Ana's thoughts strayed as she walked through Madrid's streets to Inma's office. Ana was now the sole inheritor for anything from her maternal grandmother. The only other possibility might be a twin. Was it worth finding out?
At least her father, with her mother no more, was no longer a potential participant. If Davide reappeared and anything crystallised she would still have to air the explanations to dismiss consanguinity concerns. If she ignored Davide she could pursue the hidden inheritance without needing to involve anybody in her family. Plus she had the starting papers from La Abuela. What had she to lose?
Davide.
Therein lay her dilemma. She'd emailed him in a moment of misery the afternoon after La Abuela's death. She expected nothing and he hadn't bothered to reply with the empty condolences most resorted to.
Instead he'd called on Skype. Of course that meant she didn't know where he was. But he'd called and they'd talked for hours as if there'd been no silence for months. No, she was being inaccurate. She'd talked, he'd listened, with his comforting patience. She'd felt better sharing. Just by listening he had released many of her tensions.
Ana stood at their office door. Their? She still wasn't used to being a partner with Inma, with all the business and legal implications.
"Buenos días, Inma."
No response. Was Inma late or away? Curious. Ana peeped around Inma's door, discovering her cousin wearing a shell-shocked expression.
"What is it?"
"Have you been following the news?"
"No. Should I have?"
"Not really. You've had other distractions. Basically, there'll be no olive harvest in Andalucía. All's ruined."
"What? How so?"
"Remember Bactrocera oleae, the olive fruit fly? Jaén, Antequera and even further to the west, all have serious infestations. No one has experienced anything like it before."
"So?"
"Wake up, Ana. Think. Think POPIC and the insurance policies as well as the re-insurance."
Inma's drawn face was clue enough.
"You mean the POPIC members will claim on the pest clauses in their insurance policies and those losses will trigger claims under the re-insurance provisions?"
"Clever girl. You have it in one. Now think about –"
"My fears about Lili's excessive reinsurance underwriting?"
"Precisely."
Ana was lost for words. This wasn't what she expected on her first day back.
"Have you spoken with them?"
"I haven't dared."
This flummoxed Ana. She wasn't sure how to continue. Inma saved her.
"Start preparing. Hopefully I'm the pessimist. The insurers will know about the pests but the re-insurers may not. It's part of our role to inform. You'd better contact Toomas and Reelika as well as all the others we invited to participate. And freshen the 'tranche analysis', you know – who's responsible for which slice of the re-insurance."
Ana turned away to begin. As she reached the door she twisted round to face Inma.
"Why didn't you tell me you were in contact with Davide?"
"How do you know?"
Inma did not deny it, as Ana had feared. Her trust remained.
"You left a printed email from him about some business modelling on your desk one evening."
"I remember. I hoped your silence meant you hadn't seen it. That was months ago. You said nothing in all that time?"
"I wanted to. I was desperate to."
"But you didn't want me to think you untrustworthy? Silly girl! You should've."
"It doesn't matter now."
"Why?"
"He's been in touch. We talked last week, after La Abuela's funeral."
"Good for you! For both of you. Will he reappear?"
"I don't know. He doesn't seem to either. Do you? Do you know what he's doing and where?"
Úbeda
Spreadsheets never err though Lili wished this one lied. She focused on the figures before her and hated them. If Olivos Ramos y Tremblay had been close to bankruptcy before the pestilence it was drowning now. She'd wanted to save the business but ruined it through her financial greed. Inma's fears were aligning.
When her father lost his last fortune and commenced his slide into penury Lili hadn't understood. She was too young. That did not prevent her watching a proud man haunted by his mistakes. His failures accumulated. His family suffered around him. The worst part for Lili was she, the eldest, could find nothing to help him or her mother. Those many years ago Lili promised herself she must never to sink so far. Now she had.
What was she going to tell Enrique? Icy despair gripped her. Repetition was horrible. Two days earlier she'd even caught herself offloading the blame onto Inma and Ana. If they'd never appeared, her re-insurance greed couldn't have happened. This was a seductive excuse, but wrong. She forced herself to confront her errors. Inma had discouraged them all, endeavouring to limit their exposure to re-insurance claims at least until they had built up some reserves. Lili hadn't taken notice. She'd done the opposite.
What a fool.
Enrique breezed into Lili's study without knocking. Such casualness was rare within each other's suites. Encroaching on the other's space was a no-no. He lowered himself into her study's only comfortable chair. It creaked, accustomed to Lili's lightness rather than his bulk. He astonished Lili with his opening comment.
"We are well and truly fucked."
"How do you mean?"
Lili was taken aback. Had he absorbed the implications of her excesses? He hadn't displayed interest when she needed him to ask critical questions. It's not his fault, she chided herself.
"The numbers of flies are in millions, maybe billions, all over Jaén, in Antequera and further. Nobody seems immune. Never has anyone experienced a plague like this. The biblical locusts have reappeared, except as Bactrocera oleae. If there's any harvest for us it'll be miraculous. Even if we do, we've no way to sort good olives from the bad. As I said, we're fucked. Don't expect much money."
"At least our costs will be small if there's nothing to harvest?"
"I thought of that. Not true. We'll have to fork out to remove every last olive from every last tree and off the ground. Then we must destroy all of them in order to kill the eggs. Finally we'll have to spray. Only then might next year's harvest have a chance."
"What about the trellises? Have they become a pest home?"
"Not yet, fingers crossed."
Enrique tapped his forehead as if it were an olive tree, confusing Lili with his mix of metaphors.
"So far the kaolin mix works. The trellises may yet deliver our only income. The quality in a first year? Who knows? The number of flies caught in the surrounding traps is beyond disgusting. What we need is either a super-hot spell or a big freeze, which is unlikely at this time of year."
"Why?"
"Because an unexpected freeze would kill off the flies, breaking their life cycle. The longer the better but it's damaging for the trees. They need time to adjust to cold. I'd prefer a heatwave. That'd cause less damage to the trees and the life cycle would slow, if to a lesser extent."
"Enrique, I must tell you something."
He raised his eyes. Lili's voice had croaked. She handed him the printed-out spreadsheet. He soaked up its contents and, with a calm that surprised her, digested the information.
"All this proves we're fucked twice over."
Did he snigger? Lili could not believe it. It sounded like it.
"I don't think it's possible to go doubly bankrupt at the same time. Although I confess I've never tried. Have you?"
Lili giggled this time at his response. It was screwy.
"How can you make light of my mistakes?"
"I'm not. You made them with good intentions. I don't blame you. Remember, I spent your money. That's pretty dumb for someone who needs to keep his eyes open. You did try to review the re-insurance with me. I was too tired to bother. Plus ..."
"Plus?"
"You've paid for more
of the assets of Olivos Ramos y Tremblay than me. In effect you've only lost your own half while the flies have taken mine."
He smiled at her. It was genuine, with warmth. Lili's bewilderment showed on her face.
"I mean it, Lili."
"You're impossible. I was bemoaning what I'd done to you, yet you cast it back at me in the nicest possible way."
She hesitated before plopping herself on his lap and hugging him. It was no longer a lover's hug. They were past that. Lili knew how much he yearned to impress Ana. At first she'd presumed Inma would be the object of his desire. But it was the younger Ana who had captivated him, though Lili was unsure if his feelings were reciprocated.
Since the Yuste visit, cut short by Ana's grandmother's illness, Lili had received no contact from Inma and did not object. She was still rehashing the visit, when she'd worn the Syrian outfit Enrique disliked so much. From Inma's style of appreciation something had changed. But what? It was as if Inma saw her in a new light, no longer as a client, perhaps more as someone who'd become a friend. But weren't they friends already?
What was a constant puzzle to Lili was the lack of a man in Inma's life. Curved like that she looked unbelievable, whether in jeans or dresses. Enrique must be seriously cuckoo to prefer Ana.
Enrique interrupted her musings, saying, "What shall we do for dinner?"
"Go out to enjoy ourselves while we can. You, Enrique cariño, can choose. Somewhere preferably without running into our fellow producers drowning their own miseries."
"Hmm. I know a dive. I haven't been for years. You may hate it."
"Tonight? Who cares? I can forgive you anything today, including Ana, María or you waltzing off with the waitress."
María? Why had she thrown in her name?
Córdoba
María sat thinking in her modest Córdoba piso. Lunch with Enrique had surprised her. She had thought nothing could prise him from his precious Lili. Yet, from what he'd said, Lili was no longer his bedroom companion. That couldn't be his doing. He was no initiative taker, as she knew from when they grew up together. If there was mischief she was the initiator, tugging a bleating Enrique behind. This hadn't changed as teenagers or when they went to university or afterwards. She saw no evidence he'd improved.
Her mind returned to the flies. In Córdoba their impact was significant, though minor compared to Úbeda and its surrounding areas. If María felt sorry for most olive growers she was desolate for Enrique. She knew how he had poured blood and sweat into the arid lands bequeathed by his father. His trees and their fruits fascinated him, to the point where he could bore without trying if she ever let him wax lyrical for too long.
On yesterday's evidence, when María saw him briefly, he was near to a crisis. She had to do something, as much for herself as for him. To hear the desolation in his voice broke her heart.
Sipping an infusión as the evening drew in she considered her own situation. Her work at the architect's office was dreary most of the time. To escape it would be a delight. With unemployment so high in Andalucía her chances of finding an alternative job were minimal, never mind one that challenged her abilities, which she believed remained untapped. She was determined to keep near Enrique. She was locked in, even if Juan was history.
That said, one of the few advantages of her boss, the principal of the architectural practice, was his fascination with technology. He was unusual in that he was happy to share this with his employees if they manifested any interest. Most didn't. María did. This meant Javier was often indulgent in his treatment of her. On more than one occasion she had repaid this by coming up with practical engineering solutions to save a project. These were the only real applications of her engineering degree and occurred too rarely to provide her with intellectual satisfaction
Even so, to pay Javier due credit, he did encourage. A couple of weeks back, for example, he had brought two microcomputers into the office, namely an Arduino and a Raspberry Pi. For an afternoon they explored what might be done with each if introduced into a modern building, such as controlling blinds, elevators, heating or even water flows. It was fun, chasing refinements, especially how they might assist the elderly, his current passion. The snag was anything worthwhile involved attaching sensors and developing software.
At this point Javier had hesitated. He was a practical man who had seen his own share of software ideas go belly-up. Burnt too often he'd retreated. His one concession was to lend María the Arduino and Raspberry Pi, telling her that if she wanted to play she could but any ideas should be investigated in her own time, not his. Discouraged, she politely took the devices home, and sat them in a corner. As so often she lost her spirit because of his negative attitude.
Her thoughts returned to the flies. From what Enrique said the insuperable problem was sorting between infected and uninfected olives. It had never been done on an industrial basis and no one he knew had any realistic idea about what to do. María's thoughts ranged.
A light went off. The attraction of both Raspberry Pis and Arduinos was their low cost. Both were tiny. Nevertheless, they were computers in their different ways. Was it possible to attach an electronic camera, as a sensor, and use software to inspect an olive for signs of infestation?
She sat churning this over. After what felt like an hour María headed for her elderly yet still powerful laptop. Opening a series of web pages, she found that it was straightforward to attach a camera to both a Raspberry Pi and Arduino, and that cameras were not too expensive. She asked more questions via the Internet before grabbing a notebook and pencil and returning to the sofa.
Before proceeding she needed to break the problem into its constituent parts in order to assess if each might be solved. María started with what she knew.
An Arduino could have one camera attached, while a Raspberry Pi could have several; each Raspberry Pi could multi-task if the code was efficient. To all intents and purposes the Arduino could not. Multiple Raspberry Pis or Arduinos could be stacked and networked to create a cluster of processing units. If the cameras, in effect the eyes, could stare at an olive, theory said the images could be processed. The key would be software to tell the difference between an infected and uninfected olive.
So far so good but it was not enough to examine an olive. Recalling her occasional visits to Enrique's mills in harvest time she made additional notes. In a normal season tens of thousands of olives would arrive every hour for washing and removal of any tiny branches and leaves. Denuded, they were shuttled for crushing. This must be the logical moment for inspection, when an olive was clean and before any would-be fly inside in an infected olive was crushed.
The problem began to come into focus. It would not be sufficient to decide between good and bad olives. There would have to be some form of physical mechanism to separate a good olive from a bad one.
An additional problem occurred to María. Olives would need to run down some sort of channel to stop beneath each camera. She could picture those channels, perhaps using plastic drain pipes. But these would have to be at an acute angle while not bruising the olives.
She made some more notes until a different awareness stopped her dead. An olive must roll under each camera for it to see as much of the surface area as possible. Ahhhh! This was becoming complex. Too complex? She wasn't certain.
María returned to her laptop to order a couple of cameras and a Raspberry Pi container. She was going to try to build a semi-portable version before addressing the software problem. Obtaining some infected olives shouldn't be a challenge, unfortunately. By making progress on this she would come back to the mechanical side of moving the olives. Intuitively her engineering said this last aspect should be straightforward, but it might be the hardest to scale up to handle a harvest rather than a few sample olives.
María's brain was now awash with ideas. Whether any might work wasn't obvious. But the challenge remained, though she insisted to herself she must not let Enrique know. Building false hopes for him was pointless when the reality w
as that she clutched at straws.
Chapter Twelve
Autumn, two weeks late
Monday: Úbeda
The participants were identical. The atmosphere wasn't. The pessimistic motivation today stood in stark contrast to the positive lunch when they had gathered as Enrique and Lili's guests to listen to, and admire, Inma and Ana. This time they were to focus on the plague and compensation.
While her presence was probably intended as a sop, after all Soledad had declined to join the POPIC group, it was she who took the lead. Possibly all recalled she had no axe to grind. With little to lose, they granted her respect, shaped by her obvious neutrality.
Around a large rectangular table in an Úbeda restaurant, Soledad chose not the head but a position about midway. Whether she knew it consciously, this was one of the control points in the room. She wielded it to advantage. Within a quarter of an hour she chaired the meeting. The advantage soon became clear. Her unspoken leadership went unchallenged, not least because, without a formal agenda, the first minutes threatened a verbal brawl with no constructive end in sight. Once Soledad understood she possessed the unofficial leadership she reminded all about the two original discussion items. She added two more.
The first concerned the insurance claims all were keen to register as soon as possible. As businesses they were cash strapped. The sooner the insurance companies paid up the better. The second involved exploring the intensity of the Bactrocera oleae infestation, the like of which no one had experienced before. Her third introduced working with their banks and local Comarca to see if financial support was obtainable. The fourth related to the second but concentrated on the common steps all should take to prevent next year's harvest suffering like this one.
No one had envisaged the elderly curmudgeon as a natural chair person. Yet they fell in line when she recommended they work through the four points in an alternative order. First, the insurance; second, looking for aid; third; what to do about preparing for next year; fourth, the infestation. Any resentment towards Soledad evaporated.
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