Reverend Julian did
not come to the house the following day as he had promised. He called in the
afternoon and said he had some urgent business to attend to at the church. I
was glad he wasn’t coming by. It was Christmas Eve and there were so many
things to be done. Luckily I had already baked the Christmas Plum Puddings from
last week and placed them in airtight tins. I ‘watered’ them liberally everyday
with a mixture of rum and wine. I held the recipe to my Christmas Plum Pudding
close to my heart. It was a secret handed down to me from my Grandmother
Charmaine, which she said was handed down to her from her Grandmother. Not even
Maud knew the recipe. Every year I would lock
myself away in the kitchen after
midnight to bake. My friends and coworkers looked forward to getting this
pudding as their special Christmas present. I just needed time to gift-wrap
them with that beautiful Christmas-themed cellophane paper and those gorgeous red and green bows, that I had bought on my
Paris trip. Maud had managed to put up the new drapes in the living
room and had also decorated the Christmas tree. The huge white hen that strutted about the yard as if she was Queen Elizabeth was killed, plucked and ready to be roasted. Killing a fowl
was not one of the things that I liked doing, but Maud took delight in doing it.
She placed a large wash pan over the hen, leaving the head out, her foot on the
wash pan to secure it and then she used a sharp knife to cut off the head of
the hen. You could hear the hen fluttering about underneath the wash pan until
it died! I remember one time when Maud forgot to secure the wash pan with her
foot and when she cut off the head of the fowl the fowl sprang up and out from
underneath the wash pan and it was a sight to see the headless fowl running up
and down the yard until it fell dead! Maud laughed and laughed and laughed but
I did not find it funny. The goat was curried and ready to be cooked and the
beef was well seasoned. The pot roast was going to be exceptional this year.
The ginger beer was ready and I did remember to add the yeast to it this time.
I was going to make the potato pudding later tonight when I knew the children
of the migrants had gone to bed. I was baking it the old fashioned way in a Dutch
pot on the coal stove out in the yard and I would not want them to get curious, get too near to it
and cause it to topple over. They would not see heaven, it would be hell if
they messed with my hallelujah! Thankfully Maud had managed to keep them quiet
and out of my way. When I checked on the mother and newborn earlier they were
both doing fine. The birthday boy was playing with a stuffed toy and everything
seemed perfect until I ask the mother when would they be leaving. After all,
the next day was Christmas, she must have family that she could go and
celebrate Christmas with. Maud looked at me strangely as I waited for the
mother to respond to my question. Maud asked if she could speak with me outside. Outside, Maud
reminded me that the woman had nowhere to go as they had killed her Babyfather.
What about her parents? I enquired. Maud said that the woman had received a
threatening phone call last night from an unknown person who told her that if
she returned to Spanish Town her entire family would be killed including the
baby on her breast! I am sorry to hear that but they can’t stay here, I said to
Maud. ‘But Ma’am! It’s Christmas!’ I don’t care, I replied. They can’t stay! I
started to walk away and turned back to tell her that they could stay for
Christmas Day but they must leave by Boxing Day and if it means that I have to
call the Police to get them out then so be it! I walked away this time without
looking back, ignoring Maud’s pleas for me to have mercy on them. Since she was
hell bent on them taking over my border I would deal with her on Boxing Day.
Maybe she could go with them. Lord knows I am tired of her always trying to go
against my wishes!
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