Breakfast in Bogota

by Helen Young

  ‘Señor Draper is here. Shall I show him in?’

  The door burst open and Karl stood before him. Out in the hall, Telma still had the receiver to her ear and looked furious.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Luke called to her.

  She rose and closed the door behind their guest.

  ‘She looks familiar,’ Karl said, taking a seat. ‘I went to your apartment first.’

  ‘I sent the new address.’

  ‘Didn’t get it.’ He lit a fresh cigar. ‘Mrs Draper’s taken to opening everything. She thinks I’ve another woman.’

  ‘You?’

  ‘I know, more like women, hey?’ He leaned forward. ‘How was your trip with that little draughtswoman, Melissa, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Felisa. We were a group actually.’

  ‘Right.’ Karl eyed him suspiciously. ‘Anyway, come to tell you the board wants to meet you.’

  ‘The Pan-American committee?’

  ‘Yes and no – Osorio’s people, those in charge of the city’s coffers. They want to shake hands with the man behind the plans for the centre. While you’ve been away, they’ve taken a good look and like what they’ve seen. And that article the young Osorio wrote – I read it and so have they. Osorio’s given copies to everyone. Seems you’re a bit of a celebrity now.’

  ‘Am I?’ Luke asked. He didn’t want to think about Camilo or any Osorio right now. ‘I don’t think I can, sorry, Karl.’

  ‘Wrong answer, Vosey.’ Karl puffed on his cigar without drawing breath. ‘Make this easy for me, Luke. How’s it going to look if I go back without you?’

  ‘What do you mean? When is it?’

  ‘Tonight.’

  *

  That evening, Luke found himself outside the Jockey Club across the street from El Tiempo. There was no avoiding Camilo, it seemed. Luke had heard about the Jockey Club. It was where the politicians met if they wanted to talk off the record. It was where the rich went if they wanted to talk to politicians, off the record. It was where everyone met, if they wanted to talk about Gaitán. Gaitán had been blackballed, he’d heard. He wasn’t a member. ‘It’s the only place they talk freely,’ Camilo had said when Luke had asked about it pre-Guatavita, pre-Felisa too. That evening, Karl had practically escorted him across town and now inside, Luke found himself behind closed doors away from the main club rooms. They were the last to arrive.

  ‘You said eight, Karl,’ he said, shaking hands with the men as quickly as Karl was able to introduce them.

  ‘They’ve been here all day,’ Karl whispered back, ‘turning over proposal after proposal. Let me get you a drink, Vosey.’

  He led Luke away from the group and over to a small bar which had been set up for the purpose.

  Karl poured two generous whisky and sodas and handed one to Luke. ‘See that one over there?’ He pointed at an elderly man across the room.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Judge and philanthropist.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Makes things happen, or not happen, depending on how charitable he’s feeling.’

  The judge caught Luke’s eye and raised his glass. Luke smiled.

  ‘And the others?’

  ‘Lawyers, politicians, a colonel,’ Karl said, singling them out in turn, ‘businessmen, like me.’ He smiled. ‘And I think somewhere we have a pig farmer.’

  ‘Where’s Osorio?’

  ‘No, no, Luke. I manage his involvement. Do you think he’s got time for this lot?’

  Luke was relieved. Karl led him back towards the main group who had sat down at a table set for dinner. He took a seat between Karl and a lawyer called Pino. Steaming bowls of fish soup were brought out. They made polite conversation and ate. After the soup came seasoned lamb and new potatoes.

  ‘You might not know this,’ said Pino, addressing Luke. ‘But your English houses, I organised the sale of the land from the Jesuits to the oil company.’

  ‘Really?’

  Pino reached across and filled Luke’s wine glass. ‘It’s as I said. There’s nothing in this city that hasn’t been chewed over at this table first.’

  ‘So I have you to thank?’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘If the deal had failed, I wouldn’t be here.’

  ‘Oh, that would never have happened.’ Pino smiled, popping a thin slice of lamb into his mouth.

  ‘Señor Vosey, you held the rank of Captain, I believe?’ It was the man Karl had introduced as Colonel Martínez. He was seated across the table from Luke and so when he spoke, most of the group stopped to listen.

  ‘That’s what the article says.’ Luke put his knife and fork down.

  ‘Tell us, how did you get the common man to fight?’

  ‘Easy,’ Luke said. ‘We took away his right to choose.’

  ‘That’s one way,’ said Pino. ‘But it must have its foundations in the law.’

  ‘The war’s behind us now,’ Luke said, pouring himself more wine. ‘And it’s my belief that they’d have gone anyway.’

  ‘Why? Surely it’s madness to suggest it.’ Pino blinked.

  ‘Their homes were at stake.’

  ‘You didn’t fight, did you?’ It was Martinez again.

  ‘And neither did I,’ Karl said, ‘too much to take care of on the home front. Wasn’t that right, Vosey?’

  Luke smiled. ‘Yes, Karl, although we were in quite different lines.’

  ‘Señor Draper’s talents are well known to us,’ Martinez said.

  The plates were cleared and glasses refilled. Luke couldn’t recall if this was his third or fourth. Was he here to talk business, or wasn’t he? Someone must be in charge.

  ‘Karl said you’d looked over the plans I filed?’ Luke said, addressing all of them. No one spoke. ‘So, which one of you asked me to come here?’

  The men sat up straight. That had their attention.

  ‘I did.’

  Luke turned to find Gabriel Osorio standing behind him.

  ‘Don’t get up, gentlemen,’ Osorio said.

  A seat was found and everyone edged along to make room. It was placed next to Luke’s.

  ‘Tell me, how was your little excursion to the countryside?’

  ‘Enlightening.’

  Osorio nodded. ‘I hope my nephew wasn’t tiresome. I still think of him as a boy.’

  Coffee was brought to the table.

  ‘Cream?’ Osorio asked, offering to serve Luke himself.

  ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘The Pan-American Conference will be here soon, gentlemen.’ Osorio addressed the table. ‘The mayor has now agreed to Mr Vosey’s excellent plans, which just leaves the citizens themselves. We need them compliant.’

  ‘In agreement, you mean?’ Luke asked.

  Osorio laughed, although it hadn’t been a joke. ‘Just the ones who won’t listen to reason. A small faction: Los Guaches, dedicated to Gaitán and his preposterous vanity.’ He yawned. ‘I’m so tired of his simple ways.’

  ‘They’re more than a small faction, I’d say.’

  ‘Are they, Karl?’ Osorio turned to face him.

  ‘Just something I heard,’ Karl said, going red in the face.

  ‘These fanatical lectures…’ Osorio continued.

  ‘I’ve been,’ Luke said.

  ‘Then you’ll have seen. Nothing but socialism dressed up as liberalism.’

  ‘Your nephew didn’t seem to think so.’

  ‘The boy has strange ideas,’ Osorio said. ‘But still, he should be careful.’

  When the party broke up, the judge and a couple of others he’d forgotten the names of asked to speak to Osorio alone. He excused himself and so Luke rose and went over to Karl.

  ‘Glad you came now, aren’t you, Luke?’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  Karl frowned. ‘Careful, Vosey. Your English sense of humour will only get you so far.’

  ‘I’ve come to tell you I’m heading home.’

  ‘OK. Have the girl out front call you a car.’

/>   Luke put a hand on Karl’s shoulder. ‘Get her to call you one too.’

  28

  It was Christmas Eve and Luke was glad to be alone whilst the city celebrated. Telma he’d had to argue out the door of the office. They’d shut up early; there was no one around to receive phone calls when tables were being laid and whole families squeezed around them. Telma insisted he join her at her sister and nephew’s for the meal, but he suspected he’d leave with a new apprentice if he did. He’d enjoyed walking back through the empty city to his apartment knowing there’d be no one there when he arrived. There was the bottle of whisky from Karl, three plates of food from Señora Rojas and the wireless to keep him company. Felisa, he thought, was probably with Camilo. She was definitely with Camilo. He thought of Rocío then. He’d never returned when he said he would. She couldn’t have expected much from him, he knew, but it didn’t sit right with him, not when he said he’d visit. He stopped in the street. Is that why he was thinking of her? What did it matter now, he thought, changing direction.

  It was a fifteen-minute walk to the old house in Las Cruces. From the outside it looked pretty shut up but he knew better than to believe that. Luke crossed the street and opened the outer door. He stepped inside. The interior was gloomy and still. Perhaps even the inhabitants of this household were able to return to their families, he thought, suddenly dreading the idea of being alone now he’d opened himself up to other possibilities.

  ‘Who’s there?’ Rocío asked.

  ‘It’s me, Luke.’

  She came forward, out of the darkness. Yes, it was her.

  ‘Luke!’ Her face broke into a wide smile. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I was just walking by and…’ He trailed off. It was a pathetic sentence. ‘Are you alone?’

  ‘I am,’ she said, coming towards him. ‘The other girls have taken the little ones and the mistress is sleeping. She won’t wake now, not after what she’s had.’

  ‘Can you leave?’

  ‘Are we going out?’

  She looked excited.

  ‘My housekeeper has left me a feast and I can’t very well eat it alone.’

  She crept closer. ‘And you want to share it with Rocío, Papi?’

  ‘Are you coming or not?’ he asked. Perhaps this hadn’t been a good idea after all.

  ‘All right, all right,’ she said. ‘Wait here.’

  He went back outside to wait for her on the street. It was a foolish thing to do in a rough part of town where he didn’t look local. Rather than feeling absolved for his earlier abandonment of her, Luke felt more alone than ever. He’d have been better off approaching Christmas solo. Now he’d have to entertain all of Rocío’s expectations too. At least she didn’t keep him waiting long. When she appeared, she was modestly dressed in a plain skirt and wool jumper. She wasn’t wearing any make-up, he noticed, and looked better for it.

  ‘My night off,’ she said, registering his surprise.

  ‘Shall we?’ he said, offering his arm.

  She slipped hers into his and the two crossed the street together. Luke paid for a taxi to take them the distance to his apartment.

  Once inside, Rocío set about laying the table and preparing the food left out by Señora Rojas. Luke offered to help but she shooed him away. She seemed to understand where everything was.

  ‘I forgive you, of course,’ she called out to him from the kitchen, ‘for not coming that time. It was your birthday, wasn’t it?’

  ‘How did you know that?’

  She came into the room with plates. ‘You told me.’

  He couldn’t remember doing that.

  ‘Some friends had a mad idea to take me away.’

  He poured whisky into two tumblers and handed her one.

  ‘Happy Christmas,’ he said, raising his.

  She went up on her toes and kissed him on the mouth.

  ‘Happy Christmas, Luke.’

  They had everything they needed, Señora Rojas had seen to that. Luke pulled out a chair for Rocío. With her knees she pushed out the one beside hers, but Luke rounded the table and sat down in the seat opposite.

  ‘Let me,’ he said, taking her plate and serving from the first of the dishes. It contained rice, and the other two, boiled pork and then a mixed salad of papaya and leaves.

  ‘Thank you,’ Rocío said, taking her plate.

  She waited for him to fill his own before raising her wine glass.

  ‘What shall we drink to?’ Luke asked.

  ‘Loved ones.’

  ‘To those we love.’

  They drank deep.

  ‘I was surprised to find you alone tonight,’ Luke said.

  ‘Why?’ Rocío picked up her fork. ‘My parents died years ago and I have no aunts and uncles worth speaking of.’

  ‘Me neither,’ he said. ‘I’m alone now too.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not that. I’ve a brother,’ she said. ‘But he hasn’t been seen in years.’

  Luke filled her wine glass. ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘South of Bogotá, last time I heard. Even if he knew where I was, he wouldn’t come looking for me.’

  ‘It’s his loss.’

  Rocío laughed and raised a hand to her mouth. ‘Do you think he’s ashamed of me?’

  ‘No, I…’

  ‘Luke, that’s not it. His business is much worse than mine.’

  ‘Worse, how?’

  Rocío’s eyes narrowed. ‘Men pay him to do things they’d rather not do themselves.’

  Luke nodded. ‘We need more wine.’

  ‘My goodness, have we almost finished the bottle?’

  ‘I’ve another,’ he said, rising.

  Luke stayed away longer than he needed to. Rocío and her brother both worked in the shadows, she’d said so herself. How many like him were there, willing to spill blood in exchange for a few notes? Luke uncorked the new bottle. He returned from the kitchen and filled Rocío’s glass before topping up his own.

  ‘This one tastes expensive,’ she said.

  ‘It’s the same as the last.’

  ‘I know.’ She looked unsure, he thought, watching her eyes flit about the room. ‘You have interesting tastes.’ She gestured to the pile of magazines on the table end.

  ‘Jornada? A friend lent them to me.’

  ‘He has no real power, not outside of the city.’

  ‘Gaitán?’

  Rocío nodded. ‘But he wants to help all women. Even me.’

  ‘I’m pleased to hear it.’

  ‘That’s what they say. All the girls talk about him. What he’d be like. I’d know how to stop his tongue!’

  Her foot found Luke’s leg beneath the table.

  ‘Who do you hear talking about him, other than the girls?’

  ‘The politicians all talk,’ she said impatiently, giving up on his thigh. ‘I do read the papers, Luke – Spanish as well as English – anything that gets left behind.’ A blotch of red crept into her cheek. ‘It’s how I learned.’

  After they’d eaten, they moved to the sitting room. Luke took the armchair and Rocío the sofa. It had been a long and pleasant meal. He was glad she had joined him in the end. He was glad he’d gone looking for her. Rocío rose and went to the bathroom. He looked over at the plates, still piled high with the food they couldn’t manage. He would go into town and buy Señora Rojas something nice to say thank you, he thought, leaning back and closing his eyes.

  ‘I’m so full,’ Rocío said, returning.

  There was a party going on in one of the apartments below. He could hear it, rising up through the floorboards.

  ‘Luke, did you hear me?’

  He opened his eyes. Rocío was standing over him. She smiled and dropped to her knees.

  ‘I don’t think you listen at all,’ she said, finding the buttons on his trousers.

  He took hold of her wrists gently. ‘I don’t want you to do that,’ he said.

  ‘Is it broken? I can fix it.’

  She was drunk.
/>   ‘No, Rocío. Just friends tonight.’

  She shrugged but didn’t rise. Rocío sprawled out at his feet and closed her eyes. Why hadn’t he, Luke thought. The music in the flat below grew louder. It was just a moment, but he closed his eyes too. Then Rocío screamed. He opened his eyes to see Felisa standing in the room. She was looking at the table. At them.

  ‘I didn’t know it was unlocked,’ she whispered.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Luke asked.

  ‘Otherwise I wouldn’t have…’

  Rocío laughed. She was still sitting on the floor at his feet. Why wouldn’t she get up?

  ‘I’ll call you a taxi,’ he said, looking down at her.

  ‘For me, or her?’

  He looked up, but Felisa had already gone.

  ‘Wait here,’ he said, running over to the door and pulling it closed behind him.

  ‘Felisa?’ he called, afraid of not finding, or finding her. She hadn’t gone far. Out in the corridor, he found her slumped low on the top step. He approached slowly and sat down.

  ‘Why did you come here?’

  ‘I didn’t want you to be alone,’ she said.

  ‘She’s only a friend,’ he said, because it was partly true.

  Felisa was quiet.

  ‘And you’re alone tonight?’ he asked.

  Felisa nodded. He couldn’t bring himself to ask her anything else. Luke rose and offered his hand. ‘Come on,’ he said.

  Inside the apartment, Rocío had picked herself up off the floor and was now draped across the sofa. ‘Hello,’ she said, addressing Felisa.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Have you eaten?’ Luke asked her. ‘Can I take your coat?’

  Felisa looked again at the table and shook her head. ‘I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry. I want to go home. Will you call me a taxi? I’ve missed the last streetcar.’

  ‘No, don’t go,’ he said. If she left like this, he was sure he’d never see her again. ‘Please, have something. You have to stay.’ He picked up a clean glass and filled it with wine. ‘Here.’

  ‘I don’t want it, Luke.’

  ‘I’ll take it,’ Rocío said, rising. She took the glass and swallowed. ‘Should I stay too?’ she asked, looking at Felisa. ‘She’s pretty.’

  The two women looked at him.

  ‘Perhaps it’s best if you went, both of you. We can talk tomorrow,’ he said, addressing Felisa.