Page 50 - Daphne Hart - 89 and Feeling Fine

promised, but he would help me out. When I did start
getting paid, I offered to pay him back, but he refused

to take it. I knew him only as George. People called him

“Brownman,” I suppose because he was very light in
complexion—but I called him George. I preferred that

name, because in Jamaica, people always call others by
an alias.

We could have made it together. The little I knew about

love—I did love him. He was kind and affectionate and
funny. He was the first person who ever told me that I

was pretty. And of course, he was handsome.

So, we became friends, and all was going well—until he

said he got an opportunity to go to England. I begged
him not to go, not to leave me alone, to no avail. I was

just a few weeks pregnant and didn’t know it. So, he

took off, promising to send for me.

I never met his family or any of his friends. I was

completely alone. I got a couple of letters that had no
real meaning. But after the baby was born—and it was

a girl—I guess he was disappointed, and really didn’t
love me like I thought he did. In those days, men wanted

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