The Polished Hoe by Austin Clarke Read Free Book Online

was waxed, and shining like dogs stones—as the saying goes—and slippery as ice; and just as treacherous; so that if a man step-off, and didn’t hold his balance, like Harry-on-the-ice, moving his body in time to the rhythm of some of the slowest pieces of waltz-music that the Percy Greene Orchestra would play; if that man wasn’t good! and didn’t have perfect balance, nor a knowledge of waltzes, how to move his body in time to the rhythm, how to make his footwork move in and out to the intricate movements, he was in bare trouble! A man wasn’t a man unless he could dance on that Aquatic Club floor, wax to a vexatious perfection! If he moved the wrong way, or turned too fast on that floor, wax like a sheet of ice, brugguh-down! Flat on his arse. In full view of the invited couples, and the eyes of the staffs looking-on through the glass hole in the swing-door leading to the kitchen.
    “So, Mr. Bellfeels axe Ma to help-out that night, with the serving of the sangwiches and the eats and the drinks. Ma, and the other staffs of the Plantation, plus the servants of the rich white people; people like the two leading barsters-at-Law in the Island; the Solicitor-General; the doctors and business people; the Vicar, Revern Dowd; the manager-owner of Cave Shepherd & Sons, Haberdasheries down in Town, all of them-so contributed their personal staffs to the loyal service of the Royal Ball in honour and by Appointment to the King, George-the-Fiff. Ma and all of them were dressed in servant uniforms, black; with white aprons, white caps, starch-and-ironed; and hard-hard-hard like deal board. Black stockings and black leather shoes. Yes!
    “You shouldda seen Ma! Ma looked so beautiful. Like a queen! Pretty-pretty. Like a, like a movie-screen star. Like a young Mary Pickford!
    “Yes. And, you should have seen the Bimshire ladies and gentlemen that night. It was like a fairyland, like Alice in Wonderland, like starlights burning on a Fiff of November, Guy Fawkes Day, as the King, George-the-Fiff, was in all his regalias and majesty and metals . . . medals, weighing-down his shoulder blade, poor fellow, since, as he was in the flesh, such a diminnative small man to have to bear all those regalias and insignias pin to his chest, Ma say.
    “And the King made a big-big point, that night. His Majesty dance with all the Bimshire ladies. Every last one. And not only the ones that were white, when they were presented to him, and wasn’t . . . and the King, poor fellow, who couldn’t tell who-from-who, since they all looked white to him, traipsed the light-fantastic with every blasted one o’ those whores! . . . Ma tell me so.
    “Ma tell me, also, something that hit me in the pit of my stomach. The strangest utterance. Ma tell me she wished she was somebodyelse that night. To be able to take part in that Ball, dress in a long dress sweeping the floor, and dance with her King, George-the-Fiff; and take her rightful place in the Receiving Line of that gala; and she wished she was not who she was, a field hand, a harlot, a tool for a man who came into her house, small as it was, humble as it was, after the gala was over, and the Ball had come to its end with the playing of ‘God Save the King,’ and after the kitchen staffs had clean-up . . . And robbed her of her maiden. Yes!
    “Took her virginity away from her.
    “She had the right colour, as you can see from my own complexion, for him to want her. But not light-enough to warrant admission on her own oars, and cross the iron gates of the Aquatic Club, to attend the Ball for her king, His Majesty, George-the-Fiff! She had the looks, as you can see she handed down in me. She had everything. Except the accident of borning in the right bedroom. Ma. My mother. God rest her soul.
    “There is a story-and-a-half I could tell you about the doings and the happenings in this small Island of Bimshire! Stories to make your head curl! Stories and skeletons bigger than the square-milearea of this