Virginity Despoiled

by Charles Brett

  "So it may be some months yet?"

  "Yes. One at a minimum, three at the most."

  Andrei returned to his escape plans. He'd hoped to have disappeared sooner. It wasn't to be. Oh well, there was tomorrow to anticipate.

  Wednesday: Madrid

  Inma was immobilised by indecision. It was so unlike her. She thought of herself as decisive and capable of making decisions work. Stuck in an impasse unbalanced her equilibrium. It unnerved. It hadn't happened since her former lover Miriam returned to New Jersey. She quivered. Inma forced herself to change subject.

  Ana had progressed no further with the legal position. According to her there were no obvious legal precedents to guide resolution. This bothered Inma. Uncertainty was a necessary factor in insurance. The fall-back position was legalistic interpretation of contracts. The flies simply did not fit any recognisable previous legal case. Olives deliberately infected was equally unknown.

  More irritating still was the absence of incriminating evidence sufficient to demonstrate the pestilence was man-made. Although, she admitted to herself, it would be simpler if no such evidence existed. If uncertainties did not arise, the claims would have to proceed without challenge. Except the newspapers had heard rumours of the fly plague being unnatural. There was avid speculation, though no hard facts. Even so, the insurers were bound to search high and low for anything to minimise their liability. That was the nature of insurance.

  It was a mess. Ana had volunteered to go to Úbeda. Inma was unconvinced. What could Ana do there? Then Ana introduced Kjersti, of all professions a journalist. To Inma this was piling on more bad news.

  Ana had managed to persuade Inma, because Kjersti's focus was on background for an article about the Italian olive crisis, not about the flies. Ana argued it could do no harm to inspect Lili and Enrique's set up. With reluctance, Inma agreed.

  The one positive she took from Ana's absence was peace in the office. Inma could assess and evaluate, and not just about the business. She had to try and sort through her weekend with Lili. She started chronologically, to try to add method.

  Thursday evening and most of Friday had been functional, though it was clear Lili was drained and upset. At one point she'd rambled on about needing to know when the guillotine would fall. Inma had attributed this to emotional exhaustion.

  With Friday came the evening's exercise debacle. If it hadn't been so embarrassing it might have been comic. Never had Inma conceived that anyone could fail to complete a single one of her routines. It was beyond imagination. Even Ana, no exercise freak, could master the basics. Lili simply was not able to repeat anything. Despite asking in advance if she might participate, Lili had brought no suitable clothes. Her shorts and old T-shirt were not threatened by sweat. Lili's attempts were pathetic.

  Lili's suggestion that she stop and observe made sense. But it had delivered two further shocks for Inma. Even to think about the first embarrassed her. Lili's incredulity, and admiration, had spurred her on to complete her most difficult routines. She'd felt thoroughly exercised by the end, more so than in weeks. Accustomed to exercising alone, with the occasional use of a mirror to fine-tune specific routines, she discovered an audience generated tremors of unfamiliar excitement.

  While she was warming down, Lili sprang the second surprise by suggesting Inma should perform on stage. That wasn't quite fair. Lili had not actually recommended that but came pretty close. The idea was absurd. Lili's rationale, about bankers with more money than sense paying to watch, was ludicrous. Yet she had tapped a streak of vanity Inma had long recognised and always sublimated. It was why, in her Opus days, she'd developed her fitness and shape-changing regime, as her personal way to satisfy that vanity with results that would stay forever invisible beneath her shapeless 'brown tents'.

  Saturday had proved quite different. The morning was slow, with the rain crashing down outside. She'd made her excuse about needing to visit the pueblo. In reality Inma wanted peace. She didn't want a repetition of Friday evening or Lili's seeking another exercise session. It was ironic how her time with María had become its own performance, if of another kind.

  Back at the finca Inma had found Lili in deep sleep. Inma had been disconcerted by her relief. She'd left Lili and completed her regular daily regime, this time in blissful privacy. It felt normal without an audience, if less exciting. Two hours later her system hummed. She had been on a high, with her endorphins doing their job.

  With Lili still out of it, Inma had showered and given in to impulse. At María's she'd bought some lingerie for Ana. This was a first but she didn't think Ana would object, not after Ana's recounting of her discomfort when she played poker dice with Toomas. Inma remained surprised Ana had related so much detail about what had happened.

  As she was buying for Ana she'd thought of Lili. She'd described Lili to María who knew exactly what to recommend, though it took her some time to find. In the finca, after her shower, Inma had surrendered to impulse and left the small package on Lili's bed. Her original plan had been to hand it to Lili as a departure memento, to be opened back in Úbeda.

  Saturday evening had been the epitome of frustrating. When Lili came down for dinner she had again bedecked herself in her gorgeous Middle Eastern combination top and skirt. Inma paused in recollection. She couldn't deny it. Quite simply she had wanted to know what Lili wore beneath. Had she found the package? Had she slipped into its contents? She'd almost invited Lili to show her. Thankfully, she'd refrained. What would Lili have thought?

  This was precisely the issue. What would Lili have thought?

  Inma oscillated about Lili who, by her own admission, lived with Enrique without much satisfaction. Lili had more than once asked about Inma's male admirers. Did Lili not understand?

  Inma hit her forehead. She'd never really talked to Lili about Miriam. Why not? Perhaps it was residual discomfort. But was this because of the fear of admitting her failure with Miriam or something else? An alternative was Lili really didn't grasp Inma's preferences. Or didn't Lili approve? Or wasn't she interested? The possibilities were myriad.

  Inma had spent Sunday in a ferment. She remained, three days later, in the same ferment. She had tried to burn it off with a long tough, wet walk on which Lili, to her surprise, could keep up, and with yet another private repetition of her routines.

  In one long weekend and the first two days of the week she'd consumed enough energy to power an olive mill. She laughed wryly to herself. What a picture.

  What should she do? A teenager in her late forties. She might as well exercise.

  Wednesday: Úbeda

  Enrique visited María in the big mill's sorting area where her OIM2 was taking shape. María obsessed over the details. Dare he interrupt?

  He could barely conceal his sense of pride in what she had achieved. Her heuristic software worked. The false positives were falling. More to the point, throughput was rising. He had high hopes the big mill could start, and not only for Olivos Ramos y Tremblay. Others had heard of the OIMs. People were hinting about asking whether they might sort their olives through his mill.

  It was all strange. A month or so ago the heavens were falling in, the flies were rampant and this season's prospects disheartening. Now four separate pieces of good news marched in parallel.

  The first derived from the Super High Density groves. His lucky use of the kaolin had produced a decent to good harvest with untainted olives. The quality was excellent even if the absolute amount of Extra Virgin Olive Oil extracted was only a sliver of what Olivos Ramos y Tremblay normally fashioned. He was going to plant at least two more Super High Density groves, though it would require another four to five years before they fruited for production.

  The second was the long, late season heatwave. This had inhibited the flies. It would be next year before they knew for sure but common wisdom believed control was imminent.

  Internally Enrique referred to the third as 'María's Coming', with her OIMs. They had submitted the results from their
three OIM1 tests. These had been inspected and accepted by the Comarca. The next challenge was finding out what quality of oil could be produced from the affected groves once the infected olives were sorted and discarded. It wouldn't be anything like as much as anticipated. Yet anything was better than nothing, however much Lili moaned.

  The fourth was unexpected. It hurt that it might be to his benefit. The olive oil scare in Italy shocked. That so many people could become sick, even die, was a reminder to all that quality and quality control counted. Enrique's initial reaction was to expect the price of any Extra Virgin Olive Oil to continue to drop, because of the flies combined with an expectation that little or no good quality oils would come from Jaén this year. With all Extra Virgin Olive Oil in Italy now regarded as suspect he had predicted to Lili that prices would plummet.

  She disagreed. As so often, she was better than he at predicting market movements, at least on the evidence of the past few days. The Italians had not given up on Extra Virgin Olive Oil. No, they had given up on Italian-produced Extra Virgin Olive Oil after an excess of stories had surfaced where refined rubbish oils had been passed off as Extra Virgin Olive Oil. Chemical analysis of several famous brand names revealed systematic misrepresentation.

  In reality, Italy still wanted good oil and was prepared to pay. Incredibly to Enrique, but not Lili, the wholesale price of reputably-sourced Extra Virgin Olive Oil not coming from Italy or Andalucía was rising. If Olivos Ramos y Tremblay could rescue enough it might be sufficient to make up for what the flies had destroyed. The key lay in the percentages. Before the OIMs more than 5 per cent infected olives ruined a harvest. Batches of olives with an infection rate of more than 5 or 10 per cent had to be thrown away in their entirety, because no practical mechanism could separate the infected from the uninfected. María's OIM changed the equation.

  Enrique tried to discuss the implications of this with Lili. She was dismissive. It was too far-fetched. He'd suggested it might mean they wouldn't need to claim on the insurance. Derisively she'd reminded him that it was not only their harvest that was insured. Others from POPIC were included. They had no OIMs.

  Deflated, Enrique left Lili. On his way back to the mills his phone rang. It was Soledad. Could she put her olives through his fancy computers? He hadn't known how to reply. After all, OIM2 was yet to start functioning. Almost as soon as he finished with her he had a couple of other POPIC members asking for the same.

  This inspired him, though he remained uncertain whether to risk disturbing María's concentration. Before he was able to act she appeared, to bounce up in front of him while beaming from ear to ear.

  "Why are you so pleased with yourself? OIM2 is working?"

  "Not yet. Almost. Throughput per minute looks like it's redoubled. The heuristics reduce the decision time. The steeper chutes help."

  "Fantastic! Is that enough to keep the big mill busy?"

  "I think so. Will you check my calculations?"

  "Of course. When? Now?"

  "But that isn't what I wanted to bring up. Would you like to go into business with me?"

  "Did I hear you right? What business?"

  "I've just taken calls from olive mills wanting to pay me to build OIMs for them. Price was no object, though time was."

  "Why me?"

  "The OIM in its first incarnation was my idea. But you had faith in me, to try it out and to pay to build both OIM1 and now OIM2. Without you, your facilities, knowledge and support, I couldn't ever have reached this point."

  María stared at her feet, made uncertain by his subdued reaction. Enrique hadn't a clue how to respond. Yet again she'd taken the initiative. She was a whirlwind.

  "What did you say to the mills?"

  "That I'd talk to you."

  "Soledad called this morning to see if we would process her olives. Some others from an informal producer group asked the same. I was coming to you to ... see if you would like to go into business making OIMs."

  "You're joking!"

  María and Enrique goggled at each other in mutual disbelief. Before Enrique could respond she was all over him.

  "Only with you involved."

  "I guess that's decided. You'd better finish off OIM2."

  "Yes, but we need support. I can't assemble more OIMs on my own. OIM2 is stretching me."

  "It can't be me. I've the olive picking to manage."

  María cursed to herself but curbed her tongue. Enrique waited for what she might demand. He remained silent until she continued.

  "What about selling specifications without becoming involved in their building? It'd remove a shed load of responsibility."

  Enrique experienced extreme relief. It was an answer and an olive branch.

  "I like it. Would you like to walk with me through the groves? I need to check their condition."

  "I would but can't. OIM2 demands me."

  María headed back to her OIM2. She was well satisfied. Now she was going into business with Enrique. Her objective was in sight.

  Thursday: Úbeda

  Ana had considered borrowing Inma's X5 to travel to Úbeda. She'd decided Kjersti's unpretentious attitude meant she wouldn't care whether they were in a van or a Rolls Royce. The Cinquecento would suffice. On the way there Kjersti offered to share the driving. Ana's immediate reaction was 'no' because the Cinquecento was only insured for herself. Kjersti had sounded disappointed, not so much about the driving but the lack of something to do. Ana'd caught herself. She was in insurance. Surely she could add Kjersti to her policy.

  She stopped at the next service station, suggesting Kjersti buy coffees. She made a phone call. When Kjersti came back she handed over the keys and, responding to her quizzical expression, Ana explained. Now she wished she hadn't bothered. Her Cinquecento was being thrown around like a Ferrari. Ana hung on, biting her lip and anticipating disaster at every corner. How was she going to reclaim her keys?

  Out of nowhere Kjersti began to behave as a normal human being. Progress slowed from frenetic to sedate. Ana sat bemused by the contrast, until Kjersti could contain herself no longer.

  "Afraid for your precious car in my diabolical hands? Just like with your precious Davide?"

  Ana's transition, from terror to relief, developed into a fury which surprised them both. At the first safe opportunity Kjersti pulled over and held out the keys. By this time Ana had recovered. She waved the keys away.

  "You drive. But you're mean, Kjersti. Are all Norwegians like you?"

  "Yes and no. My friend Freja would agree with you. It's the journalist. Needling produces results."

  Ana guessed this was as close to an apology as she was likely to obtain. There was a constant edge to Kjersti. It wasn't always comfortable.

  "Sorry about the Davide dig. That wasn't nice of me, not after what you explained over dinner."

  "No. But I deserved it. I've pined too long. It's my own stupidity."

  "Not from what you told me."

  "What d'you mean?"

  "You described Toomas and Enrique, but not in the same way as Davide. There was a difference."

  "How?"

  "In your voice. In the way you talk about each. You're an interesting person, Ana. Davide clearly sees that; I don't think Enrique does, and by the sounds of it Toomas didn't either. You and I know what he wanted, and got."

  "Davide is all that remains. Toomas has disappeared, though that's no great loss. Enrique, according to Inma, is now being chased by his childhood buddy. If Lili's summary to Inma is accurate he has about an eighth of a per cent chance of evading her noose."

  "Lili doesn't mind? Isn't she shacked up with Enrique?"

  "She still lives with him, sort of. In the same house, but not in the same bed. They share the olive business. And, no; she doesn't seem to mind. It's beyond me."

  Over the rest of their journey Ana painted a broader background to Kjersti, carefully not alluding to Inma and her own involvement in the insurance or the potential implications. To Ana, this concerned confidential
ity, though Kjersti would probably find out.

  Arriving in Úbeda they parked close to the Parador where Ana and Inma had first stayed. Kjersti fell for Úbeda. The warmth of the yellow stone was unlike anything in Norway. She insisted on walking to the Sacra Capilla del Salvador and complained bitterly about the five euros they were forced to pay to enter. After inspecting the church, she commented that its free exterior was way better than its expensive interior. Rather than dispute this, Ana led Kjersti down the street beside the church to a lookout point. Kjersti gasped.

  "Can there be that many olive trees in the world?"

  "That's only a fraction of what Jaén possesses. See down there, to the line of green? The Guadalquivir River runs west all the way to Seville and the Atlantic beyond. I hadn't thought about it before. The river might've been the vector for the fruit flies to reach the groves of Sevilla."

  Kjersti continued to gaze, almost as if counting the olive trees. The scene fascinated her. Pine forests were familiar from home. Millions of precision-spaced olive trees were a novelty.

  They checked into the Parador and climbed the stairs to their rooms. Ana hooked up her tablet to Wi-Fi to discover pictures of Toomas and Reelika appearing. Davide's email apologised for the later than promised transmission.

  There were four photos, individual ones of each, a joint one at an event resembling a celebration, and a fourth. Underneath the third Davide speculated if it might be from the aftermath of a wedding. Was he having a dig? Did he suspect? Did he care?

  The final picture was of a business gathering. Besides Toomas, two of the people in it were those she'd met once at the so-called 'Estonian Syndicate', along with half a dozen others she did not recognise. She emailed her confirmation of Toomas and Reelika's identities and asked what more Davide wanted. As usual she would have to wait for Davide's reply.

  Ana re-joined Kjersti in the foyer. They drove to the pueblo. In passing she pointed out Lili and Enrique's Úbeda house with the terrace looking down to the river and on to the mountains.