The Street Angel

by Robert Gollagher

  “I saw you in the newspaper, Fernando.”

  Del Campo leaned back in his chair. “Really, my love?”

  “Yes. I am proud of you.”

  “Proud. Why?”

  “Your speech. About how Captain Sollo must be brought to justice for the murder of that boy, that he would stand trial. I didn’t think you cared so much about these children. I thought you cared nothing for them.”

  Del Campo thought quickly. “Yes, Little Cat. It is true I did not care. But even an old man can learn to change. Just as I have learned to change in love. These killings have gone on for too long. It is time to stop them. And Sollo took matters into his own hands. That is why he is in prison. The people must know the police are not above the law.”

  “I know your job is difficult, Fernando, but there’s too much violence. And I am proud that you are finally trying to change that. I never thought you would change ... but now you are.” She squeezed his hand. “It is good.”

  “I’m afraid not all the news is good, Little Cat.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Del Campo did his best to looked regretful. “Perhaps I did not do the right thing. I have had news today from the prison. Captain Sollo has been killed by another prisoner. Apparently there was some kind of riot.”

  “Killed, Fernando? That’s awful. You knew the man.”

  “Yes, I ... should have known better. A policeman in that kind of prison has many enemies. Of course he was guilty of his crime, but he had not even made it to trial. I should have put him in solitary confinement. It was a mistake. And now he has paid for that mistake with his life. I did not want to tell you earlier. I thought it would upset you.”

  “Ai, these prisons are terrible.”

  “Yes. But there is more bad news. And this I know will upset you.”

  “What, Fernando?” Juliet leaned forward nervously in her chair.

  “Juliet, my love ... I must tell you. Your necklace, The Tears of the Angels, it is lost. My men have scoured the city for it. But we could not retrieve it. Perhaps we may still find it one day, but I think not. Probably it has already been sold, perhaps in Rio or even out of the country. I have failed you. I can no longer promise it to you.”

  “Oh,” said Juliet, a little upset.

  “You know, Little Cat, that I would move heaven and earth to see that you have that necklace, for it is a declaration of our love. The two rubies are the hearts of two angels, and the diamonds are their tears.”

  “Yes, Fernando. You remember.”

  “I remember.” Del Campo was pleased at how well she was taking it. “And we have tried everything. It is gone. I’m sorry, my love. Forgive me?”

  Juliet reached over and kissed him. “Of course I forgive you. The necklace was beautiful, but what matters is you and me, that we are together. Soon we will be together all the time, won’t we?”

  “Soon we will.” Del Campo kissed her back.

  “Ah, you make me so happy at last, my Fernando. At last you do.” Juliet hugged him tenderly. How much she preferred the truth to his lies. How happy she was that he had admitted he could not find the necklace, instead of making her empty promises. “You really have changed.”

  General Fernando del Campo knew he was a lucky man. His luck had not deserted him, after all that had happened. Everything would be all right.

  “I love you, Juliet,” he said happily.

  “And I you, Fernando. Always.”

  Chapter 24

  It was against the sober advice of Ricardo Fuentes that Susan had borrowed an old pickup truck and driven from his cane plantation to visit Junio. Ricardo had insisted that Susan should not put herself at risk. But the tiny hobby farm where Junio was staying was only a dozen miles distant down the winding country highway. Susan knew it might be her last chance to see the boy before she would have to leave Brazil. And so Ricardo had reluctantly agreed, once she had promised she would not to go into the city. He had given Susan the keys to the pickup.

  So many thoughts were running through Susan’s mind at once as she bumped down the dirt road to the farm. This was the same long road that she and Richards had driven along after they had first become lovers. And ahead was the farmhouse at which they had celebrated the festival of St John, at which she had led him to her room, lit a candle, and put a table behind the door. She still remembered that first night. It had been almost magical, such a release from the prison of her empty marriage to Adrian, such an awakening to realise that she could have those feelings again, could want to be close to a man not out of duty but out of affection. She wanted to think she could hold onto that forever, that somehow she could wave a magic wand and have it that she had never met Adrian Harris-Smythe, had never married him, had never ended up as the well-respected society wife smiling out of newspaper pictures, supporting her husband, being seen with him in all the right places. So many other political marriages had failed. Not theirs. It made Adrian all the more powerful. It commanded him public respect. Susan wished she had never agreed to be a player in that inescapable game. She wished she could walk away from it all and stay with the unknown, ruined American stockbroker she loved, stay in his little Brazilian apartment and leave it all behind. She wished they could just be together.

  But soon she was to be put on a plane and rushed back to England. Everything here would be just a memory, so far away that she could never reach out and get it back again, so far away that it might as well never have happened at all. Susan Richards, she thought, running the name through her head a few times. Then she chastised herself for being so stupid ... and so immoral. She already was a married woman. And it wasn’t just Adrian. It was her life, all her friends in London, the church, the language academy, her students. What was she thinking? She couldn’t just disappear. She couldn’t just throw everything away and spend her life on the run from the military police in a troubled country on the other side of the world. But still she did not want to leave. She needed Bob, wanted him, loved him.

  You’re a fool, Susan, she thought. You’re a damn fool.

  How many times had she told her friends that she could never abide adultery, that if one was married then one ought to be married faithfully for it was a sacred union in the eyes of God? It was just wrong, she had always proclaimed so righteously, it was just wrong to cheat on your husband. And how much she had despised all the well-to-do husbands she knew who kept mistresses in discreet flats and bedded them twice a week while they promised their wives they were working late at the office. How far the thought had been from her mind that one day she too might be unfaithful. It had been unthinkable. She would never do such a thing. And now she had done it. And it had been so beautiful, not something ugly at all.

  Susan wished it would all go away, all the problems in her life, that she could just start over and live it again. No Adrian. No military police. No murders. Just working at the orphanage and learning Portuguese, feeling welcomed by the wonderful people here, learning to dance. And then she might have met Bob under different circumstances. She might have been unmarried and have met Bob and fallen in love with him. She might never have known what it was like to have all the money and public admiration she had in England. She might have just lived a simple life and married for love. And there would have been no sin in it, no sin at all. Only happiness.

  But she was married to Adrian. And there were military police, everywhere. And at least one child was dead. She could no longer stay at the orphanage. She had already done everything she could to save the children and now she must leave. But the most horrible fact was that she loved Bob Richards, and this meant there was no easy way out of the whole mess. Susan had prayed every night for guidance. But none had come.

  She had easily known what the right thing was when the lives of the children had been threatened. She had risked her own life to save them without hesitation. And now everything she had been taught about adultery seemed turned upside down. What was wrong and what was right? She wasn’t sure any more. But s
he knew she must decide something.

  It was in that moment, driving slowly up the road to the farmhouse where she had first realised how much she loved Bob Richards, that she made her choice. She prayed for the courage to go through with it.

  Junio sat in his new clothes, looking at the tiny package Susan had brought for him. It was wrapped in shiny golden paper. He wanted to see what was inside, but she was still talking. He waited impatiently for her to finish.

  Susan sat next to Junio on his bed. She spoke slowly, trying to get the Portuguese right. “Now you understand, Junio, that the ... necklace is back where it belongs. And you must never tell anyone you ever saw it. It is just our little secret, okay? You tell no one about it.”

  “Yes, Senhora.” Junio kicked his legs nervously, swinging his feet back and forth over the edge of the bed. “I understand.”

  “Because ... um, because now that the necklace is returned to its owners, everything is all right. No one is mad any more. The police will not come again. You will be safe, Junio. You will be safe.” Susan smiled as convincingly as she could. She could hardly try to explain that the necklace was now with a corrupt judge. She thought it was better to simplify things.

  One of Junio’s feet bumped against a soccer ball. He watched it roll slowly across the room. Then he looked at Susan. “Senhora, is God still angry with me? For stealing the necklace from the angels?”

  “Oh, Junio.” Susan smiled at him. “It wasn’t really from the angels. That was just a name. It was just a necklace, not from the angels, Junio.”

  Junio shook his head. “No, no, Senhora. I saw it on the television of Senhora Vientes. I saw it. They said it was from the angels.”

  Susan squeezed his arm. “Don’t worry, Junio. God is not angry with you. I promise you, he is not angry. He loves you. You are a good boy.”

  “Then the police will not come for me? Like they came for Paulo?”

  “No, no. They were angry with Paulo. Not with you.”

  Junio thought of Paulo. “I wish they did not come for him ...”

  “I wish that too, Junio. But don’t you worry. Now everything is all right. The police will not come. You are going to Maceió. You remember, that is where you grew up? We have found an orphanage for you there, far away from the police, far away from everything. You will be safe, Junio. I promise.”

  Junio wondered if he could go back to the slum he grew up in and see his house. Would it still be there? He did not know. “You promise, Senhora?”

  “Yes, I promise. Fabriola will take you to Maceió next week. She has spoken to the Sister at the orphanage there. They want to see you, very soon, because I told them what an angel you are. I told them you are my little angel from the street, and that you wanted to go home to Maceió.”

  Junio said nothing. He didn’t like orphanages.

  “Is that okay, Junio?” Susan said encouragingly.

  “I guess so, Senhora.”

  “Good, my Junio,” Susan said affectionately. “Now, look! I’ve brought you a gift. Do you want to see what it is?”

  Junio looked at the package again. “Yes.”

  “Then take it. It’s for you.” Susan ruffled his hair.

  Junio ripped open the paper and uncovered a small plastic box. He opened it and saw a polished piece of bright red glass, round and shiny. He had no idea at all what it was. He’d never seen anything like it.

  “It’s a yoyo. Take it out and I’ll show you how it goes.”

  Junio gave it to her, curious but unimpressed. He was hoping for something exciting, like a watch. This thing was boring.

  Susan stood up. “Now, watch me! This is how you do it.”

  To Junio’s amazement, the piece of glass fell from her hand and then rose up again, spinning on a piece of string. It was like magic, up and down, up and down. It made a strange whirring noise. He laughed in excitement.

  “That’s nothing,” Susan said, pleased that he was enjoying it. “I used to have one of these when I was a girl. I know a few, uh ... games.” Susan couldn’t think what the word for ‘tricks’ was, not and yoyo at the same time.

  Junio took a step back in surprise as Susan made the yoyo spin up above her hand in a sudden circle and then loop back down to the ground. Then she made a larger circle, like a gigantic propeller, each turn powered by an expert flick of her wrist. Then she made a triangle out of the string, with her free left hand, and made the yoyo hang spinning inside the triangle.

  “Cat’s cradle!” Susan declared, amazed that she could remember how to do it. Almost immediately she realised she had said it in English. Then she tried to translate. “Um ... bed of the little cat.”

  Junio laughed in excitement at this strange toy. He was eager to try it for himself but embarrassed that he didn’t know how.

  Susan brought the yoyo to a stop and handed it to him. “It’s for you.”

  “Will you ... will you show me? I don’t know how.”

  Susan could see how excited Junio was to learn the yoyo, how much he had forgotten about the police at least for a moment, how he was suddenly just a normal little boy who wanted to play. “Of course, Junio. Of course.”

  Junio put the string around his finger, the way Susan showed him, and tried to make the toy work. He frowned with concentration, then smiled broadly when the yoyo started to obey him. He loved it.

  Susan breathed a sigh of relief as she watched him play. It was good to see him smiling. It almost made her forget everything for a few minutes.

  When the time had come to drive back to the cane plantation, Susan didn’t make a big fuss of saying goodbye. Junio was still absorbed in his new toy. She hugged him briefly and then let him play. She knew that Fabriola would see he was taken care of, that he would get to Maceió safely. And as she drove down the long dirt road towards the highway, she allowed herself to think about Bob again. The drive was over all too quickly.

  When Richards drove out to the plantation that same afternoon, Susan was not in the house. Instead he found her walking by herself along one of the dirt tracks which bordered the cane fields. It was a wiltingly humid, becalmed afternoon. There was hardly a cloud in the sky. The plantation was on a low rise which made for sweeping views of the cane fields, a handful of large farmhouses and the quiet highway in the distance. The sun hung wearily in the west, two hours from its disappearance.

  Susan turned when she heard footsteps behind her. She had been lost in her private thoughts, not appreciating the view, but now she looked up and saw Bob striding down the track towards her. Behind him, at the top of the hill, was the impressive mansion of the family of Ricardo Fuentes, her temporary home. “Hello, Bob,” she said, certain that she sounded guilty.

  “Hey, Susan. You okay?”

  Susan nodded.

  “Ricardo said you borrowed the pickup. So how’s the kid doing?”

  “He’s okay. Fabriola’s going to take him to the orphanage in Maceió. She thinks he should be safe there. And it’s closer to home for him.”

  “Hmmm. Well, I’ve got some good news for you.”

  Susan seemed strangely quiet. Then she said, “Can we keep walking? It’s so pretty out here.”

  “Sure.” Richards wondered what was wrong. He guessed she must still be upset about the murder of the street kid. “Let’s walk.”

  “So, what’s your good news?” Susan muttered.

  “Had a call from Chester Louis, the reporter. He got a call from General del Campo’s office. Looks like your visit to the judge worked.”

  “What?” said Susan, disbelievingly.

  “I’m not kidding. Chester said he could hardly believe it himself, but the MPs have opened the case file of that kid’s murder to the newspapers. Chester’s seen all the documents. The captain you filmed is in prison. Or at least he was ... he’s been killed. They say it was a prison riot, but that’s just for the media. It must have been an arranged execution.”

  “That’s good news? Another death?”

  Richards shook his
head. “No. Good news is they wanna put a stop to the publicity. They’ve named their fall guy. And now he’s dead. So they’ll wipe their hands. That’s nothing new. But there’s more. Your little talk to Marcus must have struck a nerve. He must have put some kinda pressure on the general – he’s backing down.”

  “What do you mean, backing down?”

  “Well, he told me he was gonna kill every last one of the street kids, but now he’s turned around completely. He’s going the other way, wants to play the public hero. Chester tells me there’s going to be a charity dance at the orphanage. Del Campo’s going to open it with a speech. All the press will be there. It’ll be quite a circus.”

  “A dance? At the orphanage?”

  Richards sighed. “Yeah. My guess is Marcus wants to humiliate him in public. The general hates street kids. Now he has to be their benefactor. But I can see why del Campo agreed. It’s going to make him look good. Instead of getting investigated for murder, he gets lauded as a hero. General del Campo, protector of the children.”

  “I don’t understand. How could that be?”

  “How can it be is you risking your life to see that old judge. I don’t know what you said to him, but it worked.”

  “The children will be all right?”

  Richards nodded. “It looks that way. They’re off the hook.”

  “Oh, thank God. Thank God, Bob.”

  “Yeah,” Richards replied, a little uncomfortably.

  “I prayed for them so many times, so many times.”

  “Well, looks like somebody listened.”

  “Thank God,” Susan repeated. She felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted off her shoulders. “I would never have forgiven myself, running away back to England, if any more of those children had died.”

  Richards reflected that she was just lucky she hadn’t gotten herself killed, but he didn’t say it aloud. “Well, they’re gonna be okay.”