The Scent of Lemon Leaves

by Clara Sanchez

  Fred was very worried about his wife. His face, serious enough in itself, was now even more serious, as if every feature, every wrinkle and every small muscle weighed like tons of cement. He spent the whole day observing Karin’s decline and going up and down the stairs, twitchy all the time. Every ten minutes he asked if someone had brought a packet and sometimes he thought he heard the doorbell. I assumed that Martín hadn’t come with the packet as arranged and it was vital for Karin’s recovery. The cat was being let out of the bag and, depending on the changes of atmosphere from one moment to the next, I’d find out everything. On the one hand, I really wanted to know, to satisfy my curiosity, while on the other hand I was afraid they’d find out that I knew. I put on my anorak and told Fred I was going out.

  “You can’t go out now,” he said, sounding annoyed.

  “I’ve got a few things to do. I need to go to the chemist’s to get something for my cold.”

  “Forget about your cold. It’s not important.”

  I didn’t like Fred’s tone or his contained rage, which might explode any moment.

  “I really need to. I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “No!” Fred exclaimed. Then he added something in Norwegian or German, which gave me the creeps.

  I thought that if it came to a struggle I’d be more agile, but he was bigger and, despite being so old, was strong. He could open jars that I couldn’t, and if he’d been a top-ranking SS officer he’d know plenty of ways to immobilize me. I could give him a kick in the balls with my mountain boots, but wasn’t sure I’d hit the target and, once I’d tried that, the situation would turn terrible. I stayed where I was, with my anorak on, looking at him and coughing. It was more a nervous cough than one related to my cold.

  “I need you today. Until today you’ve needed us.”

  “What?” I said, intuiting that he meant something more than the fact they’d given me a job.

  “Yes, little one, you would be at the bottom of the sea now if Karin and I hadn’t protected you.”

  I dropped onto the couch trying to think fast. How could I get out of this? They already knew what I knew. Did they think it was more or less than what I knew? Was it worth continuing to play the idiot?

  “I don’t get it,” I said, testing the waters.

  “I’ve got no time for fooling around. The time for fooling around and happy ingenuous girls with body piercings and tattoos has come to an end. We’re all in the same boat now.”

  “I want to know why I’m in danger and who wants to kill me.”

  “There’s no time for that, but you can be sure that if I abandon you to your fate you’ll be getting on your motorbike just a couple more times at most. I’m not messing around and you shouldn’t either, take it from me. You’re going to do what I tell you,” he said, without my having pronounced a single word because I couldn’t think of anything to say. “Karin and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you and that won’t happen if you heed my words.”

  While Fred was talking, I was wondering if they’d discovered Julián. I’d come to Dianium out of fear of losing my freedom, only to feel I was someone’s prisoner, and now not only my freedom but my life was in the hands of a whole bunch of people I didn’t really know.

  I felt cornered by Fred. He’d never spoken to me like that. I had no alternative but to do what he asked. I had to go to Alice’s house and find a way to steal one of those boxes containing the ampoules that had revived Karin.

  The motorbike was a better idea than the four-by-four, which was too associated with Fred and Karin, so I took it out to go to Alice’s house. I was tempted to go and tell Julián everything, or to run away and forget the whole story, but now I was in the thick of it and it wouldn’t be too easy to walk out of it. They’d be after me. And anyway, I then immediately thought that if life had presented me with this challenge there must be some reason for it. I parked and rang the bell at the gate of number 50, crossing myself as one does in life’s tragic moments. I did it with my back to the surveillance cameras and breathing in deeply. It wasn’t good for me to be putting my son in danger, but I’d also be doing the right thing if I could get rid of scum in the world where he was going to live. Nobody answered on the video entry system, which was almost a relief. I rang again and was just on the point of leaving when the gate opened. It was cold but I started to sweat, at which point I recognized I was a coward. I would never have recognized I was a coward. That’s why I was doing this, so I could pretend I wasn’t. Only cowards are capable of doing such things.

  It was Frida who appeared between the garden and the street.

  She gave me the coarse stare of someone who does what she’s ordered to do. I stared back and informed her I’d come to see Alice.

  “She’s at yoga,” Frida said, “but you can wait for her.”

  “Does Alice know I’m here?” I asked, imagining they would have phoned her.

  “Yes. She’ll be here in twenty minutes. I can make you a cup of tea.”

  “That’s fine,” I said as we walked towards the columns. “And Otto?”

  “He’s in his office. He’s not to be disturbed.”

  “No need,” I said.

  No sooner was the front door open than Alice’s rowdy little dogs dashed out to greet us. Since she wasn’t there, I didn’t mind petting them. They were cute but I didn’t feel anything for them. I sat down in the living room while they nipped at my boots. Despite the heat, I didn’t take off my anorak. When Frida was serving the tea, I passed my hand over my belly and asked if I could use the bathroom. She pointed at the guests’ bathroom next to the stairs. I went into this loo, which was small with a very pretty handbasin made in the local rustic porcelain. I didn’t know what to do or where to start looking and, anyway, they’d catch me red-handed. It was too risky with Frida and Otto in the house.

  Fred had told me, or ordered me more like it, to look for boxes containing injections, a colourless liquid with no name appearing either on the ampoules or the box. I might find them in the bedroom, which was on the first floor. As soon as I entered the bedroom, I’d see a chest of drawers on my right. It was possible that some boxes were kept there because Alice was constantly injecting herself. They could also be in one of the cupboards of the main bathroom and certainly in the safe, but there was no way I’d be able to open that. I was at a loss to find any excuse that would get me up to the first floor.

  I looked at myself in the mirror. You’re not cut out for this. Let Fred do it if that’s what he wants. I left the bathroom and walked towards the front door. I had everything with me and didn’t need to go back to the living room, but, when I had my hand on the doorknob, Frida stopped me, blonde Frida, who I could easily imagine gassing people without batting an eyelid.

  “I can’t wait. I don’t feel well,” I said.

  Then Otto emerged, taking off his reading glasses and replacing them with distance glasses. He held out a small packet, half the size of the ones that Martín tended to bring, but a packet after all.

  “Here, take this to Karin. She needs it. I’ll call in ten minutes to be sure you’ve arrived.”

  “Okay,” I said. “My regards to Alice.”

  I got on the motorbike thoroughly disconcerted. I hadn’t needed to go snooping or to steal anything in Alice’s house. They’d given me the packet voluntarily. They considered me one of them and I’d been about to put my foot in it because of Fred. He’d told me that the friendship with Otto and Alice was strained and it was my fault. The Brotherhood didn’t approve of them having me living in their house. I didn’t ask anything, didn’t ask what I already knew and I’d been about to beg him not to tell me any more.

  Though Otto had said he’d call in ten minutes, I was tempted to stop for a moment and open the box. After all, I’d had a bad time trying to be a thief. I thought I deserved to see the famous ampoules, that I should get a good look at them.

  I knew there was no way the packet would be exactly
the same as before and they’d notice it had been opened, but curiosity got the better of me, so I detoured down a side street. I stopped the motorbike, got off, put the packet on the seat and then began the operation of untying the string, unwrapping the paper and opening the box, praying all the while that it wouldn’t fall and smash the ampoules to smithereens. I also prayed that none of the cars cruising slowly by were those of the Brotherhood. It was hard to untie the knot in the fine string that tied up the box. I had to sharpen my nails, so to speak, and, having dealt with that, I still had to open the wrapping paper, very carefully peel away the sticky tape that sealed the edges, and then I’d have to try to wrap it up again, making sure that the creases in the paper were in the right place and the sticky tape was back exactly where it had been.

  There were only four ampoules inside, quite large ones. The fluid was colourless and there was no name, as Fred had said. What if I took one and kept it to give to Julián so it could be analysed in a laboratory? The idea almost drove me crazy. What was I doing? Should I take a slightly bigger risk? But the dose might be all four ampoules and then Fred would immediately see I’d taken one. What was certain was that he’d tell Alice and Otto and then they’d know at once that I’d swiped it. But if I didn’t keep this sample, what was the point of everything I was doing? What was the point of putting my neck on the line? But what if this was a test? It was very strange that they should have trusted me with the box. Otto could have brought it, or Frida herself. Something didn’t make sense, so I wrapped it up again as best I could. If you looked hard you’d see that the string had been untied and tied twice, but at least the four ampoules were there.

  When I arrived, Fred came half-running to open the gate himself. Then he ran back again behind the motorbike. I gave him the packet in the garage.

  “Otto called ten minutes ago. He told me you should have been here by then.”

  “I had to stop to pee. I couldn’t hang on.”

  My explanation satisfied Fred. We went into the house. Karin was lying on the sofa in the horrible baggy jeans she wore when she wanted to be comfortable. She’d probably got herself ready in case she had to go to the hospital. Fred opened the box in my presence, took out a syringe from one of those bags people use for keeping cosmetics in, broke an ampoule, sucked the liquid into the syringe and stuck the needle into her now bared thigh. Karin then lay back and closed her eyes with a sigh. Fred threw the syringe and the broken ampoule into the rubbish bin and then looked enquiringly into the box.

  “That’s all he gave you?”

  I shrugged.

  “She wants it all for herself,” he said, and as soon as the words were out he regretted them. If he wanted to let off steam he could have said it in Norwegian, but he needed to share his displeasure with someone.

  “Forget everything I said to you about this affair,” Fred said. “I went too far. This medicine is still being tested. It’s not patented here, we get it through a friend of Otto’s and I was suddenly afraid that they weren’t going to supply it any more. I got too worked up. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay. It’s all right,” I said, making light of it. “The main thing is that Karin gets better.”

  “I don’t think I need to tell you that this is something you mustn’t talk about.”

  I made a gesture saying he didn’t have to worry about that.

  “You’re very strange. I’m really surprised that you agreed to go to Alice’s house under instructions to steal.”

  “Yes, I don’t know why I did it either. Maybe it was because I didn’t want to see Karin suffering.”

  Fred observed me with his eagle eyes. It was possible that he didn’t know exactly what he saw in me either. And I was wondering where these injections came from and what they consisted of.

  At last I managed to get the couple off my back and go to meet Julián at the lighthouse, among the wild palms. I said I had to go to the chemist to get something for my cold, because, even though they hadn’t asked what I was doing, it was better to be one step ahead of them and not give rise to suspicions. It was getting dark earlier and earlier every day, and it was cold. Soon we’d have to meet somewhere with a roof over our heads. I went as fast as I could through the bends, hoping with all my strength that Julián had waited for me, if not sitting on the bench or inside the ice-cream parlour, then sheltering in his car. If only he had the patience to wait the forty-five minutes, more or less, of my delay. I had so much to tell him. My information was so juicy that it was boiling inside my head. Deep in my heart I thanked God for my being caught up in this adventure. I knew things that none of the inhabitants of this town could imagine, yet did I really know or did I just imagine I knew, with Julián’s help?

  As always and out of precaution, I rode past the lighthouse then parked next to the ice-cream parlour, which at this time of year was serving everything except ice cream, and walked towards the stony area. I couldn’t see the sea but only hear it and smell it. It was like being blind. I’d barely begun my walk when a horn tooted. I went in that direction and found Julián’s car. What a relief! What an incredible relief! I’d become the plaything of high-speed emotions.

  “I was worried,” he said when I opened the door, and I believed him, because for both him and me these appointments were sacred. This was the time in which the most absurd details and the behaviour of Karin, Fred, Otto, Alice and Martín (but not Alberto) finally got to make sense.

  “I can’t stay very long. Before I go back I have to drop by the chemist’s to pick up something for my cold.”

  “I’ve been thinking,” Julián said, “and I believe I’m a fool. I’ve got you mixed up in a right old mess and I’m putting you in danger. In short, what’s the point? However much we get to know, it won’t be of any use to us. We’re alone and there’s a lot more of them and they’re organized. Nothing we find out will send them to prison. They’re very old, leftovers of something that happened in a nightmare.”

  “And what about the young ones? Martín, the Eel” (when I said Eel, part of my tongue held back) “and the rest of them?”

  “There are a lot of people belonging to some or other secret organization but, as long as they don’t do away with people… like… well… Elfe… Listen, I’m serious, I don’t want you to go back there. We don’t know what they’re capable of doing.”

  “The time hasn’t come yet. I can feel it. My life’s always been chaos, I’ve done things without rhyme or reason, without thinking, and now, all of a sudden, things are falling into place and any move I make helps to create another link in the chain. Today, for example – and I’ve been dying to tell you about this – something happened and it seems important, but I’m not sure how important.”

  And yes, it was important, because, as I was telling him about the injections, the astonishing improvement shown by Karin, the vitality of all of them in general and, in particular, of Alice, Julián was moving his head, not much but enough, an unconscious sign that what he was hearing fitted with something he had on his mind. He stopped moving and remained stock-still when I commented that this liquid most probably had something to do with Alice’s spectacular youthfulness. And now, right now, it was dawning on me that, in all probability, Otto and Alice were taking their time in dispensing the medication, not because of any fault of mine, not because the Christensens had taken me into their home, but because the product was in scarce supply and they didn’t want to share it.

  When I told Julián what I suspected, saying that Fred was a manipulator, that he’d tried to get me to steal something, which would be much worse than stealing cocaine or heroin, he only said maybe yes or maybe no.

  “What do you mean, maybe no?”

  “Until we know what it’s made of, we can’t be sure that they’re fighting over this liquid. It might have a placebo effect. People will take any concoction doing the rounds outside the normal channels.”

  “But if they believe it works for them, it’s the same thing. They might be fighting
over something worthless thinking that it’s really effective, especially if it gives results. And I can assure you it works with Karin. She can have a massive attack of arthritis and when they inject this liquid all her problems melt away.”

  “If it was really such an incredible formula, it would cure her for ever.”

  That said, he went quiet. I went quiet too. We left the matter there. It was clear that the next step would be to get hold of one of those ampoules. Julián wasn’t going to ask me after having pleaded with me to leave that house, and I wasn’t going to offer to do it voluntarily. I didn’t even tell him I’d been on the point of nicking one of the injections from the packet.

  “Have you phoned your family?” he asked, still mulling over the new information I’d given him.

  I shook my head. What was I going to tell my family? And anyway, with each week that went by I had less to tell them. They were there and I was here, in two completely different worlds.

  “You should speak with them and hear their voices so you can remember the person you were.”

  And I was left still wanting to talk to Julián about what mattered most of all: Alberto and flying.

  Julián

  After our meeting at the lighthouse, we went back into town, me first in the car and Sandra following on her motorbike. Sometimes she disappeared in the rear-view mirror and then reappeared. She had to go back to Villa Sol with something from the chemist’s in her hand to justify this afternoon’s outing. Unfortunately for Sandra, the door of pretence, of deceit, of attention to some details so as to cover up others, had been opened. The chemist’s bag would hide our meeting in the same way that Fred’s and Karin’s age hid their evil.

  I suggested that I should ride the motorbike down, but Sandra flatly refused, saying that she was more used to that heap of scrap metal, that I might get a speck of something in my eye and she didn’t want anything to happen to me. Nonetheless, I wasn’t worried about her and took it for granted that if she’d survived thus far, she’d keep surviving. Basically, I didn’t want to be worried unnecessarily and lose sight of the objective that had brought me here, especially now that I’d discovered something essential or, truth to tell, Sandra had discovered it. I’d just understood that the line in the letter my friend Salva sent to me in Buenos Aires, in which he told me I might find eternal youth here, wasn’t empty words. It was a clue that would have remained a dead end if I hadn’t run into Sandra. It was possible that Salva himself only had a hint of this compound they were bringing from some part of the world, and he didn’t want me to get obsessive about it. He could very easily have told me in his letter everything he knew to spare me from starting from scratch.