When the Singing Stops (47 page)

She didn't expect a reply. She threw him a look that said she'd heard enough, then turned towards her car. She'd taken only a few steps when Antonio called after her.

‘Madison'.

She stopped and swung around to look at him.

‘Madison, I read once, that in a corrupt society, the dreamers of a better world—like you and Xavier—are potentially the most powerful of people. Perhaps your dreams for Guyana will come true one day. Good luck, Madison.'

He gave a brief wave and strode along the seawall to his car. He didn't look back.

She opened the car door and glanced back at the old seawall, painted with crude advertisements and slogans. The lights from the Pessaro Hotel, the small light atop the Georgetown communications tower, and the glow from the old lighthouse dimly illuminated the soupy brown sea.

Madi knew one day she would stand on a sunny golden Sydney beach beside the clear blue and white surf of the Pacific Ocean and feel deep nostalgia for this murky milky waterfront, and this peculiar city, in this wonderful country.

A sleepy Singh opened the gate with a broad smile. ‘It be very good to see you, Miss Madison. How you be?'

‘Adeh,' said Madi, realising how familiar the servant's language had become to her. ‘And you?'

‘Good. I be good. Mr Matthew is upstairs.' Singh opened the front door and turned on the light for her.

‘That you, sis?' called Matthew. ‘Connor
rang and said you were on your way. Where've you been?' He kissed her warmly. ‘Cuppa or a rum?'

‘Oh, what the heck. A rum. Make it the ten-year-old.'

When they were settled he gave her a shrewd glance. ‘Been doing some thinking, hey? Connor told me you were a bit upset.'

‘Not upset so much as disillusioned, toughened, resigned, but determined. Cheers.' She downed a mouthful of the velvety aromatic rum.

‘What about? Everything is working out very well. Connor and I were discussing Xavier's ideas. You know what we reckon? That he'll eventually end up forming a new political party and leading the country.'

‘So he's used this whole push to further his own political ambitions? I can't believe that.'

‘It probably didn't start out that way, but how else is he going to make life better for the people?' When Madi didn't answer he added, ‘Anyway it's a long way off and we'll all be out of here by then. Change happens slowly in a place like this. Speaking of which, I'll let you in on a little secret. We have a potential buyer for Guyminco.'

Madi looked pleased. ‘Hey, Matt, that's great. You AusGeo boys have pulled it off. And ahead of schedule.'

‘Keep it quiet. There are problems that will hopefully get ironed out at the conference at New Spirit.'

‘Ah yes, the great gambling table where all the warring factions deal the cards and place their bets.'

‘You don't have to sound so cynical. It's not gambling, it's deal making.'

‘So who's the mysterious buyer? Do they know what sort of place this country is?'

‘Of course, they're already here.' He gave a grin. ‘It's the Columbus goldmine company. The US is keen to up its role in this country and Columbus is already in the game, so they know what's what.'

Madi wondered if the night could possibly yield any more surprises. She recalled the first party she'd attended in Guyana and the declaration by the US Ambassador that America was keen to lift its commercial presence.

‘Columbus mines, after what has happened?' she said almost in disbelief.

‘It's a straight-out commercial deal. The price is right, as they say in television.'

Madi gave a little laugh. In a way, it was all like something out of a television show, one of those biting British political dramas about the almost obscene use and abuse of power. ‘I guess it's time to move on, Matt,' she said with sadness and resignation.

He gave a small smile. ‘You've really blossomed, Madi. Hard to think of you any more as my little sis. I'm very proud of how you've embraced this country, these people, how you've tried to help them. You're quite a gal!
Infuriating at times. But I know no one will ever walk over you again. Guyana has changed you forever.'

Madi reached out and hugged him. ‘Oh, Matty, I'll always be your little sis . . . I now realise how special and important you are. Thanks for putting up with me.'

‘You'll never lose your sweetness, I hope.'

It suddenly occurred to Matthew how special she was. If she married Connor then Bain would be a lucky man. And, Matthew wondered, would he ever find a girl like Madi?

Madi sat hugging her knees and staring into the large pond filled with the old Victoria Regina waterlilies. The tall pink lotus blooms waved their regal heads. The more Madi looked at them, the more they seemed like people chatting to each other at a frightfully elegant cocktail party, one head slightly bowed, one nodding, another thrown back in laughter. The thought amused her. But then the glassy surface of the water was disrupted as a big black hulk slowly surfaced between the giant green leaves. Madi leaned forward and watched the dugong swim slowly across to the far bank before sinking below the surface to look for fresh grass and roots.

Madi leaned back against a gnarled tree where orchids and bromeliads clung, trailing roots and flowers. The scene before her looked
so tranquil. Yet not far away crowds were swarming over hoardings around the cricket ground. Perched in trees that overlooked the oval and jamming the stands, they roared and cheered the Guyanese against Barbados. As another wicket fell, Madi got to her feet and walked through the deserted gardens to where she'd parked Connor's car.

Her private tour of Georgetown was over. She had circled the town, re-living special memories so many landmarks conjured up for her. The Blue Toucan coffee shop, the Amerindian shop, the Bourda Markets, the big Stabroek marketplace, Guyana Stores, the Universal Bookshop, the Pepperpot coffee house, the Pessaro Hotel, the Georgetown Club and Embassy Club, Lady Annabel's father's house, the little bridges over the littered drains choked with lotus flowers, the simple temples and houses, the grand old homes, the distant sugarcane fields.

So much had happened to her in such a brief time. Was it so significant just because it was different? Or had this tiny pocket of a country, plonked onto the edge of the great lamb chop of South America, become a defining milestone in her life. If she'd gone to visit Matthew in say, Greece or Bahrain, would the effect on her have been the same?

She thought of the rivers, the rainforests, the savannahs, the magnificent waterfalls, the gentle forest people, her warm, laughter-loving
coastlander friends, and knew this place was special. She touched the little frog at her throat and thought of the tiny gold frogs in their sparkling green home at the lip of Kaieteur. They symbolised this country . . . beautiful, rare, endangered. For as long as the frogs kept singing in their clean air and sunshine, all would be right with the world.

Despite the dangers she had experienced, she had only happy memories of Guyana. She'd discovered her own strengths and had come to like herself. She knew that whatever the world threw at her from now on, she was better equipped to deal with it.

She'd developed a new relationship with her brother. He now saw her as a woman of intelligence and independence. He respected, as well as loved her.

And in this country she'd met Connor. Would she have fallen in love with him in a less romantic place? Shared adventures and adversity had helped their bonding. She had yet to decide her feelings for Connor. That could only be done away from here, away from him.

Connor had been offered the choice of two jobs . . . in China or in Papua New Guinea. He'd asked her to go with him and asked which place she'd prefer. ‘Both will be rugged, but you seem to like adventuring,' he said with a grin. Then added more seriously, ‘I can't imagine being anywhere without you now, Madi'.

Again, she'd told him she wasn't ready to
make a decision. She hadn't raised the other issue that disturbed her. In both these places IFO money was backing new mine developments.

She drove back to Connor's house and let herself inside. Connor was over at Matthew's discussing the next day's forum at New Spirit. Madi didn't want to know about their deal-making. The disillusionment still unsettled her. She would drive to Matthew's later for a farewell supper party with their friends before going to the airport for her 11 pm flight to London.

Her suitcase stood inside the door. The frog painting and an Amerindian fish trap Matthew had given her were safely wrapped inside the bulky roll of her hammock.

There remained one last thing to do. She changed for the flight, putting on her R.M. Williams jodhpurs and boots, and a soft blue cotton shirt. She put her bags in the car.

Lester had given her directions to his house. She parked just down from the brightly floodlit US embassy and walked between two houses to where he lived with his mother and son.

He was sitting on the darkened verandah, Denzil perched on the top step waiting for her.

‘Hi, Denzil,' called Madi and the little boy jumped up, gave a shy wave and ran to Lester.

‘Yo find us okay den.'

‘Here I am,' smiled Madi as she reached the small front verandah.

‘Come in and meet Mumma. She very shy 'bout yo coming here, but happy to meet yo at last.'

Lester's mother gave Madi a warm embrace and fussed about, settling her on the sofa and bringing them soft drinks and a plate of sweet biscuits.

‘Just the three of you live here?' asked Madi.

‘My sister lives with us but she be workin' at de hospital. She be a nurse's aide,' said Lester proudly. ‘So now. What yo plans, Madison? London den what?'

‘I honestly don't know, Lester. I don't know where I'll go or even if I'll stay in London. The hospitality industry doesn't interest me in the same way it did before. I'd like to try the eco tourism side of things back in Australia perhaps.'

‘Maybe yo work with yo people, yo native people, eh? And what about Mr Connor? Now he be de big question.' He gave her a quizzical look and she couldn't help laughing.

‘Oh Lester. I don't know . . . just yet anyway.'

Lester rolled his eyes. ‘Ooh, dat poor feller.'

His mother clicked her tongue as she listened while handing around more of her homemade biscuits. ‘Don' yo rush in where yo not sure what waiting for yo. Marrying be a long time to have a headache. Yo be sure.'

‘Now, Mumma, dis be none o' yo business,' admonished Lester gently.

His mother stood and placed one hand on
her hip, the other still proffering the plate of biscuits. ‘Maybe. But yo can't say I don' speak from de knowing. Lookit you and young Denzil . . . dat woman you take up with . . . she never tink 'bout tings . . . just rush in cause yo is too soft, boy. And look where it got you. It be smart to go slow, be sure . . .' she shook a finger at Madi. ‘Don' you let dat moonbeam set in yo head girl.'

‘I won't. I've learnt a lot about myself since I've been here.'

‘Dat be good.' She bobbed her head in satisfaction as Lester looked acutely embarrassed.

Madi gave him a grin. ‘Don't yo feel bad, boy, we gals still give yo 'nother chance.'

‘Well ahmen,' he mimicked her accent.

Madi reached into her handbag. ‘Lester . . . I have a little present for you.' She handed him the small package which he opened to find a framed photograph of them both standing knee deep in water, looking up from the gold pan with laughing faces.

‘Hey, Connor take dat when we find de nugget! Now dat be good, I put it here.' Lester carried the picture to the shelf crowded with knick-knacks and photos and made a space in the centre front. ‘Now I can say hello to my friend every day,' he said softly.

Madi was touched. ‘There's something else. I'll give it to you . . . but it's really for Denzil. I'd kind of like to be considered what we call a godmother. So every month I'll send him something
that he might find useful . . . just fun things,' she added. Madi felt offering money would have offended Lester, so she hit upon the idea of sending his young boy practical items, clothing, toys, school things, once a month.

‘Yo don't have to do dis, Miz Madi . . . yo gonna get back dere . . . and we gonna be someting just happen one time in yo life.'

‘Lester . . . I know it's easy to think that . . . I'm going to another world, but I promise you, I want to keep some link. And I thought the most practical way would be to help Denzil a little bit.'

Madi rose and put her plate and glass on the little carved coffee table. ‘I must get on.'

‘Okay, I take yo to yo car . . . I wish I could take yo to de airport. But dat be a job fo de bruddah and de lover, eh?'

‘Lester, next time I come back I'll let you know and I expect you to be there to meet me.'

‘Yo got it, boss.'

Madi hugged little Denzil, shook hands with his grandmother, and followed Lester onto the verandah. ‘So. Dis be goodbye to ma Guyana sister. I never thought I be such a friend with a lady like yo.'

‘Lester, I can't begin to thank you. I feel so lucky to have met you. I've always thought you gave me the keys to Guyana. If I hadn't met you . . .' Tears suddenly welled in Madi's eyes and her voice broke ‘. . . I would have just milled around the party circuit in Georgetown. I wouldn't have known and learned all that I have.'

In the darkness she couldn't make out Lester's expression but his voice trembled as he struggled to maintain a light manner. ‘Yo mean yo wouldn't have had dem people shootin' at yo, lockin yo up, making yo out to be a threat to de society . . .' They both chuckled. ‘Madison, I got a small present for yo too.' He reached out to a cane table for a package wrapped in brown paper and handed it to her. She felt its shape and looked at him. ‘It's a book . . . Is it about Guyana?'