The day turning windy, the clouds moving fast cross the sky. Make us all jumpy, listening to the far-off rustling of the canefields. We all standing round shuffling, speaking softly, waiting for Busha Davis since early morning. Him going ride with us, before him come back, to take up running the plantation. He’s in the kitchen trying to calm Melon down. She bawling her eyes out. Threatening to hide her special pots and pans. Never cook another bit of food. Busha Davis don’t understand. He keep asking what ‘all this fuss’ is about. Him think Melon would be happy not to have to pack up and leave. She is one of the best cooks round and him decide to keep her at Rock Pleasant. Melon beg to keep Mary, have her feed and look after the dogs. Is all she good for now anyway, because after Massa sell Tom-Tom, she get even softer in the head. Feeding the dogs, sweeping the yard, wash pots is all she can do, no matter how many times Busha Davis tell Winston to beat her and put her in the stocks.

Now that leaving day finally arrive, Melon get all torn up, she want to stay, she want to go. She don’t have no children, we is her family and now she going be all alone, except for Mary. In the end, Melon only calm down after Busha Davis promise she can sometimes go visit Winnie up in Montego Bay.

Finally we ready to go. Busha Davis ride up to the head of the line, crack him whip, start to lead us down the path to the front gates. The dogs running beside us, barking them goodbyes. I look back one last time to see there come old Calla, bundled up in her shawl. I think she coming to say goodbye, but then I notice she have a pickney behind her, dragging a sack filled up with all her carochies.

When Busha Davis see this, him wheel back on him horse, pull up beside her.

‘What’s this, Calla? I told you you could stay.’

‘Change of heart,’ she say, and keep on hobbling towards me, the pickney trying to keep up.

What Busha Davis going do? If him force her to stay, she going cause a whole heap of trouble. Finally him give permission and I put Calla sack on top of all the other sacks and help her up. She sit in the front of the cart like she leading the procession. Make us all feel good, knowing we have her mighty spirits protecting us.

After we move ahead a little way, I turn to Calla, ask her why she change her mind.

‘Is old cripple Jonnie,’ wrapping her shawl round her. ‘Him come to me in a dream. Tell me to go.’

‘You listen to him?’