I sat there looking at her.
I thought: If I had never gone to the conference... If I had never met Raymond ... none of this would have happened.
She was fast asleep and I rose and went to my room.
I could not sleep. I was thinking what a tangle we had got ourselves into. She loved Raymond. What she needed more than anything now was Raymond to come and say that he loved her.
Fervently I wished he would because it was becoming increasingly clear to me that if I said goodbye and sailed away from Cariba— and by that I meant Milton Harrington—I should never be completely happy again.
Next morning, as soon as I was up, I went to see Felicity. She looked blank but at least she was quiet in her mind.
I went downstairs and ate breakfast in the courtyard at the back of the hotel. It consisted of yams with fresh bread and coconut milk. While I was eating it the quadroon girl came out and asked about Felicity.
I told her the doctor would be coming later, and that Felicity seemed a little better but was still very tired.
"If you need anything, ask me," said the girl. "I'm Rosa. I know people here."
"Yes, I suppose so. In your job you see everyone who comes into the hoteclass="underline" '
"Poor Mrs. Granville. She looks so ill."
"She'll soon be better, we hope."
"Mr. Harrington is really concerned for her... and for you."
"He has been very kind and helpful to us."
"He is a very important man. The island depends on him. We don't forget that... nor does he."
Was that a faint criticism? I wondered.
I merely nodded.
"The plantation is good for the island. All this prosperity ..." She waved her hand.
"Yes, that must be true."
"So many people want sugar ... so many people. Our plantation is bigger than Manuel's on Second Island."
"That's the island closest to this is it? The next biggest of the group?"
She nodded. "Mr. Manuel ... he died not long ago. Mr. Harrington was in England then. Mrs. Magda ... she manage it now. She very clever lady."
"How interesting. I want to see the other islands while I am here."
"Perhaps Mr. Harrington will take you to Second Island, yes? Perhaps not."
She seemed to find the situation amusing, then she said suddenly: "Forgive me ... I have work."
I sat back thinking about the other island and wondering what was significant about Mrs. Magda Manuel which had seemed to provide Rosa with some amusement.
I finished breakfast and then went to take another look at Felicity. She opened her eyes as I entered and I asked if she would like a little breakfast. To my joy she said she would and I went down and asked them to bring up some milk, fruit and bread.
I sat with her while she ate it. She seemed much better and did not refer to my visit during the night; and indeed appeared to have forgotten it. She said she still felt tired and I told her that was probably due to the medicine and she clearly needed sleep.
I sat with her until she slept and then went down. I came out to the front of the hotel and stood for a moment looking at the harbour. Several people were seated on chairs on the raised terrace in front of the hotel. Sunshades had been put up over the tables which gave the place the look of a Continental cafe. People were sipping liquid from glasses—the cool drink of the island, I supposed—or perhaps the
hotel had other wines to offer. But it seemed odd to be drinking wine so early in the morning. Other lands, other customs, I murmured to myself.
I sat down in one of the chairs and a waiter came up to me and asked if I wanted anything. I told him I did not.
I said: "What a lovely morning," and he replied that it would be very hot later. "When you see the mist over the island you know what is to come."
He was like most of the people on the island, very responsive to a show of friendliness. They all seemed to enjoy talking and laughing.
I asked him what his name was and he told me it was Obadiah.
"A good biblical name," I commented.
"Oh... we're Christian, Mistress. We've been to the Mission School."
"On this island?"
"Oh yes. It's here for the little ones. They go to Mission School. They learn about God and how to add up. They're educated."
"Have you been in the island long, Obadiah?"
He burst out laughing as though that were a huge joke.
"Why, Missie Lady, you must be joking. I was born here. People don't come to Cariba... not unless they is ladies like yourself or here for business... or holiday ... Our sort, we gets born here."
"And you have worked in this hotel for some time, I gather."
"Why, bless you, Missie Lady, I was working here when I was no higher than that." He indicated the height of a boy about ten years old. "Opening doors, I were, all dressed up in my fancy clothes. I was proud and happy all the day. Master he said to me: 4 You work hard, Obadiah, and there's no knowing where you can get to.' That weren't this master. Twere the other."
"Oh ... the other?"
"This 'un's Pa. A big fine fellow, like Master. 'E were Master's Pa. And now it's for Master to get himself a wife and a little 'un or two so's the plantation goes on."
"I see. Master is Mr. Harrington."
"Oh yes, he's Master. Owns about everything here, he does. He's the big man. He's the master. We want to see him with a wife and little 'uns."
"So he has no wife yet."
"No, Missie Lady, no wife. We thought when he came back he would bring one of them with him. They always likes wives to come across the sea. Nothing here fits the likes of the Master ... not for a wife, that is. Though there be Mrs. Manuel. But, you see, she wasn't free when he went away. Different story now."
Here was Mrs. Manuel again! I gathered she was a good friend of Milton Harrington. I felt a little stab of something like concern. Jealousy? Uneasiness? I really was letting myself become involved with that man.
"And what of Mrs. Manuel now?" I asked.
"Oh, well... we'll be seeing now. It's good. Master coming back without a wife ... perhaps."
"You mean Mrs. Manuel is now free to become the Master's wife?"
"Master don't like talk about himself."
"Who does?"
He put his finger to his nose which I construed as meaning that he was realizing he had been a little indiscreet and he would prefer me to keep what he had said to myself.
I nodded in response and I went on, changing the subject: "Obadiah, can you remember back... about two years?"
"Two years. Why ... what's that for?"
"You'd remember people who stayed here, wouldn't you? People from over the seas?"
Obadiah tapped his head and grinned. "It's all up here," he said. "I remember back years and years."
"Do you remember a gentleman who stayed here for a while? A Mr. Philip Mallory?"
"A Mr. Philip Mallory. Now... that seems to bring back something."
"He was a young man who stayed here. It was about two years ago."
Obadiah rolled his eyes upwards and said: "Surely. I can remember him. A very pleasant gentleman."
"He was my brother."
"Your brother, Missie Lady, you don't say!"
"You must have seen him often."
"Oh yes. I see him."
"And what happened?"
"Well, he were here ... and then he weren't here."
"Where did he go? Have you any idea?"
Obadiah scratched his head thoughtfully.
"Wasn't he one of them that do charts?"
"That's right," I said eagerly.
"Oh well, he went off charting, I reckon."
"How did he go? Where did he go?"
"He just went."
"Did anyone go with him?"
"Oh, I couldn't say as to that."
"Try to think. How long did he stay here?"
Obadiah shook his head. "Could have been one week. Could have been two... and then again it might have been three or four ..."