4 When she first saw him, Slim Jackson reminded Hattie of the Masai warriors she'd seen in the National Geographic magazine Pa had ordered monthly from America in her childhood they'd pore over the photographs together on Sunday afternoons after church and explore the pictures and stories of places and people beyond the farm, village and surrounding towns Pa had travelled across Europe in the army, he'd been to Egypt and Gallipoli, developed an appetite for things foreign Hattie met Slim in 1945 at an afternoon dance in Newcastle for demobbed American Negro regiments who were due to be sent home it was her first dance in the big city, her parents sat outside in the farm truck, praying she'd meet someone
she'd had no luck so far Hattie was astonished at the number of other coloured Englishwomen there, who'd travelled from as far afield as Cardiff, Bristol, Glasgow, Liverpool, London they were all kinds of mixtures, most with a white mother, which came out when they got chatting in the powder room Hattie felt instantly comfortable among these girls, who all looked like versions of herself, she'd never felt so welcomed they were surprised she worked on a farm, felt sorry for her as they re- applied lipstick and powdered their faces in the mirror, posing like they were all beauty queens whereas she looked plain, wore no make-up, which really won't do, one of the girls said, and set to brightening up features Hattie had thought of as plain the women cooed over her and said now you look pretty, Hattie when she looked at the red on her cheeks and her lips in the mirror, she agreed the other girls wore glamorous taffeta dresses which showed off their waists, and long white gloves, and stilettos Hattie felt embarrassed by the dowdy dress Ma had made her from Woman's Weekly inside the hall the band played swing music, the dance floor was a swirl of girls in dresses as colourful as butterflies and smart green soldiers' uniforms, everyone pairing up, none of the girls were left as wallflowers, which had been Hattie's fate at local barn dances only her father would take her for a spin the girls agreed that most Englishmen wouldn't touch them with a bargepole, other than to expect easy sex, and African or West Indian men were few and far between every one of them was a belle of the ball at this dance, as the soldiers made quite clear, in thrall to such high-class, light-skinned ladies the women laughed at the compliments, were used to being treated as the lowest of the low some said this was their last chance before the soldiers departed for the United States of America some dreamed of being taken back there as wives
Hattie sat at a table with three Irish-Nigerian sisters, Annie, Bettina and Juliana, all training to be nurses, who were more full of life than anyone she'd ever met, she found herself giggling at their outrageous flirting with the soldiers she invited them to visit her at the farm they scoffed at the very idea, a farm? oh Hattie, how funny you are, we're going forwards not backwards, you're a pet we're going to London once we're qualified, we'll write so you can visit us to this day she wonders what happened to them Slim approached her to do the foxtrot she was flattered, shy at first, avoided his gaze, he openly admired her creamy complexion, girl, those blushing cheeks alone will give you high stock value back home in Georgia he was long and thin, his skin shiny and silky he was the first man to make her feel ladylike instead of like a workhorse who spent all day getting dirt underneath her fingernails they married within the year, Ma and Pa approved, glad she'd found someone to look after her when they were gone Slim liked her parents and they liked him for who he was Pa said he was the son he never had, and once took Hattie aside, said he was relieved that Slim didn't try and boss her around fat chance that, she replied for his part, Slim didn't like the English weather, but he liked the people, said he felt more respected here, he hadn't been called boy once and when he rode his bicycle thereabouts, he wasn't worried folks were gonna don white hoods, burn crosses and lynch him it's why I'm never going home, Hattie Slim came from sharecropping stock, his people farmed land but never owned it his father had to give half his sugar cane yield to the landowner, was in never-ending debt to the merchant who sold them seeds, clothes and tools, and ran the risk of eviction if the crop failed Slim said many of his people left the land after slavery because it reminded them of it
the government had promised them all forty acres and a mule it was the bitterest pill when it didn't deliver, folks had to stay wage slaves now he was married to Hattie, the land he worked was one day going to be his hers too, she reminded him most people took favourably to Slim, he was confident and talkative, spoke to strangers, even hostile ones, diffusing their animosity, especially when they heard his accent, they praised his courteousness, his yes m'ams and no sirs, they liked the way he opened doors for women, tipped his hat at men, making them feel respected especially when he sang in his stirring baritone in church, at harvest festivals, Christmas carols, birthday parties, barn dances, strumming a guitar or a washboard as accompaniment she and him enjoyed their conjugals for the most part, once they discovered that him putting it in and taking it out wasn't enough for her it only waned when his mental prowess did they were together over forty years, she's not been touched in a sensual way in the thirty years since she can still feel his manly farmer's hands holding her naked buttocks, complaining there wasn't enough meat on them although he admired her physical strength Slim boasted she could steer a plough as good as any man hotdamn, Hattie, hotdamn!