Sugar in the Morning Read online

  I glanced at him, puzzled. “A tent?” I asked.

  He explained that a ‘tent’ was one of the gigantic rehearsals of the new calypsos, written and performed by the various bands, and from which one had to be chosen for the honour of honours of that year, to be sung as the ‘road march’ of the great procession in the Carnival.

  “Do you want to go?” he repeated.

  I nodded my head. “Yes,” I said slowly. “Yes, I think I do.”

  He hailed a taxi and then found he had no cash on him. “Can you pay?” he asked me.

  “I expect so,” I sighed. But I found the incident disturbing, a reminder that I could have done without the improvident ways of my entire family.

  The taxi sped through the crowded streets. We passed Jama Masjid Mosque and then rushed into the Eastern Market which was still open. Peppers, green and red, gourds, pumpkins, cassava, milk-white dasheen which were absolutely enormous, purple egg-plants, mangoes, bananas, everything that goes into a salad, all were jumbled up together in the multitude of stalls. The merchants wore dazzling colours and competed with one another in sing-song tunes that had come straight from Africa and had never been changed.

  There was a huge gathering ready to hear the new calypsos. Some of them were trying out bits and pieces of their prized costumes to see what they looked like. They were a good-humoured crowd, as many-coloured as there are races, all of them talking and laughing and singing a line of one calypso here and another one there. Cuthbert found a group of friends and stood with them drinking lemonade. I thought he had forgotten that he had brought me with him, for he didn’t introduce me to any of them, and I wondered what I should do. Then one of the steel bands started to perform in earnest and I found myself caught in a wave of people who pressed closer and closer until the atmosphere was stifling and I could hardly hear the words, I was so dizzy with the comments and repetitions of those around me.

  The calypso was met with a storm of approval. I was aware of the clever beat in the music and the even more clever double entendre of many of the words, but this was an experienced audience who could tell at a glance which ensemble had the better ‘ping pongs’, ‘piano pans’, ‘second pans’, ‘tenor kittles’ and ‘tune booms’. If the rhythm fell off for a minute there was always someone else to point it out, usually with humour and an inspired calypso verse of his own.

  “What does calypso mean?” I asked Cuthbert when he at last caught up with me.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “It means nothing much,” he said. “It’s a corruption of the African word kai-so, meaning bravo, or at least some people say. Does it have to mean anything?”

  It didn’t, of course, but I thought bravo was a very suitable name for the calypso. It was done for applause, for who likes the sound of clapping hands more than a West Indian. It was done to be clever, to show off their skill on the simplest of instruments and their wit in making devastating comments, comments that were scurrilous, candid and endearingly funny.

  But no sooner had one calypso ended than another one started. There seemed to be no end to the ingenuity of the bards and musicians. Then the limbo dancers started up. Lithe young men, dressed in the minimum possible, bent slowly backwards and wiggled their way in time to the music under a rod placed between two upright sticks. Lower and lower went the rod, and lower and lower went the arched backs of the men until one by one they were disqualified from the competition. “Yes!” they shouted encouragement to one another. ‘Yes! YES!”

  I found myself yelling as loudly as anyone there. It was quite impossible now to tell one calypso from another. The noise was terrific and completely uninhibited. The laughter was loud and long. The people behind me pushed to get a closer look and I was bulldozed into an open space where I was glad to catch my breath and prepare for the next excitement.

  In that moment I caught sight of Daniel, standing quite close to me, his hands held loosely on his hips and with his head held back, laughing at some joke. He saw me at the same moment and came immediately to my side.

  “Getting ready to play mas’ with the rest of us?” he asked. To me he looked both supercilious and superior and I frowned impatiently at him.

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded. “Why aren’t you still down at the refinery?”

  He smiled slowly. “Is that any of your business?” he asked mildly. “Shall we say that I just couldn’t stay away?”

  “From what?” I burst out, despite my better judgement.

  I could see his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “Not from what,” he said reprovingly. “From whom?”

  “Whom?” I repeated blankly.

  “Yes, whom,” he agreed. He ducked his head and kissed me lightly on the cheek. “You see,” he said, “I couldn’t stay away!”

  CHAPTER NINE

  It was the second time that he had kissed me, and both times had been unsatisfactory occasions as far as I was concerned. I had to keep Pamela very firmly in my mind’s eye not to be carried away by the calypso music, the heat, and the sheer pressure of the human beings around me and of my own emotions.

  “I don’t think you’re being very kind,” I said at last.

  “No,” he agreed. “Kindness doesn’t really come into it, does it?”

  I refused to answer. The music was a blurred cacophany of sound, without any meaning, and I was more than ready to go home.

  “I wish you’d stayed away!” I said passionately to Daniel.

  “Why? So that you could go on pretending to yourself?” he retorted.

  I bit my lip. “Pretending what?”

  He laughed. The sound did nothing for the tattered remnants of my self-confidence. “That you’re not pleased to see me?” he suggested wickedly.

  “Why should I be?” I answered immediately.

  “Why indeed!” he grinned at me.

  It was unbearable having to put up with his snide humour. I turned and left him, losing myself in the crowds with a deliberation that at another time would have appalled me. It was a matter of luck that I soon came face to face with Cuthbert, who took one look at me and asked: “Ready to go home yet?”

  I nodded, grateful for his tact. “Daniel is here,” I told him.

  “Daniel?” He looked at me hard. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure! I’ve just been talking to him!” I exclaimed.

  “He must have come up for the Carnival.”

  “I daresay,” I said bitterly. “But I don’t want to see him.”

  Cuthbert looked puzzled. “Say, what’s the matter between you two?” he asked.

  “Nothing!”

  “It doesn’t look like nothing to me!” He scratched his head. “Still, that’s your business, not mine. I don’t see how you’re going to work with him, though, if you get so steamed up just meeting him like this!”

  I didn’t either, but I wasn’t going to admit as much to Cuthbert.

  “Cuthbert, let’s go home,” I said.

  He sighed. “Okay. If that’s the way you want it, that’s the way it’ll be.”

  We went home in an almost total silence. He opened the front door for me and I hurried into the house, almost running up the stairs in my anxiety to be alone.

  “What’s the matter with her?” I heard Wilfred ask his brother in astonished tones. I paused, waiting for the answer, wondering what Cuthbert would say, but he only shrugged his shoulders.

  “Daniel,” he said laconically as if that were explanation enough.

  “Well, well,”' said Wilfred. “Our little cousin is learning wisdom at last! Has she found out that she can’t trust him?”

  “No,” Cuthbert grunted. “Only that she doesn’t like him.”

  I could almost hear Wilfred’s expression of triumph. “Ah well,” he said, “that will be enough to be going on with!”

  The whole island reverberated with the distinctive beat of the calypso. All night long the streets were filled with bands and singers. Whenever I stirred in my sleep, I could hear
someone singing and someone beating frenziedly on a steel drum. The songs grew bawdier as the night shortened and turned to day and bursts of gusty laughter came up to my window, mixed inextricably with the sound of the music. When daylight came, however, the streets were at last deserted and there was a short space of silence before the shops opened and the day’s business began.

  Patience brought up my breakfast. “Mr. Glover is waiting down the stairs for you,” she announced grimly. Her tongue clicked in her agitation. “At this hour! So early! Did you send for him?”

  I shook my head. “No, I’m afraid I didn’t.” A thought crossed my mind and I immediately gave voice to it: “Do you think the sale has fallen through?”

  Patience looked at me, aghast. “Man, it could happen!” she exclaimed. “But we all know that you’re going to buy the place, don’t we? Now, Miss ’Milla, don’t you go listenin’ to the boys! They know nothin’ and never will!”

  “But Daniel knows something,” I reminded her.

  She was obviously put out at being reminded of her own doubts. “Mr. Daniel knows,” she agreed.

  But I was not going to let her get away with it so easily. “Knows so much that he knows that I’m buying a property that’s running at a loss?” I enquired sweetly.

  “There’ll be a good reason,” she insisted. “With Mr. Daniel you can be sure of that!”

  I rose quickly and dressed myself, determined to find out from Aaron exactly what Daniel’s reason could be. Patience’s coffee was particularly excellent that morning and I hoped she had offered Aaron a cup while he had been waiting. It was lazy of me, I knew, to allow Patience to bring my breakfast upstairs to me in bed, but she evidently preferred it that way, so that she could get the house cleaned to her satisfaction before any of us came down to mess it up again.

  Aaron was waiting for me in the sitting room. He was seated on one of the over-stuffed chairs, his legs neatly crossed in front of him. Patience had given him a cup of coffee and had put a pile of magazines at his elbow, but he hadn’t touched any of them. He was staring at the wall in front of him, his fingers impatiently rapping out a rhythm on the side of the chair. He stood up as I came into the room, a relieved smile on his face.

  “Ah, there you are!” he said, sounding quite extraordinarily English.

  “Why so early?” I asked him as we carefully shook hands.

  He shrugged. “There’s not much time for business at Carnival time,” he explained. “I had to get your signature on some of these documents.”

  I sat down hastily. “Yes,” I began uneasily. “I’m beginning to wonder if it’s all such a good idea—”

  “Why not?” he cut me off.

  My own eyes met his liquid brown ones. It was I who looked away. “Well,” I rushed on to say, “there’s a doubt as to whether the estate pays its own way. I’d have to be sure about that, wouldn’t I?”

  Aaron blinked at me. “I imagine Daniel could tell you that right off,” he answered in puzzled tones. “Have you asked him?”

  I looked embarrassed. “Why isn’t he buying it for himself?” I asked flatly.

  Aaron smiled. “I think he fancies that he’s doing you some kind of a favour,” he rebuked me gently.

  “Then you’re absolutely sure that it does pay its way?” I pressed him.

  He shrugged his shoulders. "Not that it does, he said. “But that it will, I have no doubt at all. You’d be missing a great opportunity if you passed it up.” He pushed the papers lovingly in my direction and put a pen between my fingers. “Sign there!”

  I would have nobody to blame but myself if it were all a fiasco, I thought desperately, but what if it were? I had been poor before, I could be poor again!

  “All right,” I said, “I’ll sign it!”

  He didn’t look particularly relieved. “I think you’re very wise,” he said drily. “How did you get on down there?”

  “It’s a lovely house,” I said in strained tones.

  He gave me a sudden smile that was full of kindness and comfortable understanding. “Don’t worry,” he bade me. “No one is going to sell you anything that isn’t all that it should be. Daniel is an honest man—you know that! Don’t let your cousins get at you!”

  “It’s a lot of money—”

  “And it’s Carnival! Go out and enjoy yourself and forget all about it, why don’t you?” He was very persuasive, I thought, and I was amused by how easily he had managed me.

  “Wilfred doesn’t want to have anything more to do with sugar,” I said suddenly.

  Aaron laughed. “He doesn’t want to have anything to do with work! He’s no loss to you! Believe me, Daniel intends to make that place hum! You’ll all have to work like you’ve never worked before!”

  I wondered how my family were going to enjoy that and found myself laughing. “I can’t help feeling that I’m really buying it just to give Daniel something to do!” I spluttered.

  Aaron grinned. “I think he has plans of his own,” he said mysteriously. “Ah well!” He stretched luxuriously. “We’ll all be ‘jumping up’ tomorrow. We’ll get you moved down there some time after that.”

  I was sorry when he had gone. I liked Aaron Glover more each time I met him. I liked his easy manners and the quick intelligence that hid behind his laughing eyes. I could hardly believe that he would allow me to do anything foolish, so there was no reason why I shouldn’t relax and do as he suggested. It was Carnival time and the whole Island was already ‘jumping’. I, I told myself, would ‘jump’ with the best of them. Why not? I was young and gay and this was the first time I had ever seen the famous Trinidadian Carnival. I was determined to love every minute of it.

  I thought I would waste the day happily by spending it on the beach. I knew that I could catch a bus easily enough to one of the less frequented areas and I rather hoped that there I would escape for an hour or so the never-ending pounding of the beat of calypso music. The King of the Carnival had already been chosen and people were to be seen everywhere, scurrying about as they put the last finishing touches to their costumes. Each of the big bands had their own camp followers, all dressed to fit in with the general motif that their particular band had chosen. Endless trouble was taken to make sure that every detail was correct. The Greek gods wore authentic ancient Greek clothes, the Japanese samurai spent hours fashioning their weapons to be exact replicas of those that were to be found in the museums. Nothing was left to chance.

  That morning as I walked down Charlotte Street, the Playing Cards were out rehearsing their own song and costume. I noticed that the Queen of Hearts had a rather bad-tempered face which stood out like a sore thumb amongst the happy court cards who surrounded her. But the cause of her displeasure was no more than the King of Hearts who had split his pants gyrating in time to the music.

  “Man, that’ll need a stitch!” she screamed at him.

  “It’ll need more than that!” he grinned back.

  She wriggled a hand in under her voluminous skirts and brought out a needle and thread and kneeling beside him, proceeded to sew up his trousers, while the band played on.

  I caught the bus to Garenage with plenty of time to spare. There were one or two other swimmers who had come running on board at the very last moment, but for the greater part the island was taken up exclusively with the Carnival and few people had the time to spare. The ride out to the beach took no more than twenty minutes, before we were deposited outside the gates of the American base which guards the shore from there.

  As a beach it was not as favoured as the one at Maracas, but looking round I couldn’t see why not. I thought I had never seen such a clean beach as this one. Even the bases of the trees were neatly whitewashed and there were no empty cans, blowing newspapers, or any other litter such as I had somehow expected. Instead there was a glorious view, real sand, and a row of charming Nicaraguan cacao trees with pink flowers breaking out all over them.

  From here I could see the two arms that the Island stretched forth towards the m
ainland, almost enclosing the Gulf of Paria. In the north were the Dragon’s Mouths, in the south, the Serpents, such narrow straits that the Gulf was practically a lake between them, totally protected from the Atlantic, an ideal bed for shrimps and other sea-foods, and a fine natural harbour.

  That morning they had been loading bauxite from Guyana into barges at the loading plant half a mile along the coast, and the dust had blown over the water in yellow clouds, adding an enchantment to the endless blue reflection of the bright blue sky above. I stood and watched it for a moment, scuffing the sand between my toes, and half a dozen tangerine butterflies flew about my head.

  There were a few other people already on the beach when our group came flying off the bus, running straight on to the sands, some of them stripping off their clothes as they went, to reveal brightly coloured swimming suits underneath, in their hurry to get into the water. I was in no such hurry. I was content to stand and stare, to watch the strong, spare figures of the young men and women as they sported themselves in the warm waters, their dusky features breaking into laughter as often as the waves lapped against the edge of the beach.

  But there were others who were not swimming. I had not noticed the lone man who was lying in the sun not far from where I was standing, but he had noticed me. As I walked along the beach, he rose suddenly and almost tripped me up.

  “Day-dreaming?” he asked me. “Was it a pretty dream?”

  I tried to ignore him, but his voice called after me. “Man, I’m telling you, this isn’t a place to be alone!”

  “He’s right, you know,” Daniel’s voice added behind me.

  I turned on my heel, furious. Could he possibly have followed me here? It would be just like him! I opened my mouth to give him a piece of my mind, but, happily, common sense came to my aid and I realised that he could not possibly have known that I was coming here.

  “Hullo, long legs,” he said with a grin.

  “Hullo yourself!” I retorted.

  He sat down on the sand and pulled me down beside him. “What are you doing here?” he asked me. “Escaping all the noise and confusion?”