Cassie sat back and grabbed a second bottle of beer as she started to read through the email from her Grandmother.As usual life was colourful and vibrant on the beautiful Caribbean Island of St. Lucia.
Cassie’s Grandmother was a pillar of the community; respected, loved … and maybe even a little bit feared Mamma Pascal, as she was known, was a force of nature.
Cassie sometimes mused as to why her parents had left the Carribbean, but deep down she always knew the reason. Where her Grandmother was outrageous, larger than life and charismatic, her father was quiet, thoughtful and precise. Although the two loved each other deeply they were like chalk and cheese and she supposed that it was inevitable that one day her Father would have to leave her Grandmother in order to make his own mark … in order to walk this earth on himself.
That was all incidental now, her Dad had died when Cassie was a teenager, a victim of a culture of alcohol and cars, a sad statistic leaving behind a broken and bereaved family.
Cassie read on through anecdotes of her West Indian family to stories of magic and voodoo.
Cassie always loved this bit the most, the fantastical places that her Grandmother’s imagination took her too were like a written treat to be savoured.
However, this time the tone differed from normal.
‘Cassie, my little Princess … as you know I have always been in possession of The Gift, something I was sorry to see I hadn’t passed on to your Father or to your brother Samson. However, you are the next female blood after me and it is time you knew. When you became a journalist with an incredible insight for a story I thought you may have guessed … but what with living in that cold climate and being restrained by European logic I should have known that you may not have been able to see the wood for the trees.
Cassie, my beloved, it is time for you to know … Cassie, my darling … it is time for you to realise your place in this world…..
No comments:
Post a Comment