The Incomers Read online

  ‘Is this what you think? I thought we loved each other.’ She is aware of Nat’s eyes on her, this boy of theirs is not so stupid and like antelope in the bush, can detect when danger is near.

  James stands and pushes his chair back. ‘So did I.’

  Ellie jumps up and reaches for his arm but does not touch him. ‘Can you remember the first time you came to my land?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It was strange, no? You knew no one and you were surrounded by black faces. But you were boss man so all was OK.’ She can see the tension in his face relax a little. ‘It is the same for me here, all around are white faces, only I am not boss man, I am a black woman.’ Ellie sits down and holds her hands together as if in prayer. ‘How strange do you think that feels?’ She watches him open the kitchen door. ‘I ask you to give me some time, husband, time to learn new ways and time to rid myself of old suspicions,’ Ellie says to the closing door. Her words reach his ears, this she knows, but do they reach his heart?

  The Pairty Line

  ‘Did ye hear aboot Geordie Macintyre?’

  ‘Aye, awful sad i’nt it.’

  ‘Mind you, ah saw him last week and he wis as yella as a banana.’

  ‘Cirosus o’ the livir wis it no?’

  ‘Ah heard it wis the cancer.’

  ‘Awful. Mind you, ah reckon he’ll no’ be missed, she hud a hell o’ a life wi’ um.’

  ‘Noo, ye shouldnae be speaking ill o’ the dead.’

  ‘No, ah suppose. But speakin o’ bananas, that black wumman wis at the chapel on Sunday.’

  ‘Get away wi’ ye.’

  ‘Did yer man no’ say?’

  ‘Aye, very funny, ye ken fine well he niver goes.’

  ‘Well she dis. Who wid huv thocht it, eh? Ur they no’ suppose tae worship witch doctors and false gods. Ah saw it on the telly, loads o’ thon blackies runnin’ aboot wi’ nae claes oan, breasts hingin’ aw weys. Mind you she couldnae dae that here, eh?’

  ‘Goad no. Whit wis she wearin though?’

  ‘A coat made oot o’ tiger skin, ah heard.’

  ‘She must huv brought that wi’ her, like.’

  ‘Aye, ah suppose so, it’s no the sort o’ thing ye cun buy up the toon onywey.’

  ‘Goad’s truth, no.’

  Chapter Seven

  Ellie sits at her kitchen table, looks at the feeble banana cradled in her hand and wonders if she will ever taste anything decent again. Her belly aches for roasted yam. Her mouth waters for the taste of peanut and bean stew. She licks her lips to try to remember the taste of pepper soup or plantain, seasoned and fried in sweet oil. Jollof rice, she is sure she can make here with these limited ingredients. The kettle on the stove whistles and she groans at the thought of another cup of tea like lizard spit. She hangs the bananas back on the hook she insisted they have, and that James laughs at.

  ‘There are no spiders in these bananas to bite you,’ he had told her when she first asked him to hang the hook in the kitchen.

  ‘Better to continue with old ways than to have a bite on your bum,’ she had said in return.

  The fruit bowl full of drab apples and oranges taunts her so she drags the plant book towards her and tries to ignore these inadequate selections. She flicks the pages and thinks about the person who gave her the book; she met the cook only once, back home.

  James had requested Ellie’s presence to attend a Presidential reception. He had been working on some deal for the Fairbairns’ mine commissions or something grand like that. It was well known in the British community that the factor from the Suwokono estate had married a girl from the mission clinic the month before and the Fairbairns thought it would be good form to have the black bride attend. Ellie’s wishes were of no concern.

  Before she dressed she had already been to the toilet twice to be sick. The second time she went with an empty stomach and the gut-wrenching feeling she had as every muscle in her abdomen heaved, had sent her reeling to the bathroom floor. She was still lying there when James came in to hurry her along.

  ‘I cannot go.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, of course you can go.’

  ‘You do not understand. I hate this man.’

  James laughed. ‘Doesn’t everyone?’ He lifted her to her feet and set her on the toilet seat.

  ‘Come on, you have to do this for me, just this once.’

  ‘I do not feel well.’

  ‘You’ll be fine. I’ll be there to look after you.’

  Ellie had somehow managed to smooth her face into a beguiling smile and swallow the bile that was rising again at the sight of the President.

  Her head bowed as she shook his hand and he looked past her at more important persons further down the line. She stumbled to a seat in the corner of the room and thought if she could just stay there for the evening no one would bother her. Waiters in white shirts with ragged collars wheeled round the room, offering drinks and canapés to those standing, and although she knew they saw her, no one offered her a drink.

  Their looks said, ‘Who does she think she is? A village girl, dressed to impress, thinks she is better than us; let her thirst for the milk of a lizard before she will be served by a man.’

  Ellie’s eyes searched for James, but he was engaged in deep conversation with the President’s brother and one of the government ministers. He had no need for her and she wondered why he had been so insistent she attend.

  The small head of a woman with tight grey hair appeared round a door. Ellie watched her black beetle eyes appraise the room, nodding and moving her lips as if reporting back to some hidden assailant on her shoulder. The eyes settled on Ellie and a frown creased her brow. A bare white arm with shirt sleeves rolled above the elbow shot out from behind the door and grabbed the sleeve of a passing waiter. Much hand waving and pointing followed before the waiter dragged his feet towards Ellie.

  ‘You have to eat something.’

  ‘I do not want anything, thank you.’

  ‘Ms Watson says eat.’ He dropped an empty plate on her lap and shoved a tray of food in front of her face. ‘Ms Watson says no one leaves her table hungry.’

  There was no table beside Ellie and she did not want to put the plate on the floor. She looked around for James but he was bowed in talk with the President and a man in military uniform. He was admiring the President’s crucifix and many medals; he should not encourage him, Ellie thought.

  Ellie picked up a small piece of food. ‘Thank you,’ she said to the waiter’s retreating back.

  She surveyed the food on her plate; the smells snaked to her nose and wriggled through to her brain. Before she ate she looked towards the door and the two eyes willing her to eat. The rough biscuit was made from grain and topped with some kind of paste; Ellie nibbled the end off it. The foreign flavours burst on her palate and she struggled to swallow the mouthful, but it soon crumbled in her mouth and the smoky flavour of the meat warmed her belly and satisfied her mind. She realised with regret that she enjoyed this food. Against her will she lifted her head and smiled at the curly-headed woman who returned her smile with a sharp nod before retreating behind the door.

  Ellie later discovered that the cook from the big hoose in Scotland had been sent for to prepare traditional Scottish fare for the President and what she had eaten was a small oatcake smeared with smoked venison pâté.

  Ellie closes the book. She will go and thank Mrs Watson for her present and for insisting that she eat something at the reception that day back home. She will introduce her to Nat, everyone loves the baby.

  Ellie wraps him up in his blanket because he is snuffling and even though spring is maturing there is still chill air outside the cosy kitchen. There is a knocking sound. Ellie wonders if there is something wrong with the stove, but it happens again and she realises it comes from the door. It would be good to speak to someone, even if it is the priest come to call. Her voice is reserved for Nat and the birds. James still remains sullen after her misunderstanding about the ‘Children’s
Society.’

  The door hammers again but this time as if the person is fleeing from an evil spirit. Ellie forgets how long she stands in the middle of the floor with the baby in her arms. She does not want to miss her visitor, so she sits Nat in the playpen and rushes to greet her guest. She only wishes she had kolanut to greet them properly.

  Ellie is confronted by a woman of about fifty but it is hard to tell, everyone here looks the same to her. Is her visitor Green-apron from the shop?

  ‘Did I leave something?’

  ‘Pardon.’

  ‘In the shop?’

  ‘What are you talking about, woman?’

  The words spit out of her mouth and Ellie can feel her face heat. She now notices that this woman has pursed lips and a furry upper lip that looks as if she is balancing a caterpillar there. Ellie watches for it to fall off. No matter how hard she tries she cannot stop looking.

  ‘My name is Nurse Lynn.’

  Ellie holds out her hand to shake, but the nurse glares at it as if she has been offered a handful of monkey shit and pushes past Ellie into the house.

  ‘Dr Wishart asked me to call in and check up on Baby.’

  She ruffles through a little brown bag and pulls out a dung-coloured folder.

  ‘It is reported here that you have been resident in Hollyburn for over a month and yet have not registered with the doctor.’ She scowls at Ellie. ‘Is that true?’

  ‘True. Would you like a cup of tea? I am sorry I have no kolanut to offer you.’ Ellie can feel her heart thumping. Did she do something wrong, why had James not told her about this?

  ‘You should have been to see him before now.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Dr Wishart, of course.’ The tone of the woman’s voice tells Ellie that she imagines her black face means she is an imbecile.

  Ellie looks at her hands.

  Caterpillar-lip holds up the folder. ‘No excuses. I don’t care who you are, Baby’s health comes first.’

  Ellie sits down on her kitchen chair and pulls Nat up on her knee. Then she notices the table with the book and the picked plants spread out around; young nettles she plans to make tea with. Ellie is tempted to try that now to see what the reaction will be. She wants to tell this intruder that she had begun her nursing training but instead lets the nurse loose on her and her family.

  Nurse Lynn thinks she knows best, that is clear from her superior sounding questions, but when Ellie looks at her left hand she notices there is no wedding ring. Ellie fingers her own ring. Even the nuns have wedding rings.

  ‘When was he weaned?’

  Ellie shakes her head.

  ‘Not weaned? Ridiculous, never heard of such a thing at his age.’

  ‘There is enough milk here for many years to come,’ Ellie says.

  ‘What? Ridiculous, we must begin to wean Baby.’

  Ellie looks at the woman and considers arguing then holds both palms up to the ceiling. She is the mother and will do as she pleases without interference once she has closed the door behind this woman’s back.

  ‘He does eat some solids.’ Ellie strokes his head. ‘Do you not, my prince?’ She can tell from the screwed up caterpillar that this does not impress.

  ‘What solids?’

  ‘Porridge.’

  ‘Good. Potty training?’

  ‘Excuse?’

  The woman puffs her chest and stretches her neck rigid like a woman carrying a heavy load on her head.

  ‘Have you started potty training yet?’ She spits out each syllable with the venom of a cobra. ‘You know, getting him out of nappies.’

  ‘No, ma’am.’ Ellie clamps her hand over her mouth; she should not have said that, she should have known better. She will not bow to this woman who does not wear a ring.

  ‘He has not yet finished his first year in this world, he does not walk yet.’ Ellie finds her voice is small, insignificant and wills her strength to return.

  The caterpillar twitches a hint of a smile.

  ‘Better to start early; boys are lazy, you know, slower than girls. Give him to me a moment.’

  Ellie watches the woman’s hands as she unravels Nat from his blanket and coat.

  Nat’s little lip pouts as the nurse pulls his trousers and nappy down and he looks at Ellie as if to say, why is she doing this to me? He bawls when she begins to tug the jumper with the too-tight neck over his head.

  ‘No, no, I will attend to this,’ Ellie says, jumping up and grabbing the baby from the nurse. She eases the jumper over his ears and then over his head. She should have packed it away before, but James’ mother knitted it for Nat and James was so pleased at this first sign of acceptance that he insists Nat wear it at every opportunity.

  When Ellie puts Nat on the floor he reaches his hands out to her and flexes his fingers open then back to fists, grabbing the air.

  ‘Up, up,’ he says.

  The caterpillar lady frowns. ‘Does he say any more?’

  ‘Not in English,’ Ellie says. This is not the truth, but she is sick of these questions and she feels her strength drip back into her blood.

  Nat begins to whimper and snuffle.

  ‘For goodness’ sake, woman, pick the child up and stop his blubbering,’ Caterpillar says as she bumbles out of her officious blue coat and snaps her bag open.

  Ellie picks him up, hugs him close and whispers, ‘Be brave, little warrior,’ in his ear.

  ‘Come on, come on, I don’t have all day to waste here.’

  ‘I did not ask you to visit.’ Ellie plonks the baby on the edge of the table and sits down again, balancing him with one hand under his arm.

  When the nurse picks him up, he begins to scream. One teardrop suspends in each eye, like a spider on a bush, before rolling tracks down his cheeks.

  ‘Now, what is all this nonsense about?’ the nurse admonishes.

  Ellie coos to her baby and feels her heart ache at his tears. He looks like a plump aubergine with chubby arms and legs sticking out from a white vest. She can feel her own tears rising from love and anger but she will not let this woman see.

  The nurse rams a sharp thermometer under his arm and orders Ellie to hold his arm in place. She then looks in his ears with a silver cylinder with a funnel on the end. Despite herself Ellie bites back a laugh. When she first saw these at the clinic she thought they looked like the cake icing contraption she found in the mission’s kitchen drawer.

  ‘Stick out your tongue, boy.’

  Ellie’s head snaps back as if she has been slapped.

  ‘His name is Nat.’

  Nat stares at the nurse with defiance, eyelashes dewed with lost tears. His mouth clamps shut, tighter than a

  nutshell.

  ‘Come, little one, open wide,’ Ellie says.

  He turns to look at her with the sorrowful look of his father. She will not let her little boy suffer this way.

  Ellie reaches into a drawer and pulls out some coconut candy. Nat’s fist begins to grab.

  ‘No, only if you open up for Nursey,’ Ellie says.

  ‘What is this you are proposing to give the child?’

  Ellie holds it up. ‘It is a candy from home – it is wonderful that my people have worked out how to send items through the post,’ she says, wrestling her anger, ‘Just like Mrs Winski.’

  ‘I don’t think you should be giving this child this native food, you should let him settle down to our diet.’

  Ellie’s anger percolates to boiling; she knows she should calm down, but she cannot.

  ‘Your diet? Meat pies and chips that taste of monkey shit. I will feed this child what I wish. Are you going to look in his mouth or not?’ Nat has been sitting with his mouth open showing off his newly formed teeth during the exchange.

  The nurse tuts and slaps a wooden stick on his tongue. Then she runs her hands up and down his body, lifting his vest and examining his skin. Her fingers pause on the dark mark Nat has carried on his back from birth.

  ‘What is this bruise?’


  ‘It is a mark of the birth.’

  ‘Are you sure, it looks like a bruise?’

  ‘I do not beat my child.’

  The nurse rubs her finger across the palm of Nat’s hand.

  ‘What is this rash?’

  Ellie had rubbed cream into his hands to soothe the Vim rash, but it refused to heal.

  ‘A little dry skin is all.’

  ‘Ask the doctor for something when you register.’

  Ellie ignores this and pulls the baby back to her, carries him through to the bedroom and wraps him in a blanket to put him down to sleep. He whimpers for a little then sticks his thumb in his mouth, all the while staring up at Ellie with those sorrowful eyes.

  ‘You should discourage thumb sucking.’ The nurse is behind Ellie, searching his room with her eyes. Ellie puts her hand up to push the woman out, but the nurse steps back from the threat of her touch and turns to the kitchen.

  When Ellie comes out of the room, Caterpillar is bending over the new play pen fingering the clothes pegs and bag that Nat loves to play with.

  ‘How many hours does he spend in there?’

  ‘Not many, only when I have to go out to the garden.’ Ellie stands tall and realises she is taller than the woman. ‘I do not neglect my son.’

  ‘No one is suggesting that.’

  Ellie hands over the blue coat. ‘You may leave us now. Please do not come back. I will visit the doctor if that is what is required.’

  As she shuts the door, a couple of tears escape before Ellie pushes the rest away. She picks up the discarded sweet, closes her eyes on this world and sucks on the taste of her homeland.

  The Pairty Line

  ‘Did ye hear the ambulance through the night?’

  ‘Aye, whit wis it, - the pit?’

  ‘Aye, a rockfall, eh? It wis that nice young chap that hus jist moved here fae the west. Ye ken, the newly mairrit couple that flittit intae the Mooney’s auld hoose?’

  ‘Aw no. No’ that nice chap. How is he?’

  ‘Broon breid.’

  ‘NO!’

  ‘They say that Inglish pit manager is goan bananas. Course, he’ll jist be worried aboot his ain job.’