Breakfast in Bogota

by Helen Young

  ‘I should call the police.’

  ‘Don’t even think about it, Vosey, they’ll be long gone by now.’

  ‘Come on, Karl, you should report it.’

  ‘For Christ’s sake, Luke, sit down. I just need to think, that’s all.’

  Karl looked agitated, as if he’d been knocked off balance and was trying to remember how to walk.

  Once his former boss had drunk another whisky, he let Señora Rojas tend to the cut above his eye. It looked like something hard, other than a fist, had made contact with the skin there. It grew puffier by the minute. Karl eventually calmed down enough to decide he would leave. Luke called him a taxi and walked him down to the lobby.

  ‘Best you don’t come outside with me, Vosey.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘You might be seen, and, the thing is, well, the thing is… I don’t know if this girl’s boyfriend or brother aren’t behind this. I don’t want to make trouble for you. They might think you’re in on it too.’

  ‘If you like.’

  ‘No need to tell anyone about this little incident, hey?’

  ‘In case it gets back to Mrs Draper?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘in case of that. You’re a good friend to me, Luke, and I hope I’ve been a good boss.’

  ‘So far, yes,’ Luke said. Karl was acting strange, even for him. ‘Are you sure I shouldn’t come with you?’

  ‘No thanks, it’s as I said.’

  He patted Luke on the arm and left.

  ‘Karl?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I didn’t see you at Osorio’s.’

  ‘I was there,’ Karl said, smiling painfully. ‘See you.’

  He disappeared through the door. Luke waited in the lobby for the car to travel past the glass and out of sight.

  31

  The first week back in the office brought Felisa. Luke tried to hide how glad he felt on seeing her. He knew better than to ask after Camilo and what had happened the night of Osorio’s party. She was here and that was enough. She seemed happy, arriving on her first day in a suit of dark blue wool. It was a brilliant colour for her. It didn’t look cheap and he felt Camilo’s hand in it. Telma welcomed her cautiously, as he expected she would. They’d make a good team, the three of them, until he’d be forced to bring others in on the plan. Karl he hadn’t heard from. Luke wondered how he’d explained away the eye to Mrs Draper. If anyone could extricate himself from a tight spot, it was Karl. He had the address of the new office, though. Soon, Luke knew Karl would find his way back into his life again.

  ‘Would you like refreshments, señor?’ Telma asked, coming into the room. It was the end of their first week together. ‘I’m going out. And you too?’ she said, addressing Felisa.

  Felisa turned. ‘Yes, thank you, Telma.’

  Telma nodded and went for her coat and umbrella. Luke watched her leave and waited for the heavy main door to close below. Felisa, it seemed, had been waiting too. She looked at him and smiled before returning to the work on her desk.

  ‘How are they coming along?’ Luke asked.

  ‘Would you like to see?’

  Felisa went to rise but he was up before her. She moved the sheet she’d been working on to one side, revealing more pages beneath. In front of him, the redesign jumped into life. Where previous draughtsmen he’d worked with had stuck to inks, Felisa had used watercolour to draw out detail in her design.

  ‘It’s quite unusual, the technique,’ he said, picking up a street scene and holding it up to the window.

  ‘I hope it isn’t wrong.’

  ‘You’ve captured the feeling of the scene, and that’s important.’

  He smiled and handed the sketch back to her.

  ‘My mother said I had an unusual talent.’

  ‘Before she left?’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  He’d spoken without thinking. ‘Before she died.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Felisa concentrated on reorganising the papers in front of her. ‘Did Camilo tell you?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Luke went back over to his desk. ‘You shouldn’t feel the need to explain, not to me.’

  ‘He must have told you.’ Felisa turned her chair to face his and sat down. ‘She did leave. Do you really want to know?’

  ‘I do,’ he said.

  ‘All right then. I was eight years old. She knew she was beautiful, my father told me that. Now I think of it, he never said she was beautiful himself, just that it was how she saw herself. A friend of the plantation owner used to come and visit us. He was a smart man; an educated man. What does he want with us? my father must have thought. But he was tired. He worked hard for very little and probably didn’t have the strength to think about it as someone with more time, with more energy, might have. He didn’t see the danger that came finely dressed and scented. My father is a simple man but I never thought him a fool until then. I saw it. At first, this educated man would stop at all the little houses on the plantation, talking with the workers and their families. What a nice man, everybody said of him, what a good Christian. Eventually, it just became our house he stopped at. When the other families realised, we were called names and ignored. The wives were the worst, they hated her. They are jealous, my mother said proudly one night. I watched my father strike her for saying that.’ Felisa brushed the hair from her eyes. ‘The rich man, I think he was looking at all of the women. He was deciding which one to take. Perhaps the plantation owner, who owned our little house and the land beneath it, told him to do that, thinking that because he’d bought the bricks he’d paid for the people too. That’s when we started hiding it from my father. We got into a little routine, my mother and I. When she knew he was coming, she would take me with her, up to the big house and away from the dirt and the bad things that were said about us. But I swear, on all those trips I never went inside the big house. I used to wait outside while they did what they did.’ She laughed. ‘Do you know, he taught me English. It was in the garden beneath the palms. I risked a lot to discover his real name afterwards.’

  ‘And did you?’

  ‘Never. I used to call him Tío because he was like an uncle to me. He offered her many things, things my father never could have. And she took them. She preferred that life to the one we had. She valued it more. After he took her away, I never told my father what that man taught me. I didn’t speak English again for years, not until I met Camilo. It would have killed my father to know he had schooled me.’ Felisa looked at him. ‘Camilo knows everything. I wish he hadn’t told you, though. It’s easier to say she died.’

  ‘I can see that you think that but you mustn’t feel ashamed.’

  Outside the window, the sky cracked and a torrent of rain fell, pockmarking the streets below. Felisa hadn’t noticed.

  ‘Telma will be drenched,’ he said.

  ‘I have his picture,’ she said. ‘I drew it soon after they both disappeared.’

  The door slammed shut below. Soon after, Telma blew into the space.

  ‘Has it been raining in here too?’ she asked, looking between them.

  Felisa turned her chair back to the desk.

  ‘No coffee, I take it?’ Luke asked.

  ‘I don’t mind telling you,’ Telma said, shaking out her umbrella. ‘I thought only of my hair.’

  ‘I’ll go,’ he said.

  ‘But the rain,’ Telma cried.

  Felisa rose. ‘Can I come?’

  Out on the street they tried to outrun the rain. She was too fast for him. In their rush to get out, to get away from Telma, they’d left their umbrellas upstairs. There was something about what had been revealed that had sent them running. Felisa moved closer to him. Luke took his jacket off and shielded them both from the worst of the rain. They fell into a coffee shop a couple of blocks over. Inside the dark café, Luke ordered tinto and Felisa hot chocolate.

  ‘Should we take something back for Telma?’ she asked, wrapping her hands around her cup when they were seated.

  ‘Later.�
�

  Felisa sucked in her lip and then spoke. ‘The night of your birthday,’ she began.

  ‘It was my fault,’ he said, looking at her. ‘If I hadn’t been so drunk.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You were.’

  ‘Are you happy, now, with Camilo?’

  ‘I’m not with Camilo.’

  ‘But that night?’

  ‘He slept on the floor at my feet.’

  ‘So, you’re not together?’

  ‘No, Luke!’ She sighed. ‘Camilo gets these ideas in his head but it would be very wrong of him to suggest there is more between us than there is.’

  ‘Then I made a mistake leaving you in Guatavita.’

  ‘Is that why you left?’

  Luke nodded. ‘He seemed so sure.’

  ‘He’s mistaken,’ she said, taking his hands. ‘You can’t allow him to draw you into his fantasies. But for all his faults, he is a good man, Luke.’

  ‘He is,’ Luke said. ‘I believe you.’

  ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘The beautiful woman in the photograph at the lake, do you miss her very much?’

  ‘Catherine?’

  ‘Catherine. That was her name?’

  ‘It was.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘Is she dead like my mother is dead?’

  ‘She’s dead to me in every sense.’

  ‘Then I’m very sorry, Luke, for acting as I did.’

  ‘Catherine and I didn’t end on good terms. The last time I saw her we fought.’

  ‘What did you fight about?’

  ‘It’s insignificant. I’ve tried hard not to think about her. I carried her around for a long time, both in my head and that stupid photograph. That’s why I took it to Guatavita. I wanted her so much to love me too. Like a child might, I suppose. Like Camilo, perhaps. I suppose I can understand some of his actions.’ Felisa was quiet. It was the most he’d said to anyone about Catherine. ‘But you make me reveal too much.’

  ‘Do I? How?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know. Perhaps the gods are on your side.’

  ‘Then you should be careful, Señor Vosey.’

  His knees brushed hers beneath the table. He felt it, the air shift and everything explode into wonder once more.

  They arrived back at the office with hot chocolate and cake for Telma.

  ‘Did they have to bake some more?’ Telma asked.

  Luke handed her the parcel and flask. ‘Drink it while it’s hot,’ he said.

  In the afternoon the sky cleared and the office was lit by an extraordinary sunset. If only all days were like this one, he thought.

  32

  The next morning, Luke went out early for a copy of Camilo’s paper. He reached the newspaper seller and paid over ten centavos for the daily edition before turning for home again. He’d needed to get out. Camilo had been on his mind all morning. He couldn’t get it straight in his head. Had Camilo actually said he’d slept with Felisa? Luke could have sworn he had at Osorio’s party. No, it went further back than that. Right back to Guatavita. The way Camilo had looked at him over Sofía’s table at breakfast. Yes, something had definitely been implied. Luke arrived back at his apartment building. Camilo was waiting for him in the lobby.

  ‘You already bought one?’ Camilo said, holding up a copy of El Tiempo.

  ‘Afraid so. Are they making you deliver now too?’

  Camilo smiled and as good as flung his copy at the porter without looking to see where it might land.

  ‘Not working today?’ Luke asked, leading him away and up the stairs to his apartment.

  ‘No.’

  They arrived at his door.

  ‘Actually, I am working on something. Something new, about Gaitán.’

  ‘Oh?’ Luke unlocked the door and stood aside so Camilo could enter.

  Camilo went in, crossed the room and threw himself down onto the sofa.

  ‘Make yourself at home.’

  Camilo stretched out. ‘Gaitán’s speech in the square – some months back – do you remember it?’

  ‘Of course I do. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.’

  ‘Really? What did you think of him?’

  Luke shrugged and went into the kitchen to see what food, if any, Señora Rojas had left him. ‘Formidable,’ he called back. He found a cool package and unwrapped it to find soft, white cheese. ‘I can offer you coffee, and cheese,’ he said, poking his head back into the room.

  Camilo raised a hand.

  ‘Formidable,’ Camilo said, chewing on the word instead. ‘It’s true, he spoke well. Not a man listening farted.’

  Luke laughed and put the coffee on to boil. He came back into the room and picked up the paper.

  ‘Is that what you’re going to write in your piece?’

  ‘He wants a war,’ Camilo said with all seriousness.

  ‘I don’t think that’s what he asked.’

  ‘Ask? Gaitán doesn’t ask. He commands and the people follow. Ospina knows that. Gaitán wants him out of government and an end to the old ways.’

  ‘Yes, it’s Gaitán against them.’

  ‘Gaitán and the pueblo against them. You never told me what happened to you during the war in Europe, not properly, not for the article.’

  ‘You didn’t ask the right questions.’

  Camilo nodded. ‘And if I ask them now?’

  In the kitchen, Luke heard the coffee boil over and the liquid fizz against the flames. He rose and went to see to it. In the living room, Camilo was silent, as though he was waiting for an answer to his question. Luke took two cups down from the shelf and burned himself on the pan handle pouring the hot black liquid into each. If Camilo thought he was going to tell him everything now, he was mistaken. Luke took his time wiping up the mess he had made before taking the cups through into the other room.

  ‘I’m struggling to remember what I told you already.’

  He handed one of the cups to Camilo and sat down opposite him.

  ‘Well, let me think. Something about Whitehall and not seeing any action.’

  ‘No direct action.’

  ‘Of course. Everyone had their role, etcetera, etcetera.’

  Luke took a sip of coffee. ‘My role, yes. When I became an architect before the war, the reason I did so well was because there weren’t a lot of men like me around.’

  ‘You were the best.’

  ‘I wanted to be, Camilo, but actually, so many men fought and died in the first war that it was easy. I was very young when I received my first commission.’

  ‘You can’t blame yourself for that.’

  ‘It’s what came next that I blame myself for.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘It isn’t important now. You got what you needed then, didn’t you?’

  ‘OK then. What if I asked you about Catherine, as a friend?’

  ‘I would ask you why?’

  Camilo sighed. ‘In Guatavita, you called her name in your sleep.’

  ‘Catherine’s?’

  ‘Who else? We need to find you a woman. A live one. Someone your own age.’

  ‘Age isn’t everything.’

  Camilo put his cup down. ‘I want you to leave her alone, Luke.’

  ‘So that’s why you’re here, is it? To talk about Felisa.’

  ‘You’re old enough to be her father.’

  ‘She doesn’t think so.’

  Camilo’s face hardened. ‘Do you think she loves you?’

  He didn’t have an answer for that. He didn’t think so. Did Camilo think she did?

  ‘No, Luke. She’ll grow tired of you. That, I can guarantee.’ Camilo took a cigarette out of a pack in his jacket pocket and lit it. ‘There was someone else before, did she tell you that?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have expected her to,’ Luke said, letting his heart absorb the blow.

  ‘She was going to leave me, to be with him. Can you believe it?’

  ‘Leave you?’ Luke l
ooked at him and smiled. ‘That’s good, Camilo.’

  ‘Anyway, it was all very tragic,’ Camilo said, dismissing him. ‘He fled town and as soon as news reached her, she came straight to me to mend her broken heart. With my help, my connections, we tried to find him, but he had simply disappeared.’

  ‘I see. People have a habit of disappearing around here, don’t they?’

  Camilo stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray beside him and rose. ‘I would hate for her heart to break again.’

  *

  A few days after Camilo’s visit, Luke was back in the office. He hadn’t mentioned what had taken place in his apartment to anyone, least of all Felisa. Camilo, who had come bearing threats. He had shown that he’d do anything not to lose her. He never had her in the first place, Luke thought.

  They were all of them speeding towards the Pan-American Conference in a couple of days’ time and after that, the public announcement for the redevelopment. Both were welcome distractions from thoughts of Camilo. Until the plans were made public, they had to keep quiet, Karl said. Only a few in government, including the president, knew about the project. Nobody wanted a riot, which is what would happen if Gaitán got wind of it.

  I have other things to keep quiet about too, Luke thought. He had wanted to talk to Felisa – but how would it sound to her to suggest that Camilo had made her lover vanish? He knew what it was to drag up the past. He wouldn’t do that to her. One thing was certain: any friendship between the younger Osorio and himself was over.

  ‘This came for you.’ It was Telma with a telegram.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said.

  Across the room, Felisa worked on in silence. Luke opened the envelope. It was from Karl.

  Big news. Big bucks too. Can you trust the journalist?

  Meet at Casa de la Risa nr. Plaza.

  6 sharp tonight. Karl.

  La Casa de la Risa; he knew it, and the journalist – Karl meant Camilo. Yes, he could trust him, except where Felisa was concerned. Luke put the telegram into his jacket pocket. Felisa was watching him.