The Drowned Forest E-Book

Angela Barry

• Herausgeber: Peepal Tree Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Seitenzahl: 458

Beschreibung

In the discovery of a fossilized tree stump deep off the coast of Bermuda, Angela Barry finds a potent metaphor of long-term climate change against which to measure the alarms, resentments and hopes of future possibilities expressed by her characters as they respond to Bermuda's emergence from colonial status. Modernity brings challenges to the old racial, cultural and religious hierarchies that have dominated the island. Told through a group of characters brought together in shared responsibility for Genesis, a young Black adolescent on the verge of incarceration as a juvenile offender, and by Genesis herself, Barry explores a clashing of subcultures, each with the sense that their Bermuda is the one that possesses the island's virtues. There is Nina, from the respectable Black middle-class, with her own prickly uncertainties and moral hang-ups; Lizzie, fighting for her own space in a Portuguese family railing against changing times; Tess, battling with guilt over her white privilege and her reluctance to lose its benefits; and Hugh, a young Welshman who has come to the island to find himself. Above all, in the character of Genesis, Barry creates a dynamic and winning portrayal of the energies, hopes, conscience and vulnerabilities of youth. Beyond the human world with all its divisions, there are the little-known islands of Bermuda, for whose stunning beauties and sometimes urban ugliness Barry has a vividly descriptive eye.

Leseprobe

ANGELA BARRY

THE DROWNED FOREST

First published in Great Britain in 2022

Peepal Tree Press Ltd

17 King’s Avenue

Leeds LS6 1QS

England

© 2022 Angela Barry

ISBN13: 9781845235703

All rights reserved

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without permission

Printed in the United Kingdom

by Severn, Gloucester,

on responsibly sourced paper

Dedication

For

My sister, Pat and my brother, Bob

With love

The season has come and the water is warming. A new storm spins round a still centre, a furious disc of wind and cloud dark with rain, feeding on the heat of the ocean.

It swings northwards, grows stronger, churning above the tormented waves. On the horizon is a lonely atoll, an island in the belly of the ocean.

The people of the island are hurricane people. They’ve learned the lessons of sea birds, of surf and doom-laden air. They batten down and take to their beds.

The night slips through their windows and troubles their sleep. For some, the images they see are of the ocean covering sea-mountains, engulfing the sacred forests, rising ever upwards, and faster than before, leaving the people marooned on this hook-shaped rock. Even asleep, they cling to it.

For others, the vision they see is of the wind that makes the ocean heave and fashion hills out of water. The winds howl, the trees writhe and the sleepers lie low as the breath of God roars over them. The last thing they see in the agony of their dreams is a great wave, rising, curling, cresting, suspended like destiny above them.

Written there by wind and water are the stories and the histories of the people. The wave breaks with a terrible power. But their stories do not drown.

HISTORIES

The past is never dead. It’s not even past.

William Faulkner

CHAPTER 1: STARTING OUT

Nina

Nina hesitated on the doorstep of Sweet Airs and watched as Tess, in full hostess mode, looked Genesis up and down and then pulled her inside.

Setting foot on the estate for the first time, Nina had expected to feel what she always felt when confronted by conspicuous wealth – a pleasant sense of superiority over those burdened with privilege. History was not on their side. But all the sharp comments she’d managed not to make to Tess during the past few weeks and the flashes of irritation she hoped had not been visible on her face had all receded and been supplanted by concern for all things Genesis.

Nina could see it, feel it. That day in Family Court.

The magistrate, a woman with a severe grey bun at the nape of her neck, made her pronouncement.

‘You…’ She cast steely eyes on Genesis, ‘are at a crossroads and you…’ glancing at the three women, ‘have stepped forward to try to guide her onto the right…’ The girl’s head was down. Was she listening? ‘Miss Smith, stand up!’

Genesis stood, tugging at the hem of her school sweater. Finally, she looked up.

‘Miss Smith… Your assault on a fellow student involved a degree of violence that merits severe punishment.’ The girl’s hands stopped fidgeting but her face was blank.

The magistrate leaned forward. ‘I could lock you up.’ She paused. ‘I should lock you up!’

The girl’s body swayed and Nina could see her hand trembling as she grasped her sweater. The thought Not so tough sounded in her mind.

The magistrate sat back in her chair. ‘But I’m not going to.’ She leaned forward again, forcing the girl to meet her eyes. ‘But let’s get this straight. Mrs. Nina Fox has agreed to act as your legal guardian until you are eighteen and Mrs Alexander and Ms Pereira have committed to play an active role in your life until then. They are giving you the chance to be different. To be better. Without them, it’s jail time at the Youth Facility and after that… They are the ones giving you the chance, not me!’

They had all known Genesis at different times and in different ways. Lizzie was first, when she had become the troubled eleven-year-old girl’s ‘Big Sister’. As a young woman making her way in the island’s business community, Lizzie’s participation in the Big Brothers and Sisters of Bermuda was the sort of thing that looked good on a resume, Nina thought. She had been next, meeting fourteen-year old Genesis when she’d shown up at the clinic wanting to avoid getting ‘knocked up’. Finally, Tess had only recently become involved but brought with her the full weight of her women’s organisation.

In the time since the court hearing, Nina had struggled to find common ground with the other two. It was all so difficult without Dee. Even when they argued, when he got on her last nerve, what had kept them together had never been something imposed from above. It had been a feeling coming from deep in the earth, through the soles of their feet right out through the ends of their hair. Dee. Nina forced her thoughts away from him. Last week’s meeting with the probation officer had reminded her of how different all other relationships were. Genesis’s only hope was for the three of you to work together, the probation officer had said. It would be an act of will. As Nina stood there, hesitating, she felt nothing but uncertainty about this gathering which was supposed to seal their commitment.

To make things worse, Rosie was now in the mix.

‘Got someone with me in the car,’ Nina said when Tess ushered her in. ‘She won’t come in. Rosie. Mrs. Rosie Fox.’ With people Nina knew, the name would have been enough, but not here. ‘My mother-in-law.’ Lizzie and Tess exchanged puzzled glances. ‘My husband’s… my late husband’s mother.’ Nina could feel things start to slide until she focused again on the girl and the three days she had been with her. Rules, regulations, lessons, sermons – she had thrown the book at Genesis, who’d responded with compliant phrases and expressionless looks. It had been a disturbing performance.

First, she had to deal with Rosie.

‘She appeared at the door when we were leaving home… threatened to turn around and walk back to St. David’s.’ Tess and Lizzie made exclamations of astonishment. ‘So I brought her along. She seemed fine on the way but as soon as we got here, she announced she wasn’t going anywhere she wasn’t invited.’

Tess opened the door further, craning her neck to see where Nina’s car was parked. ‘How old is she?’

‘Ninety-two.’

‘Is she all there?’

‘Of course! As all there as she’s ever been.’

‘Just hard-headed then.’ Tess slipped on her sandals. ‘Like mother, like son?’

That was Tess. Assuming she’d known Dee. Nina’s resolve wavered. ‘Oh no, thank God. Chalk and cheese, mother and son… Their eyes. That’s all Dee and Rosie had in common.’

‘If it’s an invite she wants, that’s what she’ll get. Go in and sit down. Too hot for the terrace. Be back in a…’ Tess disappeared around the corner.

Nina and Genesis joined Lizzie in the front room. Beyond the wall of glass and the mosaic-tiled terrace lay the Great Sound, ablaze in burnished gold, celebrating high summer as July slipped into August.

‘Million-dollar scenery.’ Nina surveyed the enormous front room. ‘Inside and out.’

‘She calls this place the gallery,’ whispered Lizzie, as though not to disturb the family portraits, the paintings and sculptures.

Nina watched Lizzie give a nervous little toss of her head and then stretch back on one of the soft leather sofas. Trying to look like she’s used to this. Lizzie was so transparent. From the corner of her eye, Nina glanced at Genesis who was sitting beside her, her back like a rod and her profile like carved black onyx.

Lizzie broke the silence. ‘So what you doing for Cup Match. Going to the game?’

‘We always go to Horseshoe Bay for First Day,’ said Nina, ‘About fifty of us. Sisters, grandchildren… you know… Cup Match!’

‘We barbecue First Day,’ Lizzie said, ‘and then…’

‘Here we are!’ Tess was flushed and smiling as she came in with Rosie Fox in tow. Rosie, once she’d freed herself from Tess’s hand, made her way over to Nina and planted herself in front of her.

‘You never told me we was going up Old Man Darrell’s house! If I’d of known, I’d of been the first one out! But, of course…’ Rosie addressed Tess. ‘How could I recognise the place with all the messing around you done to it. Knocked down this and put up that.’ She paused, fixing her eyes on a cluster of portraits of whiskered patriarchs. ‘I remember them, though!’ She sat down and faced her audience.

‘I used to come up here. Years ago. To bring Old Lady…’

‘My grandmother…’ Tess said.

‘To bring Old Lady Darrell enough fever grass to last a month. Going through the change, she was. Yes sir. For sure, if I hadn’t of, she’d of gone upside somebody’s head with a cleaver.’ Rosie gave a satisfied humph and started rummaging around in her large canvas bag. When she looked up, everybody was looking at her. ‘What I do?’

‘Nothing,’ Nina said. ‘We’re glad you came in.’

‘Sure got a funny way of showing it. Staring…’

Nina tried to see Rosie with the eyes of the others. An old woman with Attitude in shapeless, washed-out clothing, her flattened breasts sitting on an accommodating waist. A St. David’s Island face, where Africa, Europe and the Americas met in an arresting combination of colours and textures – copper-brown skin, full lips, straight black plaits down her back, two white wings kinking at her temples. And those unblinking green eyes.

‘No manners!’ Rosie grumbled. She bent over her bag again, withdrew some knitting, placed the end of the needles under her arms and started working the thick wool. She stopped when she caught sight of the girl.

‘So, child… Who are you?’

Genesis looked at Nina in panic.

As a veteran of innumerable encounters with her mother-in-law, Nina knew when to intervene. ‘Come on now, Rosie, I introduced you in the car… This is Genesis.’ Nina touched the girl lightly. ‘She’ll be staying at the house for a while.’

‘Genesis, you say?’ said Rosie. ‘What kinda name is that, girlie?’

‘It’s a book in the Bible.’ Her voice quivered.

‘So’s Deuteronomy and Numbers,’ said Rosie, resuming her knitting.

‘Well, actually, as names go, it could be a lot worse,’ said Nina. ‘Much worse! Bermudian names… Lukeisha, Markeysha…’ Lizzie and Tess started to smile. ‘Shawnika, Shay-ronne, Shahnayd…’

‘And what about the French ones?’ Tess said, laughing. ‘Or should I say, the French wines?’

‘You mean like Champain…’ said Lizzie. ‘P-A-I-N. And Bo-Jah-Lay?’

‘Then… then…’ Tess said, ‘There’s El Dash Ay.’ She stood up. ‘The letter L, then a dash, you know, the punctuation mark…’ Tess’s finger cut the air with a horizontal line. ‘Then – the letter A.’

‘L – A!’ Nina and Lizzie screamed in unison.

‘I know him!’ Genesis shouted over the hooting. ‘He was in my class! Don’t people have the right to…’ she mumbled sinking back into the sofa.

‘Relax, G,’ Nina said gently. ‘We’re not mocking anybody. It’s just that a name should mean something.’

‘Like yours?’ Rosie didn’t look up from her knitting. ‘Bernina.’ There was a pause. ‘After your Mama’s sewing machine.’

Genesis started laughing so hard that tears sprang from her eyes, eventually collapsing across Nina’s lap. Nina laid a gentle hand on the convulsing back and felt tears seep through her skirt. Without raising her head, she knew Rosie was watching her, with those eyes so eerily like Dee’s.

‘Oh, excuse me,’ a young male voice came from the open glass door. ‘Mrs. Alexander?’

‘Hugh!’ Tess gushed. ‘Come! Come!’

As he stepped out of the shadows, Nina passed a cool eye over him and wondered why his mama had never shown him how to use an iron. She noted, too, that both Genesis and Lizzie were sitting at attention. Then only Lizzie continued to study him.

Tess introduced her new tenant. ‘Recently arrived from England…’

‘Wales, actually…’

‘Been with me a week.’ Tess pointed vaguely beyond the terrace to a small cottage near the water. ‘Working down at AIOS. Big brain!’ She made a big brain gesture with her hands. Hugh blushed and sat down.

‘So, what brings you up here?’ Tess asked. ‘Thought you’d be out with your mates. The holiday starts tonight, you know.’

‘I wondered if I could borrow an adapter for my laptop. I’d like to do some work over the…’

‘Work?’ Lizzie voice went up several notches. Smoothing down the front of her white trousers with red-tipped fingers and leaning forward to offer a view of her cleavage, she said, ‘Work! Don’t you know it’s Cup Match?’ She turned a broad scarlet smile on Hugh. ‘August first and second! I can’t believe Tess didn’t tell you. Cup Match is about play!’

‘I don’t know too much about it. A cricket match, I think…’ he mumbled.

Lizzie pranced over to Hugh’s side. ‘Cup Match is a four-day party! Just an excuse for a good time…’

‘It’s more than that.’ Nina had had enough of Lizzie’s hair-tossing antics. ‘More than a good time. It celebrates the ending of slavery.’

‘Yeah!’ said Lizzie, with a wave of her hand. ‘That too.’

‘What do you mean “That too”?’

‘Oh God, Nina…’ Lizzie groaned.

Feeling a flame radiating up from her chest, Nina pursed her lips and managed to say nothing.

‘Yes, it is about Emancipation.’ Tess wore a smile of sorts. ‘But it’s also about our beginnings. Sir George Somers. Shipwreck. Sea Venture…’ When her eyes met Nina’s, the smile had vanished. ‘You know,’ Tess persisted, ‘the first day is Emancipation Day and the second… Somers Day.’ She paused. ‘Fair is fair.’

‘Well, that’s true. Technically. But everybody knows that Cup Match was started by black people to celebrate being free. Free from Sir George and all his descendants! This Somers Day business was just tacked on.’

‘Well at least you all have a day. What about us? After all the time we Portuguese have been here, what do we have to show for it?’

‘Well, all the supermarkets and construction companies for a start…’

‘See what I mean? No respect! Still second class. Not black and not quite white. Still just onion diggers…’

‘Hey, you lot…’

‘Isn’t all that money recognition enough, Lizzie? And, Tess, I don’t know how you people can put Somers Day in the same category as Emancipation Day. Sir George Somers was blown onto this island by a hurricane. Pure accident! Anything black people have achieved has been after a long, hard…’

‘You lot!’ Rosie managed to be heard above the raised voices. ‘When you’re finished quarrelling about who did what to who, I got one question.’ The sight of Rosie wavering on unsteady legs startled the combatants into silence.

‘Where de food?’

Shamefaced, Nina apologised to everyone and Lizzie and Tess did the same. Tess resumed her role as hostess. On the terrace perched high over the darkening water, they were soon being served canapes and recovering a jokey yet disengaged level of conversation. Hugh hovered on the fringes. Genesis silently observed. Then they toasted Cup Match – both days, Portuguese egg bread and, in deference to Rosie, St. David’s mussel pie. They toasted Genesis and wished her all kinds of good things in the future – finishing high school, going to Harvard, getting a job, marrying a millionaire, learning to knit.

When they were leaving, Rosie stopped in front of the portrait of one of Tess’s forefathers. She peered intently at the austere, bearded face, then stepped away.

‘Didn’t say a thing,’ she said. ‘Least I couldn’t make out what he was saying.’

Everybody except Nina looked confused. She glared at the old woman for a moment, then took her arm. Instead of moving, Rosie put her bag down.

‘It’s time to go, Rosie,’ Nina said.

‘Not yet.’ Rosie faced them all – Tess, Lizzie, Genesis, Hugh and Nina. ‘Next time you want to fuss and fight, listen to what they have to say.’ She aimed an arthritic finger at the portraits on the wall. ‘Them! And all them others that made you!’ She calmly picked up her bag. ‘Listen. Even if you don’t like what you hear.’

The party broke up. Nina dropped Genesis off at Salt Cay and began the long drive to St. David’s. The place where her beloved Dee was born and now slept overlooking a placid bay… Not a word was spoken until they reached Rosie’s house.

‘Rosie, you need to stop your foolishness! About dead people talking. I told you about that! And to do it tonight! In front of those people… In front of the girl! They probably all think I’m as crazy as you now… I could never understand why Dee never stopped you from talking like this. The one thing I never understood…’

She helped Rosie out of the car and walked her to her door. It was a clear moonlit night and every blade of grass stood vivid and bright in the darkness. Beyond the yard, there was the gurgle of water over rocks. But it all seemed sour and threatening to Nina.

Before going inside, Rosie turned to Nina and said, ‘I just know what I know.’

Hugh

Hugh had not spoken to a single soul for over thirty-six hours, not since the gathering at his landlady’s house. Although he didn’t mind his own company and had no desire to join his new colleagues on the island’s great let-it-all-hang-out holiday, the enforced solitude had begun to weigh on him.

Until now.

He couldn’t make up his mind about what was the worst thing about this island. The list was long. It was too small. It was too complacent. Too full of itself. Utterly unaware of its sheer insignificance. But underneath the veneer of sameness – the red post boxes, the Marks and Spencer’s, the plumed Governor – he recognised that the island was unfamiliar to him; it didn’t have the British class system for one thing.

After a month of island life, he divided the people he’d met into two groups – his colleagues at the Atlantic Institute for Oceanographic Studies and all the rest. ‘All the rest’ had been ably represented by Tess, her guests and their unfathomable wrangling. He would keep well away from them. But his colleagues were also a disappointment. Professional – yes. Clever – yes. But most of them had been born on a yacht that sailed them straight to the world’s best universities. He’d had to swim up rapids to get where he wanted to be. And where was their passion for the ocean that was supposed to unite them all? Four days ago, he’d seen a newspaper article describing how a local diver had brought up an ancient tree root from a reef thirty feet beneath sea level. Proof of a living forest of cedars from some distant past, drowned by the rising sea. He had gone running out of his office to share his excitement. Nobody cared. They had all caught Cup Match fever. He was as out of place with these scientists as he’d been with the bickering women at Sweet Airs.

But all changed when he opened a large brown envelope that a colleague had casually given him as they’d left work to start the holiday. On it was written: ‘Everything you need to know about Buddy Darrell. Knock yourself out!’

The envelope contained a newspaper article and a glossy book about the exploits of Buddy Darrell, a legendary old salt whose life’s work was carried out beneath the waves. There was also a DVD which, for the next hour, he watched on his laptop, and then watched again, uncut silent footage of Buddy Darrell’s retrieval of the ancient root. The man himself was old with a thatch of white hair, but as he entered the water and swam down to the reef, his body had an obvious energy. Buddy had uncovered a strange object looking like a giant spider clinging to a rock. He’d attached the root by a steel cable and gave the signal to his boat, separated from him by thirty feet of ocean. As the cable went taut, the water became opaque as sand and coral and long dead life forms whirled around. At last the ‘spider’ began its journey towards the rocking hull above.

On the deck of Buddy’s boat, three men stared at their find as the seawater drained away from it. Buddy sliced a thin triangle from the mummified body and brought it to his nostrils. Then his face broke into a broad smile.

‘It still smells of cedar!’ Hugh said out loud.

There was a knock at the door. Tess. She spent the first five minutes berating her husband for being a no show, again. He’d called from New York to say that he wouldn’t be home until Saturday at the earliest.

‘Yesterday I sulked,’ she said, ‘but today I said to myself, Hell! It’s the second day of Cup Match and I need to get on the water, Richard or no Richard. And I want you to come too. Simmons has already brought the boat around.’

Hugh took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling, angry at this interruption.

‘Got something better to do?’

Such a bully! No wonder the husband’s never here… Then a thought occurred.

‘Do you know Buddy Darrell?’

‘Sure. He’s my cousin. Third or fourth or fifth…’

He gave her a crooked smile. ‘Here’s the thing. You tell me all you know about Buddy…’

‘And in exchange?’

‘You get the pleasure of my company.’

‘Deal!’ They spent what was left of the morning filling coolers with food and drink and loading them onto Miranda. Tess told Hugh about Buddy and the nebulous way families were related who’d lived on the island for generations. She rambled on about the nineteenth-century father who had married off his nine daughters to the sons of all the important white families, making them, in one fell swoop, a single clan. Like Queen Victoria and the crowned heads of Europe, she said.

Hugh told her about the potential significance of Buddy Darrell’s find. The archaeology of the sea, he said, his eyes shining. The submerged landscape of the ocean… She threw him an ice-cold Heineken and called him a poet.

The phone rang and Hugh saw a cloud scuttle across Tess’s face. ‘Genesis is coming,’ she said. ‘You know, from the other night.’

Hugh remembered the woman with the white trousers, the red nails and the tossing hair. ‘Erm… Which one was she?’

Tess laughed. ‘The girl. Some long story. Nina’s at the hospital with her uncle, and Genesis needs looking after.’

‘She’s a bit old for that, isn’t she? She must be…’

‘Seventeen. Nina says she’d sooner leave an infant by itself than leave this girl to her own devices at Cup Match.’ Tess sighed. ‘Probably right.’ She closed the lid of the final cooler. ‘Don’t worry. Genesis won’t give any trouble. She’s too smart for that.’

Half an hour later, Genesis was giving trouble. No amount of cajoling could persuade her to step down and cross the small gap between the dock and Miranda’s spotless deck.

‘Well, I give up!’ Tess flopped down.

‘May I?’ asked Hugh.

‘Be my guest!’

Hugh leaned towards the girl, trying to establish eye contact. ‘Do you know how to swim?’ His tone was firm.

Genesis looked off to the distance. Her lips twitched and then belligerent eyes swung back and collided with his. ‘No.’

‘Well, then,’ he said, ‘I have something for you.’ He went into the cabin, came back with a bright orange life jacket and handed it to her. ‘Put this on. It will keep you safe for the whole trip.’

For what seemed like several minutes, she hesitated with the jacket in her hands, fingering its straps, pressing and prodding its rounded contours, examining the life-saving potential of its fabric. Finally, she threaded her arms through and secured the belt around her body.

Still, she stood rooted to the dock.

‘Would you like to come on board now?’ Hugh extended his hand and smiled encouragement.

Grabbing the proffered hand, Genesis came aboard.

Tess grinned, jammed on a faded pink straw hat, mounted the eight steel steps that led to the upper station and took the boat’s controls and began barking orders at Hugh. ‘Get that grappling hook. Port side. Pull in those lines. Watch the buffers!’

He knew his way around a boat. The dock cleared and all the lines safely stowed, he went aloft, breathed the sea-scented air and felt the heat of noonday beat down on him. He glanced at Tess, her hands loose on the wheel, the brim of her hat blown back, a contented smile on her lips. He noticed a mark on Tess’s left arm, and she caught him staring at it.

‘Impressive, isn’t it?’ She extended her arm. ‘Sometimes it looks like a spider, sometimes an ink blot.’ It was raised, dark against her tanned skin and nestled near the crook of her elbow. ‘We all have it… since forever…’ She laughed and put her arm back on the wheel. ‘It’s the family brand!’

The boat cut a clean line across the Sound until they reached the bridge that joined the mainland to the islet.

‘Hugh! Lower the outriggers now!’

He released one of the towering outriggers from its clasp and then, squeezing behind Tess, released the other. Slowly, the tall arms descended from their vertical position and reached out to the side. Cutting both engines, Tess lined the boat up to pass beneath the bridge. With power reduced, the churning wake disappeared and the boat, now sitting low in the water, rose and sank with the rhythm of the waves.

Hugh could see Genesis huddled on the padded seat at the stern. ‘Come up!’ he called out. ‘We’re going under the bridge!’

He watched as, all arms and legs, she leapt to her feet and flew up the steel steps to the upper deck. The bridge placed itself between them and the sky for a few moments; by the time they were on the other side, Genesis was smiling.

‘Where we going?’ she asked.

‘East. As far as we can go,’ said Tess. ‘A nice trip for a newcomer to the island.’

The island was on their starboard side. It was a perfect day and the colour blue defied anyone to find names for all its varieties. There were lots of boaters out, all waving and calling hello. The jetskiers chose bravado over gentility. They wove in and out between boats, between rocks, sending up arcs of spray, to impress the girls hanging onto their waists. Hugh drank in the watercolour houses with their white roofs, the rusty remains of a pontoon bridge, the alternation between rocky shoreline and sandy beach, people bobbing like dots in the water, bright-coloured tarpaulins sheltering picnickers from the sun.

Tess began to talk about boats.

‘It’s in the blood,’ she said. ‘In my family, even if there was no house, there was always a boat. Daddy used to say that I could swim before I could walk. Grandpa taught me to sail… And cabin cruisers like this, I’ve been crewing since I was a teenager.’

‘Why Miranda?’

‘Oh! After The Tempest, of course. That and Sweet Airs too.’

‘Very… literary of you.’

‘My grandmother. She made my grandfather call it Sweet Airs. Before that, the house name kept changing, thanks to…’

‘Those men in the portraits.’

‘Exactly. But then Grandma Lottie stepped in. She was… how to put it… a miserable old bag. But she loved Shakespeare. It reminded her of the England she’d had to give up to marry Grandpa Nate. For her, one of the few good things about Bermuda was its connection with The Tempest. Forced all her grandchildren to read that damn play at least once a year and…’

‘Oh, look! A turtle!’ shouted Hugh. ‘No, two!’

‘I see them!’ Tess cried, clapping her hands in excitement. ‘Look!’ She took Genesis by the shoulders and held her in position. The girl caught sight of them just in time with their heads up like green periscopes swivelling around, before they dived. Standing next to her, Hugh felt her soft exhalation of breath and a sound like ‘Wow’ passing through her lips.

From then on, there was nothing but delight over what was in the water and what was on the land. There were sightings of fish, birds and the strange displays of those humans on the shore who had not gone to the game. Tess was a font of knowledge of island lore which Hugh received with amused scepticism. Even Genesis joined in once or twice.

‘That’s where they landed,’ Tess said. ‘That scrap of beach over there.’ She pointed with her chin towards a small rough strip of sand. ‘Sir George Somers.’

‘Well,’ said Hugh, saluting. ‘Here’s to you, Sir George. It’s your day!’

At last, Miranda turned away from the open ocean and entered a lagoon with sandy coves surrounding it. They dropped anchor and within minutes Tess and Hugh were in the water, leaving Genesis on deck in her life jacket.

Hugh set off with a vigorous stroke, heading for one of the little islets until he slowed down and looked about him. The water was aquamarine, translucent. The light was hard for his eyes to adjust to: almost unbearable in the sky, brilliant on the land, bent and mysterious in the water. He closed his eyes and saw the red mist of his lids. When he opened them again, first there was just the glare, then the harbour and the islands gaining definition. He looked over at Tess, floating on her back as though asleep.

Hugh felt at peace. The sea always chased away the clumsiness he felt on land with people. It cleared his mind. His lids fluttered shut. He heard an unfamiliar sound and opened them again. Two white birds were directly overhead. They had long curling tails and a fine black stripe along the wing. They hovered for a moment, beating the air, calling. As they flew off over the smooth water, their breasts absorbed its tender blue.

‘Longtails,’ Tess said.

Hugh felt too languid to reply.

‘Doesn’t talk much, does she?’ Hugh said at last. ‘The girl.’

‘Oh, she can talk plenty. She’s had it tough, poor kid. Trying to give her a break. The three of us. It’s early days yet. Could go either way.’

‘She any good at school?’

‘Depends who you talk to. Mostly, they’ll be glad to see the back of her. Got a short fuse… But, for what it’s worth, I think there’s something there. A brain…’

They glanced in her direction. Genesis was where they had left her, her body huddled like a tight orange knot, Tess’s pink straw hat on her head. When they heaved themselves back onto the boat, Genesis looked relieved. They lazed, they ate and they listened to the cricket score on the radio. Somerset was batting but, as usual, Tess said, it looked like the game was heading for a draw. She pointed out Nonsuch Island Reserve and Hugh reeled off all the information that he had recently acquired about it.

‘See the longtails?’ Tess asked Genesis when there was a pause.

‘You mean them big white birds? Yeah, I saw ’em. They were… kinda… kinda…’

‘Beautiful.’ Hugh smiled.

‘I guess.’

‘Genesis.’ This was the first time he had called her name, the first time he had really looked at her. ‘You like Nature?’

Not waiting for a reply, he moved his chair closer. ‘I want to tell you about something great that has happened…’

Genesis started to play with the bottom of her t-shirt.

‘She might not be interested,’ Tess warned.

‘Last weekend, some divers went thirty feet down and retrieved an ancient cedar root from a reef…’

Tess gestured to a place beyond the entrance to the harbour but said nothing.

‘And apparently the root is in good condition. They don’t know how old it is yet but they’re going to find out. The point is… that we have evidence that the coral reef used to be land that sustained trees. Forests! And the island used to be much, much bigger. Until the sea came in and covered it up.’ He knew his words couldn’t convey the thrill he felt.

Genesis eventually looked up. ‘I’m supposed to care?’

Tess rolled her eyes, scraped back her chair and started to collect plates and cups with the maximum of noise. Hugh stood up and said, ‘This is your world. You have to find out about its past. That way you can protect its future.’

‘I’m supposed to do these things? Me?’ Her eyes were furious and she struck her chest when she said ‘Me’.

‘Yes. You. And me. All of us!’

‘Back off,’ Tess whispered in Hugh’s ear.

‘Look, man. Gimme a break!’ Genesis leapt up. ‘How long you been here? In my country? And telling me what to do? I don’t give a shit about your goddamn reef! Or root. Or whatever the hell it is.’

‘Time to go!’ Tess said.

‘Think you know so much!’ The girl’s anger mixed oddly with the colours of the life jacket and straw hat. ‘Both of you! I heard you talking. Shakespeare and all that crap. Now this. Always want to make us look bad!’

‘Genesis, I think you should stop now.’ Tess’s voice was quiet, professional.

‘Tess! Stop babying her!’ Hugh turned to face the girl. ‘You accuse me of knowing things as though it’s the worst thing in the world. Well, young lady, you’re wrong.’

‘Don’t give me that “young lady” bullshit! You don’t know me!’

His face was aflame. ‘You’re at school. Learn something, for God’s sake!’ He strode to the bow and yanked up the anchor.

Genesis followed him, repeating, ‘You don’t know me!’

Tess engaged the engines and they were off, out of the lagoon, around the exposed headland, back along the coast, all sunlight drained from the day.

When they were nearly home, Genesis climbed to the top deck and tapped Hugh on the shoulder. He flinched.

‘Sorry,’ she said.

He gave her a nod of acknowledgement.

‘You’re just in time to do some work,’ Tess said. ‘Lower the outriggers.’ Tess paused. ‘The fishing poles. Let them down.’ Genesis scrambled from one side of the boat to the other, unclipping the poles and seeing them fall to the side, as they sailed beneath the now gloomy span of the bridge.

Simmons was waiting for them at the dock to drive the boat back to its moorings. Back in his apartment, Hugh logged onto his laptop and replayed the raw footage of Buddy’s descent into the ocean, his harvesting of the root and the triumphant moment when he found that the essence of that long-dead tree was still alive.

Only after he had played it again did the knots in his stomach begin to loosen.

Genesis

Man! Some Cup Match! No matter where I been livin, I always got away for it. Four days runnin wild. Last year. Sixteen. With the shortest shorts on record. Me and my girls rollin from party to party. Just had to smile and those guys playin Crown and Anchor parted with some of their winnings. They won. We won. Got our share of dollars. Somebody hit a six and everybody scored.

This year. No shorts. No dollars. In this big empty house with Nina comin soon. Genesis you screwed up. She won’t say it but she’ll mean it, whatever she says. She and those two other bitches. Got me locked up on their planet. Planet Hot Flush, Planet Lockdown, Planet Tight Ass. And today. Tried not to talk. But that expat guy made me. I’d of been okay if he hadn’t of crowded me. Talked crap, put his chair right in my face and demanded that I say somethin. I mean…

It’s like when I gave it to Kalrita. There’s a mouth flappin in front of me and I have to make it stop. I’m warnin you, Kalrita, stop laughin at my shoes my clothes my hair. Stop asking me how many homes I’ve lived in. Askin how come I ain’t got no mama no daddy… Stop. I pull my arm back, don’t care what trouble I get into. I give her one. Then another. Don’t care about the blood pouring from her nose. And another. Until they have to drag me off her… It felt just like that with whatever his goddamn name is. Pinning me in a corner and talking down to me.

Feels like a century since those bitches got me on their planet. Not even a week yet. Full-time in Nina’s house of rules. Do this do that don’t put that there don’t say that this is my brother sister nephew aunt uncle great-niece this is where my parents are buried brush your teeth wash that off your face turn that off this is where Dee’s buried… Part-time with Tess and the Mansion. I always been cool with Tess. She posted bail and it was never do this do that with her. But it didn’t feel good at that dinner. Nina’s old auntie with them spooky eyes. Nina and Tess and bimbo Lizzie acting like they wanted to fight. Didn’t mind that. But can’t stand the way they treat me like I’m their pet project.

Yesterday Cup Match was supposed to start, but it was the First Day from hell. Five hundred of Nina’s close relatives on the beach all eatin chicken and starin at me. I swear some of them nephews are Babylon – checkin me out, like they seen me before in some line-up. Worst of all was the way everybody wanted me to go overboard. I tell them no. They look at me funny and then go back flingin themselves under the waves. Now who’s crazy?

Couldn’t sleep last night wondering about Second Day. But I was saved. Kind of. Early this morning, there’s noise comin from the bedroom next door where the uncle with no teeth is sleepin. Soon the three of us are at Emergency waitin with the other people who drank too much rum, ate bad coleslaw or broke something partyin. The uncle’s breathin loud, sittin there, out of it. He turns round and smiles at me and I see yards of gums. That’s some smile! He looks at me… like he knows me. The doctor gives him some pills and tells Nina to take him home. Nina calls Tess and I’m shipped up to The Mansion like a Fedex package.

Thought my troubles were over. Then I saw the boat. No way. No friggin way. Don’t know how I get on board even with that stupid life jacket. They leave me alone and all I can see is what’s goin on behind the boat. Bubbles from the engine and these two, like, hills of water. Identical. In the middle of the hills there’s this dark line with no bubbles and no matter how fast the boat’s goin those hills of water never change. And the dark line between them either. Can’t stop lookin down at it and thinkin about things that have happened to me, but it’s like I can’t remember what the things are only that they happened. Then the boat stops and the hills and the trench disappear. Now the water rises up and looks like it’s gonna pour into the boat. I take off up those steps to where the others are.

Everything’s okay until the expat guy starts in on me. He should of stopped pushin. Less than a week with them and I’ve messed up. Nina’s lecture will go on for hours. Don’t matter.

Nina’ll be here soon. She told me that you can train your mind to be positive. Think good thoughts… What happened good, today? The sun felt good. Another good thought? Those big white birds were nice. Scary but nice. Anything else? Somethin not messed up. With that expat boy, I just mouthed off. I could easily have cracked him one and I know he wouldn’t of hit me back. So I chose not to beat his ass! That’s positive, ain’t it?

And… and… I said sorry!

CHAPTER 2: WORKING IT

Tess

‘The address is here. Come through.’ She beckoned Hugh through the gallery into the library. The morning sun poured in through the large window, across the wall of rare books, the ranks of paperbacks, the photographs, the awards, the family treasures, the lustre of cedar shelves.

‘This room… I just love it,’ she murmured.

‘Impressive,’ Hugh said, taking in the quiet beauty of the space.

Tess copied down Buddy Darrell’s contact information and handed it to Hugh. Surveying his rumpled appearance, she added, ‘He’s gonna love you! You have his dress sense.’

‘I don’t know about that.’ Hugh ran his hand through his hair. ‘So many famous scientists must come seeking his advice. All I have is a piece of paper…’

‘Well, Dr. Hugh, in this island, you have to use what you’ve got to get noticed. No experience? Use that PhD! Tell Buddy what’s special about what you studied. Make it up if you have to. But be confident! Own it! Work it! That way you’ll stand out from the pack.’

‘That’s not really my style, Tess. But…’

‘It works. Believe me.’

Hugh continued walking around the room, peering at the titles, occasionally touching the spines. When he reached the photos, he stopped.

‘These are your ancestors?’ He looked along a row of photographs in plain silver frames.

‘Yes. But not distant ones. I knew almost everyone in those pictures. Nothing further back than my grandfather’s generation. Before that, nothing but paintings.’ She pointed to a photograph of a man in a straw hat surrounded by a bunch of tow-haired children. ‘That’s him. My grandfather. Can you find me?’

Hugh examined the row of freckled faces until he stopped at the one right next to the tall man. She was the only one looking up at him.

‘Well done, you! Yes. Grandpa Nate was the one who made this room into a library.’ Tess looked around her. ‘Used to be a dumping ground for tools, fishing tackle, animal feed…’

‘Looks like he was a very busy man!’ Hugh peered at a series of pictures featuring the same upright, smiling man at different stages of his life.

‘Yep! That’s Nate! At the Yacht Club. Reading the lesson at St. Anne’s. In the boardroom at the Bank. Sailing. In the House of Assembly. On the golf course… Yes. He did it all. He made it all happen.’

‘I don’t follow you.’

‘Made it happen. He and a few others. Turned this…’ Tess flung her arm out, encompassing the island. ‘This pile of rocks that people shunned, into, well, a playground for the rich and famous!’

‘How did that happen?’

‘After World War One, they changed the Isle of Devils into Paradise. It’s all here in these.’ She pointed to a row of sleek, sealskin diaries, each bearing the year and the name Nathaniel Darrell. ‘In one fell swoop, they created tourism, the thing that’s put food on every table. They hired a queen.’ Tess lightly touched a model of cruise ship crowned with three red and black funnels and traced the words Queen of Bermuda on it with her fingernail. ‘Not exactly this Queen but her predecessors. The cruise line that established the first regular service between New York and Bermuda.

‘When Grandpa Nate and his cronies saw the island going down the drain after World War One, they knew they had to act fast. I don’t know whose idea it was, but in a few short years they put together three pieces of a solution. Piece one – attract America’s super-rich with lots of leisure time. Piece two – make it a beautiful place for them to play and hang out with people like themselves. Piece three – establish a way to get them to that place.

‘Et voilà! By the end of the 1920s, the wealthy travelled here in cruise ships, played golf and built houses in one of the most beautiful corners of the island – tidied up to make room for them.’

‘Tidied up?’

‘Yes. Just like Nate created this library from a room good only for dumping stuff, he and his buddies did the same thing for the country. Because of them the tourist industry was born.’

‘And all of that was done with… no pain for the island. I mean, for the ordinary people who lived here.’

Tess gave him a quizzical look.

‘I wouldn’t say that. Did they do things we would find politically incorrect now? Sure they did! But if they hadn’t, you certainly wouldn’t be sitting here today. You can thank my grandfather for your being here.’

‘I’m sorry, Tess, but I can’t agree. Don’t want to be rude but there’s no connection between me and your grandfather. My grandfather was a miner who died of black lung disease when he was forty. Your grandfather and mine – they don’t share anything!’

Tess said, ‘You’re not in Britain now. Here we had slavery for over two hundred years, so for the average black Bermudian, my grandfather, your grandfather, you and I, we’re all the same.’

Hugh was silent, then said, ‘Thank you for Buddy’s address, Tess. Be seeing you.’

Tess rose to stop him. ‘Look, things are changing here. I see it every day in my job. When I’m with clients, I wait for the moment when I can see their eyes change. From seeing only my white skin to seeing me as a person who can help them change their lives. And more and more, that moment comes.’

Hugh nodded. As he was leaving, Simmons appeared at the door.

‘Morning, ma’am. Just wanted you to know that I’m taking Miranda to the boatyard for servicing. You won’t be able to use it for…’

‘It’s all right, Simmons.’ And she waved him away and hurried towards her car.

During her drive to work, she wondered about the version of her grandfather’s life that she had given Hugh. And the version of her own. She hoped that at least was true.

Hugh

Hugh looked over the letter, was about to sign it but put his pen down. When was the last time he had written a letter rather than an email or text? And in longhand… It seemed like something from the past. He glanced at Buddy’s photo. Yes. The handwritten letter was appropriate.

Dear Mr. Darrell,

My landlady, Tess Alexander, suggested that I write to you. I have not been on the island long, having come out from the UK at the end of July to take up a two-year appointment at the Atlantic Institute of Ocean Science as a researcher.

Let me introduce myself.

So far, so good. But Hugh had a sinking feeling when he read through the rest of the paragraph.

I’ll begin by telling you how privileged I feel to be working at such a world-class institution as AIOS. Following my doctoral studies, for which I received the BERA Award, and three years working in Australia, this is my first experience of the Atlantic world. My brief is as part of the Coral Reef Management team, looking in particular at the recruitment and population of Siderastrea Radians.

Oh God! Hugh groaned. A self-satisfied arse…

I have been made to understand that you are something of a scientist yourself, although the print and broadcast media emphasise your treasure-hunting skills!

Patronising and verbose…

So, as one scientist to another, I must express the depth of my excitement at your discovery and extraction of the ancient cedar root from the reef at Gurnet Rock… I would like to put myself at your disposal.

Pushy…

And although I have not been on the island long, I feel I know the waters well already and must confess, they do not seem to be a treacherous as many have tried to make me believe.

Know-all! Condescending! And this, the result of hours of labour?

More than anything, I would like to meet and talk to you. I understand that the root will soon be on display. I cannot wait to see this ancient survivor of a time when much more of the Bermuda Seamount was above water.

Please let me know if and when I may call on you.

This was the only part of the letter that sounded genuine. Hugh read the whole thing again. It would only work if Buddy Darrell was impressed by degrees and high-sounding words. But if Buddy wasn’t, he would see that he was some green Johnny-come-lately trying to catch hold of his coat-tails. Hugh rewrote the letter and put it in the mail.

A few days later, his own letter was returned to him.

Sweet Airs Cottage

September 28, 2002.

Dear Mr. Darrell,

I’m a scientist working here and would love to meet and talk to you about your discovery at Gurnet Rock. I understand that the root will soon be on display. I cannot wait to see this ancient survivor of a time when much more of the Bermuda Seamount was above water. Please let me know if and when I may call on you.

Sincerely,

Hugh Denham

Underneath in bold black script were the words:

We’re unveiling her next Saturday, October 12 at 6 o’clock. Bring a friend. I’m going out to Gurnet Rock the week after. Come on along, if you like.

Buddy

Lizzie

‘Hello.’

‘Hello, Lizzie. It’s me.’

‘You’re going to have to give me a clue.’

‘It’s me! Hugh!’

‘Hugh?’

‘Hugh Denham! You know. Tess… Tess Alexander’s tenant.’

‘Oh, that Hugh. Didn’t recognise you. Hello, Hugh.’

Silence, then Lizzie heard an intake of breath.

‘Well… how have you been?’

‘Fine.’

More silence.

‘I know it’s been a while since I last called… I’ve been very busy. At work, you know.’

‘Really.’

‘I know I was supposed to call and we were supposed to go out a couple of weekends ago…’

She heard his words sliding towards apology. ‘Were we? You were supposed to call?’

‘Yes! You remember… Don’t you? We were supposed to go to the cinema.’ Lizzie wished she could see him. There was a new kind of phone that let you see the person you were talking to. She needed to get one!

‘But I got so busy at work… I just didn’t get around to it. I guess you’re angry with me…?’

‘Me? Me, angry at you? What would make you think that?’

‘Well, the way you’re talking now. You sound angry.’

Lizzie noted the change in Hugh’s tone. He was pushing back. She would have to ease up or she might lose him altogether.

‘You’ve got it all wrong, Hugh. I’m not mad. I live a busy life. Like you.’ She heard a sound she could not identify. Was he shifting from one foot to the other? Moving pens around the desk in front of him? ‘I just assumed that your timetable didn’t include me. And that’s cool.’

‘You see…’ Hugh’s uncertainty had the ring of the confessional. So easy for a Catholic to recognise! ‘I’m not very good at keeping on top of phoning and going out and things like that…’

Lizzie shook her head. This was what too many hours in libraries and laboratories did to otherwise normal heterosexual males. She almost felt sorry for him.

‘Lizzie? Are you still there?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m sorry about the other day.’

‘Week.’

‘The other week. About not phoning the other week. But I would like to see you again. This would be a nice occasion. Something you’d like.’

‘I’m listening.’

‘Well… er… they’re having a big unveiling of an ancient cedar root at the Maritime Museum next Saturday. The twelfth. You know. It’s been in all the papers… Lizzie? Are you still there?’

An ancient cedar root. She struggled to stifle a yawn. ‘Uh huh.’

‘It’s going to be, well, a big do. Local dignitaries. Some people, scientists, from overseas. I’ll even make an effort to dress properly… I’d like you to come with me.’

All right. But he would have to work to get her there. He’d made her wait too long, and an ancient root?

‘I can’t,’ she said.

‘Can’t or won’t?’ There it was again, the edge in his voice. He was not the pushover she thought he was.

‘Can’t. I’m having Genesis that night.’

‘You mean the girl that you and Tess fuss over?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can’t she stay home? By herself? She’s practically a woman!’

‘No. She’s staying with me that night. Nina’s busy. The only solution is if I bring her.’

‘Please don’t!’

‘Why not?’

‘I find her somewhat… abrasive.’ Lizzie’s ears pricked up, but she didn’t interrupt. ‘And anyway, I thought that afterwards, we might be able to go and have a drink. Maybe a meal. Try to catch up a bit.’

‘Either I come with her or not at all.’

‘Wouldn’t it be nice to spend the evening together? Just the two of us?’

‘Hugh, next Saturday, it’ll be a threesome or nothing at all. After that, we’ll see about a next time.’

Lizzie suppressed a smile. With the men she was used to playing games with, the mere mention of the word ‘threesome’ would provoke some suggestive response. But not from Boy Scout Hugh from the Welsh Valleys!

‘All right then… I mean, great!’

‘What’s the dress code?’

‘Oh! Buddy told me to wear to tie.’

‘High end of Smart Casual. What time?’

‘Six o’clock.’

‘We’ll meet you there.’

‘Bye, Lizzie!’

‘Bye.’

Lizzie smiled at the phone for a second.

Genesis

She’s gone. Tending her flock.

Late Saturday afternoon and evening. On duty. Like clockwork.

Not her day job, though she takes that beat-up nurse’s bag with her, like she’s on some TV show. No! This job she gave herself! Makin the rounds. Makin interventions in the lives of all her loser brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews and all their husbands and wives, girlfriends and boyfriends. Keepin them on the straight and narrow.

And now I’m on that straight and narrow street, too. In Nina’s house with the stupid name. Salt C-A-Y. Pronounced KEY. When I asked her how come a key was made of salt, she cracked up. Right there in my face. Then comes some long-assed story about how her mama’s family came from some crappy island… Ticks? Tucks? Turks? Like I care.

Why do I have to go out with Lizzie tonight? I wouldn mind stayin home and cranking up my sounds. Like Work It. MISSY MISDEMEANOUR ELLIOTT! Coulda been doin Missy’s dance moves, right here in Nina’s kitchen.

Is it worth it, let me work it

I put my thing down, flip it and reverse it