Dona Nicanora's Hat Shop

by Dona Nicanora's Hat Shop (retail) (epub)

  But before Nicanora could answer, Fidelia’s niece joined them. ‘Have you heard? Don Bosco has disappeared. Apparently the kachi kachi came in the night and ate him.’

  Nicanora left the pair to their gossip and tried to make her way to the middle of the plaza, keeping Nena close at her side. In the midst of the chaos she saw the Gringito sitting cross-legged under the tree. He was smoking a cigarette and quietly watching the proceedings, as if nothing unusual was happening. Nicanora shivered, remembering Don Bosco’s words of warning. She had a deep feeling of discomfort that the arrival of the Gringito had somehow led to the events that were unfolding.

  ‘We’re going to have to do something about him,’ she whispered to Nena.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Nena replied.

  ‘He worries me. Something is not right about all this. First he arrives, then Don Bosco goes missing.’

  ‘But you know why Don Bosco has gone missing, and it has nothing to do with the Gringito,’ Nena said. ‘He isn’t the one who upset Don Bosco.’

  Nicanora felt the thud of Nena’s words against her heart. She squeezed Nena’s hand tightly to silence any more words of truth that might be about to pour out of her child’s mouth. One of the men from the group who had been standing outside the barber’s shop also started to make his way to the centre of the plaza. ‘We demand to know what is going on. We demand to know what is happening and where our barber has gone,’ he shouted, to nobody in particular.

  ‘Yes,’ another from the group joined in. ‘We’ve been waiting since this morning for the shop to open, and we want our mayor to explain where our barber has gone. We need our beards shaved.’ And a handful of the men started to chant, ‘We want the mayor, we want the mayor.’

  Nicanora rolled her eyes. ‘Is that all they are worried about?’ she said to Nena. ‘Is that all they think about? Is that what Don Bosco means to them? Do they think he is just a barber with nothing better to do with his life than shave their stupid beards?’

  Nena looked up at her mother and said nothing. A small shrill voice piped up above the chanting men. ‘Make way for the mayor – make way for the mayor, please.’ Nicanora saw Ramon running through the crowd like a dog in a frenzy, unable to find its master. Nobody paid any attention to him and carried on talking.

  ‘I heard he’s lost his mind,’ a man standing next to Nicanora said to his friend. ‘Apparently he attacked Don Teofelo with a knife only a few weeks ago. I think Teofelo has tried to hush it up to protect him.’

  ‘Well, whatever has happened, Bosco is clearly not all he seemed,’ his friend replied. ‘I heard that he borrowed money from the mayor and can’t pay it back and he’s had to leave town in disgrace. Let’s see what the mayor has to say about that.’

  Nicanora turned to the men in a fury. ‘How dare you spread such thoughtless rumours,’ she said, her words dripping with indignation. ‘Don Bosco is worth more than all of you put together. He has never done anything wrong or caused harm to anyone. How dare you talk badly of him.’ But her words were drowned out by the pointless babble of the crowd. The men drifted off to test out their theories with their neighbours, none the wiser for Nicanora’s lost words.

  ‘What’s going on? What’s happening?’ a familiar voice suddenly said in her ear. Turning, Nicanora was relieved to see the young doctor standing by her side.

  ‘Don Bosco hasn’t opened the shop today,’ Nena said. ‘And everyone is very upset.’

  Arturo looked at her kindly and laughed. ‘I see,’ he said. ‘Isn’t a man allowed to have a day off once in a while without the town calling a general meeting about it?’

  ‘No, it isn’t that,’ Nicanora said. ‘He’s gone. He’s shut the shop up and he’s gone. Nobody knows where he is.’

  ‘He’s gone on a journey, because he thinks he’s dull,’ Nena added.

  ‘That’s enough,’ Nicanora said, giving her daughter’s hand another tight squeeze.

  ‘Well I’m sure he’ll be back soon,’ Arturo said, patting Nena on the head. ‘But I don’t understand why everybody is so upset, just because he has shut the shop for a day.’

  ‘Because’, Nicanora replied, ‘he has never done anything like that before.’ Arturo was silenced by the look of real anguish on her face.

  Ramon, who was still running in circles through the crowd, started shouting again. ‘Make way for the mayor. Make way for the mayor and the town council. The mayor is about to speak. Attention please. Attention please. Attention for the mayor.’ The buzz of voices only grew louder in anticipation. ‘Silence now,’ Ramon continued, his voice audible only to those next to him. ‘Silence for the mayor and the town council. Let the mayor speak. Let the mayor speak, I say.’

  The mayor had by now made his way to the middle of the plaza to where Ramon had inspirationally placed a wooden box from which he was to make his address. Sweat dripped from the mayor’s face as he attempted to mount the rickety podium. The crowd’s attention was momentarily held by the impromptu balancing act being performed in front of them as the mayor tried to steady himself on the box. He swayed backwards and forwards for a few seconds, before toppling into the awaiting audience. On the fourth attempt, having gained a precarious equilibrium, he seized the moment for an announcement.

  ‘The town council …’ he began, wobbling as he spoke. ‘The town council …’ and he lost his balance. ‘The town council’, he said again, trying to regain the podium for the fifth time, ‘has called an extraordinary meeting …’

  His words drifted aimlessly above the heads of the crowd, who by now had lost interest in what the mayor was saying and were instead involving themselves in a heated debate as to what he might be about to tell them. Ramon started running around again, kicking people on the ankles as he went. ‘Silence now. Silence now, the mayor is trying to speak. Silence now for the town council. Have some respect please.’

  ‘The town council’, the mayor tried again, ‘has called an extraordinary meeting.’

  ‘No you haven’t,’ a man shouted back. ‘We were here first.’

  ‘Extraordinary indeed,’ another shouted. ‘I didn’t even know we had a town council.’ The crowd were loosening up and beginning to enjoy themselves. They started to laugh encouragingly at the participation from the floor.

  ‘No heckling,’ Ramon shouted, running up to one of the sniggering men and kicking him on the shins. ‘No heckling now. No heckling at the back, I say. Silence while the mayor speaks.’ The man brushed Ramon aside with a swipe of his hand, as if swatting an annoying fly.

  ‘The town council has called an extraordinary meeting,’ the mayor continued, the sweat drenching his shirt. ‘Ramon, please could you give me the agenda for the meeting.’ Ramon rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.

  ‘Agenda item number one,’ the mayor read, ‘is occupancy of abandoned barbers’ shops in the event of the disappearance of their owners.’

  ‘What do you mean, “barbers’ shops”?’ the heckler shouted. ‘We only have one. And now that is shut we don’t have any.’

  ‘The district officer has informed me that we will be having a visit from the provincial authorities in the next few weeks, and I’, the mayor continued, ‘intend to show them how we have developed our important tourist trade so that the town can continue to prosper.’

  ‘What do you mean, “tourist trade”?’ shouted the heckler. The mayor looked in direction of the Gringito, who was still sitting under the tree, quietly smoking.

  ‘Oh no,’ Nicanora whispered to Nena. ‘I knew there would be trouble soon.’ But the mayor’s attention was deflected from the Gringito by the shouting man.

  ‘Never mind all that. We want to know where Don Bosco is.’

  ‘Yes,’ another agreed. ‘We demand to know where our barber is.’

  ‘Well I don’t bloody know,’ the mayor replied.

  But the men were no longer listening. ‘We want our barber. We want our barber,’ they chanted.

  ‘Well, I haven�
�t got him,’ the mayor shouted over the noise, putting his hands into his pockets and pulling them out empty, as if by way of proof.

  ‘I wish someone would bring him back,’ the woman standing next to Nicanora said. ‘I’m fed up with my husband already. He’s been moping around the house all morning and he’s really getting on my nerves.’

  ‘You’re the town council, you should do something about it,’ one of the men said.

  ‘Don Bosco’s whereabouts are not my concern,’ the mayor answered. ‘This is a free town. A man can leave whenever he chooses. I can’t stop him. I am only here to announce that if the barber’s shop is not reopened by the keyholder by tomorrow, the shop will be taken over by the town council. We cannot allow prime business premises to remain empty, especially in our central plaza.’

  Nicanora held on to the key in her pocket as the mayor spoke.

  ‘But it’s Bosco’s shop. We need Bosco. We need a barber,’ a man shouted, and to Nicanora it seemed that he was directing his accusing words at her alone.

  ‘He’ll be back by tonight,’ she told herself. ‘He will be opening the shop again tomorrow. He must.’

  ‘If you are all so concerned about the whereabouts of Don Bosco, then you find him,’ the mayor challenged. ‘I now formally announce that the town council is looking for volunteers to go into the swamp and bring back our missing barber. Ramon will lead the search party.’

  There was silence. Ramon turned white. ‘But señor, what about the kachi kachi?’ he whispered into the mayor’s ear.

  ‘Do I take it there are no volunteers?’ the mayor continued, ignoring Ramon. ‘I see that when it comes to it, our good friend doesn’t mean as much to you as you all say.’

  ‘Don’t believe that for one minute,’ Don Teofelo said, stepping forward at last. ‘I will lead the search party, and it will be made up of people of my choosing. Julio here will accompany me, for one.’ Julio looked as horror-struck as Ramon. He had always harboured the deepest fear of and respect for what lay in the depths of the swamp and had never troubled himself to venture in to find out what it might be.

  ‘I need at least two more volunteers,’ Teofelo shouted. ‘Who will come with us to find our friend?’

  The silence was broken by a voice at the edge of the crowd. ‘I will,’ Arturo said raising his hand. ‘You may need a doctor with you,’ he added.

  Ernesto, who had just joined the crowd and had missed most of the previous discussion, was swept away by the drama of the moment and shouted, ‘Wherever the doctor goes, I’ll go.’ He had heard similar words spoken in the adventure movies in Puerta de la Coruña and liked the sound of them coming from his own mouth.

  ‘Oh Lord,’ Nicanora whispered to Nena. ‘If this is Don Bosco’s search party then the poor man is lost for ever.’

  ‘You have until tomorrow,’ the mayor replied. ‘If our barber is not returned to us by then, I am officially notifying you that the property will come under the auspices of the mayor.’

  He then turned and left, with Ramon running behind him muttering, ‘Señor, señor, if I get eaten by the kachi kachi my mother won’t like it, she won’t like it at all.’

  Sixteen

  Arturo had been in a state of confusion all day. The previous evening a visitor had come to the clinic, the thought of whom sent a feverish and guilty tingle through his limbs. He had been taken home after the lunch party by his new friends with the elation of a man who finally feels he belongs, and had fallen immediately into a deep, alcohol-induced mid-afternoon sleep. He had woken several hours later with the feeling that a vice had been clamped to his head and that someone was watching him.

  ‘It’s good for hangovers,’ Isabela said as he woke, and she handed him a cup of warm sweet herb tea. ‘My mother made me come to make sure you were all right. I was worried that she might have poisoned you.’

  ‘Why?’ Arturo asked, laughing in surprise. ‘Is that what she was planning to do?’

  ‘You can never be too sure with my mother,’ Isabela replied in the flirtatious tone that formed her defence against the disappointments of the world, and then continued: ‘I was worried about you. My brother thought that you are not used to drinking.’ The seductive warmth of her voice sent a shiver through Arturo’s veins. He tried to remain formal and polite with her at first, but soon found himself giving in, relaxing in her company as she entertained him with her rendition of the afternoon’s events. He laughed helplessly at her uncannily accurate impersonations of all the leading characters at the lunch table, especially her mother and Don Bosco. She had the same engaging manner as her brother, and a quick wit that Arturo sensed was still waiting to find its direction.

  ‘You should be an actress,’ he said, as she gave a perfect imitation of her mother’s interactions with the hapless Gringito.

  ‘Oh, I will be one day,’ Isabela said with absolute seriousness. ‘I don’t want you to think that I will stay here for ever. I’m not going to spend the rest of my days selling my mother’s oranges. She may have been content to do that with her life, but I want to make something of myself. I’m going to be a film star.’ Arturo heard the echo of another’s words and spirit as Isabela spoke, and he instinctively moved away from her to put a safe distance between himself and the temptation of the attraction that he was trying to deny. In Isabela, he sensed an energy that was waiting to be unleashed on the world. In the company of Isabela and her family, he felt for the first time in his life that he was with real people. He tried to refocus the emotions that had been awakened by Isabela to thoughts of Claudia, and an icy anxiety gripped his heart.

  ‘I must go,’ Isabela said, standing up to leave, as if she had detected the shift in the flow of his thoughts, ‘my mother will be wondering where I am. I’m pleased that you’re all right, though. I’m sure you will be very good for us here. As I said, I think you are probably a quiet kind of hero,’ and she leaned over and gently kissed him on the cheek as she said goodbye. It was Isabela’s kiss that gave him the confidence to take the dramatic action and offer his services to the search party.

  Arturo and Ernesto hurried back to the clinic, with the excitement of men preparing for a mission. For the first time since his arrival, Arturo felt a sense of purpose.

  ‘What exactly is this kachi kachi?’ he asked Ernesto as they walked up the path.

  ‘Oh nothing to be concerned about,’ Ernesto replied. ‘People believe that it wanders the swamp at night and has an appetite for lost and lonely travellers. That’s why it’s not advisable to go out there alone.’

  ‘What does it look like?’

  ‘Many things. Sometimes an owl, sometimes a snake, sometimes a cat. Whatever it chooses to be.’

  ‘Do you believe in it, Ernesto?’ Arturo asked, with a detectable note of concern in his voice.

  ‘No,’ Ernesto replied. ‘I did see it once when I was a child. It chased me through the forest. But now I’ve stopped believing in it, I haven’t seen it for years.’

  As soon as they reached the clinic Arturo busied himself gathering the necessary supplies, ticking off his hurriedly prepared checklist. ‘Cream for mosquito bites, plasters, bandages …’ Ernesto disappeared into the darkened consultation room in search of the ointments and injections he had safely stored under the bed. Two minutes later he ran out screaming. Arturo rushed to see what had happened, and found Ernesto standing shaking on the step of the clinic.

  ‘What is it? Are you hurt?’ Arturo asked. Ernesto said nothing. He stood shaking and pointing at the door.

  ‘What is it? What’s in there? Is it a snake?’

  Ernesto shook his head.

  ‘It isn’t the kachi kachi, is it?’ Arturo said only half joking.

  ‘No. We have a patient,’ Ernesto replied.

  Arturo gave a yelp of surprise. ‘A patient? Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, she’s in there and she wants to talk to you,’ Ernesto said, looking in the direction of the small room.

  ‘Who is it?’

  �
�Doña Gloria. Pretend I’m not here.’

  ‘Doña Gloria?’

  ‘The mayor’s wife.’

  ‘Why does she want to talk to me?’

  ‘Because you’re the doctor.’

  ‘Oh heavens,’ said Arturo.

  ‘I’ll come and get you if you’re not out in ten minutes,’ Ernesto said, as Arturo disappeared into the hitherto unused room.

  Doña Gloria, who had made her way to the clinic determined to make her acquaintance with the handsome young doctor, had by now arranged herself on the consultation bed in anticipation of the meeting.

  ‘Is that you?’ Gloria’s voice drifted from the bed as Arturo entered the room. Arturo walked over to the window and lifted a shutter to allow some light to filter in.

  ‘I’m Dr Aguilar,’ he said at last, introducing himself with unnecessary formality.

  ‘I know,’ Gloria replied in a deep throaty voice, ‘that’s why I’m here. I wanted to see what you look like.’ Arturo coughed nervously.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, sitting down on the little stool in the corner of the room. ‘Can I help?’

  ‘I hope so,’ Gloria said.

  ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘I have a dislocation.’

  ‘A dislocation? Where does it hurt?’

  ‘All over,’ Gloria replied. ‘I have a dislocated soul. It walks two yards in front of me, taunting me. It keeps trying to trip me up. I nearly twisted my ankle on the way over here.’ Arturo leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.

  ‘Can you cure me?’ Gloria asked.

  ‘I’m not sure. What do you think has caused your soul to become dislocated?’

  ‘It’s because I’m sick,’ Gloria said.

  ‘How long have you been feeling like this?’

  Gloria sat up in the bed and slowly looked Arturo up and down. ‘Since before you were born,’ she said. This was exactly the sort of consultation that Arturo had been dreading. One in which he found himself with no skills to treat, no power to console and no capacity to comprehend.