‘Suck-in.’ 'I. Am. Sucking. In'. Lemara seethes back at Julia. 'Em, have you put on weight because these clasps ain't budging?' The commotion brings Joshua, in all but his tux and cufflinks, to the ensuite door. The said cufflinks he’s fixing, he stops, to look at his sister and his girlfriend. ‘Everything ok in here?’ Lemara grits teeth. Doing anything else, breathing, blinking, would cause clasps to detonate. Like shrapnel. So she nods. Joshua satisfied, nods back. Retreats

'I don’t understand what this child of mine eats. How is there no corn meal, no sweetened condensed milk, nutmeg and things like that.' I woke to the most clawing hunger pain, not helped by the scent of nostalgia coming from the kitchen. The smell of Christmas morning's saltfish. Somewhere downstairs, the original 'Mary's Boy Child is in competition with my Aunty Shelly's intermittent singing and the pattering of pots and pans. I eased myself upright. David wasn’t in the be

They didn’t care about the sex of the child. Only that they’d be healthy, strong, have two hands to hold and maybe agree with their mother that their father doesn’t know good music. When The Rhythm Changes