BEHIND THE NARROW STREET

CHAPTER THIRTEEN - BELMONT, TRINIDAD, 1994 - ANNA'S HOUSE

Anna closed her eyes as though she could see them walking up the road; holding hands as the setting sun bathed the Belmont hills a fiery orange. It was a wonderful experience. She had not felt this happy for many years.

"It was a special day, even with our episode at the graveyard. I was beginning to feel I could share my thoughts, my dreams with a man I had met less than twenty-four hours before. It was a good feeling."

Peter watched as Anna's face twitched and her mouth pushed out her cheeks to create a warm and inviting smile. She was escaping to a moment where love was beginning to sprinkle through her heart and mind. He watched her for several moments, not wanting to interrupt her journey.

Anna finally opened her eyes. "Love surprises you sometimes, you never really see it coming until you realise you can't do without it. I came to see that later that same afternoon."

"Did you go back to Nancy's place?"

"Yes. I told Robert I had to work. You see, Saturday night was always a big night."

"What did my grandfather do?"

"He looked at me and told me he understood but he was hoping that he could see me the next day. I wanted to run away with him there and then." Anna clapped her hands as though something good was taking place. "Oh Peter, I wish I could go to the end of the story now, but you must wait." Anna paused. "I told Robert yes. He could come and meet me at Nancy's at seven in the morning."

"Did he?"

"He gave me a kiss on my cheek and we parted. I swore I was not going to wash my face that evening. I looked around to see him walking down the street, and I must tell you, I felt strangely empty as I thought he might not come back."

******

PORT OF SPAIN, TRINIDAD, 1944 - CHARLIE'S POOL HALL

The streets were dark and quiet except for a lone beggar rustling through a dustbin in search of a discarded chicken bone. A stray dog sat patiently next to the beggar in hopes there might be something to share as his tail continuously wagged in appreciation for whatever he might be given.

It appeared that most of the city was asleep, except for the few rum shops and pool halls. There, a dull orange glow emitted as it reflected off the upswept pavements; a sign that some company could be sought inside. They all had one thing in common; they gave refuge to the lonely and bored resident or visitor.

Charlie's Pool Hall was an old colonial building with its three foot thick redbrick walls that once housed barrels of molasses for the European market, which more resembled an armoury for explosives than the main ingredient for rum. And with its two wide archways with their heavy doors thrown open, was a welcome invitation to spend a while drinking and sharing stories from near and far.

Robert had crossed the street from the hostel where he was staying and was sitting at the bar, sipping a strong, dark rum. There were several men playing pool, each one giving the other directions on how they should position the cue. Most of the tables were filled with lively conversation and colourful outbursts when the talk was centred on women.

Robert could feel the warmth in their animated faces as they called each other by name, and more often than not, a nickname, 'A friendship going back many years,' he thought. There were only two other American servicemen in the pool hall, both showing signs of one, two many drinks as they tried desperately to keep their heads up or from falling over.

The table closest to him had three men, one of whom did not have any arms. He used his elbows to raise his glass, a feat he accomplished easily. Robert found himself staring at the young man when he looked up and called out to him.