by Alan Laycock
“But not long as a free man, I’m afraid.”
“No?”
“Unless you change your mind about marrying me, because the date is set for Saturday the 26th, courtesy of Rosa’s uncle.”
I sat bolt upright. “Ooh, so we’ll have to start organising things and… things.”
She patted the whitening knuckles of my right hand. “Relax, you don’t have to do anything.”
“Nothing at all?”
“No, I prefer to arrange things myself, though it’ll be a very simple affair.”
I sighed, “Story of my life, doing nothing at all. I sell houses without doing anything, and now I’m marrying the most beautiful woman for miles around without lifting a finger.”
“Ah, speaking of fingers, that is the one thing I want you to do, buy the wedding bands. I’ll give you an old ring of mine to take to the jeweller’s, so you just have to ask for two plain gold bands. Will you be able to manage that?”
My brow creased in thought.
“It’s not difficult, Alan.”
“I know, but I’m thinking about what to have engraved on them; inside them, I mean.”
“Oh, nothing corny, please.”
“No, but we must have something. I’ll give it some thought and go tomorrow.”
“Why not give it some thought while you work on your little allotment? There are lots of weeds already.”
“Ah, yes, I’d forgotten about that.” I stood up and kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll do it now, as time and weeds wait for no man.”
So it was that the rest of the day was spent weeding, thinking about inscriptions, and finishing Malcolm’s crib sheet. The following morning the jeweller dismissed most of my ideas as being too long and, quite frankly, corny, so I settled for semper amemus, the Latin phrase for Let us love forever, which I liked because it’s similar in Spanish and in the best possible taste. It rained in the afternoon, so I saw little point in going to the hotel, but on Saturday I decided I’d better put in an appearance, it being the last full day of the course. I didn’t fancy descending on them at breakfast, so I got there at about ten and found Gerardo in his customary spot behind the reception desk.
“Buenos días, Gerardo,” I enunciated clearly, intending to mince no more words with the blighter.
“Hello, Alan. Angela has been wondering where you’ve been,” he said with slyly narrowed eyes.
“Hmm, dónde está?”
“She’s out, with some of the students, in the Toyota,” he said, savouring every word, the hound.
“Ah, y dónde está Malcolm?”
“Playing golf, with the student called John.”
Damn, I should have called him, but then again he could have called me, I thought.
“You look worried, Alan,” he said, grinning like a hyena.
I tutted and leant on the counter. “Yo? No, no.”
“Perhaps you ought to be worried, as the driver and supposed entertainer of the guests doesn’t normally disappear for three days.”
“Dos,” I said, exhibiting two fingers in the way us Brits send folk like him to the devil. Having worked in England, he understood the sentiment.
“If you were a member of my staff, you would be sacked.” He shrugged and picked a bit of fluff from his jacket. “However, it’s up to Angela to decide what to do with you.”
By way of reply I grasped his greasy hair and dragged him right over the counter, before swinging him round like an Olympic hammer and flinging him straight through the window, in my imagination at least, but after visualising that pleasant occurrence I settled for saying the following, in Spanish, as always.
“Gerardo.” I cleared my throat and folded my arms. “Gerardo, it is no business of yours what I do with my time. Unlike you, I am a free agent and do as I please. While you are… chained to this hotel, day after day, I am busy doing deals and making money, just like that.” I clicked my fingers. “Some of us are slaves to one employer, while others use our initiative and make our way in the world as free men.”
He glowered and gripped the counter.
I placed my hands on my hips, puffed out my chest, raised myself to my full height, and smiled indulgently. “This, Gerardo, is the way of the world. Some are born to serve, others to… triumph,” I said, my well of inspiration running dry.
“I shall tell Angela this. She’ll be interested to hear your opinions,” he growled.
“Ha.” I casually swatted the air, before pointing at the open door. “I shall go, Gerardo, to enjoy the warm spring breeze. Now you may get on with your work.”
I’d taken two or three dignified steps toward the door when he began to speak, in Spanish.
“You damn guiris are all the same. You’re all useless sons of bitches and you only succeed in Spain if you have money behind you. You, Alan, are more pathetic than most. Always smiling and prattling, but without a gram of common sense in your head. I wouldn’t give you a job cleaning the bloody toilets. Even that gypsy swine is more competent than you, you great gangling waste of space,” he said, or words very much to that effect.
Slightly shaken by this outburst, my nostrils quivered like those of a bull about to charge, and charge I did, metaphorically speaking.
“Gerardo, my friend,” I began in English, truth always being stranger than fiction. “If I tell Angela what you’ve just said you’ll lose this job, just like you lost the one in Preston, eh? Eh? EH!?” I cried, my ‘ehs’ ascending in volume as indicated.
He gulped, and I know a good gulp when I see one, before hanging his head and shuffling something on the desk behind the counter.
“You messed up badly in Preston, didn’t you?” I said, in Spanish once more.
Shuffle, shuffle.
“Steal money, did you? Or was it something worse?”
Shuffle, sniff, shuffle, sniff.
If there’s one thing I hate it’s seeing a grown man cry, even one like Gerardo, and if truth be told I felt that I’d gone a bit far. Having hardly argued with anyone for years, I’d become bitter and vengeful all too easily, and if I could have wound back the clock I’d have taken back… no, would I heck, as he deserved every word of it, the snivelling toad, but the jibe about Preston had been a bit below the belt. Feeling almost certain that he wasn’t a dangerous sexual predator, and given the fact that if anyone could make a success of the isolated hotel it was him, I then apologised for my outburst and told him that it might be best to keep our little chat to ourselves.
“Yes, Alan, I think that would be best,” he said in Spanish, so I’d scored a victory of sorts, but one that was to cause me no elation.
“Good, I’m glad.”
“I also apologise for my outburst. You’re a nice man and so is Arturo. I got angry, that’s all.”
“Me too.”
He wiped his nose with his silky hankie. “And I work so hard to make this place a success.”
“I know you do. Let’s shake hands and put this stupid incident behind us.”
“All right, Alan.”
We’d just softly shaken hands when the Toyota pulled up outside, and to Gerardo’s credit he exhibited no pleasure at the prospect of the grilling I was probably about to receive from Angela. He winked and smiled complicitly, in fact, before sitting down at the computer and smoothing his hair into place. I strode boldly outside and greeted them all cheerfully, receiving friendly replies from the students and a wry smile from Angela.
“I was a bit late today,” I said when they’d gone inside.
She locked the Toyota and pocketed the keys. “Today?”
“Er, yes, well, I’ve been rather busy,” I said, bowing my head à la Gerardo.
She chuckled. “This first course must have flown by for you, Alan.”
“Yes, it’s… yes. I… er, don’t want you to pay me for the little that I’ve done.”
“As you wish. I think this week might prove quite profitable for you anyway,” she said as Gerardo’s BMW slowed to a halt with a grinning M
alcolm at the wheel and a beaming John by his side.
She chuckled again. “Go and see how the land lies.”
I obeyed.
“Good game, John?”
“Great, thanks. I played a decent round and Malc’s game is really coming along. We’re off with Juan Carlos again this afternoon. Susan’s slowly coming around to my way of thinking.”
“Take your time and have a good think about things when you get home,” I said sagely and, I believed, astutely, though Malcolm’s brief examination of the clouds suggested that he thought otherwise.
“Have you done my crib sheet yet?”
I smiled, my quarrel with Gerardo now a fading memory. “Of course, hang on.” I dashed to the car and during my flight my mind worked at such lightning speed that when I returned I gave the sheet not to Malcolm, Malc to his pals, but to John.
“I made this for him, but I can soon print another. It’s just a few pointers to get you going.”
“Cheers, Alan. We’re both ready to get stuck into some Spanish.”
I felt like patting his head, but instead shook his hand, before turning to the big man.
“I’ll print you anoth–”
“Pitch and putt on Monday. I’ll pick you up at eight in your Toyota.”
“Oh, yes, we’d better change the name.”
“After golf. Come on, John, I’ll show you where I plan to make my mini pitch and putt, all being well.”
Left alone, I left, sensing that my days as a tour guide were over.
23
The build-up to the wedding was strange in the sense that there didn’t appear to be any build-up at all. Having soon collected the two correctly sized and inscribed rings, one evening I asked Inma if she was sure there wasn’t anything else I could do.
“No, dear, it’s all under control.”
“But you don’t seem to be doing much either.”
“There’s little to do.”
“Who’s coming?”
“My parents, Natalia, Cathy and Bernie.”
“Is that all?”
“Alan, we said we wanted a quiet affair. If you invite one person, you have to invite another, and so it goes on.”
“What about the rest of your family?”
“Oh, we’ll arrange a lunch or something in Murcia sometime.”
“Then maybe I’ll arrange a lunch or something for the folk here sometime.”
“You do that.”
“What about a honeymoon?”
She tutted softly. “Later. I can’t possibly get away from the bar just now, not unless we get another cook right away, and even if we do, I’d rather go in June when it’s warmer.”
“OK.”
“There is one thing I want you to do before the wedding though.”
“Your wish is my command, dear.”
“I want you to sleep at Cathy and Bernie’s the night before.”
“What for?”
“It’s tradition, of course. My parents will come here on Friday night and my mother won’t want you hanging around.”
“All right,” I said, quite fancying an evening with Bern so soon before tying the knot, and with Cathy too, of course. “I’m going to buy a new jacket, trousers, shirt and tie,” I declared.
“Good idea. I’ve seen a dress I might buy.”
“A white one?”
“Of course not. I’m a forty-five-year-old mother.”
“Natalia could be a bridesmaid.”
She laughed. “That’ll be the day.”
“How is she?”
“Fine, studying hard. Did you hear what I said about our cook?”
“Er, no.”
“Randi’s gone.”
“Ah,” I said, my mind still full of wedding-related thoughts.
She tutted. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Yes. Has she got another job or something?”
“No, she’s gone, as in left home. She didn’t come into work this morning and called later to say that she’d left Arvid and gone off with Jaime.”
“Who’s Jaime?” I asked, beginning to sense that something was amiss.
“The military man.”
“Ah, so she hasn’t gone far then.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Juan Antonio suspects that they’ve left the area.”
“Where does he think they’ve gone?” I said, my curiosity finally aroused.
She slapped the table. “I don’t know and I refuse to take part in gossipy speculation about this. She’s let us down and quite frankly she’s let herself down too. One oughtn’t to act in this irresponsible way. If she wants to be with this man, she should go about things in the right way, instead of running off like a giddy girl.”
“All right, love. Not another word,” I said, surprised by her vehement response, which wasn’t like her at all.
She sighed. “I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough anyway.”
“Poor Arvid. Do you know how he… never mind, I was going to pop over to my sister’s tomorrow anyway.”
At just after eleven the next morning I rolled to a halt after a pleasant bike ride in the warm sunshine. On spotting me, Bernie jumped down from Spartacus and loped across his impeccable field of olive saplings, peeling off his tractor gloves.
“I’m gradually building up a picture of recent events,” he said, slightly breathless.
“Morning, Bernie.”
“Morning. So, Randi hopped it yesterday morning after Arvid went out on his bike. At first she went to the randy soldier’s house, but when Arvid got back and found her gone, he went to confront them and there was a shoot-out.”
“A what?”
“You know, gunfire. It’s at this point that opinions begin to differ, and I’ve had a hell of a time finding out, because Inma and Rosa glare at anyone who they think are gossiping about it.”
“Just wind back to the gunfire bit, Bern.”
He took a few deep breaths. “Well, old Juan Antonio insists that a single shot was heard and that about an hour later Randi and the man were seen driving through the village, heading north. Other folk say there was a proper gunfight and Arvid was killed, but that’s nonsense, because I’ve seen him at home this morning, through the binoculars. It’s all very amusing really.”
“What was Arvid doing?”
“Shooting his biathlon rifle at them, we think.”
“No, I mean this morning.”
“Setting off on his bike.”
“Then he can’t be wounded, or very affected by it all.”
“And the other two must be all right, unless they were bleeding to death in the car, ha ha.”
“You’re taking this very lightly, Bernie. Has anyone been round to the man’s house to look?”
“I don’t know. I think they’re all too busy whispering about it in the bar to bother.”
“Have you finished here?”
“Can’t you see that I’ve got two more rows to go?”
“The whole field looks ploughed to me.”
“No, two rows to go. Ploughing brings the moisture up. Jesús taught me that.”
“Hmm. Look, I’ll ride over to have a look at the scene of the supposed shoot-out, then I’ll meet you back at the house.”
After establishing the exact location of the House of Sin, I rode the two or three kilometres along the tracks and found a chalet not unlike Cathy and Bernie’s, but with less land and more weeds pushing through the gravel. I located a floppy part of the metal fence and climbed over, before slowly circling the house. At first I didn’t find any evidence of shooting, but on closer inspection I spotted a small hole in the upper left-hand corner of a front window, the glass slightly fragmented around it. Arvid hadn’t shot to kill then, as he was a master marksman and must have chosen his spot, intending, I deduced, to make it clear that he didn’t take kindly to them shacking up in the neighbourhood. After another tour round in search of further bullet holes – there were none – I clambered over the fence and headed off, pleased with
my detective work but worried that Arvid might soon be in the hands of the law.
Over a glass of lemon tea I told Bernie of my findings and fears.
“Hmm, if they’d rung the cops they’d have come for him already. I know a lot of people have guns here, but I think it’s still a crime to fire them at folk.”
“At the corner of a window, but still.” I looked through the binoculars and saw their small car. “Maybe we should go round if he comes back.”
“He’s normally out for hours on the bike.”
“Maybe you should go round later then.”
“Nah, he knows where we are. He might think Randi’s sent me and blow my head off.”
“I doubt it. Where’s Cathy?”
“In town, seeing an oldie then shopping.”
“What does she think about all this?”
“Not a lot. Says she could see it coming and didn’t believe the bit about the shooting. Come on, I’ll show you the plot.”
As he’d predicted, things were really growing fast in the spring sunshine and I was proud to tell him that my little plot was weed-free.
“Unfortunately it might be tomato-free too, as I was lost in thought when I was weeding. Thinking about the wedding, you know,” I said, examining his face for signs of secret preparations.
“When is it again?”
“The 26th.”
“Ah, yes.”
“Has Cathy not mentioned it?”
“Not much. I think we’re coming here for a bit of lunch afterwards, but I’m not sure. What’s up?” he said on observing my wrinkling nose.
“Oh, I don’t know. I mean, we’ve agreed to make it a really quiet affair and maybe invite folk to lunch another day, but… well, I’ve never been married before, and the closer it gets, the more I think I wouldn’t mind a bit of pomp and… you know.”
“If you want that you should become a Catholic then. You’d have to have instruction and then be received into the church and all that, although as Inma’s divorced, the priest might not want to wed you. No, heathens like you ought to just sign your names and have done with it.”
“You’re a heathen and you had a great wedding.”
“Ah, well, the C of E isn’t too fussy about religion anymore.”