Page 59 of A Fire in Their Hearts

I tell him about my baby, the plague and deaths, the whippings and punishments, how Calum was taken away from me, about Joseph swinging from the branch and my own terror at believing I was next.

Despite the clock ticking on the mantelpiece time doesn’t seem to exist in that drawing room as I relive my life to this stranger who saved my body but can never save me.

When I finish, he sits without speaking, occasionally wiping away a tear.

That he should cry is, well .?.?. he’ll not last a week in this godforsaken place.

‘I’m sorry beyond words for the things that have happened to you.

There is nothing I can do about events in the past. However, I can affect what happens in the future.

The ship that brought me will leave in a few days, once its supplies have been replenished and the cargo of sugar is loaded.

I will pay for your passage back to Scotland and provide papers to show you are a free woman. ’

‘You should also leave on the ship,’ I tell him, ‘for this place will destroy you, despite being an owner.’ I don’t call him master and he doesn’t seem to expect it.

‘One man alone cannot undo such evil. It’s in the soil, in the sugar that sweetens the tea of European ladies and gentlemen. It’s in the very air we breathe.’

He nods along, yet I see the anxious struggle in his eyes, in the way he wrings his hands.

‘My future was meant to be in the Kirk, a minister like your Samuel. I fear you may be right that this is not the place for me, yet for now I’m as trapped as anyone.’

*?*?*

Over the following days I’m like a ghost. People rarely even acknowledge my presence. It’s as if I’ve already left. Only Tamar and I talk. Out of sight of others we say our farewells. She sheds tears for her mother and for others. I don’t cry – I’m done with that.

On the day before the ship is due to depart, I go early to the cemetery. Men, women, children, slaves, workers, masters .?.?. they rot under the soil as equals in a way that’s unimaginable when walking on top of it.

I kneel by the grave of my beautiful baby boy.

Conceived out of fear and loathing yet loved from the moment he drew breath.

Such a short life. At least Duncan was free throughout it.

I stay for a while, remembering his baby sounds, how it felt to hold his tiny body, how his fingers were so small yet so strong.

I’ll never know the man he would have become.

Finally, I gently kiss the wooden cross and move on.

I reach Rory’s grave. The cross has fallen over, so I straighten it, though it will probably fall over again in the next high wind.

He once said that the only things certain to grow on Barbados were sugar canes and cemeteries.

He was right. How many people lie here who I have known, sometimes loved, sometimes hated?

There are so many stories buried within this earth.

Even Findlay is somewhere. He was found dead in his bed one morning and for all that I despised him, he was a part of my story.

Who will know in the future what has happened here in the past?

The simple wooden markers will be eaten by insects.

New masters and slaves will work, live and die.

The production of sugar will continue as surely as the rising of the sun.

Yet nobody will know of the suffering and despair that has occurred, for this shall disappear into the shadows of the suffering and despair still to come.

I pass by other graves .?.?. Alan, Comar, Abraham, Naomi, Thaddeus, who died young as he predicted.

Then I come to Joseph’s. How many times have I asked for his forgiveness?

I don’t go near the resting place of Drummond.

Despite all our time together I never understood him and he often took me by surprise.

He never understood me either, although I’m not sure I ever surprised him.

‘I apologise for intruding into your privacy.’ Young Drummond has approached without me realising. ‘I have to ride over to Martin Bay. You’ll need to get to Bridgetown today and board the Edinburgh . The captain will almost certainly take the morning tide.

‘I wanted to give you this before I go,’ he says, handing over a purse that contains coins by the feel of it. ‘And these, of course.’ He gives me a roll of canvas tied with twine. ‘Your papers, which prove you’re a free woman. Keep them safe, Violet.’

Nobody had the right to take away my freedom, but I thank him. ‘When you finally leave the island,’ I say, ‘take Tamar. Either keep her safe with you in Britain or set her free, but don’t leave her behind.’

‘Why Tamar in particular?’

‘Because she’s your cousin.’

He stares at me for a moment. ‘I see.’

‘The one decent act your uncle did was to forbid any man to touch her. He wouldn’t himself, so she’s never been hurt physically and has also stayed .?.?. intact.’

Reluctant or not, he nods his agreement. ‘I’ll make sure no one does anything inappropriate.’

‘If a man raped her, would you hang him?’

He flinches at the brutality of the question and, I suspect, being asked it by a woman.

‘Well .?.?. no, I couldn’t do that.’

‘Then you can’t protect her. The men won’t fear you like they feared your uncle. Keep her in the big house.’

‘All right, I will. And I promise to take her with me when I return to Britain, although only the good Lord knows when that might be.’

I can’t hope to get anything more from him and feel that I’ve fulfilled my promise to Comar to look after her daughter.

Our parting is awkward. How can two people connected as we are possibly say goodbye to each other?

He wishes me well. I don’t reply and in silence watch as he goes to his horse and rides away.

I’m left standing in the cemetery by myself and decide to leave.

I don’t have any possessions to collect because I’m wearing them.

Nearly everyone is working in the fields.

I pass along the track, which is too far away to call out.

However, I’m spotted and several pause to stare.

A few wave, including Thomas. I stop and hold up a hand.

When I first arrived on the plantation poor Thomas was not much more than a boy and one of the people we thought wouldn’t survive.

Yet here he is these many years later. It shows how wrong we can be in judging others.

McKinnon stares across the field. He’s old now and has to rely on younger thugs to terrify others and carry out punishments. He shouts at those around him to get back to work and I walk on so that I’m not a distraction.

Eventually, I leave the boundary of the plantation.

Although there’s no one around I feel vulnerable, as if strangers are going to jump out from behind a rock and take me to another place for it all to start again.

I put my hand into the pocket containing the papers and close it around the canvas roll.

When I arrive at Bridgetown I go to the harbour and speak with a sailor on the Edinburgh .

He confirms they will leave early in the morning.

Discovering I have a few hours to spare, I head into the town itself and with almost every step my amazement increases.

Apart from the day we arrived on Barbados I’ve never been to the island’s major town.

The sheer variety and number of shops, warehouses, taverns and grand buildings is beyond anything I’ve ever experienced.

I hear many languages I don’t understand while the hugely different forms of attire reveal just how far some people have travelled.

Although nobody appears to take any notice of me my hand never lets go of my purse and papers.

I hunt out shops selling clothes but the first ones I encounter display ballgowns in the window, ridiculous, frilly items for the wives, or mistresses, of rich planters.

Indeed, some of the women I’ve seen strolling along in pairs and with a large male slave behind them are dressed to show off their wealth.

I carry on until I find a shop selling clothes for women that appear suitable for what I need, yet I hesitate at the doorway.

It’s only at this moment I realise I’ve never entered a shop before, not like this one.

So I wait, unsure and fearful. Did I ever really fight the king’s army at Bothwell Bridge?

I open the door and step inside. A woman watches me enter from behind the counter, a person who has seen something of the world.

She assesses me with a single glance but speaks respectfully, nonetheless.

‘How may I help?’

‘I’m to sail back to Scotland tomorrow and have nothing more than what I’m wearing. I have money to pay.’

She comes around to face me and studies my body not, I feel, out of any hostility but to better gauge what is needed. ‘These will certainly not do for a Scottish climate. And you also need everything else for your journey?’

‘Yes, I suppose I do.’

The next instant the shop owner shouts out instructions, which initially confuses me until a young girl appears and immediately starts to fetch items.

‘Come into the backroom.’

Over the next few minutes the girl fetches a selection of petticoats, waistcoats, stays, stockings, shoes, coats. All of them suitable for where I’m going and for my size. I strip off in front of the owner and she starts to hand me items. Dressing a naked woman is simply part of her job.

‘This .?.?. this .?.?.’

I dress in the order she hands me clothes and when I’m half-dressed, she stops and goes over to a drawer to pull out what looks like a wide cloth belt with sewn sections.

‘That purse which you’re trying so hard to hide amongst your old clothes is too easy to steal,’ she says, reaching around my waist to fit the belt.

‘Split up your coins into these and they’ll be safe even when you’re asleep.

Just keep enough in your purse to have some handy.

When you entered my shop you didn’t look as if you had anything worth stealing.

When you walk out, thieves will look at you differently. ’

I hadn’t expected that anyone in this town would want to watch out for my safety. ‘Thank you.’

‘Excuse me for a moment.’

I appreciate the gesture for while I’m alone I distribute the coins, leaving what I hope is enough for my purchases and a little extra. She returns shortly afterwards carrying a strong, canvas bag, which she lays down nearby.

‘Come, let’s finish.’

When I’m dressed, with spare clothes, and a warm kerchief and blanket in my bag along with other items such as a comb and small mending kit, I assume that our business is complete. However, the owner beckons me over to a nearby cabinet.

‘I wouldn’t suggest this to every customer, and I hope you’ll forgive my presumption .?.?.’

She unlocks a drawer and opens it. I study the contents without moving or making comment.

They’re all small enough to keep in a pocket, rather than hanging on a belt as a man might do.

I pick one up and pull the blade out of the leather sheath.

Despite its size it’s potentially a lethal weapon. The handle fits well in my hand.

‘I’ll take this.’

‘A good choice,’ she says, closing and locking the drawer. ‘Don’t keep it in your bag or you’ll never reach it quickly enough, should the need arise.’

I nod my agreement and slip it into a pocket. I have no concept of the cost of these items but rely on my instincts that she will not cheat me.

‘Leave your old clothes if you want and I’ll take something off the price. Let’s say four pounds five shillings.’

I hand over the coins. ‘Thank you, for everything.’

‘My advice is free and if your ship is at harbour, I suggest going straight on board until it sails. Good luck in your new life in Scotland.’

I head in what I believe will be the most direct route to the harbour, making sure I don’t take any alleyways or stray into a street or area that feels dangerous. I’ve not been in this part of the town and soon find myself walking past the edge of a market square. I stop.

A large crowd has gathered around a raised platform. When I arrived ten years ago there were adults being sold, this time it’s naked girls of about eleven years old. The buyers are women, who walk along the line speaking to the girls and physically checking them, sometimes intimately.

Men in the crowd shout obscene comments.

I’ve heard stories about what’s happening here for these women are the owners of large brothels in Bridgetown, buying young girls who have been born on the island and destined since birth to be sold as prostitutes.

I’ve seen enough, seen more than enough, and move on quickly, arriving soon afterwards at the harbour, where I’m allowed on board the Edinburgh .

I find a place on deck out of the way of everyone but from where I can sit in my respectable, sturdy clothes and watch the many activities around the quayside.

As I hug the canvas bag containing all of my other new possessions, part of me wonders whether it might not have been better if young Drummond had arrived at that barn just a few seconds later.