Caribbean

Two round old ladies amble towards me, bundled up in coats, hats pulled down against the cold. As I pass them on my way towards Oval tube station, I hear a snippet of their conversation, deep, rich West Indian tones that make me smile, feel warm and remember the shy, startled, too-young girl, alone in the big city, who lodged with a family from Trinidad, a family who watched her grow up and who laughed indulgently at her youthful caprice. The years have not diminished affection.