rib.’
‘I’m glad. I want you to stay indoors. I want you to keep your head down.’
Talbot steupsed. ‘Ah already do dat.’
‘These . . . police men won’t return. We’ve exposed them now.’
‘Mr Harwood, dem fellas bad.’
‘I know.’ George looked him straight in the eye. ‘Talbot, if there’s anything I don’t know about, you’ll tell me, won’t you?’
Talbot looked away.
‘Won’t you?’
‘Ah know what yer sayin’. Mr Harwood, it hard not to get mix up wid summa dem fellas up here.’
‘Some of them live across the road, your cousins?’
‘Nah, dey not bad.’
‘Then who?’
‘Nuttin and nobody. I done wid alluh dat. I get mix up, some time pass. But I stop, long time. I done nuttin wrong, Mr Harwood. Nuttin.’
‘Good. Because I want to pay for a lawyer to represent you in court.’
Talbot’s eyes flew wide open, the whites shining.
Jennifer clicked her throat. ‘What?’
‘Yes. It will mean you’ll have to be strong. You’ll have to give evidence, you’ll have to identify these men. Not now. Eventually. You may even have to move away for a short time. But I think it’s time we took this to the court of law and sought justice. This is a serious crime. These men should be taken off the force. They only do this kind of thing to poor people. They would never dare beat up my son because I have money. I can pay for your defence, Talbot. Will you let me help you?’
Jennifer hovered, still holding Chantal’s little girl. She kissed her on the forehead, nervous.
Talbot’s eyes flitted back and forth, trying to understand.
Jennifer hummed.
‘My friends at the newspaper will support us,’ George urged. ‘Report the story. Fact by fact. You will have the press and the law on your side. There is still legal redress in this country, for the rich. And you will have my support, too. No one will hurt you, Talbot. I give you my solemn promise about that.’
Tears fell down Jennifer’s face.
George felt ashamed. Ashamed of what? He didn’t quite know. Ashamed of himself, perhaps.
Talbot nodded slowly. He inhaled deeply and George could see that even this breath hurt him. Talbot had planned to fade away. That was the best tactic. Take the beating, say nothing. Bobby’s garlicky breath came to him. His own ribs creaking.
‘Talbot, I won’t let you get hurt again.’
Talbot’s eyes filmed.
‘I give you my word.’
The young man squirmed. His injuries seemed to crawl across his face.
‘If it comes to it, I’ll pay for a private bodyguard.’
‘I doh need that.’
‘I’ll keep you safe. Trust me.’
‘OK,’ he said but his eyes held no trust in them. ‘For Mummy, yes. For Mummy ah go do whatever it take.’
‘Good boy. I’m glad. I know just the man to call in. Just the man. I’ll make some calls now, today. And Jennifer—’
‘What?’
‘Please don’t mention any of this to Mrs Harwood. That’s my only condition. I don’t want her to know about this . . . not yet. I’ll explain it all in my own time.’
‘Yes, Mr Harwood.’
George left the shack in Paramin just as the sun was rising, blessing the hill. On his way to the car an emaciated bitch covered in sores slinked out from under Jennifer’s neighbour’s house to stretch and yawn. Four emaciated puppies clung to her ragged teats. They sucked and sucked.
‘Dat dog bad.’ Jennifer scowled at it, still nursing the infant.
‘Why?’
‘She had many more puppies.’
‘Oh?’
‘But she eat dem all.’
‘What?’
‘She eat dem when dey born.’ Jennifer made a chomping gesture with her mouth. ‘She eat dem.’
‘Good Lord.’
‘Mash!’ Jennifer shouted and clapped at the bitch, scaring her off into the dust, back under the house.
George drove to the famous calypsonian’s home with a churning knot in his stomach. The Mighty Sparrow. Slinger Francisco. Calypso King of the World. Chief of the Yorubas. Holder of numerous honorary university doctorates and awards from
‘I’m glad. I want you to stay indoors. I want you to keep your head down.’
Talbot steupsed. ‘Ah already do dat.’
‘These . . . police men won’t return. We’ve exposed them now.’
‘Mr Harwood, dem fellas bad.’
‘I know.’ George looked him straight in the eye. ‘Talbot, if there’s anything I don’t know about, you’ll tell me, won’t you?’
Talbot looked away.
‘Won’t you?’
‘Ah know what yer sayin’. Mr Harwood, it hard not to get mix up wid summa dem fellas up here.’
‘Some of them live across the road, your cousins?’
‘Nah, dey not bad.’
‘Then who?’
‘Nuttin and nobody. I done wid alluh dat. I get mix up, some time pass. But I stop, long time. I done nuttin wrong, Mr Harwood. Nuttin.’
‘Good. Because I want to pay for a lawyer to represent you in court.’
Talbot’s eyes flew wide open, the whites shining.
Jennifer clicked her throat. ‘What?’
‘Yes. It will mean you’ll have to be strong. You’ll have to give evidence, you’ll have to identify these men. Not now. Eventually. You may even have to move away for a short time. But I think it’s time we took this to the court of law and sought justice. This is a serious crime. These men should be taken off the force. They only do this kind of thing to poor people. They would never dare beat up my son because I have money. I can pay for your defence, Talbot. Will you let me help you?’
Jennifer hovered, still holding Chantal’s little girl. She kissed her on the forehead, nervous.
Talbot’s eyes flitted back and forth, trying to understand.
Jennifer hummed.
‘My friends at the newspaper will support us,’ George urged. ‘Report the story. Fact by fact. You will have the press and the law on your side. There is still legal redress in this country, for the rich. And you will have my support, too. No one will hurt you, Talbot. I give you my solemn promise about that.’
Tears fell down Jennifer’s face.
George felt ashamed. Ashamed of what? He didn’t quite know. Ashamed of himself, perhaps.
Talbot nodded slowly. He inhaled deeply and George could see that even this breath hurt him. Talbot had planned to fade away. That was the best tactic. Take the beating, say nothing. Bobby’s garlicky breath came to him. His own ribs creaking.
‘Talbot, I won’t let you get hurt again.’
Talbot’s eyes filmed.
‘I give you my word.’
The young man squirmed. His injuries seemed to crawl across his face.
‘If it comes to it, I’ll pay for a private bodyguard.’
‘I doh need that.’
‘I’ll keep you safe. Trust me.’
‘OK,’ he said but his eyes held no trust in them. ‘For Mummy, yes. For Mummy ah go do whatever it take.’
‘Good boy. I’m glad. I know just the man to call in. Just the man. I’ll make some calls now, today. And Jennifer—’
‘What?’
‘Please don’t mention any of this to Mrs Harwood. That’s my only condition. I don’t want her to know about this . . . not yet. I’ll explain it all in my own time.’
‘Yes, Mr Harwood.’
George left the shack in Paramin just as the sun was rising, blessing the hill. On his way to the car an emaciated bitch covered in sores slinked out from under Jennifer’s neighbour’s house to stretch and yawn. Four emaciated puppies clung to her ragged teats. They sucked and sucked.
‘Dat dog bad.’ Jennifer scowled at it, still nursing the infant.
‘Why?’
‘She had many more puppies.’
‘Oh?’
‘But she eat dem all.’
‘What?’
‘She eat dem when dey born.’ Jennifer made a chomping gesture with her mouth. ‘She eat dem.’
‘Good Lord.’
‘Mash!’ Jennifer shouted and clapped at the bitch, scaring her off into the dust, back under the house.
George drove to the famous calypsonian’s home with a churning knot in his stomach. The Mighty Sparrow. Slinger Francisco. Calypso King of the World. Chief of the Yorubas. Holder of numerous honorary university doctorates and awards from
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