Dona Nicanora's Hat Shop (16 page)

‘You look like a film star,' Isabela whispered across the table to him, making him blush bright red. ‘One of those film stars who has got old and is trying to look thirty years younger than he is.' Nicanora caught the flicker of panic in the kind eyes of her old suitor.

‘I have never seen you look so good,' she said. ‘The colours are … they make you …'

‘Thank you,' said Don Bosco, staring at the table. Sensing that she had provided him with exactly the right degree of discomfort, Isabela turned her attention to Arturo again.

‘So, do you have a sweetheart, doctor?' she asked.

‘No. Yes. Well no, not really. I don't know,' Arturo replied.

‘That sounds intriguing. You haven't come here with a broken heart, have you?' Isabela asked.

‘No, no, it's nothing like that,' said Arturo, feeling the colour rising in his own cheeks.

‘Well, whatever it is, we'll have to do something about it,' she said. ‘Or are you another confirmed bachelor like Don Bosco here? That's right, isn't it? You are a confirmed bachelor, aren't you, Don Bosco?'

‘Yes, that's right,' said Don Bosco looking at Nicanora.

‘Isabela stop this silly prattle and help me serve the food,' Nicanora said. ‘So how are you finding life here, doctor?'

‘I like the town very much. It's beautiful, very quiet,' Arturo replied.

‘So what do you do with yourself all day up at that clinic?' Isabela asked.

‘Well, I haven't really done anything yet. I'm still waiting for some patients to come.'

‘Where from?' Nicanora said, distracted as she served the food on to the plates.

‘You've had one patient,' Don Bosco said. ‘He saved Teofelo's life only the other day.' And he proceeded to tell the tale of how Don Teofelo had nearly bled to death in the barber's chair, leaving out only the crucial point about why Don Bosco had lost his concentration and inflicted the injury in the first place.

‘It's not like you to be harming your customers,' said Nicanora.
‘Perhaps you're losing your touch? Have you ever considered retiring and taking life easy?'

‘Retire? Me? But why would I?' he replied, shocked. ‘Why would I want to? What would I do with myself all day?'

‘Oh, there are plenty of things,' Nicanora replied. ‘There is so much more you could do. Why don't you give up that old shop of yours and do something interesting, while you still have the chance?'

‘You never did think being a barber was very interesting, did you?' Don Bosco replied, looking at Nicanora, the old wound beginning to seep again. ‘Why does everyone suddenly want me to retire? Maybe I just want to be a barber. Maybe I like being a barber,' he continued. ‘Maybe being a barber is all I've ever wanted. Maybe I want to die in my barber's shop.' Everyone stopped talking for a minute, all struggling to find the words to move the conversation on. The silence was broken by Nena making her belated entrance with her bedraggled friend.

‘What's he doing here?' Nicanora said turning to Nena, confused by how quickly she had found herself treading upon Don Bosco's fragile feelings again. ‘Why didn't you leave him in the plaza like I told you to?'

‘You said I could invite him,' Nena replied.

‘But we have guests. We don't have room for everyone at the table.'

‘But you said I could invite the whole neighbourhood, and I only invited him because I only like him.'

‘Well, I didn't mean it. You don't have to listen to everything I say,' Nicanora replied. ‘You'll have to squeeze on to the chair with Isabela, and go and get another plate for him,' she said, gesturing towards the Gringito, who was standing grinning at the assembled crowd. Don Bosco and Arturo exchanged awkward glances.

‘I'm very happy to be introduced to your house guest, finally,' Don Bosco said after a while. ‘He's been providing us with continual amusement for a while now. Perhaps it's time that we at least learnt his name.'

There was a pause.

‘I'm not sure he has a name,' Nicanora said.

‘But everyone has a name,' said Don Bosco. ‘That's what makes us human.'

‘That's not true at all,' Nena replied. ‘Lucho has a name and he's a dog.'

‘Well that's my point,' said Don Bosco. ‘Even your dog has a name.'

‘He does have a name, as it happens,' said Nena.

‘Well what is it then?' asked Nicanora.

‘It's a secret,' said Nena

Ernesto leaned over to Arturo and whispered, ‘So do you think he's mad?' as the Gringito lowered himself on to the chair next to Ernesto.

‘And have you been enjoying the sun today?' Nicanora asked the flushed Gringito, trying out small talk for the first time since her house guest had arrived. Nena translated for her friend in the dialect that she had fabricated for his personal use, and he mumbled something in reply.

‘That's just reminded me,' Ernesto said suddenly. ‘The mayor came to the clinic the other day and he was very threatening about him. He said he might have to leave. He was very threatening to the doctor as well, come to think of it.'

‘Why? Why would he want him to leave?' asked Nicanora. ‘He isn't doing anyone any harm.'

‘No, but according the mayor he isn't behaving properly,' said Ernesto.

‘What are you talking about?'

‘He isn't behaving like a foreigner.'

‘Ernesto, what are you talking about?' Nicanora said again, exasperated by her children's wanton display of idiocy in front of her guests. ‘Will you please make sense and stop speaking with your mouth full.'

‘Apparently the mayor is expecting visitors from the authorities,' Ernesto continued in a conspiratorial tone. ‘He wants to make a good impression on them. He wants to show them we have a tourist here. The problem is, the mayor doesn't think he's behaving like a proper tourist. And the doctor has to get some patients at the clinic by the time the authorities visit or he'll have to go back home as well.'

‘Oh, we can't have that,' said Isabela, winking at Arturo, ‘we can't have you being sent home when you've only just arrived.'

‘What sort of patients do you need?' asked Nicanora.

‘I don't know,' said Arturo. ‘Sick ones I suppose.'

‘I'm not sure anyone around here is sick at the moment,' said Nicanora. ‘And if they were they would go and visit the medicine man.'

‘What you need is a business manager,' said Isabela. ‘Since I've been helping my mother in the market the sale of her fruit has doubled. I would be a much better doctor's assistant than my hopeless brother. I've been thinking I may like to train to be a doctor. Perhaps, I could come to the clinic and you could show me how it is done.'

‘Isabela,' Nicanora said, giving her daughter a warning look.

‘I have a better idea,' said Ernesto. ‘You could have a party, to christen the clinic. We haven't had a good fiesta here since my farewell party.'

‘What a good idea,' said Don Bosco, amiably.

‘So are we going to get to keep him?' Nena asked suddenly.

‘Who? said Nicanora.

‘The Gringito,' Nena replied. ‘Ernesto said we may have to send him back. I don't want him to go. He's my friend.' Her eyes began to fill with tears.

‘Don't you have friends your own age?' Don Bosco asked kindly.

‘They're boring. They just want to do stupid things. The Gringito is more fun.'

‘Well, if you want to keep him, you'll have to teach him how to be a tourist,' said Ernesto.

‘OK,' Nena replied and she smiled at the Gringito, who was battling messily with a chicken leg.

Don Julio and Don Teofelo had been waiting at the end of the street for at least three hours and they were beginning to get bored.

‘I wonder what they're talking about?' Julio said again. ‘At least it must be going well, otherwise they would have left by now. What do you think she wants with him?'

‘For the last time, I don't know,' Teofelo replied. ‘This was a silly idea. We could just as well have waited for him at home. Anyway she can't say much in front of the doctor even if she wants to.'

‘Why do you think she asked him as well?' Julio continued. ‘Do you think Bosco will tell us? You know what he's like, he's always so secretive.'

‘Well, there's one way of finding out,' said Teofelo. ‘We can go and listen for ourselves. You can creep into the yard and listen under the window for a minute, get the feel of the conversation.'

‘But what if they come out?'

‘You'll hear them moving from the table. That'll give you enough time to hide, and I can keep a lookout for you from the street.'

‘Why me? Why do I have to go?'

‘Because you're the one who is so impatient, and it was your idea to wait here for Bosco in the first place. Besides, you're nimbler than me, you could get away quicker if need be.'

‘Oh no,' said Don Julio, ‘I'm not falling for that one. We're both in this together or not at all.'

‘Well then,' said Teofelo, ‘we'll just have to wait here and then we may never find out what it's all about. Just like you said, Bosco will never tell us.'

All was clear in the yard apart from a couple of beer bottles that had been discarded on the floor. Muffled voices could be heard from the house.

‘They must be inside,' Julio said. Teofelo shot him a look that was entirely wasted on him. ‘If I hide just around the corner from the window, I should be able to hear enough to make out what's going on, and then they wouldn't be able to see me if they came out.' Then, seeing Lucho asleep on the mat by the door, Julio had a momentary second thought. ‘What about the dog?'

‘It's all right,' said Teofelo, ‘it's too hot for him to wake up for a good few hours.'

Don Julio tiptoed slowly across the yard, stood round the corner from the door, waited there for a couple of minutes and then tiptoed back to Teofelo who was safely concealed on the other side of the fence.

‘I can't hear what they're saying,' he said.

‘Oh, for heaven's sake,' said Teofelo, who was growing edgier by the minute with the midday sun beating down on him. ‘I'll come with you. But we need to get closer to the door.' As they shuffled
quietly past Lucho, he let out a soft growl, dreaming contentedly of intruders tiptoeing across the yard.

Teofelo crouched under the window close to the door, with Julio behind him at his heels. ‘What are they saying?' Julio whispered.

‘Shh.'

‘I can't hear.'

‘You need to get the doctor to clear your ears out,' Teofelo snapped, ‘and your brain.'

‘So that's what we will do then,' Don Bosco was saying. ‘Ernesto and Isabela will help with all the preparations – that'll keep you both busy.'

‘They're planning some celebrations,' Teofelo whispered.

‘You see,' said Ernesto, ‘I knew everything would be sorted out.'

‘It's a deal,' said Arturo, whose voice sounded unusual, slurred.

‘And the doctor is drunk,' Teofelo said, into Julio's waiting left ear.

‘So, he must have proposed again,' said Julio. ‘They must be planning the wedding.'

‘I'll make a large cake,' said Isabela. ‘After all, it's not every day we get to celebrate at a clinic.'

‘They're going to hold the celebrations at the clinic,' Teofelo whispered.

‘Why?' asked Julio.

‘I don't know,' Teofelo hissed into his ear, ‘why don't you go inside and ask them?'

‘But then they would know that we've been listening at the window,' Julio protested, and Teofelo, whose patience had finally left him for the day, turned around and gave his companion a sharp slap on the head. Julio let out a yelp that passed into Lucho's dreams, and he started a low growling by the door.

‘What's wrong with Lucho?' Nena asked.

‘Rats, I expect,' said Don Bosco, casting a glance at the window as he and Arturo stood to take their leave.