There is Ellen and Jane, them was born at Christmas time, one after the other. Them is Sydney and Winston pickney. Winston is head driver and Sydney is Mistress Margaret slave. Must mean Ellen and Jane belong to Mistress Margaret too. Then there is Thomas. Him born a few seasons before me, when planting season done and everybody waiting for the cane to ripen. Pell is the youngest. Born too soon, in cropping season, right in the middle of the canefield them. Small for him age, funny-looking, always a twisted smile pon him face. Thomas and Pell, them belong to slave women what work in the field them.

Trouble is, them pickney all darker skinned than me, specially Thomas. Make me stand apart with what Massa call me mulatto skin.

One morning, when Calla out the back doing her morning ritual, them pickney gang up on me. Start to prod and poke me with a stick. Call out to me.

‘Here come little yellow-belly. Look like mango. But no good to eat,’ before them spit at me feet.

Is Thomas start the teasing business. Force them girls to do it. Push little Pell to do it too, but I can tell him don’t know what him saying.

Lucky for me, Calla catch them. Look at them so fierce like a hawk looking at prey, them scatter, run away. Don’t stop them when Calla not there though. So most times is me that run away. Hide when Thomas walking up the path.

Calla tell me, ‘Must stand up for you self, little Will.’

But I never can. And it feel like something must be wrong with me. Just like little Pell.

When Calla ready, the first thing she do every morning is take us to her provision ground. Is a little way up the hillside. Teach us little ones how to work the soil. Show us how to pull out the bad plants, the weeds. Not the good plants. Those her special herbs and food. She show us how to catch water from her water barrel, give the plants a little drink.

Then she take us round the Great House yard, teach us how to sweep it. How to run errands. Say ‘Yes, Massa’ and bow our heads. Me favourite is when we must catch the piglets after them escape from the pens. Throw scraps in the feeder, help to fatten them up. Scatter corn for the fowls, gather eggs, but if you break or try to steal one, watch out! Calla slap you so hard, knock you flat to the ground. Must sit very still till the blow stop hurting. But when we get little scrapes, if we cry and whimper, she kiss and hug us. Let us call her Granny Callie while she put on her healing potions.