Villa Pacifica (16 page)

T
he rain hadn't stopped: it had quietened down to a weak shower, invisible in the dark. Under the canopy of moisture, Villa Pacifica breathed heavily with its animals and humans, all scattered in the darkness among the dripping plants. Birds and monkeys screeched from the other side.

Along the white-pebbled paths, the lanterns came on. The main house was lit up with a warm, festive glow. Or so it must have appeared to Luis, his mother and Helga with the baby strapped at her front, who were arriving there for the first time. From the upstairs games room, Ute watched them walk in a single file.

She was upstairs because Max – and everyone else – was downstairs. Jerry was browsing through a book. The others were finishing their dinner. Lucía and Héctor were looking through ledger books at the reception bar. Mikel was out walking the collies on the beach. And Carlos was of course on the other side. The Villa Pacifica family in perfect harmony.

Ute and Jerry had managed to eat before Max entered the scene, all excited after his afternoon in the animal shelter.

“Hey, guess what! Guess what!” he'd shouted. “I fed the lion cub today, and then we moved her to the new pit. She was good as a kitten. And we fed the jaguar, two kilos of rabbit meat – boy does he eat. It wasn't a live bunny this time round…”

Ute didn't feel social tonight. She was subdued and a bit fragile. Being in constant proximity to fellow tourists she didn't like always unsettled her. It used up the precious energy she needed to stay alert and record things accurately. Still, the idea of their dingy
tortuga
with nothing to do but lie on the bed and listen to the buzzing of mosquitoes wasn't alluring either.

“Hey, hey, hey, we've got new arrivals!
Buenas
!” Max's voice carried up. There was the scraping of chairs downstairs. Jerry came up the stairs.

“New arrivals from Puerto Seco,” he said. “I think they're just here for dinner. Local guy with his mother, and a sort of feral-looking woman with a baby. I thought you might want to meet them.”

“I met them already,” Ute said. “In the village.”

“Oh, did you?” He sat next to where she was reclining, on the cushioned bank by the windows. “Are you OK?”

“Fine. Just not in the mood for Max tonight.”

“Yeah, I know. Everybody's sick of him. Except the Australian woman, she finds him hilarious.”

To confirm this, Liz started braying with laughter downstairs. The baby joined her with a piercing cry. Ute covered her ears. If this was their baby, it would be calling out to them, an adorable tadpole from the amoebic depths of their combined genetic pools. It would no longer be annoying. Down on the path, Mikel was returning with the two collies.

“You know that I love you, don't you?” Jerry said suddenly, and flicked his fringe. He stared at her with an imploring, puppy-like look.

Why, she wanted to ask, why do you love me, still? No other man has ever loved me, not even my father. Carlos here doesn't even notice me. Are you sure it's love and not habit?

Ute put her hand on his thigh reassuringly. Because that's what the statement signalled:
he
needed to be reassured, not she. “Of course,” was her flat answer.

“I'm going to have some cheesecake and coffee. Want to join me?” Jerry said. He was visibly relieved. She felt a pang of pity – for him or for herself, she wasn't sure.

“Sure.” She smiled. She felt numb, and it was better that way. Jerry never drank coffee in the evening.

Downstairs, all the diners had gathered around Mikel on the veranda. Luis nodded at Ute in friendly acknowledgement. Helga and the mother ignored her.

“…Heavy rains and storms over the next days and weeks,” Mikel was saying. “Perhaps not tomorrow or the day after, but definitely some time this week. The entire coast will be affected, so I'd advise those of you who want to avoid it to leave first thing tomorrow and drive inland, away from the coast.”

“What's he saying?” Liz asked Max.

“There's a storm on the way,” Max translated. Eve looked relieved. Finally, there was a reason to leave.

“But we just had one now,” Liz said.

“Could we leave tonight?” Alejandro asked anxiously, and looked at Alma. She blinked with heavy eyelashes and said, “Whatever you say,
corazón
, I don't mind.”

“Indeed, do as you like,
corazón
,” Mikel mocked good-naturedly, then got serious again. Ute caught a whiff of alcohol off him. “But you've seen the holes in the coastal road and the bad signposting. And anyway, it's coming to nine o'clock, where are you gonna spend the night? There's nowhere to stay within three hours of driving, in any direction. That's why I said, first thing tomorrow. I think the night will be calm.”

Lucía and Héctor were listening from reception, their elbows propped on the carved wooden bar. With his crazy hair, glasses and Hawaiian shirt and shorts, Mikel looked like a mad zoology professor gone native in some tropical jungle, evangelizing to a loyal gathering of disciples.

Except they were neither loyal nor disciples. All they shared was the random fact of being inside Villa Pacifica tonight. Otherwise, their lives had nothing in common. Luis's mother gave no sign of interest in the world. The baby had closed its eyes, its tiny face screwed up in disgust, as if saying, “Take me back to where I came from, I don't like it here.” Helga uttered something in German to Luis, but he was already addressing the group.

“I remember reading in Germany about
El Niño
on the coast along here – what, about three, four years ago?”

“Last year,” Mikel said.

“What's happening?” Jerry asked Ute.

“There's some bad weather on the way.”

“No kidding,” he snorted.

“More rain and thunderstorms.”

Jerry frowned. “I thought rain was good news. Didn't they want rain because of the droughts?”

“Yeah,” Liz joined in. “We heard the same on the Galápagos. They've had a really dry year, and they were hoping for some rain this summer.”

“
Sí
, we want rain,” Mikel said. “But not
El Niño
.”

“I don't know about you guys,” Tim said in a languid way, “but I'm loving it here, So if you wanna go” – he flicked a hand at them – “then go. Liz, what do you reckon?”

“Yeah, we're gonna stick around another coupla days,” Liz agreed. “We've just come face to face with sharks in the Galápagos, we're not gonna be scared by a bit of rain.”

“I like your attitude,” Max approved. “We're not going anywhere. I wanna see the storm too!”

“All right, you stay right here and fight it out with the elements,” Eve said with controlled fury. “The children need me, and I'm going first thing tomorrow. And I'm not packing
your
things this time.”

“
Bueno
,” Mikel said, and lit up a cigarette. “When you've decided, let me know.” Then he withdrew to his habitual table around the corner at the other end of the terrace, out of view.

“So,” Luis said in Spanish, turning to Ute, “will you and your husband be staying another day? I still want to go snorkelling tomorrow, if it's not raining… I don't believe
El Niño
is gonna hit again. It doesn't ever happen less than five to ten years apart.”

“Even if it's raining, we could still do it, it doesn't matter,” Ute said to Luis.

“Perfect,” Luis beamed, and explained in turn to his partner and mother that they were staying another day.

“All right folks, so who's staying for the snorkelling?” Max said, and put up a hand. “Alejandro and Alma are chickening out.” Alejandro opened his mouth to say something, then shut it.

“You're not going,” Max counted Eve out. She'd just taken a bite of cheesecake.

“
Mi amigo
Luis here has more guts. You're stayin', right?”

“Right,” Luis said in an American accent and crossed his short, muscular arms.

“The Australians are staying, right?” Max looked at Liz.

“Yep,” she chimed.

“Uddar and Jerry?” Max turned to them.

“Are you taking a census or something?” Jerry chuckled.

“OK,” Luis said in English. “We need minimum six persons. How many we have now?”

“I
definitely
wanna go snorkelling,” Liz said.

“What's the story with the snorkelling?” Tim asked.

“It's from the Agua Sagrada beach, on the other side,” Luis explained. “We catch a boat at eleven in Puerto Seco.”

“Sounds good. I mean” – Tim looked at Liz – “we snorkelled a lot in the Galápagos. I feel like I've seen every fish under the ocean – but what else are we gonna do here, eh Lizzie?” Liz agreed.

“Are we going?” Jerry asked Ute.

“I'm going. I need to check it out for the guide.”

“OK, four people,” Luis summed up. “With me and my mother, six. Enough.” He turned happily to the pile of seafood Héctor had placed before him.

“Plus two is eight,” Max yelled from the reception bar, where he was helping himself to another piece of cheesecake.

“I'm leaving tomorrow, remember?” Eve reminded him from the veranda.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Max shouted back.

Soft music started up inside the reception lounge. It was ‘Dos Gardenias'
from the Buena Vista Social Club.

“
Dos gardenias para tí
,” Mikel crowed out of tune from his table round the corner… “
Te quiero, te adoro, mi viiiida
…”

Max couldn't bear to be upstaged, and snapped into action.

“
Dos gardenias para ti
…” he sang along in a loud baritone, and went down on one knee by Liz's chair, offering her the remainder of his cake. “
Un beeeso
…”

Liz giggled, took the cake, and popped it in her mouth. She was a practised party girl. Tim arched an eyebrow and looked at the seated Eve, who was busy folding a napkin into tiny pieces. Helga was breastfeeding the baby, and Luis looked at Ute, as if asking “What's going on in this madhouse?” Ute shrugged with a philosophical non-smile.

“You're way off-key, Max,” Eve said, but he paid no attention.

“He thinks he's winding me up,” Eve said to Ute. “But he's not. I'm way beyond that.”

Ute nodded. Jerry had gone back to the bookshelves. Héctor's inscrutable face was watching from behind reception.

“So come on guys, what are we gonna do tonight?” Max said.

“We can play darts,” Alejandro proposed.

“Nah, boring,” Max said.

“What's the song saying?” Jerry asked.

Ute translated: “But if one afternoon the gardenias of my love die, then I'll know that you've betrayed me, that you have another love.”

“Gosh, and I always thought it was a cheerful song. Do you think everything's all right between these two?” Jerry gestured in the direction of Mikel's drunken singing.

“What makes you say that?”

“I don't know what a woman like Lucía sees in that clown,” Jerry went on.

“How do you mean?”

A glass smashed at their hosts' table. Ute had taken a chair closer to that end of the veranda. She heard Lucía's soft voice from a few metres away: “
Amor
, that's enough wine for tonight.” One of the collies came and stood by Ute's chair with a forlorn look, like a child scared away by a violent father. She rubbed his furry flank and he settled at her feet.

“Are you guys on holiday with the little one?” Liz asked, turning to Luis and Helga.

“Yes,” Helga said.

“My junior brother died some weeks ago,” Luis explained in an American accent.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Liz gasped.

“Sorry to hear about it,” Alejandro offered too, and translated the sad news to Alma.

“Wow, how did your brother die?” Max asked.

“We are from the
Oriente
,” Luis began, “the Amazon jungle. We are
indígenas
. My tribe is the Achuar.” His mother's eyes flickered into life at the familiar sound, and she gazed at her son with recognition. “You know about the Achuar?”

“A little bit,” Ute said, and Luis looked at her in surprise. Ute had never written on the Amazon for the guides, and she'd only been there once.

“Ah, the Achuar Jivaro!” Mikel said with authority. “They have some things in common with the Shuar. Very interesting animistic system of beliefs… they produce the best medical plants. They have magical dreams and visions. And of course they are most famous for cooking the heads of the enemy, how do you say…”

“Head-shrinking,” Ute said.

“
Sí
,” Luis said quickly in Spanish, “head-shrinking is a traditional practice, especially for the Shuar. They boil the heads of enemies, usually Achuar. But it's all in the past now.”

“Thank God for that,” Tim said.

“So, in our culture—” Luis continued in English, but Max cut him off.

“Wait, wait, wait – what's that about shrinking heads? Sounds cool.”

Luis looked annoyed, but decided to ignore him. “The Achuar tribes have many traditions. This tradition is very old. The head of the enemy is cut off, and you boil it. But it's illegal now.”

“You remove the bones first,” Mikel said. “Then you boil the head until it shrinks to about this size.” He showed a fist. Luis stared at him.

“Shhh,” said Helga, furrowing her brows.

“Gringos are always interested in shocking things, not in the truth of our culture.” Luis looked disappointed.

“Ah, the word
gringo
!” Mikel had another brainwave. “You know where it comes from?”