Caryl Phillips - A Distant Shore

“Another, my brother?”

Gabriel pushes his hand into his pocket and hands some coins to Emmanuel.

“I am just going to the toilet and then I will be back.”

Gabriel narrows his eyebrows, and Emmanuel registers the look of suspicion.

“Or maybe you would like to go to the bar for the drinks?” He holds out the money for Gabriel to take, but Gabriel shakes his head. Emmanuel laughs and gets to his feet. “Finally, you are learning to relax, man. You are in England now. If we do not trust each other, then how are we going to get along? The English think they are superior so they do not care about us. We have only each other. Every day people come up to me and abuse me, but there is nothing that I can do. I have no choice but to be here. And in order to survive among these people, I have to be private and quiet. But when I meet somebody from back home I want to be myself, I want to open up.”

Gabriel watches as Emmanuel pads his way across the dirty carpet towards a door marked “Gentlemen.” Gabriel still has some of his beer to drink, and as he lifts the glass to his mouth he looks around at these people. This is not the England that he thought he was travelling to, and these shipwrecked people are not the people that he imagined he would discover. Under this sad roof, life is stripped of ambition and it is broken. Gabriel takes another sip of the warm beer, but this beer is not to his taste. He decides to ask Emmanuel to order a different type of beer, but there is no sign of Emmanuel. Gabriel continues to wait, until the thought finally crosses his mind that he might be alone. Abandoning his beer, he slowly stands up and crosses the room until he reaches the door marked “Gentlemen.” Once inside he can see that Emmanuel has climbed out of the open window. It is so simple. Gabriel leaves the filthy toilet and walks back into the pub and then out onto the street. He looks first left, then right, but Gabriel is unsure of which direction he should turn in order that he might find Jimmy. He imagines that Jimmy will be thinking that he has sold the magazines and made off with the money. Gabriel puts his hand into his pocket and pulls out the few coins that he has left. He also pulls out a piece of paper and notices Katherine’s address.

The London sky has darkened like a bruise, and Gabriel still does not recognise a single building that he walks past, or a junction that he crosses, or a street that he turns into. For hours he has searched for first Jimmy, then Emmanuel, and finally Bright, but he now understands that these directionless streets were not laid out to welcome the feet of newcomers. And then it begins to rain, and umbrellas open up all around him like impatient flowers, and those without umbrellas move hastily as though they are trying to step between the drops of rain, and a sodden Gabriel simply holds the piece of paper before him as though it were a passport of some kind. He asks an Englishman in a suit and tie if he knows the way to Katherine’s address, but the man stares at Gabriel as though he is in the presence of a madman and he barely looks at the damp piece of paper. Gabriel asks another man, who waves him away, and then another man who studies the paper for a while. He is a younger man and he dresses casually, as though he is on his way out for the night as opposed to going home from work. Finally the man gives the paper back to Gabriel, and then he points.

“Get a bus down there. Number thirty-eight. Ask the conductor to put you out on Upper Street, and then just ask anybody.”

“Thank you. I am very grateful.” Gabriel smiles at the man.

“Got any money?”

Gabriel nods. “I have a little.”

“Well, if you smartened yourself up a bit, I could show you how to make some easy money.”

Gabriel looks at the man, who points to the copies of the magazines that are sticking out of his pocket.

“There are easier ways of making money than that, or has nobody told you the facts of life?”

Gabriel remains baffled.

“You don’t get it, do you?”

Gabriel begins to walk away from this man, who now laughs and shouts after him.

“Let me know if you need somebody to be your daddy.”

Gabriel does not turn around. In his own country he would have killed this man and nobody would have held him responsible for his actions. A disgusted Gabriel can barely contain his anger as he walks, and then he discovers the bus stop and he joins a short line. He stands behind a poverty-stricken woman who carries her small child in her arms. Gabriel looks closely and is surprised to see that the child has two earrings in each ear, but it is the small nose, which looks as though it has been finger-moulded out of damp clay, that shocks him, for it contains a large gold stud.

When the bus comes he follows the woman onto it, but he sits downstairs in a seat by himself. Gabriel is relieved that the bus conductor is a West Indian man, and he holds out his coins.

“I wish to go to Upper Street, please.”

The man takes a single coin. “I’ll let you know, mate.” He winks at Gabriel as he says this.

Gabriel is too frightened to respond, so instead he looks out of the window. His mind drifts and it occurs to Gabriel that he might arrive at Katherine’s house and then discover that she is not there. She may still be working, or she may have gone out for the evening, but as he continues to think about these possibilities his eyes begin to close.

“Upper Street, mate.”

Gabriel stands up and the conductor points to his rolled-up magazines.

“You selling them or wearing them?” The man laughs.

“Would you like one?” Gabriel peels a single copy out of his pocket, and the man laughs and gives Gabriel a coin in exchange for the magazine.

“You’ll have to be a bit more in-your-face if you want to get rid of them.”

Gabriel steps from the bus and looks around as it pulls away. He takes out the piece of paper with Katherine’s address on it, and he approaches a man who, even at this late hour, is still selling newspapers. Gabriel simply says, “Please,” and shows the man the piece of paper. The man pushes his glasses up and onto the top of his head so that they are nesting in his hair, and then he squints at the writing in the gloom.

“Over there, mate.” He points across the road. “Just go down the street over there. It’s on the left.”

Gabriel thanks the man, and as he crosses the road, the London sky once again begins to weep gentle rain. He holds his gaping jacket together, and he walks cautiously down the side street until he comes to number twenty-seven. He can see that this is an affluent neighbourhood, for the houses have gardens at the front that are neat and well maintained. Also, the cars that are parked on this street are all expensive models that Gabriel recognises as the type that ministers or businessmen in his country liked to drive. However, there is one car that disturbs Gabriel, for a metal coat hanger has been twisted into the shape of a crushed diamond, then hopelessly inserted into a hole in the bonnet to serve as a radio aerial. This car suddenly reminds Gabriel of home, and of his own dreams of one day owning a vehicle, but he turns from the car and its makeshift aerial and realises that he has finally discovered the house.

The lights are on, so Gabriel knows that Katherine is at home, but he is now unsure of what he might say to her. He unfastens the gate and walks gingerly up the path. Once he reaches the door, Gabriel presses the bell, but nothing happens, so he knocks at the door, and as he waits he hears, somewhere in the distance, the thin, high-pitched whistle of what he imagines to be a passing train. After a few moments, Katherine appears before him with a book in one hand. She is wearing dark-rimmed glasses, which make her appear older.