Foreigners

Foreigners Read Free Page B

Book: Foreigners Read Free
Author: Caryl Phillips
Ads: Link
fields of the
West Indies. At the end of their day, there was neither
liberty nor freedom, but merely the expectation of more
suffering unredeemed by any financial or material gain. I
continued to stare at the young maidens, but soon realised
that, despite their obvious beauty, I should avert my eyes
and focus my mind on the task at hand. The previous
evening my host, having conveyed the dreadful news of
Francis Barber's demise, had continued and informed me
that, to the best of his knowledge, the family of Francis
Barber had last been heard of living in a place named
Burntwood, a hamlet that lay only four miles beyond the
city to the west. Having given me this information, the
innkeeper had ceased speaking for a few moments as though
his mind was tormented with some burdensome secret.
'You do understand,' he said, 'that this is not a place to
which those such as yourself habitually journey. Truly,
there is nothing there of any consequence.' Again he paused.
'Except, of course, that you will most likely discover Mrs
Barber.' With this said the man once again topped off our
glasses with wine, and thereafter we fell silent for what
remained of the evening. Securing the services of the
ancient driver and carriage had been relatively simple, for
the innkeeper had made it his business to assist me.
However, this morning, when my host informed the driver
that Burntwood was to be my destination, the puzzled
look on the face of the wizened man spoke eloquently to
all that the innkeeper had suggested. It was difficult to
ascertain if the aged driver was genuinely offended, or
merely temporarily surprised, at having been instructed to
undertake a journey to such a place.
    We eventually drew up beside a tall, unruly, hedgerow
that was clearly in need of some attention. Initially, I found
it difficult to understand why my driver had stopped the
carriage for I could see no sign of human life. However,
taking the whip in his right hand, the ancient man pointed
beyond the hedgerow to a modestly proportioned stone
cottage which I now understood to be my destination. The
morning sun had been kind to my bones and so I required
no immediate assistance descending from the contraption,
although the driver rightfully made his services available
to me. 'Wait here,' I insisted, and then, gathering my wits
about me, I walked gingerly towards the unprepossessing
abode and knocked sharply on the door. The ominous
silence was disturbed only by the pleasing sound of birds
singing and a brook babbling somewhere in the distance.
I knocked again, and this time shouted out loud in the
hope that I might attract the attention of somebody within,
but it appeared that I succeeded only in alarming my
carriage driver, for the decrepit fellow left his vehicle and
hastened to my side imagining that I must be crying out
for help. On discovering that I was perfectly safe, and
merely attempting to arouse the inhabitants of the dwelling,
he rearranged himself and withdrew again to his carriage
leaving me perfectly alone.
    It was then that the door began to slowly open, the
crying of the rusty hinges announcing the action, and a
shadowy head soon emerged and stared up in my direction.
A strangely coloured and clearly disconsolate child,
with eyes as big as two saucers, stared up at me, but seemed
reluctant to say anything. I bade the apparition a good
morning and asked if its mother was hereabouts. The
child, which I now determined to be female, shook its
fuzzy head, which at least suggested an intelligence of the
English language. I asked the girl if she imagined that her
mother might show herself in the near future, but it
appeared that this question stretched her comprehension
a little too far, for the urchin simply stared back at me
with frigid indifference and said nothing. Clearly I had
arrived at the right place, for this dirty-looking child was
obviously the product of a union between one of England's
fair wenches and a negro, presumably Francis Barber.
    However,

Similar Books

The Arx

Jay Allan Storey

Wonderful Room

Bryan Woolley

Still Hot For You

Diane Escalera

Curse of the Ruins

Gary Paulsen

Royal Opposites

Lori Crawford

Justice for All

Radclyffe