On an unnamed Caribbean island in the 1960s, a girl named Wheeler, the youngest of three sisters, is left in the care of her aunts while her mother goes to England to seek work. It’s a glimpse into a story not often told, of the children of the Windrush emigrants who were left behind: who waited for their parents to send for them.
With meticulous detail, Anne Hawk outlines the contours of Wheeler’s world: a small volcanic island; a town on the bay; humble houses built on the steep slopes rising up from the sea. The sea is ever present and ever changing: one moment, a “brilliant display of silver water at their backs”, another moment “gnawing” and “ravenous” on the underside of the road; other times “pleating, golden waves” that “broke away in the light”. When Wheeler’s eyes turn to the bay, searching for the boat that might bring news of her mother, she sees “long-distance ships” that “materialise, waver and change course out on the horizon”.
