3

3 Clovis did get work, donkey work as a stevedore in Plymouth carried huge barrels and heavy sacks from the ships to the warehouses and from the warehouses to the trucks he got on with the other stevedores, many was seasoned former seamen who didn't think he'd dropped from Mars they'd go for drinks after work, he came home tipsy on good nights, drunk on bad ones after I'd put the children to bed, the three I had in as many years I was left alone with the children all day and all evening I heard people cuss as they passed me, very few were friendly

I was served last in whatever shop I went into, even when I was first in the queue cars deliberately drove into puddles when I was pushing Shirley in her black bassinet and the two boys was attached to harnesses either side of me I was the one to find a dead rat on our doorstep I was the one to live with GO HOME daubed in white paint on our front door until Clovis painted over it I was the one who had to spend my evenings alone and scared they was going to throw a petrol-soaked rag through the window however, Rachel, one thing I learnt from my time down there, is that if you stay somewhere long enough, and behave in a civilized manner, people will get used to you Mrs Beresford, an elderly widow, who lived a few doors down, was the first to have a proper chat she used to stoop down into the pram to stroke Shirley's cheek, who grasped her fingers and wouldn't let go babies are innocent, Mrs Beresford said, this is an agreeable place to live, Mrs Robinson, once people get to know you she handed the boys sherbet fountains and they eagerly snatched them before I could object because I didn't let them eat sweets, another bad English custom I did allow them a small slice of the pound cake Mrs Beresford brought around on her first visit she introduced me to Mrs Wright and Mrs Missingham, both from the local church, at a special tea she laid on for me and the children after school one day it was my first time in an English person's home, I remember it clear as daylight and wanting a home like this for my family there was a rug of flowers over wooden floorboards in the sitting room, rose wallpaper, lots of pictures hung up, a heavy dresser with plates displayed in rows as if they were ornaments, which I found odd, heavy drapes at the window and a luxurious settee, or so it seemed to me, as well as to Tony and Errol who bounced up and down on it until I had to tell them to stop because Mrs Beresford was too polite to do so herself she showed me how to toast crumpets over the coal fire how to make tea using proper milk and not condensed

how to put the milk in last and not first Mrs Beresford invited us to church and when my family of five entered the drive, her and Mrs Wright and Mrs Missingham greeted us as if we was long-lost friends they each took a child protectively by the hand and walked us in even at the park the mothers got tired of calling their own children away from ours as if they might catch leprosy very small children don't care about skin colour, Rachel, until they're brainwashed by their parents when Tony started at Everdene Primary School, followed by Errol, they came home in tears because the kids called them Sooty they was getting caned and made to stand in a corner of the classroom with their faces turned to the wall by teachers who picked on them it wasn't us, Mummy, they'd complain, it wasn't us me and Clovis drummed it into our boys to behave well at all times we knew our boys was lively but they wasn't bad one time I was waiting to collect them at the school gate and saw two older boys jump Tony who fought back, my brave little boy as I rushed towards him Mr Moray the headmaster got there first, grabbed Tony by the scruff of his blazer and marched him back into the building the two bully boys laughed, dusted themselves off, picked up their satchels, walked scot-free out of the gates when Shirley started primary school, she too came home crying at being called Sooty no matter how many times Clovis marched up to the school to tell Mr Watson to tell the children to stop picking on his pickney then another coloured girl joined the school, a likkle half-caste called Estelle who was light-skinned with light hair that fell in Shirley Temple ringlets Estelle was the type of red-skinned child people call pretty on account of it her mother was one of those long-haired beatnik-types who wore black slacks, a beret, and a scruffy leather jacket like Marlon Brando

I was properly attired: below-the-knee dress, cardigan, coat, tights, shoes, headscarf tied under my chin Vivienne tried to talk to me at the school gate, she was a painter, Estelle's father was a Cape Coloured in exile from apartheid in South Africa what was apartheid or a Cape Coloured? don't look so shocked, Rachel, apartheid wasn't general knowledge in those days, anyway Vivienne soon gave up trying to be my friend, which was fine because we had nothing in common – not even our daughters Estelle was treated nicely by the teachers, who greeted the children when they arrived each morning, most of them ignored Shirley, who was too young to notice Estelle, who couldn't hold a tune, was cast as Mary in the school nativity play and sung solos Shirley, who had a lovely voice, was cast as a palm tree and made to stand at the back of the stage along with the boy with a hare lip and the girl with a club foot the next day I told Clovis, you can stay here but the mother of your children is returning to London with them.