Natalee Grant, Contributor

Natalee Grant

Haste was necessary in her line of her work, making change in a hurry was a prerequisite and sidewalk surfing a necessary skill.

The blare of a car horn broke her concentration and she jumped back onto the sidewalk and nervously adjusted the cache of dollars in her bosom.

"Fifty dalla gi yuh three biscuit," Linda shouted as she walked over to a group of people waiting for the bus. She held her breath while a giggling teenager made up her mind.

"Gimmi it," the girl said, finally.

Linda reached into the transparent bag holding her merchandise. The teenager clumsily handed her five coins, causing two to fall into the stagnant water that decorated the sidewalks. Linda sighed and stuffed what she got into her pocket.

Someone else called out, but before she could get there, three other vendors rushed up. She sighed and looked around for more prospective buyers.

"Fifty dalla gi yuh three biscuit" she continued. She had only made four sales for the day.

"Fifty dalla gi yuh three biscuit" she announced again going into a bus.

A middle-aged man at the back of the bus beckoned, waving a crisp $50 bill. Once more, she put her hand into the bag, then, thankfully took the bill and got off the bus before the conductor saw her.

"Biscuit" someone called. This time, she was first. A doting mother bought the biscuits for her son who was standing beside her. Linda smiled obligingly at the little boy.

She thought of her own children. Her eldest Lisa was almost 14. She was so serious and nagged Linda every day about wanting to be a model. Her boys were 12, 11 and four, all hearty eaters with heaven-sent smiles and a penchant for mischief.

She walked back to the centre of the plaza, remembering the reaction of her youngest to the fancy fast food dinner she surprised them with the previous evening. Jovan sang the TV ad for weeks, with the box in his hand, the song had taken on a whole new life.

Walking the streets in the sweltering heat, the hustle was all worth it when she saw her children, her boys decked out in their football gear, her daughter proudly practising her walk in front of the mirror.

As she turned the corner of David Lane that evening, she looked among the half-naked boys playing in the street to see if her sons were among them. She thanked God they weren't. That was the one thing she was most proud of. Her children always stayed in the house.

For months, she had been entertaining the idea of going back to the country, just packing up her little things and heading back to 'yard'. Her children would be safer there, she knew. David Lane was not a place to raise children; she was always afraid that something would happen to them.

She was concerned about the men watching her daughter's burgeoning womanhood, smiling with her and giving her little gifts. She had recently confronted Roy, the mechanic who lived in the room at the back, warned him and told him to avoid her daughter or she would let Tiny (his babymother) know about his wondering eyes.

Her sons all went to the same school and she insisted that they all come home together, lock the doors and watch television until their sister came home.

There was a pronounced pain in her hip. She had injured herself trying to hop onto a coaster. The pain intensified with every step, but the thought of seeing her children lessened the ache. Finally, she reached the tenement she lived in. Two of her neighbours were sitting on the steps that led to their dwellings.

"Good night, Tiny"

'Miss G"

"Yah come in from the hustling?" Miss G asked, looking up from her crocheting

'Yes maam, so it go," said Linda. She pushed her door open and went in. In the midst of the sparse furnishings and unattractive decor were her children huddled together on the floor, her sons playing with elastic bands; her daughter glued to the television.

She shook her head. Tears filled her eyes. Her four-year-old greeted her, grabbing on to her skirt. She hugged him, the plastic bags swinging in her hand and walked over to the stove.

Before long, Linda had prepared a meal and served it to her children dropping three dumplings in a pot of gravy for herself. A knock interrupted their quiet feasting.

"Who is that?" Linda called, Dutch pot in hand.

She opened the door when she recognised the voice; it was Tony, father of her last child. They looked at each other through the slightly opened door. Linda was breathless, all of a sudden, a confusion of feelings rose up inside her.

"What happen Linda?" Tony asked.

'Mi can't complain."

She turned her back to him and placed her hands on the back of the chair to steady herself. Tony was just like the rest - they had all taken from her.

"Linda, since yuh lef mi, mi really a meet it"

Her back stiffened at his words. She remembered the last time she heard words like that, she had given, he had taken then he was gone. She would not be a fool, again.

"Linda, mi can talk to yuh?"

She steeled herself for whatever was to come. "Talk nuh, Tony."

"Not here, Linda."

She turned and looked at him, then. There was a look of desperation in his eyes. She looked at her children, then looked at him. Whatever he had to say could not be said in front of them .

"Alright mi soon come back" she said to her children who were engrossed in the process of devouring the meal she had prepared.

As she turned the key in the lock, she hesitated, listening on the other side of the door, the clatter of cutlery and dishes made her smile. She pushed the key in her pocket and they both walked out into the night air. He grabbed her arm and led her out of the yard to the curious looks of her neighbours.

Tiny's laugh followed them out as they closed the gate and headed onto the street. Linda knew what they were saying. They were saying she was a fool for listening to Tony, again. They had heard him deny his son. She pulled her hand away from his.

"Mi jus waan talk, Linda."

"Talk, Tony," she said stopping to adopt a more aggressive stance.

"Linda mi a go pon farm work," he blurted out grabbing her hand again.

"What?" she said, taken aback.

"Mi a go foreign pan farm work and mi really waan try help you and the children dem."

Linda held her breath as he continued.

He held both her hands now. She searched his eyes for the deceptive gleam that previously she had stupidly ignored, but it wasn't there.

"Mi sorry fi all the things mi put you through, as soon as mi go over there I will send some money and help out wid di children dem. All I need is a place to stay until I leave."

Linda dropped her hands, anger swelling in her throat

"So, that's what this help thing is about?" she held up her hand before he could interrupt her. "I don't have anything, I am barely scraping through."

He reached into his pockets and took out some papers.

"I get these from the agency. I really going and not asking for anything. I just need a place to stay until is my time to go"

She looked at them, she looked at him. She felt herself giving in. The quiet desperation in his eyes was slowly winning her over. She couldn't let him down. Maybe he could help her and her children this time.

She took the papers from his hands and examined them closely.

"When yuh leaving?" she asked. He grabbed her hands and smiled.

"Two weeks."

She walked him to the bus terminus. She lost track of time and place listening to all the wonderful things Tony was going to do for them. Maybe she didn't have to go to the country after all, the money he promised to send would make life much easier for her family.

She ignored the nagging reminders of promises broken in the past, the sting of his betrayal. She ignored the reminder of the hurt she had felt when he told her her four-year-old was not his son.

She waved at him as the bus pulled out of the terminus, heady with the promise of what was to come, maybe she could do some travelling herself go to Curacao and buy and sell. The children could travel as well.

She remembered finding the crumpled school circular advertising a trip to Disney land in her daughter's bag Charmalee had not even asked her, knowing she would never have enough money to send her on that trip. Now if things went well with Tony, they would be able to do all that and more.

She fiddled around for some change in her pocket as she passed Muriel's grocery maybe she could get a small box of Oats for some porridge in the morning.

The piercing shriek of a fire engine rang out and she gingerly climbed the steps to the shop her hip pain had returned with a vengeance. She leaned on the counter, rapped twice and waited for Muriel. He didn't like people shouting his name.

He burst out of the back room were he kept the meat, his bloodied apron half way opver his head.

"Wat happen, Muriel?"

"Some weh a bun dung pan David Lane"

Linda's heart sank. Se dashed out of the shop with the speed of a tiger. She ran blindly up the avenue, the pain in her hip forgotten. She ran like a crazy woman the key slapping against her leg. Oh God, the children, she had locked them in, let it not be my house, not my yard. Not my children. God, not when everything is going to happen for us.

THE GLEANER: A tenement On David lane burned to the ground last night, four children perished in the blaze and 10 people are now homeless.

Muriel looked up from the paper at that moment for there was a commotion outside. He strained through the pigeon hole security fence he had put up.

A small crowd had gathered to gawk at a woman covered in soot. Her hands were clearly burnt, her eyes were wild. A pronounced limp hampered her movements, a key was elevated sacredly in her hands.

"Fifty dalla gi yuh three biscuit" she said.