# Dancing with the Dead No. 5: Antigua No. 2 (1948 – 1951)
Little Miss Mischief
The date palm was about twelve feet tall. Basil and I would throw stones up into the tree to cause some of the large sweet dates to fall to the ground. After a time, when we couldn’t reach them from the ground any longer, we would climb up onto the roof of the house through the dormer window in our bedroom, carrying with us a bag of stones and pieces of broken bricks. We were thus able to throw these onto the tree from above.
When enough dates had fallen to the ground, we scampered down from the roof and hastily picked them up. Happily, Mammy never found out what we were up to until, one day, while we were under the tree picking up dates, a large piece of brick dislodged and fell from the tree onto my head. Head wounds bleed. A lot!
Then there was the day I nearly fell into the poop bucket in the outhouse. I won’t speak about that – too traumatic! But I was curious as to how they were emptied, so I woke up early one morning to watch the man in the donkey cart come to the house to clear the ‘poop pail’. He went to the outhouse, took the bucket out and took it to the cart where he emptied it into a large container. He then replaced the bucket. The smell made me gag and I never went near the outhouse again.
Designing and Making Shoes
Mammy was adept at using a Singer sewing machine and I loved to watch her feet on the pedal and the wheels go round and round. There were always lots of scraps of material lying around. I would sit on the floor while she was sewing and look through an old catalogue from Sears Roebuck. Eventually I found the pages advertising shoes and I slowly turned the pages, absorbed, admiring every pair of shoes in the catalogue. Suddenly an idea came to me. I would make shoes!
I found a piece of cardboard; placed my feet on it and drew around my feet with a pencil (in those days, it was called a lead pencil). Then I cut out the shape of my feet. I cut the material to fit the style I’d designed in my head – usually that of a pair of sandals. From watching Mammy, I knew how to use a needle and thread, so I diligently sewed the straps to the cardboard sole. Voila! The shoes were done.
Of course I modeled the shoes up and down the house, showing them to everyone to admire, then posed for ages in front of the mirror. When I got tired of the mirror, I would wear the sandals outside to play. They didn’t last very long though, having cardboard soles, but hey, I was making my own shoes!
Ugly!
One evening, my parents held a cocktail party at the house. There were a lot of guests and Basil and I happily walked among them, serving the hors d’œvres.
Among the guests were two very good friends of Mammy’s and they were sitting together chatting when I approached with the tray. They greeted me and said nice things to me about the party and the new yellow dress I was wearing. As I turned to leave, I heard one of the ladies whisper to the other, “She’s ugly isn’t she?” The other lady hesitated and then replied, “Yes, she is!”
My little face fell and for many years after, not surprisingly, I suffered from extremely low self-esteem. I was convinced that, in addition to my face, my hands and feet were also ugly. I started tucking my toes under when I was standing up, and hiding my hands behind my back. It took years before I could look in a mirror, stare at myself and think I was okay.
Again, you readers out there, if you say nice things to children they will blossom. The opposite causes a sense of worthlessness and insecurity for perhaps the rest of the child’s life. This can lead to lying, aggression, alcoholism, drugs, shop lifting, gang membership and eventually prison. Abasing a child for no reason at all is dastardly.
The Shy Ghost in Corn Alley
The Salvation Army Band was down in the street below Aunt Fred’s old, two-story wooden house in Corn Alley, St. John’s. The loud drum and blaring trumpet quickly drew a crowd around them, and everyone seemed to know the words to the hymns and was singing along.
Aunt Fred, as the family called her, was Mammy’s great-aunt, hence she was my great-great aunt. She was in her eighties, but she was as bright as a new penny and age didn’t seem to hinder her ability to handle, like a pro, her ancient Singer sewing machine with its foot pedal. The unanswered question was, which was older – Aunt Fred or the sewing machine!
That evening, our family was on a visit to Aunt Fred. Also visiting were Daisy Matthews and Edna Edwards, Mammy’s two aunts who also lived on Antigua. I may have mentioned before that Mammy’s mother, our grandmother Helen Brookes-McPhieters, was born in Antigua, and that Granny’s mother, my great-grandmother, was a Scot from Glasgow.
With Mammy holding on to Basil and Patrick to keep them from touching and possibly breaking Aunt Fred’s fine porcelain figurines, I was left unattended. Conversation and laughter were spontaneous as family get-togethers usually are, though voices had to be raised to be heard over the loud music on the street below. I got tired playing with my doll, Claire, and wandered off looking for something interesting to do.
Further along the veranda was a door leading into the drawing room, with its dark mahogany chairs, dark floral upholstery, crocheted antimacassars and fringed lampshades. I found some old photograph albums on the coffee table, and I thought I would sit on the sofa and look through them. Aunt Fred had traveled a lot in her youth and there would be lots of pictures and old postcards from fascinating countries.
After a while I got bored again and decided to go back outside to the veranda. The door to the veranda badly needed a coat of paint, and it was opened all the way back. Suddenly a flicker of white material caught my eye, as though there was someone hiding behind the door that couldn’t quite fit into the narrow space. I loved playing hide and seek and thought that here was someone who could play with me.
I looked behind the door and saw a lady standing there. She wore a white dress, the hem of which fell to mid-calf. She also wore white shoes, white stockings and, on her head, she wore a strange very wide, white hat. I asked her to come out from behind the door, thinking it was one of Aunt Fred’s friends. She shook her head. A little louder I asked, “Why don’t you come out from behind the door?”
At that point, the grownups became silent and they all looked over to where I stood, peering behind the door and talking to someone they couldn’t see. Aunt Fred called me to her side and, breaking a piece of hard candy into three, gave a piece to each of the children. With her arms around me to prevent me from going back to the veranda door, Aunt Fred asked me what I was looking at behind the door.
I looked back and could still see a bit of the lady’s white dress. There was complete quiet as I explained what I was seeing, and I asked Mammy why wouldn’t the lady come out from behind the door and play with me. No one answered. Quickly Aunt Daisy drew me close to the window and pointed out the goings-on in the street below. I never gave the lady another thought!
Years later, when we had moved from Antigua to Grenada, I talked to Mammy about the incident and asked her who was the lady who had been hiding behind Aunt Fred’s veranda door. She explained that the previous owner of the house had been the matron of the Holberton Hospital in Antigua and that she had lived in that house for years before she died. Aunt Fred had bought the house and had happily co-existed with the matron’s ghost. She materialized from time to time, always dressed in her hospital whites. She obviously meant no harm, but just wanted to revisit what was once her property.
The Gentleman Ghost on Grey’s Hill
For most school children, Saturday was a day to look forward to. That was the day that our family and our cousins, the Jeffrey girls and the Edwards boys, gathered at “The Mangoes”, Aunt Edna Edwards’s large old house on Grey’s Hill, overlooking the village of Grey’s Farm. Best of all, Aunt Fred would be there with candy that she would break into many pieces so that each of us could have a bit. It’s hard to imagine, but one small candy gave a lot of pleasure to six or more children!
As the name implies, there were numerous mango trees on the property, all of which we climbed and swung from and wallowed in heaps of ripe or over-ripe ‘julie’ mangoes. Sheer heaven! Don’t ask how our clothes were stained with the sweet mango juice as we gnawed on the fruit and tossed the seeds away.
Aunt Edna had an old upright piano that she loved to play, and we would all gather round and sing nursery rhymes. Then, one day, she told us about the ghost in the cellar, calling him by his name. Her two sons, Colin and Desmond, were in their early teens and they began to make ghostly sounds. Silly boys!
As the story goes, the ghost was thought to be the restless spirit of the man who built the house at the turn of the century.
Apparently he never troubled anyone, but sat all day on a discarded sofa in the dark cellar beneath the house. If anyone entered the cellar, said Aunt Edna, the ghost would rise from the sofa, lift his top hat and bow his head. He would remain standing out of courtesy until the intruder had left the cellar.
One Saturday, after we had had our fill of mango eating, tree climbing, swinging on the old car tire, playing hide-and-seek and singing songs, our Jeffrey cousins left for their home next door, and my parents were a bit late in coming to pick us up. Aha, I said, I would go and see if there really was a ghost in the cellar. Miss Curiosity had to see for herself!
The cellar door was broken off one of its hinges. I pushed it aside with much difficulty and peered into the gloom. The smell that emanated from the cellar was of rotting wood and moldy upholstery. After I could see better, I stepped into the large room that ran the length and breadth of the house. There were no working lights, although there were a few naked bulbs hanging from the ceiling. A couple of small windows let in only a dim light as the glass panes were caked with dust. I crept further in, suddenly feeling as though I was not alone, but there was still no sign of a ghost.
Goose bumps rose on my arms and I almost turned heel and ran. I heard rustling coming from a far corner filled with a miscellany of old broken furniture. The rustling seemed to be coming closer and I backed away, a step or two. In the gloom I could make out a family of mice running this way and that. There were also countless spiders, large and small, and cobwebs were everywhere.
As my eyes grew accustomed to the dark I suddenly saw him. Sitting on an old decrepit sofa way at the back, there was a man wearing a black suit and a tall black top hat. Or, at least, it appeared to be a man, because he didn’t seem to be quite solid – you know like flesh and blood. Well, my blood ran cold and I froze, my heart beating frantically!
Slowly, without saying a word (as if he could), the ghost rose to his feet, lifted his hat and nodded his head at me. That did it! With a piercing scream, I ran from the cellar as if all the demons of hell were after me. It didn’t help that Colin and Desmond were laughing their heads off. Aunt Edna sat me down and gave me a glass of water to drink. I could see that she, too, was holding back laughter.
The ghost would not have hurt me, she said. When Mr. Blankity-Blank (she called his name, but it’s too long ago to remember) was alive, he had obviously been brought up with good manners, and it was just courtesy for him to doff his hat whenever anyone entered ‘his’ parlour!
Every Saturday, we returned to “The Mangoes” to play, but, not even on a dare, wild horses could not drag me into that cellar. As they say, “Don’t trouble Trouble, ‘till Trouble troubles you!”
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Hi there, thank you for your lovely feedback. I’m so happy that you’re enjoying my bio-anthology. The chapter on Montserrat is so lengthy with so many ghosts, I had to split it into two halves! Shirley
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Hi there, thank you so much for your feedback. I’m laughing because I didn’t write this bio-anthology to be informative or entertaining, but so that I wouldn’t forget my past. You see, I’m 81yo and I grew up in seven Caribbean islands due to my father’s job in law enforcement, and I found that each one has a ‘dark side’ in addition to its sand, sea and sun attributes. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat and am loving it. I hope you will also enjoy the other chapters of my bio-anthology. Shirley
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Hi there, thank you so much for your feedback. I’m laughing because I didn’t write this bio-anthology to be informative or entertaining, but so that I wouldn’t forget my past. You see, I’m 81yo and I grew up in seven Caribbean islands due to my father’s job in law enforcement, and I found that each one has a ‘dark side’ in addition to its sand, sea and sun attributes. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat and am loving it. I hope you will also enjoy the other chapters of my bio-anthology. Shirley
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Hi there, thank you so much for your feedback. I’m so glad you’re enjoying my bio-anthology, however this blog is not mine – I only contribute to it. You see, I grew up in seven Caribbean islands due to my father’s job in law enforcement and found that each one has a ‘dark side’ in addition to its sand, sea and sun attributes. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat and am loving it. I hope you will also enjoy the other chapters of my bio-anthology. Shirley
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Hi there, thank you so much for your feedback. I’m laughing because I didn’t write this bio-anthology to be informative or entertaining, but so that I wouldn’t forget my past. You see, I’m 81yo and I grew up in seven Caribbean islands due to my father’s job in law enforcement, and I found that each one has a ‘dark side’ in addition to its sand, sea and sun attributes. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat and am loving it. I hope you will also enjoy the other chapters of my bio-anthology. Shirley
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Hi there, thank you so much for your feedback. I’m laughing because I didn’t write this bio-anthology to be informative or entertaining, but so that I wouldn’t forget my past. You see, I’m an 81yo Caribbean woman who grew up in seven Caribbean islands due to my father’s job in law enforcement. I found that each one has a ‘dark side’ in addition to its sand, sea and sun attributes. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat, a British Overseas Territory with an active volcano and am loving it. I hope you will also enjoy the other chapters of my bio-anthology, “Dancing with The Dead”, so-called because my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! Shirley
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Hi there, thank you so much for your feedback. I’m laughing because I didn’t write this bio-anthology to be informative or entertaining, but so that I wouldn’t forget my past. You see, I’m 81yo and I grew up in seven Caribbean islands due to my father’s job in law enforcement, and I found that each one has a ‘dark side’ in addition to its sand, sea and sun attributes. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat and am loving it. I hope you will also enjoy the other chapters of my bio-anthology, “Dancing with The Dead”, so-called because my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! Shirley
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Thank you for reaching out. I should laugh but your little girl would have been traumatised by the event. Please do buy her an ice-cream cone. lol
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Hi there, thank you so much for your feedback. I grew up in seven Caribbean islands due to my father’s job in law enforcement, and I found that each one had a ‘dark side’ in addition to its sand, sea and sun attributes. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat and am loving it. I hope you will also enjoy the other chapters of my bio-anthology, “Dancing with The Dead”, so-called because my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it. Yikes! Shirley
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Hi there, thank you so much for your feedback. I’m so glad you’re enjoying my bio-anthology, however this blog is not mine – I only contribute to it. You see, I grew up in seven Caribbean islands due to my father’s job in law enforcement and found that each one had a ‘dark side’ in addition to its sand, sea and sun attributes. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat and am loving it. I hope you will also enjoy the other chapters of my bio-anthology, “Dancing with The Dead”, so-called because my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! Shirley
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Thank you so much for your feedback. I’m happy that you’re enjoying my bio-anthology, however this blog is not mine – I only contribute to it. I grew up in seven Caribbean islands but now live on the tiny island of Montserrat where my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! Shirley
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Thank you so much for your feedback. I’m happy that you’re enjoying my bio-anthology, however I wrote it not to be informative or entertaining, but so that I wouldn’t forget my past. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat, where my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! Shirley
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Thank you so much for your feedback. I’m happy that you’re enjoying my bio-anthology, however I wrote it not to be informative or entertaining, but so that I wouldn’t forget my past. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat, where my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! Shirley
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Thank you so much for your feedback. I’m happy that you’re enjoying my bio-anthology, however this blog is not mine – I only contribute to it. I grew up in seven Caribbean islands but now live on the tiny island of Montserrat where my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! Shirley
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Thank you so much for your feedback. I’m happy that you’re enjoying my bio-anthology, however I wrote it not to be informative or entertaining, but so that I wouldn’t forget my past like my husband did when he had dementia. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat, where my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! Shirley
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Thank you so much for your feedback. I’m happy that you’re enjoying my bio-anthology, however I wrote it not to be informative or entertaining, but so that I wouldn’t forget my past. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat, where my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! Shirley
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Thank you so much for your feedback. I’m happy that you’re enjoying my bio-anthology, however I wrote it not to be informative or entertaining, but so that I wouldn’t forget my past. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat, where my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! Shirley
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Thank you so much for your feedback. I’m happy that you’re enjoying my bio-anthology, however I wrote it not to be informative or entertaining, but so that I wouldn’t forget my past. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat, where my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! Shirley
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Thank you so much for your feedback. I’m happy that you’re enjoying my bio-anthology, however I wrote it not to be informative or entertaining, but so that I wouldn’t forget my past. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat, where my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! Shirley
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Thank you so much for your feedback. I’m sorry that you’re not happy with my bio-anthology. You see, I wrote it not to be informative or entertaining, but so that I wouldn’t forget my past, as my husband forgot his before he died from dementia. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat, where my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! Shirley
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Thank you so much for your feedback. I’m happy that you’re enjoying my bio-anthology, however I wrote it not to be informative or entertaining, but so that I wouldn’t forget my past. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat, where my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! Shirley
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Thank you so much for your feedback. I’m happy that you’re enjoying my bio-anthology, however I wrote it not to be informative or entertaining, but so that I wouldn’t forget my past. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat, where my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! Shirley
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Thank you so much for your feedback. I’m happy that you’re enjoying my bio-anthology, however I wrote it not to be informative or entertaining, but so that I wouldn’t forget my past. I now live on the tiny British Overseas Territory of Montserrat in the Caribbean. I’m sorry if my spelling bothers you but, you see, we are British, hence our spelling is correct English and not the casual spelling that America uses. Shirley
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Thank you so much for your feedback. I’m happy that you’re enjoying my bio-anthology, however I wrote it not to be informative or entertaining, but so that I wouldn’t forget my past. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat, where my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! Shirley
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Thank you so much for your feedback. I’m happy that you’re enjoying my bio-anthology, however this blog is not mine – I only contribute to it. I grew up in seven Caribbean islands but now live on the tiny island of Montserrat where my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! I hope you will get your blog problems sorted out soon. Shirley
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Thank you so much for your feedback. I’m happy that you’re enjoying my bio-anthology, however I wrote it not to be informative or entertaining, but so that I wouldn’t forget my past. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat, where my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! Shirley
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Thank you so much for your feedback. I’m happy that you’re enjoying my bio-anthology, however I wrote it not to be informative or entertaining, but so that I wouldn’t forget my past. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat, where my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! Shirley
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Thank you so much for your feedback. I’m happy that you’re enjoying my bio-anthology, however I wrote it not to be informative or entertaining, but so that I wouldn’t forget my past. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat, where my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! Shirley
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Thank you so much for your feedback. I’m happy that you’re enjoying my bio-anthology, however I wrote it not to be informative or entertaining, but so that I wouldn’t forget my past. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat, where my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! Shirley
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Thank you so much for your feedback. I’m happy that you’re enjoying my bio-anthology, however I wrote it not to be informative or entertaining, but so that I wouldn’t forget my past. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat, where my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! Shirley
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Thank you so much for your feedback. I’m happy that you’re enjoying my bio-anthology, however I wrote it not to be informative or entertaining, but so that I wouldn’t forget my past. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat, where my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! Shirley
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Thank you so much for your feedback. I’m happy that you’re enjoying my bio-anthology, however I wrote it not to be informative or entertaining, but so that I wouldn’t forget my past. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat, 27 miles from Antigua. I’m sorry if my spelling bothers you but, you see, we are British, hence our spelling is correct and not the any-which-way spelling that America uses. Shirley
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Thank you so much for your feedback. I’m happy that you’re enjoying my bio-anthology. Nope, I’ll never be famous. I’m just an old woman who wrote it so as not to forget my past. I now live on the island of Montserrat near to Antigua, where my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! Shirley
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Thank you so much for your feedback. I’m happy that you’re enjoying my bio-anthology, however I wrote it not to be informative or entertaining, but so that I wouldn’t forget my past. I now live on the island of Montserrat near to Antigua, where my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! Shirley