‘And there’s my pride and joy, Sydney,’ Mistress Margaret say. ‘She’s been serving me since she was a young girl.’

‘And how long have you had Sydney?’ Master Jack ask.

‘Oh, I’m not sure. She was a gift to me from your late uncle. Dear, dear William.’ Another fluttering of the kerchief, watery eyes. ‘He purchased her in Port Royal from a family, down on their luck after a hurricane. A pretty little thing when she first arrived. I would say at least four decades ago.’

So if Sydney that old, mean Mistress Margaret must be real old! Must be why she use all the cream and potion them, trying to work some magic on her skin. Mind you, Sydney skin softer than brown velvet. Not a wrinkle on her face. Nothing Mistress Margaret can do to make her skin look smooth and silky like Sydney.

‘Does she have children?’ Mistress Caroline ask.

‘Sydney’s daughters? They are all grown up by now,’ Mistress Margaret say. ‘Sold long ago to the plantation across the valley.’

Mistress Caroline put down her plate. Stop eating. Look at Mistress Margaret hard. Look at Massa even harder.

‘And Stella? How long have you had her?’

‘Stella!’ Massa say, jumping in. ‘A Creole, born right here on the plantation. Never sold. Has thirty-four good years on her. Getting a little old for breeding, but she’s my prize female Negro. Very good stock. Produced sturdy offspring. William, over there,’ Massa say pointing him fork at me. ‘He’s about … fifteen.’

I notice a look pass between brother and sister.

Master Jack look from Massa to me and back again. ‘Shall I refer to him as a mulatto?’ him ask.

Massa just nod.

‘And the other mulattos?’ Mistress Caroline jump in.

‘Sammy, he serves at table. And there’s James. A quiet child. He’s the one I was telling you about.’

‘I’ve seen a young girl. Pretty little thing,’ Mistress Caroline say, and her face light up.

‘That’s Eliza, just turned seven I believe. I hope she’ll be a good little breeder too.’

‘What are you saying?’ Mistress Caroline ask and I can see she getting more upset.

‘Thankfully the government pays us a sum, for every healthy child born on the plantation. As they should!’ Massa say.

Everything go a little quiet.

‘And the father?’ Mistress Caroline ask as she brush away a fly that land on her pretty blue and white dress. ‘Is that …’

‘Is that Mister Davis, the overseer?’ Master Jack ask, jumping in over Mistress Caroline.

Massa say nothing. Mistress Margaret face turn bright red like the roses in the garden.

‘It’s different out here in the tropics. Different set of rules,’ she say, fanning herself hard. ‘We are so far away from the influence of good Christian breeding. There is not much a poor woman like myself can do about it.’