Fortune

Amanda Smyth

• Publisher: Peepal Tree Press
• Year: 2021
• Print ISBN: 9781845235192
• eBook ISBN: 9781845235208
• Topic: Literatura
• Subtopic: Literatura caribeña

Eddie Wade has recently returned from the US oilfields. He is determined to sink his own well and make his fortune in the 1920s Trinidad oil-rush. His sights are set on Sonny Chatterjee's failing cocoa estate, Kushi, where the ground is so full of oil you can put a stick in the ground and see it bubble up. When a fortuitous meeting with businessman Tito Fernandez brings Eddie the investor he desperately needs, the three men enter into a partnership. A friendship between Tito and Eddie begins that will change their lives forever, not least when the oil starts gushing. But their partnership also brings Eddie into contact with Ada, Tito's beautiful wife, and as much as they try, they cannot avoid the attraction they feel for each other.

Fortune, based on true events, catches Trinidad at a moment of historical change whose consequences reverberate down to present concerns with climate change and environmental destruction. As a story of love and ambition, its focus is on individuals so enmeshed in their desires that they blindly enter the territory of classic Greek tragedy where actions always have consequences.

FORTY

Eddie bathed out the back, and he was glad of the blue soap that cut through the dirt and mud. Up the hill, he could hear the men pulling in the string; they began to dismantle the lines of pipe and he knew this would take some time. He felt proud of his men, and how far they’d come. He told Callaghan to let him know if there was more news. He’d be at the Paramount; he could be back on site in 45 minutes.

Eddie drove with the roof down towards San Fernando. He passed a man with a cart filled with coconuts, pulled along by a water buffalo. The man looked familiar. Eddie waved and then overtook the cart, slowly so not to startle the beast, speeding up as he headed on towards San Fernando Hill. The road was empty and on the dial he hit 75 miles per hour.

They were already seated by the window when Eddie arrived.

Mrs Fernandes was sitting next to Alfie, fanning herself with a menu. When she saw Eddie, she primped her hair with her fingers. Though his khaki shirt was creased and marked, he looked handsome, tanned. He took up her mottled hand.

‘Mrs Fernandes,’ he said.

Then Eddie lightly kissed Ada’s cheek. He wondered if anything showed in his eyes.

Tito got up, shook his hand.

‘A movie star, eh, Eddie? My wife is like a movie star.’

There was music playing; the sounds of a small band of musicians in the lobby carried through to the restaurant. The familiar melody was catchy and cheery. Ada was glad of it.

‘You see her feet,’ and Tito pointed down to Ada’s legs, crossed at the ankle, ‘they start itching when she wants to dance. Ada missed her calling.’

‘Sometimes I think I missed my whole life,’ Ada said.

‘Your life is exactly as it should be, darling.’ Tito called over the waiter. ‘Let’s have some drinks.’

‘So, Eddie, another well is about to pop,’ Alfie said. ‘You’ve had luck on your side. They say luck is always against a man who depends on it. Seems like you did it on your own terms. Takes some skill.’

‘Something like that, sir. I have a strong team.’

On the table, anthuriums were pink and shaped like tonsils. Ada had never liked them.

Then Alfie said, ‘Once Kushi is sold, where are you headed? America, Europe?’

‘We’ll see. There’s oil showing up in Guiana.’

It was strange to hear Eddie talking like this. Ada didn’t like it. She looked outside at the fruit trees, full and lush after the rains.

Tito said, ‘You’ll go and see your lady friend, Kathryn?’

Eddie looked surprised at the mention of Kathryn’s name.

‘I’ll see my daughter. Her mother will no doubt be there.’

‘Here’s to that,’ Tito said, and raised his glass.

Mrs Fernandes suggested they eat something before she passed out.

Tito ordered a large platter of seafood, crabs seasoned with garlic, sourdough rolls, bouillabaisse. Side dishes of sweet potatoes and buttered beans with pumpkin. When the champagne was finished, Tito ordered another bottle.

The waiter brought the chef’s signature dish, Pompano en papillote. He plopped the little parcels onto each plate, and gave each diner a small pair of silver scissors to cut it open.

The sack burst, spilling out the seafood smells in a puff of hot smoke.

‘Good Lord!’ Mrs Fernandes sat back in her seat as the steam left her plate.

Tito called the waiter over and asked for pepper sauce.

‘Pepper, sir?’ The waiter looked surprised. ‘We do not have pepper sauce with this dish. It is well seasoned in the kitchen.’

Tito said, ‘I’d like pepper sauce.’

‘Sir, I think if you try it you will see it needs no help with seasoning.’

Everyone looked at Tito.

Tito said, ‘Why don’t you call the manager?’

Eddie looked around. Over the last few months, he had come to know the general manager well.

The maître d’ appeared.

‘Tito,’ his mother said, her voice low and clipped, ‘what are you trying to do?’

‘Mister Fernandes,’ the maître d’ said, ‘I assure you, the dish does not need further seasoning.’ His grinning face looked frozen. ‘The dish has been seasoned fit for the gods in our kitchen. Any further seasoning would be a desecration.’

Tito said, ‘I don’t give a fuck if this dish suits you or it suits the waiter or it suits your cook. We are paying for our lunch, and if I want pepper sauce, then I shall have it.’

Mrs Fernandes put down her cutlery.

Guests at the next table were staring.

Alfie said, ‘I’m sure they’ll bring it. Let’s not get upset.’

Ada excused herself and got up and went to the bathroom.

While she was gone, Eddie was called away from the table by the concierge. There was an urgent phone call at the desk. Callaghan was calling to let Eddie know that the well would likely come in within the next couple hours.

Eddie excused himself from the lunch; he must go, he said, he would see them at the field in a while. He hoped everyone would come.

‘We can carry on the party,’ Tito said, sounding a little drunk by now.

Ada insisted that they stop by at Ruth’s house. At first Tito said no, there wasn’t time. But Ada reminded him that he had suggested it. She called up to the veranda. ‘Ruth! Ruth!’ She left her mother-in-law, Alfie and Tito waiting outside in the car, and ran up to the first floor.

Inside the tall house, there was soft music, a gathering. Ada had always liked this house, the long wooden table, the satin drapes that hung in the large window; the heavy mahogany furniture. The wooden floors were covered with patterned rugs from Morocco, where Gerry had worked for three years. Ruth was excited to see Ada. She’d arrived just as they’d been wondering if they should play cards. Last night, Arthur, her brother-in-law – a blond and foppish-looking man, who Ada liked at once, had beaten them at every round of poker. Ruth and Gerry were drinking cocktails; the shutters were open out onto the garden where light shone through the trees.

Arthur said, ‘I’ve never seen a well before. Can I come, too?’

‘Ruth, bring a blanket, it might be cold. We can sit on the side of the bank and watch from there. We have champagne, and sandwiches in case anyone gets hungry.’

‘I’ll bring cake,’ Ruth said, making her way to the kitchen.

The children wanted to come, but Ruth said it was too late.

Quietly in the hallway, she said to Ada, ‘Are you all right? Last time I saw you, you weren’t yourself and you were cross with me. Come spend a few days here and we can talk. Or I can come to you. We mustn’t argue. There’s so few of us left.’ She took up Ada’s hand and squeezed it.

Ada was glad to have Ruth. She was feeling strange, as if she was travelling with people she didn’t know, people who didn’t like her. Tito must know something. His eyes were stones. She had never seen him like this. Who could have told him? Had Raul heard something in Barbados? One of his cronies from Rattans? What would she say? She would deny it, just as Eddie had told her. Deny, deny, deny. Until she died. How could he prove it? When she was back in the car, she looked at him, his hands on the steering wheel, his hat pushed down on his head. Tito was not the same man.

Two cars drove slowly through the estate; lights were bright through the trees, and down the rough trail. They parked up near Chatterjee’s house, and a line of people, mostly dressed in white, walked down the hill: Tito, Ada, Ruth, Gerry, Arthur and Mrs Fernandes, who held on to Alfie. Tito carried a bottle of champagne in each hand. He would send someone later for the picnic hamper.

They reached the field just in time to hear the bell ring out and see men come running – from the stores, the steam room, shouts from the truck, the top of the hill. Others were running up to the bank. Then a roar, heard as far as the village. The force was so strong under their feet that the ground trembled, and Ada clung to Ruth and Ruth clung to Ada. For a moment Tito forgot his pain, awed by the black tower of oil as it shot up, jetted high over the top of the derrick and headed for the clouds. People shouted, cheered and clapped. Everyone was looking up.

Mrs Fernandes gripped one hand on Alfie’s arm, the other on her startled heart. She was sure this was a disaster. How could it not be?

Eddie yelled above the noise, stared up at the sight. He was covered in oil, his face was black. He hooked his arm around Callaghan, kissed the top of his head. ‘I knew it, Callie, in my blood and in my bones. You see that feeling,’ and he thumped his own chest, ‘it’s never wrong.’

Callaghan was red-faced and sweaty, keen to close off the well, and get it under control. He called the men to the floor, and signalled to Horatio who was standing near the top, with the derrick man above him. Callaghan twisted the drill pipe.

‘Jesus, Eddie,’ he yelled and skidded on the sopping floor. ‘320 feet. It gets better and better.’

Together, Callaghan and Eddie put the stopcock onto the drill pipe while the oil spewed out like black syrup. They tried to cut the flow. Callaghan’s strong hands twisted around the slippery valve, and it was difficult to grip, the spray was blasting in their faces, making it almost impossible to turn the valve shut. Eddie called for goggles. They could barely see what they were doing but they knew the shape of the valve and they knew what it should feel like. They worked as if they were part of the same man. It was almost half an hour before they managed to get the oil under control. Relieved, unrecognisable, Eddie had a feeling about this last well. He thought about little Edith. One day he would tell her of the wells in Siparia.

‘Let’s get something to drink,’ Eddie said.

He jumped down and looked for Tito and Ada, and he saw that Tito was looking straight at him. Eddie made his way up the bank, shook Tito’s hand, apologised for his filthy palm.

‘Another minute and you’d have missed it.’

Tito gave Eddie a cup of champagne, and Eddie drank a little. He wouldn’t have any more; he’d need his wits about him. There would be plenty of time for that later.

‘What happens now?’

‘We close it off, make sure there’s no leaks. These boys know what they’re doing.’

‘They look so.’

Chatterjee was looking at the oil coming out, checking to see that the men appeared confident. For Chatterjee this was another miracle, and so far so good; there was nothing unusual here, nothing to worry about. He felt relieved, glad the well was coming in as it should, and as it had done before. He’d stay here and make sure it did.

‘Sonny,’ Eddie said, ‘you sure you want to hand this over to Leaseholds?’

‘You want me to be like you – with no wife. A man with no wife have no home. He’s a gypsy, with half a life.’

‘It depends on the wife.’

They shook hands, and Sonny hit Eddie on the back.

Eddie glanced up towards Macleod’s office. He thought he saw him, the outline of his hat, as Macleod looked out at the field. He’d heard Macleod was closing down the site. He wasn’t sure how true it was, but right now he couldn’t see the usual line up of his men and the place had been quiet since the accident. He’d heard that Macleod was there most days, and often late into the night. A mark of respect or decline in hope; Eddie wasn’t sure which and he didn’t much care.

‘Mister Eddie,’ Grace said, and showed him her filthy dress.

‘It looks like you need a new one, Grace; it looks so.’ He took out $20 from his wallet and gave it to her.

Callaghan said, ‘No sign of Sita or the boys.’

‘They frighten,’ Grace said, tucking the money down her dress. ‘Frighten of the gas.’ She shook her head. ‘I tell she, only Apex have gas. It safe here at Kushi.’

Grace was relieved that the well had come in safely. She’d had her doubts, dark thoughts, fears of all that could go wrong. She had kept them to herself.

After a few minutes, they checked the pipe was fully locked off. Eddie told Horatio to get the men to clean up the floor. They all needed to wash off, take turns to rest or eat if they needed to. It had been a long day for some, and it wasn’t over yet. Check the generator; make sure the tanks are ready. Make sure the pipes are clear.

‘There’s some whistling coming from the hole. We’ll keep an eye.’

‘It’s possible there’s a little gas still coming out. I can’t tell right now.’

Eddie said, ‘It’s unlikely. But even so, not much. If it was coming, by now it would’ve blown off the floor.’

‘It’s sand we have to worry about,’ Callaghan said, wiping his face with his s...

Table of contents

• Cover Page
• Title Page
• One
• Two
• Three
• Four
• Five
• Six
• Seven
• Eight
• Nine
• Ten
• Eleven
• Twelve
• Thirteen
• Fourteen
• Fifteen
• Sixteen
• Seventeen
• Eighteen
• Nineteen
• Twenty
• Twenty-One
• Twenty-Two
• Twenty-Three
• Twenty-Four
• Twenty-Five
• Twenty-Six
• Twenty-Seven
• Twenty-Eight
• Twenty-Nine
• Thirty
• Thirty-One
• Thirty-Two
• Thirty-Three
• Thirty-Four
• Thirty-Five
• Thirty-Six
• Thirty-Seven
• Thirty-Eight
• Thirty-Nine
• Forty
• Forty-One
• About The Author
• Copyright