberforce? So, I kept it to myself. And in my heart. In the same way that Ma kept it within hers. Until it almost burst her heart.

“And me-now. Nobody will ever know, but you. Never.

“Ma tried her best to tell me the truth, no matter how hard it was; but as a member of the Mothers Union, and knowing what the Mothers Union stand for, Ma must have went-through pure hell, day in and day out, for all those years, keeping her secret.

“Back there in the cane field, laying down beside you, on the trash, which was a stupid thing on my part, and something I already regret . . . and I wish you could understand . . . back there in the North Field, when we were playing Court, and I was in the role of the barster-at-Law for the Accused, defending myself, I was going to try, if I had the chance, to show why I did it. Why I had to do it.

“Here was a man who you could say was such a loving father, never allowed any differences to be made between his two inside spinster-thrildren, Miss Euralie and Miss Emonie, and between Wilberforce. Not counting my two who died soon after childbirth. The same standard of education he gave the three of them. The same clothes. The same allowance-money. The same bank accounts held in trust. The identical money in each.

“It is true that neither of the two, Miss Euralie Bellfeels or Miss Emonie Bellfeels, ever had to use their university education, nor lift a straw, apart from substituting for one week at two different times, at Queen’s College teaching Latin, when the full-time Latin Mistress was on maternity leave to have a baby.

“What a waste of good education!

“But the Plantation is very rich, and powerful. And it have more money and has made more profits off the backs of slaves and the sweat of coloured people than what you could read about in any of the Gospels. Both of them are highly educated women, for women in this day-and-age, in this Island. Both studied the Classics, Latin and Greek, Cambridge University, at a high level. And Music. The piano you can hear all hours of the night, sometimes, is the two of them. Nothing but waltzes. And ‘I Vow to Thee, My Country.’

“I am sure that if I was able to get my two hands on the documents that the Solicitor-General wrote-up for Bellfeels, and if I could understand the legal terms and their terminologies, and if I could break-open the safe that he keeps in his bedroom in the Main House, I would see that this Great House I am put to live in, to bring-up his son in, is already left-back, in those legal papers and in Mr. Bellfeels handwriting, witnessed-to and stamped for Wilberforce. Seal-and-sign!

“Of course, expecting that I will be six-feet-under before Wilberforce deading-off, soon. And I sure-sure that the two fair-sized wall-houses, on the edge of the Plantation Estate, the two with the upstairs verandahs and the fruit trees surrounding them, that look down into the sea, the two on the cliff, those two also already have Miss Euralie and Miss Emonie names witnessed-to and stamped, on them. So, why?