Island Songs Read Free Page B

arms from her father’s neck. Hortense grinned mischievously then ran up behind her sister, slapped her upon the back of her neck and bolted away, shouting, “ya it!”
    Joseph’s eyes followed his two daughters. “Me cyan’t tek me res’ now,” Joseph told Amy as a chicken strolled in front of him, unaware that it might well be next Sunday’s main course for dinner. “Me affe sort out ah liccle somet’ing wid Preacher-Mon.”
    Amy glared at Kwarhterleg, crossing her arms. Kwarhterleg, feeling uncomfortable under her fierce gaze, stumped away to his favourite seat against the bambay mango tree. He took out his pipe and hoped Amy would bring him a drink after her vexation had subsided. Joseph collected his crocus bag, slung it over his shoulder and set off again. He turned to his wife after ten long strides. “Amy, where David der-ya?”
    “Him gone walking. Yuh know how him love to walk around strange bush when de fancy tek him. Or mebbe him find ah girl to court wid dat him don’t tell we about. Nuh fret, Joseph. David never late fe him dinner. Especially if it chicken.”
    Joseph started off again leaving the yard. Jenny caught sight of him departing. “Papa! Papa!” she called. “Cyan me come wid yuh? Please Papa.”
    “Nuh, Jenny. Nah dis time. Play wid ya sister. Ah madness me ’ave to deal wid.”
    Jenny stomped off into the field behind her home, outrage marked her expression. Hortense set about teasing her, a game she loved to play whenever her father slighted Jenny. “ Papa don’t waan to walk wid yuh becah ya face look like wrinkle-up plum ,” she sang. Jenny picked up a spoiled mango and threw it at her sister, just missing her target. Hortense ran off complaining to Amy as Jenny went deeper into the field.
    Once Joseph’s face was out of his family’s view, it changed to an uncompromising fury. As he walked through the village, Claremontonians offered him cautious greetings and bade him well but none paused for a conversation to discuss the matters of the day as Claremontonians loved to do. He passed a farming toolsrepair shop where a grey-haired man was mending a broken plough. Mr Cummings, the proprietor of the crop-seed store, waved to Joseph but Joseph didn’t see him.
    He marched on, weaving through soiled fruit, rotting vegetables and garbage that the marketers had left behind from the morning market. Joseph saw that most of the liquor bars that lined the market square were shut, observing the Sabbath. However, Mr Johnstone’s ‘rum joint’ was open for business and a man sitting on an unsteady bench was enjoying a glass of milk and rum, his donkey tied to a tree nearby. “Good evening, sa!” the man said. Joseph, not recognising him, guessed he was a travelling businessman heading for the north coast, and ignored him.
    His stride lengthening, Joseph passed the DaCosta family dairy. He paused and took off his hat to greet Mrs DaCosta, a long time friend of his wife, who was milking a goat. He also greeted Mrs Walters, another friend of his wife; she ran a small dressmaking concern and journeyed weekly into St Anne’s Bay to purchase textiles. The dusty, pot-holed road sloped and curved downhill, coconut trees and five-fingered plant fronds skirting its edges. Women went by balancing jugs of water upon their heads with ridiculous ease. A dozen or so elderly women, all dressed in perfectly white, ankle-length frocks and white headscarves, were returning from a baptism at the river. They were singing heartily while clapping their hands. Joseph kept his distance from them and guessed that if Isaac conducted the service, he would be heading home too.
    Joseph’s mind was fixed on revenge. He passed a group of young men playing cricket in a field; their ball was a round piece of raw chocolate bound with elastic bands and their bats were hewn from broken-off branches. Bowlers aimed at sticks speared into the hard ground. In their playing field, stray goats snuffed and nibbled, and at