Meet Me Under The Ombu Tree (71 page)

^l
Buen dia
, Senora Hoffstetta,’ said Santi, nodding his head politely.

‘I didn’t know the Old Witch was still alive!’ hissed Sofia through her smile.

‘I don’t think witches die,’ replied Santi.

La Vieja Bruja
sat hunched in a long black dress - no wonder she had been given the nickname Old Witch. As a child, she had found her terrifying, Sofia recalled. Her face was small and pinched, like an old walnut. Her eyes were as black as her teeth and you could smell her a mile off. She clasped in her long,

knotted fingers a brown paper bag.

The cousins sat down and tried to ignore her, but all the while they were talking Sofia could feel the woman’s eyes on her back.

‘Is she still looking at us?’ she asked Santi.

‘Yes, she is. Just pretend she’s not there.’

‘I can feel her. I wish she’d go away.’

‘Don’t worry, she’s not a witch, really.’

‘Don’t believe it. She makes the witches in storybooks look like Snow White.’ They both laughed into their hands. ‘She probably knows we’re talking about her.’

‘If she’s a witch then she most certainly does.’

‘Let’s go. I really can’t bear her!’ So they stood up to go.

‘Bah!’ she screeched. They ignored her and hurried on. ‘Bah!’ she persisted.
^l
Mala suerte.
You had your chance.
Mala suerte.
Bah!’ They both stopped and looked at each other in astonishment. Santi was on the point of turning to confront her but Sofia managed to grab him by the arm and pull him on. ‘Twin souls. I see into your auras, twin souls! Bah!’ she continued.

‘O
Dios
, she’s frightening me. Let’s get out of here,’ insisted Sofia and they

walked at great speed.

‘How dare she talk to us like that, the gossipmonger!’ Santi said angrily. ‘It’s people like her who go around making trouble for everyone.’

‘You know she really is a witch, there’s no mistaking it.’

‘Well, why doesn’t she just piss off on her broomstick then.’ They both laughed nervously.

Suddenly, just when they thought they had seen the last of her, she appeared before them, crooked and reeking, with the semblance of an oversized, hairy bat. She shuffled up to Sofia and thrust the brown paper bag into her unsuspecting hands. She held it with the revulsion of someone carrying a bag full of dripping entrails, it felt soft and damp in her fingers. She looked into the woman’s black eyes and panicked, but
La Vieja Bruja
nodded at her reassuringly and closed her hands around the bag. She squirmed and stepped backwards in a vain attempt to be rid of her.
La Vieja Bruja
grinned and muttered her name ‘Sofia Solanas’ before disappearing back into the square.

Once safely in the truck, Sofia slammed the door and rolled up the window. She was shaking.

‘What’s in the bag?’ Santi asked impatiently, beginning to find the whole

situation amusing.

‘I don’t know why you’re smirking, there’s nothing funny about it. You open it!’ she cried and thrust it at him. Slowly he opened it and peered inside with half an eye as if he expected to find something grotesque within. Then he laughed loudly with relief.

‘Well, what is it?’ she asked.

‘You’re not going to believe this! It’s a sapling - an ombu tree, for you to plant.’

‘An ombu tree? What on earth am I going to do with an ombu tree?’

‘Well, it certainly won’t grow in England.’ He began to laugh again.

‘What an odd woman. How old is she? I thought she was ancient twenty years ago,’ she exclaimed hotly. ‘She should be cold in her grave by now.'

‘Why give you an ombu tree?’ muttered Santi, frowning. ‘I’m surprised she even knew who you were.’

He started the engine and Sofia was relieved when they left the town behind and headed back to Santa Catalina.

‘What did she mean by twin souls?’ she said after a while.

‘I don’t know.’

‘She’s right though, we are. But I don’t think you need to be clairvoyant to see that. She’s so creepy. The trouble is, people believe her,’ she said angrily. ‘Soledad for one.’

‘Oh, and you don’t?’ he said and his mouth twisted into the beginnings of a smirk.

‘Of course not!’ she sniffed.

‘Then why are we even discussing her? If you didn’t believe her you wouldn’t even bother thinking about her.’

‘That doesn’t make sense. I don’t believe her, she’s a nuisance and I don’t think she should go around frightening people. I don’t believe in witches.’

‘But you believe in the magic of the ombu.’

‘That’s different.’

‘No, it’s not!’

‘It is. She’s a madwoman. She should be locked up. The ombu is something altogether different. The magic of nature.’

‘Chofi?’

‘Yes?’ she said irritably. Then looked at him and noticed the beginnings of a smile tickle his face.

‘Has the ombu ever made a wish of yours come true?’ he said, his eyes concentrating on the road as if he needed something to distract himself from laughing.

‘Yes, it has.’

‘Which one?’

‘I once made a wish that you would fall in love with me,’ she replied and smiled triumphantly.

‘I don’t think that had anything to do with the ombu.’

‘You know nothing about it!’ she exclaimed. ‘You just don’t understand the power of nature and you know something, I’ll bet you this sapling
will
grow in England.’ She turned and caught him smiling. ‘Are you laughing at me?’ she complained. ‘Stop the car.’

‘What?’

‘Stop the car. Now!’

He steered off the road and up a track to some trees that opened out into a field. He switched off the engine and turned to face her. His large green eyes and mischievous grin were irresistible. She felt her irritation lift.

‘Look - she
was
creepy,’ insisted Sofia.

‘She certainly was. But what’s the harm in saying we’re twin souls?’ he said, kissing her neck.

‘She said we’d had our chance.’

‘What does she know? She’s only an old witch,’ he chuckled, unbuttoning her dress.

As soon as his warm lips were on hers she forgot about the ranting of the old woman in the plaza. He tasted of salt and smelt of that uniquely Santi smell she loved so much. She climbed astride him, catching her breath as she negotiated the steering wheel and gear stick. He pulled up her dress and ran his hand over the tender skin of her inner thighs. They were tacky with sweat. He pulled her panties to one side and slid into her. Placing his hands in the small of her back he pulled her against him, guiding her movements. As they made love half dressed she felt once more the excitement of breaking the rules.

Back at Santa Catalina they fell into the pool. The afternoon sun hung low in the west, smouldering like a dying coal in the limpid sky. Mosquitoes hovered about the trees and grass and the scents of Antonio’s roses and honeysuckle reached them across the water. Lying with their arms over the edge, gazing out over the fields, they talked about the things that had changed during the years that they had been parted.

‘You know, I miss Jose,’ said Sofia. ‘Pablo’s sweet, but I somehow connected with Jose.’

‘He was a wise old bird.’

‘Who’s this Javier? He’s very handsome.’

‘He’s Soledad and Antonio's son. Didn’t she tell you?’ he replied, surprised.

‘Soledad’s son? Are you sure?’

‘Of course I’m sure. I can’t believe she didn’t tell you. She probably assumed you knew.’

‘How awful. I’ve done nothing but talk about myself since the moment I arrived.’

‘He’s a bit of a hero.’

‘Really, how come?’

Santi told her how Javier had been helping his father with the plants around the pool a few years before, while the family sat sunbathing and chatting on the terrace that circled the water. Clara and Felix had been playing quietly on the grass with their other small cousins. No one had noticed Felix crawling over to the edge of the water to feel it with his hands. Javier just happened to look into the pool to see what looked like a small grey blur sitting at the bottom, unmoving. He didn’t waste a moment. He dived in to find the small object was little Felix. He pulled the child out of the water, gasping and spluttering for air. He saved his life. If it hadn’t been for Javier, Felix would have drowned. Paco gave him a new saddle with his initials engraved on a silver plaque as a reward for saving the life of his grandson. No one ever forgot what Javier had done. Paco had always been especially fond of Javier.

The moment they finished their swim Sofia headed back to the house, straight into the kitchen where Soledad was preparing the dinner.

‘Soledad, you never told me you had a son,’ she said enthusiastically, endeavouring to make up for her previous lack of interest. ‘He’s so

good-looking too.’

‘Just like Antonio.' laughed Soledad.

‘Well, more like
you,
Soledad.' said Sofia. ‘I feel awful - I’ve seen him around the
campo
for the last few days and I’ve never said anything.’

‘I thought you knew.’

‘Well, I do now. Santi told me how he saved Felix’s life. You must be very proud.’

‘I am. We both are. Javier polishes his saddle every day. It’s the most precious thing he owns. Señor Paco is a very generous man,’ she said with reverence.

‘Javier is well deserving of his generosity,’ Sofia told her.

Sofia wandered off to her room where she ran a cool bath. As she undressed she thought of Santi and wondered what the future held. She thought of David, too, how he had rescued her at a time when she felt vulnerable and lost. He had been so good to her. She was relieved when Soledad knocked on the door. She needed to be distracted from the questions that invaded her mind whenever she found herself alone.

Soledad entered hurriedly. To Sofia’s surprise her round face was pale and tearstained and she wrung her hands in anguish. Sofia immediately led her to the bed where she sat beside her, placing an arm over her large shoulders to comfort her.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asked and watched as the other woman’s big frame shook with sobs. Soledad tried to speak but cracked at every attempt, breaking down once more in tears. Finally, after much cajoling she said she had a secret she had been sworn to keep. ‘But you’re my Sofia,’ she wept. ‘I can’t keep anything from you.’

Sofia wasn’t really interested in her secret. She had kept many of Soledad's secrets in the past and none of them had ever been worth anything. But she hated to see her old friend so upset, so she listened to her secret to comfort her.

‘It’s about Javier,’ Soledad began weakly.

‘He’s all right, isn’t he?’ asked Sofia, concerned, imagining he might be ill.

‘It’s not like that, Señora Sofia. We love him, Antonio and I. We’ve given him a good home, watched him grow up into a man. We’re proud of him. You’d be pleased.’

‘Then why are you crying? He’s a good son. You’re lucky.’

‘Oh, I know, Señora Sofia. You don’t understand.’ She paused, took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘Señor Paco told us not to tell anyone. We never did. We kept his secret for twenty-three years. We thought you’d come back sooner. We were only his guardians, we told ourselves. You’ve always been his mother.’

‘What are you talking about, Soledad?’ whispered Sofia.

‘Please don’t blame me. I only did what Señor Paco asked me to do. He brought your baby over from Switzerland. He said he wanted him to have a good home. That you’d come back and regret what you had done. He didn’t want his grandson to be brought up by strangers.’

‘Javier is my son?’ Sofia said slowly. She felt strangely detached from her body as if her words were coming out of someone else.

‘Javier is your son,’ Soledad repeated and began to howl like a wounded beast.

Sofia got to her feet and stood by the window looking out onto the dusky
pampa.

‘Javier is Santiguito?’ she asked, not wanting to believe it. She saw in the glass his little hands and feet, his small nose that she had kissed too few times. She tasted the salt in her mouth. She watched her reflection in the window contort with pain, until her eyes were so blurred she ceased to see anything at all.

‘Señor Paco and I - and of course Antonio - are the only people who know about this. He didn’t want Señora Anna to know. But it is your right. You are his mother. If you want to tell Javier I cannot stop you. Maybe he should know who his real parents are. That he is a Solanas.’

Sofia ran out into the park leaving Soledad howling alone in her bedroom. It was almost dark. She didn’t know what she was going to say to him, but she had to see him, she had to tell him. After all, wasn’t it every child’s right to know who had carried him? She saw herself in her mind’s eye throwing her arms around him and breathing into his body, ‘My son, you are Santiguito, the son I thought I had lost, the son I thought I would never see again.’ The tears had ceased and in their place she felt a strange lightness of being. It was intoxicating.