Dada 56

He was tolerant given all the time he had spent with Detectives ,in prison or doing his ‘corrective time’ when he was a prisoner for years in his own house. There was sometimes talk of another daughter but I had never met her and my mother did not say anything.

He was taken to the white rajah’s one day, to the governor’s house that ruled this part of the island for over a hundred years. His stepfather was instructed to attend along with his wife and son. The house had a pale blue wooden fence waist high around the perimeter; and was built in the style of a northern French chateau though my dada did not know that at the time. There were rose bushes in the garden and pools of water for fish. The house looked down over the harbour from where the rajahs had arrived. When his stepfather had given his report of the production on the estate up the country, the Rajah put his hand up to signal a pause.

‘How is your family’ he asked.

My dada told me he could feel his stepfather’s eyes flicker over himself and his mother. Their faces were turned down as they had been told.

‘Let me see your eyes boy’ my Dada raised his chin. The Rajah looked at him closely.

‘Very good’ he said, ‘very good.’

He raised his hand again to signal it was time for the meeting to end. The smell of roses and grass came in through the window. They had been in the room for less than five minutes.