His Little Black Book

Mum, on the bed holding his hand. Me on the other side. We could see the last breathe leave his body. His best friend, Uncle Delroy and Auntie Jane, my husband John holding James, our son with his gaze. My brother Arthur with his wife in a protective circle around him. Around Winston, my dad.

Grief took hold of me. I literally jumped up and words pour out rather than tears. ‘Wait’ I say, ‘we can cry later. Dad wanted to be in his bed, in this room, at home with us when he left this world. He made that clear and we have fulfilled that request. Us, flooding into tears is not how he would want to go. So, let’s picture him, smiling, playing dominoes with Delroy, glass of rum in hand. Him calling out to Mum, ‘Gloria, got any of those garlic pitta chips me like left?’

Let’s mark this moment, his passing to the great beach in the sky with a toast. We can cry later’

I turn towards the door and bolt out of his room. Tears gentle on my cheek and mind. The soft grey carpet that covers each step almost cushions the hard blow to my heart as I climb down the staircase to get the rum and glasses. Mount Gay, his favourite.

I stop and pause before opening the living room door, walk over to the wooden, globe shaped drinks cabinet. He was so proud of that. He told me over and over

‘I brought that Globe to remind me that I always wanted to travel. No matter how hard the journey gets, the world is bigger than me, somebody somewhere, just like me is hoping for better. I would sit under Auntie’s mango tree and daydream of seeing Big Ben, or the Eiffel Tower or Texas with its cowboys and cactus.

Finally, when I turned 19, I had the chance to make the dream come true. My Uncle John said to me ‘Seems you gonna make more use of this than me boy, now you got accepted to go to England. Whatever happen, study hard and be the best nurse you can be. When you can, write to your Auntie and me. Tell what Buckingham Palace actually look like and all dat.’

Back in them days, England seem to hold such hope, we were told it was a land of endless, glorious possibilities and opportunities. I never lost hope of a great life. Your mother and the Georgetown Guys did find a good life here in London – all we did was swap one small island for another small island. My only wish is that I’d brung the sunshine in that battered suitcase too! Instead I had £5, some clothes, a bible and a bottle of Mount Gay to celebrate arriving in the Land of Hope and Glory.

Them early days were hard you know. Two long months at sea and what I find when me arrive in London? Rain. Hard, cold rain. I never did get used to the rain here, and I come from a place where cyclones happen all the time. Then there were people looking at me funny, crossing to the other side of the street, yelling at me in the street or refusing to serve me in the shop. The way we had to do a conversion course when they told us our nursing training was at a lower level. Not being their when my Auntie passed. Even though me knew it before leaving Georgetown, it was still a shock to see so few people with same skin tone as me for years. All I could think was what Pickney Percy, my brother, your uncle say to me ‘Everyone gat a heart, don’t they? That gave me courage.

Luckily for me, when I walked into the nurses accommodation, the first thing me see when me walk in the door was Delroy, ‘Want some tea’ he say. I reply ‘No, we need a little rum and some dominoes’ Let’s celebrate passing through the Red Sea into our promised land. Good bye the old life, hello new horizons.’

The clink of a glass on the tray jolted me back to the reality that my father had just passed

As I opened the globe to get the rum, there was none. There was usually a rogue bottle in the cupboard under the stairs, so I went to get that. As I opened the door, there was his suitcase. I took it out and held it close to me for a second. I smiled and put it down. I pulled the out the rum and went back into the living room to get the tray of glasses.

I climbed back up those stairs, it was a slow and careful ascent up a mountain of grief. The door to my dad’s room was like reaching base camp of Everest. I had only reached the start of the climb, the peak was yet to be scaled. I take a slow deep breath, push the handle door and walk into this room of altered lives

The un-cried tears and shock in the room was paused. The charged glassed were distributed. One more deep breath, and Arthur’s voice fills the air

‘To Dad. He toasted his arrival here, we toast he is departure. Only wish I had understood your struggles sooner. Thanks for being a pioneer. May the legacy be us thriving as good homesteaders. When we join you to have a little rum in Heaven, we’ll pick up this conversation with deeper love and wisdom. See you again. To dad, to Winston.’

We took our shot and then just stood, hugged each other and let the tears flow.

Almost immediately, the time came to deal with the practicalities. The doctor arrived to certify dad’s death. The undertaker came and then we had to pick up the phone and let everyone know Dad had left this life.

I sat down. It was 9pm. It was only me in the house. Mum had gone to stay with Arthur, Uncle Del and Auntie Jane went home. John decided it was best let James sleep in his own bed. The house was quiet. I can even remember the last time I was alone in the house.

I was starving by then. I went to the door and noticed the suitcase was still in the hallway. I took that and my chow Mein and put them on the kitchen table. I began to eat and of course, couldn’t resist the urge to open the suitcase.

The almond silk lining felt soft. I felt something. The suitcase had a fabric pocket. I pulled back the elasticated opening, There was a small black notebook. There was an envelope.

‘Hello. If you are reading this, it is very likely me gone to meet my maker. I’ll keep it brief.

You know how Uncle Del and me played Dominoes twice a month. You know how I usually win! Well I took that money and a very nice man called William managed and invested for me. The black book accounts for all the money I won from Del. 40 years of winnings! Not quite the lottery, but In the end it was quite a lot! Once a month I would give William the winnings and he did his thing.

Many years ago, I was told that Jewish children are taught to give a little money back to God, give a little to those in need and be generous, save a little and invest a little. Use the rest to cover your daily needs. I am sorry that I did not teach you that properly. Anyway, now you know. Master your money, do be a slave to money. Teach the grandchildren that, promise me you will do that.

So, a tithe was given back to God, a little was given away to charity and my family back home. This is what I invested and if you call William, he will tell what the return is. Last time I checked, it was about £20, 000. A little extra something for this rainy day. A surprise, if you will. This money is not for daily needs, it is seed, for the future, for the grandchildren, for you my much loved children. Make sure you use some to take care of your mother. Use it wisely. Invest in the future.

I love you, always did, always will. W’

So, my dad had a little black book. It was not filled with numbers of old flames. It was his record of winning at this game called life with his best friend. And leaving a love legacy.