by P. J. McKAY
‘Ivan Novak!’ boomed a man, coming forward and slapping Ivan on the back. ‘Welcome!’
A woman dressed in bright pink squeezed through the crush to plant kisses on Ivan’s cheeks. ‘Lovely to see you,’ she gushed, ‘but wherever did they send you? We imagined you lost to civilisation. Puff!’ She threw her arms skyward, and her face shone nearly as pink as her dress.
I pulled back, conscious of their stares. They were much older, maybe even Tata and Mama’s age. I brushed my fingers down the chiffon layer of my dress trying to muster the confidence I’d felt earlier, back at the hotel, when I’d stood in front of the bathroom mirror and remembered Mama’s words: It’ll be new to everyone else so wear it with pride. I pulled back my shoulders but my tongue was at my lips again. All the colour would surely have vanished by now, I cursed inside.
‘What a treat to see you both,’ said Ivan, pulling me forward into their huddle. ‘Allow me to introduce Gabrijela Surjan. Gabrijela, please meet . . .’
Their names disappeared like the Pink Lady’s ‘puff’. She leant forward and brushed her lips against my cheek, one, two. Big Man brushed his lips over my hand.
‘Jela’s been my saving grace on Korčula,’ Ivan said.
Pink Lady touched my arm. ‘Lucky girl,’ she said, drawing me aside. ‘Ivan’s quite the bachelor. One going places for sure.’ She pursed her pink lips as though to add emphasis to her words but sizing me up at the same time. I didn’t want to mislead her. Ivan must have had a reason for not explaining we were related.
‘He’s doing a fine job with the new road project,’ I said, relieved my voice didn’t waver. ‘It’s been interesting getting to know him.’
‘I bet. Such an entertaining man. We know him from Zagreb. Party headquarters. My husband’s got an eye for the up-and-comers.’
I felt a rush of pride that Ivan was considered someone who was going places and searched my mind for something else to say. I was spared. Another woman tapped Pink Lady on the shoulder and she turned away.
I took a sip of my wine, swallowing it at a gulp. I was nervous about drinking too quickly but it was the flavour that caught me off guard. Undiluted, the wine was so strong that I wasn’t at all tempted to roll it around in my mouth like I’d seen Tata do. It seemed that all the people crowding the balconies were looking down at me. That a light was shining directly above to highlight my inexperience. I concentrated on the tiled floor laid in intricate patterns, and after what felt like several minutes, challenged myself to take another sip of the wine. This time, although it still tasted unpleasant, I felt more assured. I scanned the room again. Wide staircases, their balustrades carved with pretty flower and grape motifs, curled up either side of the room to the mezzanine balcony. Cliques of people gathered there, some leaning out through the gaps in the arches. I had been certain I was the centre of their attention, but it seemed no one was looking. I took a deep breath and concentrated on the gothic arches forming the outer walls of the balconies. I wanted to climb those stairs too and take everything in from that bird’s-eye view.
‘You two young things run off and dance,’ said Big Man, touching my arm. I worried that he thought me rude but he was slapping Ivan on the back. ‘Don’t let us hold you back. Fabulous to see you again.’
Pink Lady turned and leant forward to kiss Ivan. ‘Such a treat, Dragi. Lovely to meet you, Draga.’ She fluttered her hand as though dismissing an insect then went back to her conversation. Big Man threw me an apologetic look.
We moved off and Ivan wrapped his arm around my shoulder to pull me closer. ‘Those two have been like a second family,’ he said. ‘I’m pleased I got the chance to introduce you.’
I pulled back. ‘But why didn’t you say we were related?’
‘Who needs to know?’ I tried to read his face, still baffled. ‘Ah, Jela. Why bother explaining the complicated relationship? There’s not many who know my family story. It doesn’t worry you, does it?’ He winked, as though we were sharing a private joke.
‘If you say so,’ I said, still uncertain.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘I need another drink.’ He raised his empty wineglass and pointed across the room to a bar. On the way we must have been stopped by at least ten different people — just enough time for Ivan to say a quick hello, plant a kiss on a cheek or shake someone’s hand — he didn’t bother to introduce me, and I was relieved to be saved from further confusion. At the bar I hung back, just to the side. The woman serving laughed at something Ivan said and I wished I had his self-assurance, which at times during the day had left me feeling confused and wondering if he was flirting — when his hand lingered close as though wanting to hold mine while we wandered around the battlements, or that look which I’d felt sure was tender when I was dressed and ready for the ball. My spine tingled — imagine if he had secret thoughts too! But this is impossible, I cautioned myself. Ivan was my uncle and I was here to meet someone special. I set my first glass down on a small table. I hadn’t drained it but I was petrified of feeling the alcohol’s effect and making a fool of myself. Ivan returned and handed me another glass of white wine.
‘Good health!’ he said, clinking our glasses. ‘It’s been a fun day, no?’
I took another sip and dragged my eyes to the floor. In that room full of strangers, combined with my tangle of thoughts, I felt self-conscious being alone with him. What would Tata say? He would surely have imagined me as part of a large group, like the dances at home.
‘Did Tata know about the hotel?’ I blurted.
‘Relax, Jela.’ He looked amused and I wished that I could swallow back my stupid words. ‘You know I wouldn’t cross your Tata. Nothing’s worth that. But you’re not a child — you have your own mind, and I know you love to use it. Come on, treat yourself. Have some fun.’
Ivan was right. I sipped at my wine trying to recapture all the precious moments of freedom I’d felt and my sense of self-confidence. Of course I wanted to live my own life, but it was hard to shake off Tata. He was always close by, sitting on my shoulder, judging my every move. A woman called from the balcony, waving her hand through one of the gaps in the stone work. Ivan glanced up and waved back.
‘How about I introduce you to some of my younger friends?’ he said.
I nodded, my buzz of excitement rekindled. This might be the moment. We climbed the curved stairway and a tall, thin man with a baby face beckoned us over.
Ivan paused on the top step. ‘I’m warning you,’ he whispered. ‘You’ll be fending off the dance invitations now.’
My spine tingled as we moved towards the group. There were two women, one dressed in silver and the other in black, and four men who, like Ivan, were in Party uniform. ‘Meet Gabrijela,’ Ivan said, pulling me forward. ‘The most beautiful girl on Korčula, who also happens to be my niece.’ My cheeks coloured but I was relieved he had taken me seriously.
‘Lucky you, Ivan,’ one man said. I’m not sure who, because I was looking at the floor.
‘Always the charmer.’ The woman in the chic black dress had stepped forward and was kissing Ivan on the cheek. ‘It’s been a while. How’ve you been?’ She manoeuvred herself to stand in front of me, blocking me from their conversation.
I inched back, my heart like a clock in my chest, but grateful there could be no misunderstandings. A solidly built man, his head perched like a square block on his wide shoulders, touched my elbow. ‘Welcome,’ he said, his smile kind. ‘First time at one of these fancy parties?’
‘Yes,’ I said, smiling back, entranced by the row of gleaming medals adorning his lapels. I wanted to ask how he’d earned them but I worried that it might be rude to ask.
‘Have you eaten yet?’ he said, and I shook my head. ‘Why not join us? We were saying it was time.’ He waved his hand at a row of tables groaning with platters of food. ‘Would be a shame to see it all go to waste, no?’ He signalled to Ivan that he was taking me off.
‘We’ll join you shortly,’ said Ivan, waving at me.
&nbs
p; As I walked towards the tables with this strange man, my sense of freedom returned.
‘My apologies, I didn’t catch your name. I’m Matē,’ he said, holding out his hand.
‘Gabrijela. But everyone calls me Jela.’ I took his hand and he brushed his lips across my fingers, his eyes smiling.
‘It’s a beautiful name. And tell me, have you enjoyed having that rascal uncle around?’
‘It’s been wonderful. He’s like another brother.’ I swallowed hard and scanned the bounty of food, wondering how I would even begin to choose. My stomach felt like a knot. Tata was back in my head. I imagined how scathing he would be of this extravagance.
‘We can start here,’ Matē said, pointing to a platter of seafood, ‘and then work our way down.’
There was every conceivable type of food: some of the seafood I recognised — squid, octopus, scampi and grilled sardines — but other varieties I’d never seen before. Platters of meat — skewers, a leg of lamb smothered with herbs, breaded schnitzel, a stew which looked like pašticada, cured ham slices, pancetta, and špek. Vegetable dishes were further along — sauerkraut, tomatoes, bean stew, dishes of njoki and polenta, and baskets of pogača bread. At the far end were sweet treats, slices of štrudel, kroštule piled high, and parcels of ravioli. How could there be so much food in one place when at home we had so little? My stomach clenched again.
I chose a few pieces of seafood, a meat skewer and a small spoonful of each of the vegetable dishes. I didn’t want to appear greedy, and I doubted my stomach would handle the richness. Matē, however, piled his plate high. I thought how Ivan, being accustomed to all this, must have thought us such peasants. Matē directed me towards a round table set up at the far end of the balcony. I could only pick at my food whereas Matē wolfed his down. I couldn’t help drawing comparisons between him and Ivan. Matē seemed serious, older than his years. I scanned the room looking for Ivan, already missing his ease and fun-loving nature.
‘Let me guess,’ Matē said, still chewing. ‘You must have an important job on Korčula. As Ivan’s niece I’m sure you’re making a fine contribution to our country.’ He scanned my face and I squirmed in my seat. ‘Perhaps you’re a nurse?’
‘I wish that were true,’ I said, flattered that he thought me capable. ‘Like most of the local girls I work at the sardine factory.’ I scrunched my face. ‘My dream is to be a teacher.’
‘Never too late,’ said Matē, wiping his mouth with a cloth serviette. ‘Our country’s in need of good teachers. I’m sure something could be arranged. I’ve got some contacts. Get Ivan to talk to me some time.’ He stared at me as though wondering where in the country he might send me.
‘That would be wonderful!’ I said, feeling like cheering.
Ivan and the others joined us. Ivan’s plate was laden too. I was bursting to talk to him but Baby-face took the spare seat beside me. Ivan sat directly opposite. Baby-face seemed to find it difficult sitting still. I tried to catch Ivan’s eye but he was engrossed in conversation with the woman in black beside him. Silver woman sat on Ivan’s other side, and a portly man, Silver’s husband maybe, had his arm draped across the back of her seat as though claiming her. A handsome man with dark curly hair sat between the woman in black, and Baby-face beside me. I sensed he was quiet and I couldn’t work out who he was with. Woman in black? Perhaps he was annoyed. I wished I felt brave enough to enquire and find out more about these people. I concentrated instead on eating small mouthfuls of food.
A clash of cymbals erupted from the far end of the room and the orchestra began a fast-paced tune. I twisted in my seat to check through the gaps down to the atrium. A large area had been cleared for dancing and couples were already moving forward to crowd the space. As a waiter approached to refill our wine glasses Baby-face turned to me. ‘I’m Jure, by the way.’ His brown eyes twinkled as he shuffled about. ‘Now tell me, Gabrijela, beautiful niece of Ivan, I’m sure you enjoy the dancing.’ I could only nod yes. ‘Would you treat me to the first dance?’ He gave a beaming smile, and I guessed he might have a cheeky sense of humour as well as boundless energy. I glanced across at Ivan. He was still talking to the lady in black.
‘I’d love that. Thank you,’ I said, bursting with a new-found confidence. Perhaps this was the moment when my dreams and scheming with Antica might really come true and I could bury those other thoughts once and for all.
Matē leaned forward, peering past me towards Jure. He waggled his forefinger. ‘Watch these fast movers, Jela,’ he said, catching my eye. ‘Seems I’ll have to play second fiddle.’ He stared hard at Jure. ‘You know what they say? Youth pales beside experience.’
I couldn’t tell if Matē was serious. Jure tipped back his head and roared with laughter. ‘They say many things, comrade. Not all of them true.’
Ivan looked across and raised his glass. His eyes seemed to say, Are you happy?
‘Very happy,’ I mouthed back.
For a while we stayed around the table, everyone finishing their meal, some making a second visit, most of us treating ourselves to the sweets. Waiters hovered at the ready to refill our wine glasses. I was careful to take only occasional sips but I’d lost track of how much I’d drunk. Matē and Jure had me in fits of laughter with their banter. I learnt that Jure was a mechanic for the Party and that recently he’d been responsible for Tito’s fleet of vehicles at his summer house. Matē assured me again about a teaching job. He had a friend in Split who oversaw a number of schools. Both men seemed full of confidence about our country: nothing seemed impossible.
When the music started up again Jure stood and held out his hand. ‘You can’t possibly keep me waiting any longer,’ he said. I cast a glance towards Ivan but he seemed intent on Silver, and she on him, as he recounted some story. Jure led me down the stairs to the dance floor and I concentrated on staying steady on my feet. Couples twirled around the floor and with Jure’s hand at my back we blended into the melee, my feet managing to behave most of the time despite me not recognising the tune. When we did trip, or if I moved the wrong way, we laughed and I felt heady with the excitement of it all.
Over the evening I danced countless times, Matē and Jure taking turns to cut in. Both were charming partners but I felt most relaxed with Jure. I couldn’t resist sneaking the odd glance at Ivan to see who he was holding in his arms. Our eyes had met a number of times and he’d raised his eyebrows and smiled as though saying, Isn’t this fun? There seemed to be no shortage of different women on his arm, and I thought how privileged I was to have accompanied him.
‘If I’m honest, you’ve worn me out, Jela,’ Matē said, after what must have been our tenth dance. His cheeks were red circles and he seemed to be struggling for breath. ‘Would you care to sit down for a while? We can chat before Jure pushes in again.’
I had no idea how much time had passed but I didn’t want to sit down. There was no chance to answer because Ivan was alongside, tapping Matē’s shoulder. ‘Must be time I’m allowed to dance with my date,’ he said, winking at me.
Matē gave me a resigned look and waved his arms like a toreador, as though passing me over.
Ivan pulled me close. ‘Finally,’ he whispered. ‘It’s time for us to have some fun now.’ His breath was a hot wind against my ear, and his lips brushed so close that a tingle swept through me. For a moment I wondered if he’d kissed me and I pulled back, flustered by his familiarity, my cheeks burning.
‘This music sounds familiar,’ I said, despite not having a clue. ‘Do you know it?’ I forced myself to breathe.
‘Strauss,’ he answered, matter-of-factly, drawing me close, much closer than I’d been held by either Jure or Matē. I thought about when Branko and I had danced like this. How the moment had always been tinged by me trying to relax and convince myself that everything felt right.
We waltzed, his hand at the small of my back; we might have been gliding. My feet felt so light that it seemed we were moving as one. The music was complex, and I had to concentrate, bu
t with Ivan my feet seemed to know where to go. I relaxed in his arms; it was as though we were floating around the floor.
‘That was fabulous,’ I said when the music stopped. I felt breathless but every fibre in my body wanted to continue, to feel the warmth of his arms, to be held so intimately again.
‘I didn’t know you were such an expert,’ he said. ‘You should have warned me.’ I smiled up at him, swelling with pride and feeling light-headed. ‘For the rest of the night you must give me lessons. No more time-wasting on those other slow learners.’
And for the rest of the evening Ivan was true to his word, not letting me out of his sight. When Matē or Jure tapped him on the shoulder, he waved them away saying, ‘Go and find someone else.’ Part of me wanted to protest, but mostly I felt flattered, as though I’d been thrust high onto a pedestal. On the dance floor with Ivan I felt like a princess, the way I’d felt in the afternoon while climbing the city walls, where with each twist and turn I’d had a glimpse into another world, privileged views of the bustling piazzas and courtyards below, and magnificent vistas over the terracotta roof tiles. A feeling that I was already far away from Vela Luka, embarking on another life.
It was past midnight when we arrived back at our hotel but the lights were still glowing. A porter swung the huge glass door open, bowing and waving us into the foyer. Rather than feeling intimidated as I had earlier in the day, I felt carefree, as though I was walking on air. The hotel still had a grand allure but I felt comfortable now, just like the people lounging about on the chairs and plush sofas in the lobby.
A man bustled forward from behind the front desk. ‘Good evening, sir,’ he said, extending his hand. ‘It’s our pleasure to have you stay.’ His head bobbed up and down.