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backyard.”
    David had learned not to disagree with his elders and humoured them with generous smiles and nods. He kept to himself the knowledge that there wasn’t enough good top-soil in the Claremont valley to serve all of its sons.
    For those fortunate enough to own patches of land, business had been brisk for the Claremont farmers throughout the war years. Farmers with bigger lands beyond the Claremont valley wereobliged to aid the war effort and they found that as soon as they plucked their crops from the soil, someone was waiting to take them to Montego Bay or Kingston for shipping to the motherland: England. German U-boats harassed and targeted these ships, sinking many. Subsequently, there were food shortages in most of the major towns throughout Jamaica for it was deemed that shipping foodstuffs to the motherland carried much more importance than feeding the Jamaican population.
    To make matters worse, many Jamaican farm workers were dispatched to the citrus groves of Florida, to aid the war effort there. However, none of this affected Joseph and his family who inhabited such a remote area that the authorities seemed not to acknowledge their existence or had simply forgotten. A few well-journeyed , tough-footed men knew of the fertile lands around Claremont and they paid a fair price for the groceries on offer, taking it back with them to places like St Anne’s Bay or the blossoming tourist town of Ocho Rios on the north coast where rich white people paid inflated prices for their wares. Claremontonians, despite their unease in the presence of Joseph Rodney, had no reason to dislike his produce and had to admit it was of a very high quality.
    David reached home by 1.15 p.m. He was glad to finish his shift for the constant cuss-cussing of the other ‘higglers’ had grated his nerves. He found that his mother had hooked a string line from the kitchen to the house where the family’s clothes were hung out to dry. Kwarhterleg was lipping a mango by his tree; he hadn’t many teeth to bite with. “Afternoon sa,” he greeted David. “Ya mama, Hortense an’ Jenny are ketching dem sleep. Yuh waan to rest up an’ smoke ah liccle tobacco wid me?”
    “Kwarhterleg! Yuh know me don’t smoke. Where Papa? Still ah work der ah him field?”
    “Yes, sa. David, yuh waan go up der an’ tell him to rest himself. Harvest time ah come soon, by de end of de week. Tell him to save him energy fe dat. Serious t’ing.”
    “Nuh trouble ya head, Kwarhterleg. Sometime Papa ketch him sleep under de palm grove up der.”
    Parking the cart, David then looked in on his mother and sisters. They were blissfully asleep. He placed two coins each by his sisters’ heads, knowing that once they wake up they will both skip into the village and buy themselves ‘box juices’. He emerged again into the hot sun and approached Kwarhterleg, fingering in his pockets for more loose change. He tossed the old man two coins. “Hold dis, Kwarhterleg. Go buy yaself ah Red Stripe or somet’ing. Me gone to look fe Papa to give him ah money we earn today.”
    “T’ank yuh, sa,” Kwarhterleg accepted gratefully. Before he had time to consider what drink he would buy for himself, David was gone.
    Twenty-five minutes later, David found his father snoozing under a palm tree. “Papa. Papa. Wake up now mon. Me ’ave ah money to give yuh.”
    Joseph focussed his eyes and saw his son counting out notes and coins on the ground. “Me sell nuff today, Papa. See de money der.”
    Sitting up, Joseph found his straw hat and placed it on his head. “David, me trus’ yuh y’know. Yuh don’t affe walk up to me plot to give me ah money. Dat is madness. It coulda wait ’til me reach home.”
    “Nuh trouble ya head, Papa. Me jus’ teking ah liccle walk ah hillside up der ah yonder.”
    “Alright. But don’t boder get yaself lost. Yuh know ya mama don’t like it when yuh plant ya foot ah strange land.”
    David picked up a mango from a collection huddled