Mac and I had decided to buy a piece of land on which to build a home of our own, for various reasons we didn’t want to build on Family Hill. We purchased 1 ½ acres at Belmont next to Mac’s Aunt Minnie, and once the house was built we would have a stunning view of Admiralty Bay. It would be a while before we could afford to build the house, but the land was a step in the right direction. I recall we paid $6.00 EC per square foot, which back then was a lot for a piece of land!
Mac loved fruit trees and flowers, and he had the green thumb that I sorely lacked. Once we had the deed for the land at Belmont he started clearing it, he wanted to plant fruit trees before construction began. While I worked at the Pizzeria Mac worked the land, and soon his efforts were noticeable. He left Family Hill each morning with his cutlass and file, and I often didn’t see him again until l got home from work at night.
One morning Mac came rushing through the swinging doors of the Pizzeria with his shirt covering his face, and the shirt was absolutely covered with blood. I couldn’t understand what he was trying to tell me with the shirt muffling his voice but it was pretty obvious he was badly hurt. His face was pale and pouring with sweat, and I could see that he was in a lot of pain. “Calm down!” I said, “I can’t understand what you’re saying! You have to show me what happened!” Mac removed the shirt from his mouth and I screamed. And screamed. And screamed some more before throwing up.
Mac had slipped with his cutlass while clearing the land and had managed to slice his upper lip in half. It was an awful sight, quite monstrous in fact, and I have never been very brave of the sight of blood. At that point in time there was no doctor on the Island, and even if there HAD been a doctor I knew Mac had to go to St. Vincent, and he had to go right away. I called my friend Nancy Boak and asked her to come to the Pizzeria, we needed her help. I felt pretty useless standing there in the middle of the kitchen, I didn’t know what to do for Mac other than give him ice for the injury. I couldn’t bear to look at his lip, it was too dreadful.
Our friend Nancy owned a dive shop at the newly-built Gingerbread complex and she had a fast boat. When Nancy saw what had happened to Mac she agreed to take him to the mainland right away, and with no hesitation the two of them left. I called Dr. Robertson, a doctor with a private clinic in Kingstown, and asked him to stand by for an emergency from Bequia. Nancy and Mac were gone for several hours, arriving back home well after dark. The doctor had done a fine job of stitching Mac’s lip back together, the poor fellow was in a lot of pain but at least he had one upper lip again instead of two!
Mac was a very handsome man. The scar left by the cut made him less pretty, which in a funny way made him even more handsome – it gave him a rather dashing look. Nancy didn’t remain on Bequia but I will never forget how good she was to us that day by taking Mac across the channel in her boat. She had responded quickly and dropped what she was doing in order to help, proving that a friend in need is a friend indeed!
Thanks Nancy, your friendship was appreciated.