‘True, but the cousin dem all from the other side of the family, from Old Massa William side. And she never like any of dem.’

Is the first time I think proper bout Mistress Margaret, what her life must be like. I never think she not happy with the life she born into, that she might want a different one.

‘She a prisoner of fate,’ I say.

Melon nod her head. ‘Even though she free and not a slave.’

Sydney is the only one of us that lucky. Seem like fate favour the wicked. Mistress Margaret taking her with her to her new home up in Clarendon. She must be happy bout it, because she finally going leave the past and what she done at the trial behind.

Then we discover Rock Pleasant get sold to what backra call absentee owner. And it seem like fate shine on Busha Davis, too. Him going have all the power now, running the plantation with no Massa telling him what to do.

As to Eliza, Sammy and me, is a sorry business Rock Pleasant getting sold. Is the only home we know. All of us born here, luckily we going get sold, to the same owner. But when we leave, we going leave behind everything that mean we belong somewhere. The birth trees, the ones Calla plant the little grandmothers under. The bones of the old ones, resting in the burial ground up on the hill. But what me unhappy bout the most is leaving behind the provision ground I tend and water, claim as me own. Now another slave going just walk in and take it over.

As to Calla, what going happen to her when I leave? Most times now, she stay in her hut, drink bush tea. Talk to the spirits waiting for the Ancestors to claim her. She still a powerful healer, get called out to help with difficult births, but she getting old. Most times she need a pickney to walk with her, keep her steady on her feet down the path into the slave village. It make me heart fill with sadness to think I never going see her again. Not be there to protect her, when she too old and frail to help herself.

The weeks flow one into the other and suddenly is time to pack up the things we own, pile them up on the back of a few donkey carts. I look for Calla, but I don’t see her anywhere. We already said our goodbyes, but I hoped she going come down from her hilltop hut, to see me one last time.