Vanilla Salt

by Ada Parellada

  Why is she so principled? She should sell the place and forget about everything and everyone: Àlex, Carol, Òscar, the Can Bret man and the fat fish supplier. But this would mean throwing in the towel, and her father brought her up to be a fighter. Making a success of the restaurant is a challenge she’s ready to accept. She doesn’t want to give up now. It’s not a question of proving anything to anyone, but simply a goal she’s set for herself, to show she can succeed with a big project like this. One is always one’s own harshest critic. Anyway, she’ll only have a few cents left over after she’s paid back Òscar, the fish man and what she owes the other suppliers, because she’s now behind with those payments again. What can she do with her measly few cents? She must keep trying to succeed with Roda el Món, as a matter of pride, survival and showing she’s not going to give up so easily.

  Carol’s waiting for her upstairs. She makes her put on the clothes she bought that long-ago day in Granollers. Annette is too weary to protest. She puts on the red dress and gets into the car and they head off for a stylish restaurant in Barcelona. As often happens in these chic places, it’s full, and the stuck-up employees look like peacocks with ruffled feathers, ready to hiss rebukes at you if you don’t behave like a good client. When you go to these “in” places, you have to dress up, in order to fit in. Carol decrees that the food isn’t bad. She’s not going to rip them to pieces but plans to write something friendly – that’s if the two bottles of Verdejo she’s downed don’t make her forget what she’s tasted. On the way back to Roda el Món, Annette prays that she’ll fall asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow.

  This doesn’t happen. Carol is euphoric as she enters the room ready for her sex session, which is intense. She begins slowly, undressing Annette, taking her time. Carol wants to play and makes Annette pretend to be a painter’s model, so she can paw her with the excuse of getting her into the best pose. Annette finds it ridiculous at first, but eventually relaxes and starts to play too. Carol strokes her, caresses her, licks her all over and Annette likes it more and more. After all these days of tension, Carol’s fondling feels good. After the initial poetic tone, Carol changes her tune and starts manhandling her, insulting her and making her pose in uncomfortable, humiliating positions.

  The heat rises and Annette is more excited than she’s ever been. She doesn’t want this, but trying to get some control over the situation and to resist turns her on even more. She finally surrenders and lets Carol take her well beyond all limits she had ever imagined possible.

  “That was great, Annette, and I can see you were revelling in it too. You needed that, because I’ve found inside you the power you need to keep fighting. It was out of action, stymied by all your worries. Sex limbers you up and then you feel powerful. Believe me.”

  “You have right, Carol. This it has been fantastic.”

  “We’ll do it whenever I say. You’re my toy. I’m the one who puts in the batteries and takes them out. I’m the one who makes you move, who stops you in your tracks, who lights you up and switches you off. Your body is mine and I’m going to take over your mind as well. In a few weeks you’ll be like a dog running after me. You’ll be begging for sex and I’ll be the one who decides if and when. I’m doing this for you, because you need someone to guide you and to help you unwind. I’m like the masseur who might hurt you when touching damaged muscles, but who also helps you to move more freely. Now I’m going to get to work on you by making you come up here whenever I see you need it. But not always… I don’t want you to expect it, take it for granted or guess when it’s going to happen. I want the surprise factor to make you really hot.”

  Annette listens, wide-eyed, her freckles dancing. She trusts Carol and feels safe and calm with her.

  Her phone rings. Òscar’s waiting for her at the Granollers bus stop. They’re supposed to be having dinner at his place tonight. It’s getting late and, since she wasn’t on the last two buses, he’s wondering if she’s forgotten. Yes, she has forgotten, and now she’s going to be terribly late. She wonders if she should go or not, decides that she should, invents some implausible excuse for Carol and rushes out before she has time to object.

  She’ll use the time she has to herself on the bus to think about her relationship with Carol, because right now she’s totally confused. She’s enjoyed her experience this afternoon, but now the intense pleasure also revolts her. Carol is extremely controlling and always gets what she wants. In fact she’s doubly victorious now, because Annette’s revelled in it. She still has a pleasurable sensation, but there’s also bitterness mixed in with the sweetness. And there’s a memory that jabs at her almost painfully. Uneasiness has lodged in her spirit.

  The bus reaches Granollers and Annette is no less confused, but dinner with Òscar should help to sort out the mess in her head.

  Òscar’s worked hard and has prepared a dinner worthy of being posted on his blog, so he says. It’s one of those dinners that must be eaten cold because the photos have to be taken beforehand.

  Seeing the exquisite spread he’s produced, Annette feels even worse that Carol’s skilful hands made her disconnect so much from the real world that she forgot about her friend’s invitation. They drink an Abadal Picapoll, a white from the Bages region, and what with the wine and her seething emotions, Annette almost forgets why she wants to see Òscar. He, however, is direct.

  “So what’s going on at Roda el Món? Where’s Àlex?”

  Annette gives him a detailed account of the incredible story of the clashing versions of the poisoning incident. She wants him to know for two reasons. First, Òscar presently owns a good part of the business, so he has the right to know, and second, Annette needs to talk to someone. Three weeks ago she was convinced that Àlex’s pride led him to put rat poison in the watercress soup, and for the last week she’s thought that Carol’s insatiable ambition led her to do it. Today, both options seem possible, she can’t see the wood for the trees and feels completely bewildered. She knows Òscar won’t be able to help her and isn’t the best person to drag into this.

  “Who you think do this?” she asks.

  “I’m astounded, Annette. How could someone deliberately poison the food? This is utter madness, the act of some lunatic. The strangest thing is that both of them know which dish was poisoned. What about you? You’re hanging around with two psychopaths, so how come it hasn’t rubbed off on you?”

  “It no is easy with two personalities so strong and so tortured.”

  “It could be… maybe it started out as a plot they hatched together? They agreed on it, but at some point they fell out and one of them tried to stop the plan while the other one went ahead with it?”

  “You see too many films. No, I no believe this. Why they make plot? Both they say they want to be with me… so if they hurt me it no have sense. If also the love messages they tell me make part of this plan, I no know, but it seem very bizarre. I no think they two make a plan. This thing it is for novels and films.”

  “Hey! Speaking of film! I want to show you the film I made in the restaurant. It’s great. Here you have the party more or less live. I want to make a short out of it and enter a competition, but it’s very hard to cut down. It really looks as if it was based on a written script. So many things are happening and there’s such a lot of movement!”

  “Oh… the film… I no sure I want see this now. OK, we see it because I come here for this, no? First I finish this fig carpaccio with ginger ice cream. It fantastic, Òscar, this recipe.”

  They watch the film. Òscar thinks it’s amazing, but Annette is quite bored. He is ecstatic to be hobnobbing with so many well-known journalists, food critics and celebrities. Annette’s never been interested in this world and still less in a few journalists she’d never even heard of six months ago. It’s also painful for her to relive the scenes of the party, which, after all her efforts, turned out to be such a disaster.

  Òscar is chuckling continuously when not making comments.

  “Look, loo
k, that woman is Carme Cassanyes. She’s so elegant.”

  “I can see that fat pig Martí Peris over there. He’s such a freeloader and would never miss a free meal.”

  “There’s Xènius Agut, drunk already and the party’s just begun. You should have seen him at the end!”

  “Did you know that the party was the start of an affair between the chef Albert Camot and that journalist from the afternoon programme, what’s her name? Ah yes, Elena Sanchis… Incredible!”

  What with the darkness in the dining room and the boring film, Annette keeps nodding off, despite Òscar’s salacious comments about all the guests.

  Suddenly she grabs Òscar’s arm. In one wakeful moment before dozing off again, she sees it! She makes him stop the film. Go back. Stop. Òscar doesn’t understand.

  “Look!” she shouts. “You no can see?”

  “What? I see the kitchen, yes. I see Carol in the background and that new boy you’ve taken on. What else am I supposed to see?”

  “The arm of Carol, the hand, the saucepan of watercress soup. Go back. We look careful. What she do?” Annette is shocked and babbling.

  “Calm down, Annette, please.”

  “How I can calm down? You no know the headaches, worry, the nights I no sleep these weeks, and it worse this doubt that make big hole in my brain. I no would want that my most biggest enemy suffer this. Now we find the key for all we talk about tonight. The truth it is in this film. Now we know at last and we can demonstrate this to the persons who want the proof. And there is witness also. Eric! We look careful again, all number of times we must.”

  The image is distant, in the background, but Carol is perfectly visible, as is Eric behind her. Carol’s peering into the saucepan. Then she dips a spoon in and tastes the contents. She takes something out of her bag and seems to wave her arm over the saucepan as Eric watches.

  Annette’s heart is skittering around like a ping-pong ball. They have their proof. It was Carol, because Òscar’s camera also shows Àlex being interviewed by the TV journalist. A few minutes later it records Annette entering the kitchen and, with Eric’s help, starting to serve the soup. Àlex is still being interviewed.

  “These images are impressive, but they don’t constitute irrefutable proof, because the soup could have been poisoned earlier, and don’t forget Àlex knew which dish was poisoned. Carol could claim she added herbs or spices,” Òscar muses.

  “The journalists no bring charges, because they no go to hospital, but they do more worse than take us to the court because they write this in the newspapers and tell all the people, we no have customers now we no have customers never. If they no make complain with police, Carol she no go to the prison. That is certain, but we can destroy her, like she do to me, if the press see this video.”

  “Don’t underestimate Carol’s incredible power. You already know how manipulative she is. Let’s work out a plan. The aim is that everyone should know that Carol set out to sabotage you in this way. We don’t know why and probably never will, because, as you say, there will be no official inquiry. We can only present facts, but there is one problem here, a kind of dark cloud of doubt over the whole thing and this bothers me. We can’t be certain that what Carol put in the saucepan was rat poison. We still have the possibility that the soup was poisoned beforehand.”

  “I taste the soup when Àlex finish to make it. I had hungry and I think I no will to have chance to eat after, so I drink a bowl of this soup before guests come, because this very quick. You no need spoon and fork or napkin or sit down. I finish bowl and drink one more big spoon. I drink big quantity, but when Àlex ask if I taste the soup I say no, because he always complain the kitchen staff ‘rob’ him the food. I no get poison. And Carol she no taste this soup. She send plate full back to kitchen. This one more sign that she guilty.”

  “Yes, but you can’t prove it. You can look for witnesses, but no one will remember whether Carol tasted the watercress soup or not. Anyway, nobody will dare to accuse her because she’s so powerful,” Òscar argues. “People can also say that bit was filmed some other day, not the day of the party. Carol is often at Roda el Món and we could have filmed that any day and edited it in.”

  “Come on! This is more pervert than the brain of Carol. And the television camera and your camera they film same thing, so the other camera for sure film it also. That film show Carol guilty. We must get this part of the television film. I no know these journalists and no have access to the television producers. How we can do this?”

  “Let’s see… we have to be fast, surgical and get it right. First of all, we have to find Àlex. Hang on, let me think… no, maybe that’s rushing things. We need to get our hands on all the material proving that Carol poisoned the soup, and then we have to go and find Àlex.” Òscar, who would love to be the detective starring in a crime series, is thrilled with this role of chief investigator.

  “I very certain now who is the guilty person. We need discover how Àlex know the soup had in it the poison. How he know this? Did they make this plot the two? I think this nearly impossible. We must to find Àlex.”

  “You don’t know where he is?”

  “I no know, but one customer say he see him often. I no know who is this man, his name or telephone number of course. He say Àlex live in the district Raval of Barcelona.”

  “In the Raval? I’m afraid I know who he’s with then. Phone Albert the fruit and veg man and he’ll take you there. I warn you: don’t be shocked by what you find.”

  She gets back to Roda el Món very late. Carol has gone home and Annette’s delighted. She couldn’t stand having to see her now. Carol will be away all this week, at some congress in San Sebastián. At least something’s going right. She can work on her inquiry into the food-poisoning without having to deal with conflicting emotions. If Carol were here, it would be much more difficult to concentrate. She’d been mulling it over all the way back from Granollers to the restaurant. She wants justice, wants to make a success of Roda el Món, wants to get out of this mess, and wants to know what happened. But she would have preferred to have kept her friendships with both Àlex and Carol!

  She’s tortured by these contradictions. They’ve both hurt her, deceived her and manipulated her, but she can’t help being attracted to such strong personalities, each so different from the other and from everyone else as well.

  People don’t have a fixed, clearly defined nature. Different kinds of behaviour are often immediate reactions to circumstances. It’s not so much character as environment that shapes us and guides us. Trying to understand the complexity of the human brain is a colossal and very often futile task.

  Carol isn’t such a witch as people say. She’s eccentric, it’s true, but she also has a heart. Àlex isn’t an oaf on two legs either. He has his tender moments and strong values. Both of them have taken her in, both of them have loved her… in their own ways. Carol would certainly have been a good friend, with all her mysteries and contradictions, if the poisoning incident hadn’t spoilt their relationship.

  Life has taught Annette that even the most improbable characters in novels are less complex and less difficult to understand than real-life people. The novelist has to create a clear, comprehensible character that the reader can situate. In real life, people say they know where they’re going, but somewhere along the way they come up against an obstacle and arbitrarily take some other direction. They keep evolving. Life is multihued.

  Annette phones Albert early in the morning.

  “Good morning, Albert. I am Annette, and I phone you because people say you know where is living Àlex.”

  “Me? No, I haven’t got the faintest.”

  “He live in Raval.”

  “Ah, yes, then I know where he is.”

  “You can to take me there? This night, please?”

  “OK, I’ll take you, but it’s no place for girls like you.”

  Annette’s intrigued. This is the second time she’s been told that Àlex is living somewhere that
might upset her. So where has he hidden, then?

  Albert comes to pick her up at Roda el Món early that evening. For the first time ever, Annette leaves the restaurant in the hands of Graça and Eric. She can’t count on the chef who started on Friday and thinks he’ll last three days at the most. But Eric now understands much more about how the kitchen works and the dishes made in it than some of these other young men who have graduated as qualified chefs.

  Albert parks in a dark street, and they’re assailed by the reek of piss as soon as they get out of the car. Some Filipino kids are playing football, using two tins as their goalposts in a patch of waste ground. It’s supposed to be a kind of urban park, but there are no trees except for a few bare trunks and the ground is dusty and dirty. They go up a narrow alleyway lit by a few small Pakistani shops, each one with a man sitting on a chair waiting for some customer to come inside.

  A grubby tabby cat brushes against Annette’s leg as it goes past. She screams in fright.

  They go up a high, steep, bare stairway decorated only by a few dim bulbs, half of which have blown. It smells of spices. Albert thinks of how things have changed. Only a few years ago there was a disgusting stench of cauliflower, and now it smells like garam masala. The old people have died and newcomers have moved in.

  “The Barcelona locals shun this neighbourhood. Not even the pros want to know about it. There are only a few old whores plus a few of the most desperate ones. The flats are a health hazard and the pros want places where they will at least not die from some kind of infection,” Albert tells Annette. By the time they get to the third floor she’s puffing, short of oxygen. Her nervousness, the smell of spices, the semi-darkness, what’s in store for her when she sees Àlex again and her mixed feelings of fear and desire are almost too much to cope with.