Grey tea and Victoria sponge cake.’
‘The story I hear ’bout her is that she grow up on a banana plantation outside of Ocho Rios with her father, but her education come from missionaries. The first thing she learn to read was the Bible and that how come she such a staunch Wesleyan but I also hear tell that she convert to Catholicism because she think that Catholics are a better class of person.’
So one Wednesday afternoon after months of swallowing gallons of Earl Grey tea and carting quart after quart of grapenut ice cream to Lady Musgrave Road I finally say to Miss Cicely, ‘I was wondering if you and Mr Wong would consider me marrying Fay.’
And she say, ‘Yes.’ Just like that, like she was expecting it.
‘You don’t have to ask Fay or check with Mr Wong or anything like that?’
‘I already took the liberty of asking my husband about you, Philip. He tells me your father is an honourable man. A man greatly respected by the Chinese merchants in Kingston. Henry says you have a family business and have served the Chinatown community for many years. I understand your father is retired now, is that correct?’
I so shocked I dunno what to say. I can’t figure out why Henry Wong no tell her the truth about me.
Then she say, ‘Anyway, you are a charming young man and Fay will do as she is told. Mr Henry doesn’t involve himself in this sort of thing, the household, marriage, children, this is the domain of women as far as he is concerned.’
So it was done. I was busy the next two days but Friday evening I realise I need to go tell Gloria before she find out from somebody else. But when I get there she already know.
‘Is it true what I hear ’bout you marrying Fay Wong?’
I feel that bad about it I dunno what to say to her. After all me and Gloria been going well over four years now, so I say, ‘I can’t marry you, Gloria, you know that.’
‘I didn’t expect you to marry me.’
‘So what you expect?’
She think on it and then she say, ‘I didn’t expect you to go marry somebody else.’
I can see she have a point so I say to her, ‘I have to give my children a name.’
She turn her back to me and I can tell she crying from the way her shoulders heaving up and down. So I go over to her and put my hand on her shoulder, but she just shrug it off and say to me, ‘Get out, Pao, I don’t want to look at you.’
The wedding at Holy Trinity Cathedral, with its big stained-glass window and white dome roof. I just invite Ma, Zhang, Hampton, Finley and his wife, a nice straight schoolteacher-looking woman, and Hampton’s sister, Tilly, and McKenzie the old ragamuffin that Zhang nearly kill that day years back and who turn out to be his best friend. McKenzie come in them same tartan socks him been wearing day in day out ever since I know him that him tell me is the tartan for the McKenzie clan in Scotland. Why a man like him should be proud of a thing like that I don’t know. You would think he would want to forget that he not even got no name apart from the one he get from the old slave master, not be parading it round on his feet every single day like that.
When I get inside the church it look like Miss Cicely invite half of Kingston, all of them dress up like they attending some royal coronation. Miss Cicely herself got on a big bright yellow frock and a even bigger hat all decorate with feathers and whatnot. Afterwards, when we step through the front door into the noon-day sun, it seem like the other half of Kingston and the whole of Chinatown turn up as well to witness the spectacle. Or maybe they just come to see if it was really true. That a boy from Matthews Lane could marry a woman like Fay Wong.
We drive up to Ocho Rios for a week because that is the place Gloria and her friends always talking ’bout. Finley tell me they open a new hotel up there called the Jamaica Inn and Marilyn Monroe and Henry Miller just done staying there. Maybe it true ’bout Marilyn Monroe, I dunno, and in truth it don’t mean nothing to me but I reckon if it good enough for any kinda movie star then it sound like the sort of place Fay will think is alright for a honeymoon.
But the moment I clap eyes on the place, I fall in love with it. It got it own white sandy cove with the breeze coming off the sea, and banana trees, blushing jacaranda, coconut palms, bougainvillaea. It was like a piece of heaven right here on earth. Elegant, that is what it was. I almost couldn’t believe I was in the same country.
But if I think it was the scenery that was captivating me I was wrong because the thing that I find myself staring at all week was Fay. And what I realise was that I go marry this woman but I didn’t know nothing about her. I seen her two or three times at the Chinese Athletic Club and I seen her back plenty of times as she leaving Lady Musgrave Road, but I didn’t know her. I hardly even talk to her. All I knew about Fay Wong was that she light-skin and her papa rich.
But this week now I wasn’t doing nothing but sitting and watching. Watching how she take the napkin and dab the corner of her mouth, gentle like, before she drink from the glass. And how she look at the waiter direct and smile at him when he come to take her order. And how she touch him lightly on the arm just after he put down the plate in a way like it seem the whole of him melt under her fingertips. And how the maids dance round her picking up everything she put down, and fetching this and carrying that, and all the time asking her if there is anything else she want them to do for her, like there is nothing they wouldn’t do to please her just because they want to. And when she look at them and say thank you it as if they think she give them a gift that maybe they should be thanking her for.
They flocking to her and it not just the help. When she go to breakfast or dinner, or pass the afternoon on the beach, there is people she is greeting. And she know them by name. She can ask them questions ’bout their day because she remember what they tell her the day before. She even know the names of the children back home in New York or Washington or Baltimore. She chat with them maybe two or three minutes and after she move on I look at them and see how they sorta sink deeper into their chair, like they can rest easy now because Fay recognise them.
Then one morning this man is walking ’cross the veranda and outta all of the people sitting there it is Fay that he stop to talk to and ask if she is having a good time and if everything in the hotel is to her liking. It turn out Mr Charlie own the place and him and Fay sit down there some long time talking and laughing and ordering up rum punch.
I sitting and watching from across the terrace because most of the time she keep her distance from me. But it don’t bother me none because what I see is something I have never ever seen before in my whole life. What I see is somebody who know they belong. She know it for sure. One hundred per cent. Fay not got, not even in the smallest corner of her mind, any doubt whatsoever ’bout her place in this world. She not got one question ’bout who she is or what people going make of her. She just take it for granted that they going love her and that she going take them in her stride, whoever they are.
To me, that is rare. So I sit there all week and look at her knowing that I couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would feel like to be that certain.
I look at her, this wife of mine, and I look out across the veranda at the white sand and the croquet lawn, and the shrimp plant and red ginger filling up the flower bed, and I think to myself, you sure come a long way, bwoy.
3
I was just a boy when I come to Jamaica. It was 1938 and all sorts of mayhem was going on with strikes and disturbances because the workers wanted better wages and conditions. It didn’t seem too bad to me. I just come from Guangzhou where the Japanese was raising hell trying to take over the place.
First time I see Kingston I couldn’t believe what a mess it was. Piles of wood and corrugated zinc just like it heap up in every direction, all brown and grey and zinc-sheet flat. Not like China with the yellow and the red, and the sloping roofs that peak to heaven. No, the only bit of colour I could see was this blue mountain way off yonder.
