Lime Tree Can't Bear Orange Page 18

  Yours, William

  P.S. Last week I saw Gigi. The girl was called Leslie Caron and she remind me of you.

  Aunt Sula got up from her chair. “Is everything okay?” In a sharp voice (a voice I never meant to use) I told her no, and why should I ever expect it to be any different. Then I hurried from the house. I heard Dolly call out, but I didn’t stop. I ran up toward the stables, along the side of the main house; I ran around the back where the cocoa sheds were. I climbed up and through the shady cocoa trees, and out of the gate at the top of the estate. Out on the road, I began to walk. I walked fast, as if someone was following. I passed an almond tree and a rocky part where angel trumpets were hanging. I passed the waterfall; people were sitting on the ground eating and I could see smoke from a fire burning. Somebody said, Good afternoon, but I didn’t answer; I kept on walking; walking until I came to the tiny stream where I had once seen children bathing. I walked until I saw the edges of the night sky and I knew that I had no choice but to go back.

  By the time I reached the estate it was almost dark. Aunt Sula was waiting on the porch, looking out; in the lamplight, I could see her face was anxious. Joseph Carr Brown was drinking a glass of beer, his legs stretched out, as usual. I heard him say, “Ah, she returns.” Then, “I told your aunt not to worry. Port of Spain is a long way from here on foot.”

  ON SUNDAYS WE went to church. It was a long walk and we all wore hats and tried to stay in the shade. Cedar walked with Dolly, and as she walked Cedar sang. Her voice was beautiful and strange, like it came from another world. The old folk songs reminded me of Black Rock, and the songs Mrs. Maingot used to sing: “When Me Baby Born” and “Ine Ine Katuke,” “Old Lady.” There were three other families who slept in the barracks and worked on the land. They all had children, two of whom were Tatton and Ruth. All in all, there were nineteen of us on the road. When the Carr Browns drove by, everybody waved like the king and queen of England were passing.

  The church was plain and narrow and there weren’t any stained glass windows. It was like St. John’s church in Black Rock. But for all its plainness, it was always full; the congregation was mostly made up of country folk. The Carr Browns usually stood near the front. Mr. Carr Brown wore a white suit, and his tiny wife a long dress and a little hat like a box that sat on her head. I had only ever glimpsed her in the house. She looked more Spanish than anything; her olive skin, her brown eyes deeply set.

  THAT MORNING, MR. and Mrs. Carr Brown were strolling out ahead, and Aunt Sula and I were walking, slowly, behind them. We stopped there by the palm tree with the red berries and watched them get into their car. They didn’t seem to notice us. I asked Aunt Sula if she liked Mrs. Carr Brown. She told me that in all these years, she had never really got to know her. People said she was shy and private, but Aunt Sula wasn’t sure. “She was always a little miserable.” And these days, she was more so because the children had left home; they visited often and they brought the grandchildren.

  “I wonder how anyone could be like that when they have their children and their grandchildren visiting so often.” Aunt Sula shook her head, as if she really couldn’t quite understand such a thing.

  I said, “I haven’t even spoken to her yet.”

  “I’m sure you’ll meet her before long.”

  I DIDN’T EXPECT to meet her in the way that I did.

  I WAS PASSING the main house when I heard Cedar call out. “Miss,” she said, and put out her hand, “I want to show you something. Come, quick.”

  I was wondering what it could be and why she was so excited. I ran across the grass and up the veranda steps. The girl was bent over, staring at something on the floor. At first I couldn’t see it because the wooden boards were so dark and there were lines on the wood. But when I got closer, I realized she was staring at a large black scorpion, the biggest scorpion I had ever seen by far, with a long black body and a thick tail—up, arched, and ready to strike. I screamed. And that made Cedar scream too: a terrible high-pitched yell that went right through me. Suddenly, the scorpion started running toward Cedar’s feet, her bare, splayed feet (I knew that scorpions liked to sting between the toes), so I ran to her and slammed my boot down on top of the thing. Over and over until I had completely crushed it. Cedar cried, “She kill it, she kill it.” And, to my amazement, she burst into tears and started to bawl—as if I had just slaughtered her friend. And I was so angry that she was crying and bawling because I had killed the creature that was about to bite her, the creature that could have made her very sick and might have killed her, that I did something I should never have done: I slapped her. I slapped her across her face. Next thing Mrs. Carr Brown came outside, and she said, “What happen, Cedar? What happen?” It seemed to me that this lady was blaming me for the way Cedar was behaving. “It might have bitten her,” I said. Then Joseph Carr Brown came outside too. He was eating his breakfast when he heard the terrible noise.

  “What in God’s name,” he said. “It sounds like someone is being murdered!”

  I said, “Someone nearly was murdered, sir.” Cedar was holding her face and glaring at me. Mrs. Carr Brown put her arm around her bare shoulder. She said, “This is Sula’s niece?” And Joseph Carr Brown said, Yes, yes it’s her niece. Both his wife and Cedar were looking at me as if I was a rotten fruit. I turned and ran away back down the path to Aunt Sula’s house. He shouted my name, but I didn’t look back.

  I found my aunt lying on her bed. “Don’t worry,” Aunt Sula said. “These things happen; everyone know Cedar not quite right in her head. And don’t worry with Mrs. Carr Brown, either. She would look for a reason to dislike you. Tell Cedar you’re sorry, it will be okay.” I was so upset I never thought to ask why Mrs. Carr Brown would look for a reason to dislike me, or why my aunt was lying down in the middle of the morning, at a time when she was usually working.

  THAT EVENING, I had just gone inside when Tatton arrived at the door. He was out of breath. He said he didn’t know who the letter was from because he don’t know how to read yet, but “Mrs. Carr Brown say it for Sula’s niece.”

  I examined the stamp and the postmark. It had come from Port of Spain; the address was typed. “Thank you, Tatton,” I said, and stood there, until he realized I wasn’t going to open it. I waited until he was out of sight, and I could hear Aunt Sula preparing supper. Then I sat on the steps in the half-light, and with my heart thumping, opened the small white envelope. The slip of paper read: “Please come to the house as soon as is convenient. Dr. Emmanuel Rodriguez.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  I HAD PLANNED TO LEAVE FOR PORT OF SPAIN STRAIGHT after lunch, but as soon as I got back from the stables, I knew something was wrong. Aunt Sula was sitting at the table in her nightdress. The pain, she said, had been coming on and off for a while.

  “What kind of pain?”

  She put her hand on her womb. “Just here.” She had noticed some bleeding, and it was painful for her to pee. She pressed on her lower back.

  “It feels very sore.” She didn’t have a fever right now. But in the night it was quite high. And like the pain, the fever seemed to come and go.

  “Is this what you were sick with before?”

  She nodded. “Yes, and I was back on my feet in a day or so.” Then, “Are you going back to Port of Spain? You must tell Mr. Carr Brown you’re leaving so someone else can do the horses.”

  “I can’t go now. Somebody has to take care of you.”

  “Nobody has to take care of me. I can look after myself.”

  As soon as she said it, we both knew it wasn’t true. I helped her up, and together we walked to her bedroom and she lay down. She didn’t want to get under the sheets.

  “I’ll just rest here for a while.”

  “Mr. Carr Brown came this morning. He brought some things. He will look in later.”

  “What things did he bring?”

  “They’re on the sideboard. Please don’t worry, child. You eat something and go. There’s no point in you being here. Whe
re’s the driver? Take some money from the milk tin.”

  There were supplies in the bag, soap, juice, two bowls with cooked rice, stewed chicken, onions, bread, oil, sugar. I put everything away and then I chopped some vegetables and put them on the stove to make broth. Later, when I looked in on her, Aunt Sula was lying on her back with her mouth open, breathing heavily.

  JOSEPH CARR BROWN arrived just as I had finished watering the plants. I was washing my hands when I heard his boots on the steps. I looked out and saw Seafer tied to the avocado tree. He pulled back the beaded curtain hanging in the doorway. “Sula,” he said, softly. Then he saw me. “Hey, how is the patient?”

  I said, “She’s in bed.”

  “Is she feeling any better?”

  “I don’t know, sir, she’s sleeping. She was in a lot of pain.”

  He walked through the kitchen and into Aunt Sula’s bedroom. From there, I watched him. He looked at her, he opened the windows right out; he fixed the covers and then went to the top of the bed where he touched her forehead. Lastly, he took her hand in his, and because his back was turned, I couldn’t tell if he was feeling her pulse or holding her hand.

  “She has a fever again. If it’s there tomorrow, or it gets worse, we’ll take her to hospital. This thing seems to come and go.”

  “Perhaps she should go to hospital now.”

  “No. I don’t think we should panic. She hates hospitals. It’s good that you’re here, you can keep an eye on her.” He said this like it was a fact. But he must have seen something in my eyes, because he then said, “You will be here, won’t you?”

  “Sir, I was planning to go back to Port of Spain. I’m supposed to go back.” I was about to explain that now Aunt Sula was sick my plans had changed but he jumped in.

  “With respect, Celia, your aunt is quite ill. She needs care.” He glanced around the room and saw my suitcase propped up. “Surely Rodriguez can wait a few days. Didn’t he send you away for a month?”

  I suddenly felt ashamed and angry. “He sent me here for a rest, but I haven’t had a rest.”

  Joseph Carr Brown’s eyes flashed, and in a firm, cool voice he said, “Let me know what you decide. If you’re leaving, I’ll see someone’s here to look after her.”

  THROUGHOUT THE NIGHT, I got up to check on Aunt Sula. Mostly, she seemed to sleep quite deeply. At one point, though, she had to use the toilet. Neither of us could see very well; there wasn’t much of a moon and apart from a few stars, the sky was black as pitch. I helped her down the steps, holding a candle in one hand, her arm in the other. Then, slowly, we made our way over the damp black grass.

  “Do you remember when you and my mother used to pretend to be bushes called Pilil and Lala?”

  “Who told you so?”

  “Aunt Tassi. And she told me how one night you waited behind the guava tree and sprang on her like a couple of cats. She played dead and frightened you both. She said you shook her like a flour bag!”

  “Yes, child,” Aunt Sula said, “I remember. I didn’t realize you knew all that.”

  • • •

  UNABLE TO SLEEP, I watched a firefly blinking on and off in the dark, and I started thinking about Dr. Emmanuel Rodriguez. And then I was thinking of how we had met, in Laventille; remembering how sick I was, how I almost died, and if it hadn’t been for him I probably would have. And it was while recalling something Joseph Carr Brown had said—about the nearest doctor being three hours away, and trying to guess where in the room the little firefly’s light would next appear—that the idea came to me. If Aunt Sula needs to see a doctor, then she must see Dr. Emmanuel Rodriguez. He had cured me of yellow fever, so surely he could heal my aunt of this illness. Why didn’t I think of it before!

  IN THE MORNING, Aunt Sula was feeling a little bit brighter. I made her a sandwich and a cup of tea and then went up to the main house. Dolly said she didn’t mind looking in on her while I was gone. It was no trouble at all. She would stay the night too. A couple of nights if necessary.

  “Are you worried you’ll lose your job?”

  “Yes,” I said. “They asked me to return yesterday.” Then, “When Mr. Carr Brown asks where I am, tell him I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  I WALKED QUICKLY through the back of the estate and cut into the path that led to the main road. I hadn’t seen anyone so far, apart from two workers clipping the rotten branches of the cocoa trees, and they did not look at me. If I was quick, I could catch the bus to Arima, and from there, another bus to Port of Spain. It would take all morning, and depending on when I could get a connecting bus, perhaps all afternoon too. I felt excited; my heart was fluttery and light.

  But in Arima, I noticed a dead bat lying on the side of the road. Its dark brown wings were thin like silk; its little teeth exposed and yellow. It looked as if its neck was broken. I was sorry I had seen it; a dead bat was never a good omen.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  BY THE TIME I ARRIVED AT THE RODRIGUEZ HOUSE, IT was almost dark. I didn’t expect to find Marva still there. But the minute I went to the back door and saw her in the kitchen, I knew at once that she had fully taken over the running of the house. She had her back to me, pulling out clothes from the laundry basket and folding them. I thought she was alone, until I heard his voice.

  “The specialist says the only thing she really needs now is a good rest.”

  “Isn’t that something, sir,” Marva said, like it was a miracle.

  “Isobel likes having her sister around. It’s the first time in years they’ve spent so much time together.”

  I had planned to breeze in as if I had been there just yesterday, but my legs were suddenly heavy. I crept along the wall so they could not see me.

  “She must be getting to know her nephews and nieces,” I heard Marva say. “And eating all that English fruit. Madam was always talking about her English fruits.”

  “Yes, she’s already put on weight. I imagine she’s eating a lot of chocolate!”

  They laughed.

  “That’s good, sir,” said Marva. “And will she meet you at the airport?”

  “Yes, and we’ll travel back together to the countryside.”

  My heart dropped like a stone in a river.

  “It will be good for the children to spend some time with their cousins.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  Now Marva was filling the sink. I could hear plates, the clanking of cutlery. Then she said, “It’s time for the family to be together, sir.”

  “Hello, Marva,” I said, from the doorway. “Sir.”

  Dr. Emmanuel Rodriguez looked startled as if he had seen an intruder.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to alarm you.”

  I turned and went to my room, half expecting to find my belongings packed away and Marva’s in their place, just like when I first came to the house and the maid’s clothes were in the drawer. But to my surprise, the room was as I’d left it.

  THAT NIGHT, WHEN Marva had gone and I knew the children were asleep, I went to Dr. Emmanuel Rodriguez’s office.

  “When were you going to tell me?”

  He looked confused, as if he didn’t know quite what I was talking about.

  “Tell you what, Celia?”

  “I hear you’re going to England.”

  His eyes ran over his desk. “I was going to talk to you about it tomorrow. We do need to talk. That’s why I wrote to you.”

  “When are you going?”

  “On the weekend.”

  That was just four days away.

  “For how long?”

  “Two months.” His voice was matter-of-fact, as if he was talking to someone he didn’t know, someone he didn’t particularly like. He straightened a pile of papers and put them on one side.

  I hadn’t imagined he would go for quite so long. I felt sick.

  “And what am I supposed to do?”

  I was shaking inside like when you have a fever and a cool wind blows.

  Dr. Emmanuel Rodriguez go
t up.

  I said it again. “What am I supposed to do?”

  “I need you to leave here by the time we get back, Celia. I can’t have you here when Helen comes home.” He put his hand to his forehead, as if speaking about this was causing him great difficulty. “It’s because of you that she had this breakdown.” He quickly corrected himself. “It was because of both of us.” He walked round to the other side of the desk and leaned against it. “She knew about it for a long time. I can’t do it to her again. She has promised to come back on condition that you won’t be here when she does. I have to accept that; she is the mother of my children. My wife.”

  We stood there looking at each other. Then he came toward me, and I took a step back. He put his hands on my shoulders; it was not sexual; it was comforting, like a father would have done.

  “It just can’t happen again under this roof. Helen is four months pregnant.”

  “Pregnant?”

  “Yes, we had no idea. The children will have a brother or sister.”

  He actually sounded happy. Now my eyes were fixed and steady, but they were filling up. Tears spilled out and slid down my face.

  “You can stay here while you get something else sorted out. I don’t know if you like it up at Tamana or if you’ll look around for another job.” His voice was softer now. “Either way, by the time we’re back you must be gone.”

  Hearing “Tamana” reminded me of Aunt Sula.

  “My aunt is sick. I wanted you to come with me to the country. That’s partly why I came back.”

  I knew he wasn’t sure if to believe me. “It will be impossible to get up there before we leave. There’s too much to do. I can speak to Dr. Anderson and see if he can help.”

  I didn’t hear what else he had to say.

  NEXT MORNING, I got up early and cleaned my room. There was a lot of dust and there were half a dozen cockroaches dead in the bathroom. I opened all the jalousies to let the air in.