‘Can’t play no mama to every slave born on this plantation,’ Calla told me when I asked her why she didn’t take Eliza under her wing. ‘Must learn to leave tings as dem is Will. Now is not the right time. She going need me later.’ And that is all she had to say bout that.

I start to sneak away, when I hear Eliza start up again. ‘Mama?’

‘What now?’

‘Why we born this way? Why we not look like backra? Why we not white?’

‘Lawd, Eliza! Not again! Not again! You going drive youself crazy. Drive me crazy too.’

Then I hear Stella voice soften. ‘Come here, baby girl, come sit beside me. When you born you was such a pretty little baby,’ Stella say, and I hear her sigh. ‘Everybody used to come look pon you, just to see you smile. Is true, is true. Now you is a fine-looking girl. Just like the wildflower dem that come up out of the earth after it rain. Pretty like how the petals shine with dew, when the sun first kiss dem. And dem all have different colours and dem all beautiful. So you don’t need worry bout white, bout black, bout brown.’

‘Then why Massa look at me like that?’

‘What you mean? How Massa look at you?’ and I hear something catch in Stella voice.

‘Me don’t know. Him look at me funny. Look at me sideways like him going say something. Or give me a beating. Even if me do nothing wrong.’

Stella have nothing to say. What she going say? Try explain to Eliza, Massa is her father, but him also own her. Tell her Massa look pon her like any backra going look pon her. A slave girl, soon ripe for the picking.

I start to feel shame for spying, decide to go, but is too late. As I stand up and turn away, Stella see me. Call me over to help with the washing.

‘Woman’s work,’ I tell her and try to keep going.

Stella shout out, ‘Who you think you talking to, boy?’ then come charging up the hill like a wild hog. ‘Have some respect for you mother,’ she say, and cuff me bout the ear.