‘Fercho, on your left!’ Sofia shouted to Fernando when an opportunity arose. Fie glanced over to her, hesitated, then passed the ball to Rafael instead who was consequently ridden-off by both Marco and Davico at once in a vicious sandwich. ‘Pass it to me next time, Fercho. I had a clear ride to goal!’ she
shouted furiously, glaring at him.
‘Sure you did,’ he replied spitefully and cantered off. She noticed Roberto Lobito break their silent rule and shake his head sympathetically at Fernando.
Sabrina and Martina were horrified that Sofia had been allowed into the game.
‘She’ll cock it up for them,’ Sabrina said irritably.
‘She’s only fifteen, for God’s sake,’ Martina sniffed. ‘She really shouldn’t be allowed to play with the big boys.’
‘It’s Santi’s fault, he encourages her,’ said Pia, spitefully.
‘Lie’s got a soft spot for her - God only knows why. She’s spoilt rotten. Look, she’s hanging around doing nothing. No one’s using her. She might as well pack it in,’ complained Sabrina, watching her young cousin floundering in the middle of the field.
At the end of the fifth chukka they were still one goal down.
‘Use Sofia, for God’s sake! We’re a team, and the only way we’re going to win is with teamwork,’ exploded Santi, dismounting.
‘We use her and we’re sure to lose,’ replied Fernando, removing his hat and shaking out his black sweaty hair.
‘Come on, Fercho, don’t be childish,’ said Rafael. ‘She’s playing and there’s nothing you can do about it. They won’t expect us to use her, so make the most of it.’
‘We’re not going to win as a three-sided team,’ shouted Santi, exasperated, ‘so bloody well include her!’ Fernando scowled at his brother with loathing.
‘I’ll show you chauvinists that I can play better than that idiotic Agustin. Just swallow your pride and play with me - not against me. The enemy’s La Paz, remember?’ And Sofia cantered confidently back onto the field. Fernando quietly smouldered while Rafael raised his eyes to the sky and Santi chuckled with admiration.
The tension was almost tangible as they cantered onto the field for the last chukka. When the game began, a hefty silence descended upon the spectators. The final chukka was an aggressive display of one-upmanship as each side desperately tried to outdo the other. Santi, who was undoubtedly the best player on the team, was heavily marked, and Sofia, who they all assumed wouldn’t get a look in, was hardly marked at all. Time was running out. In spite of their earlier dispute Sofia was hardly passed the ball and spent most of the time angrily covering for the others. At last, Santi managed to even the score.
The spectators were now on their feet unable to remain seated as the battle intensified in the last few minutes of the game. They all knew that if they didn’t finish it in time they would have to go on to ‘sudden death’. The field resounded with furious cries and impatient commands as Roberto tried to control his team and Santi tried to persuade his brother to play with Sofia. Maria jumped up and down in agitation, unable to keep still, willing Sofia to score. Miguel and Paco paced impatiently up and down the sidelines, without taking their eyes off the match. Paco looked at his watch - one minute to go. Perhaps it had been a mistake letting Sofia play, he thought bleakly.
Suddenly Rafael took possession of the ball, passed it to Fernando who passed it back. Santi snaked his way past Roberto and Marco who galloped after him in pursuit. There followed a burst of fevered shouts, but Rafael managed to pass it to Santi and he flew unmarked down the field. Only Sofia and her opponent, Francisco, stood between him and the goal. He had a choice, he could dare to ride past Francisco and try to score himself, or he could risk hitting it to Sofia. Sure that Santi wouldn’t pass to Sofia, Francisco left her side to ride him off the ball. Santi raised his green eyes to his cousin who understood immediately and positioned herself. Just before Francisco crashed into him he
whacked the ball to Sofia. ‘Go for goal, Chofi!’ he shrieked.
Not one to miss an opportunity like that she cantered after it, clamping her jaw together with resolve. She hit it once, twice, then swinging her taco in the air with a practised arm she thought of Jose, her father and then of Santi as she struck it straight through the posts. Seconds later the whistle blew. They had won the match.
‘I don’t believe it!’ gasped Sabrina.
‘My God, she’s done it. Sofia’s scored,’ cried Martina, jumping up and clapping her hands. ‘Well done, Sofia!’ she shouted. lldola.' ’
‘Just in the nick of time!’ Miguel beamed, slapping Paco on the back. ‘Luckily for you, or you just might have been barbecued with the lomo.’
‘She played well - let down by her own team. There’s no question about her ability, though,’ he said proudly.
Rafael cantered up to Sofia and patted her on the back. ‘Bien hecho, gorda!’ he chuckled. ‘You’re a star!’ Fernando nodded to her without smiling. He was pleased they had won but couldn’t quite bring himself to congratulate Sofia. Santi almost tugged her off her pony by grabbing her behind the neck and pulling her towards him so he could kiss her dusty cheek.
‘I knew you could do it, Chofi. You didn’t let me down,’ he laughed, removing his hat and scratching his damp hair.
Roberto Lobito walked up to her as she dismounted her pony. ‘You play well for a girl,’ he said, smiling down at her.
‘You play well for a boy,’ she replied arrogantly.
Roberto laughed. ‘So, will I be seeing you more often on the field?’ he said, his brown eyes tracing her features with interest.
‘Perhaps.’
‘Well, I look forward to it,’ he added, winking at her. Sofia screwed up her nose, before dismissing him with a husky laugh and running off to join her team.
Later that evening, when the first stars sprinkled the twilight with silver, Santi and Sofia sat beneath the sinewy branches of the craggy ombu and looked out onto the horizon.
‘You played well today, Chofi.’
‘Thanks to you, Santi. You believed in me. I had the last laugh, didn’t I?’ And she chuckled, remembering Agustin falling off his pony. ‘Those brothers of
mine ...’
‘Ignore them. They only wind you up because you rise.’
‘I can’t help it. They’re so spoilt - especially Agustin.’
‘Mothers are like that with their sons. Just you wait.’
‘A long, longtime, I hope.’
‘Maybe a lot less long than you think. Life is never what you expect.’
‘Mine will be, you’ll see. Anyway, thank you for trusting me today and for standing up for me. I really showed them, didn’t I?’ she said proudly.
He looked at her earnest face through the dusk and placed his hand affectionately on her neck. ‘I knew you could do it. No one has the determination that you have. No one.’ He then went silent for a moment as if lost in thought. ‘What are you thinking about?’ she asked.
‘You’re just not like other girls, Chofi.’
‘I’m not?’ she replied, pleased.
‘No, you’re more fun, more ... how can I put it? You’re a personaje.’
‘Well, if I’m a “character”, to me, Santi, you’re an idolo! Do you know that?’ ‘Don’t put me on a pedestal - I might fall off,’ he chuckled.
‘I’m lucky to have a friend like you,’ she replied bashfully, feeling her
heartbeat accelerate. ‘You’re most definitely my favourite cousin.’
‘Cousin.’ He sighed deeply and a little sadly. ‘You’re my favourite cousin, too.’
Chapter 4
‘Girls are just as good as boys at games,’ announced Sofia, absentmindedly flicking through the pages of one of Chiquita’s magazines.
‘Rubbish!’ replied Agustin, breaking away from his discussion with Fernando and Rafael to rise to her bait like a hungry trout.
‘Ignore her,’ Fernando said testily. ‘Collate, Sofia, why don’t you go and find Maria t
o play with and leave us alone.’ Sofia was four and a half years younger than him and he had little patience with children.
‘I’m bored,’ she huffed, wriggling her brown toes that were stretched out in front of her across the sofa. It was raining. Fat summer drops that rattled against the windowpanes. It had rained all day, hard and constant and unrelenting. Santi had gone into town with his cousins Sebastian, Angel and Niquito. Maria was over at Anna’s house with Chiquita, Panchito and their Aunt Malena with her young son Horacio. Sofia didn’t share Maria’s love of playing with small children, so she had left her to it. She stretched lazily. There was nothing to do and no one to play with. She looked around the room and sighed. The boys were deep in conversation.
‘I’m just as good at polo as Agustin, and Papa knows it,’ she persisted, waiting for her brother’s response. ‘After all, he let me play in the Copa Santa Catalina.’
‘Shut up, Sofia,’ said Fernando.
‘Sofia, you’re being very boring,’ said Rafael.
‘I’m only stating the truth. There you all are, discussing sport like your sex is the only one that does it well. Girls would be just as good as boys if they were given the opportunity. I’m living proof.’
‘I’m not going to rise, Sofia,’ said Agustin, rising, ‘but what I will say is that I’ve got more strength than you could ever muster. So don’t even compare us.’
‘I’m not talking strength. I’m talking wit and skill. Of course I know men are stronger than women - that’s not the point. Typical you, Agustin, to miss the point.’ She laughed scornfully, pleased that she had provoked a reaction.
‘Sofia, if you don’t shut up, now, I’m going to personally throw you out into the rain, and then let’s see who cries like a girl,’ snarled Fernando, exasperated.
At that moment Santi burst in like a wet dog, followed closely by Sebastian, Angel and Niquito. They were all complaining bitterly about the weather, wiping the rain off their faces.
‘We could hardly drive back up the track.' he said breathlessly. The mud is just unbelievable.'
‘It’s a miracle we didn’t get stuck,’ said Sebastian, shaking his dripping dark hair over the tiled floor.
‘What’s your grandfather doing out in this weather?’ Santi asked, turning to Sofia.
‘I don’t know, what is he doing?’
‘Walking around as if the sun’s out.'
‘Sounds just like Grandpa.' chuckled Sofia. ‘Hey, Santi, are girls just as good as boys at sport?’
‘She’s been a pain all morning, Santi. Do us a favour and take her away,’ said Rafael.
‘I’m not taking sides if that’s what you’re angling for, Chofi.’
‘I’m not talking about strength or anything like that. Skill, cunning . ..’
‘You’ve got more cunning than most boys.’ He agreed, moving her legs so he could join her on the sofa.
‘I just said I’m as capable as Agustin,’ she explained. She watched Agustin’s shoulders hunch irritably. He muttered something under his breath to
Fernando and Rafael.
‘Well, prove it,’ Santi shrugged. ‘You could go on about it for hours. You’re obviously being annoying.’
‘Okay. Agustin, do you want to be beaten at back gammon?’ she challenged.
‘Play with Santi, I’m not in the mood.’ He scowled.
‘I don’t want to play with Santi.’
‘Because you know you’ll get beaten,’ Santi said smugly.
‘That’s not the point. I’m not pretending to be better than Santi, or Rafa or Fercho. I’m saying that I’m better than Agustin.’
Her brother suddenly got to his feet and glared at her. ‘Okay, Sofia, so you want to be beaten? Go and get the board and we’ll see who’s better.’
‘Leave it, Agustin,’ said Rafael, tired of his brother and sister’s constant bickering. Fernando shook his head disapprovingly. Sofia was trying at the worst of times, but when she was bored she was unbearable.
‘No, I’ll play, but on one condition,’ said Agustin.
‘What’s that?’ she replied, lifting the board out of Miguel’s games drawer.
‘If I win, you agree that I’m better than you at everything.’
‘All right.’
‘Set it up then call me when you’re ready. I’m going to get a drink.’ And he wandered out of the room.
‘Are you really prepared to agree to that?’ asked Santi, watching her set up the board.
‘I won’t lose.’
‘Don’t be so sure. Luck has a lot to do with it too, you know. You just might be unlucky.’
‘I’ll win, luck or no luck,’ she replied pompously.
When Agustin and Sofia rolled the dice to start the game the others gathered around like crows to watch the match, except Fernando. He sat himself at his father’s card table, lit a cigarette, then began piecing together the half-finished puzzle that lay scattered there.
‘Santi, you’re not to help Sofia. She’s got to do it on her own,’ Rafael said seriously. Santi smirked as Sofia threw a double six.
‘I don’t believe it, you lucky cow,’ spat Agustin competitively, watching his sister build up a heavy wall of pieces, blocking in two of his players. Sofia felt just as competitive as her brother but tried hard not to let it show. Instead she casually threw the dice, made ridiculous comments and fixed an arrogant smirk onto her face that she knew would annoy him.
Sofia won the first game - but that wasn’t enough. It was understood that any game, whether it was tennis or tiddly-winks, had to be the best of three. On winning the first game she couldn’t resist but show off about it.
‘You see? Poor old Agustin! What does it feel like to be beaten by a girl?’ she crowed. ‘And I’m younger than you!’
‘It’s the best of three. I have plenty of time to win,’ he said with forced calmness.
Sofia caught Santi’s eye and winked at him. He slowly shook his head at her in reproof. He could tell all this bragging was only going to make her fall a harder one.
The second game commenced. Sofia’s comments dried up as she seemed only to manage to throw low numbers while Agustin threw fives and sixes. The smile melted off her face leaving a rather unattractive scowl. Santi watched her in amusement. Once or twice he could see her making an unfavourable move and tried to catch her eye, but she didn’t look up from the board. She sensed the game slipping away from her. Her cheeks burned scarlet when Agustin
captured one of her players and then threw the dice again as there was no free place for her to come on. She could feel his self-satisfied grin, it crawled beneath her skin and made her squirm.
‘Hurry up,’ she ordered petulantly. ‘You’re just slowing it up to annoy me.’
‘Look who’s changed her tune,’ he goaded. ‘Not smirking any more, are we?’
‘Right, one all,’ announced Agustin triumphantly. ‘Ready for the decider, sister dear?’
Fernando hadn’t been listening. In fact, he had been making a big effort not to listen. The puzzle had kept him interested for a few minutes, and his cigarette had been good. He picked up the packet and lit another. When he heard Sofia whining from the other end of the room, he thought things sounded more interesting. Throwing the match into the empty fireplace he sauntered over to see what was happening.
‘So, Sofia’s being beaten by a boy?’ he laughed, taking a look at the state of play. His cousin didn’t reply and hung her head. Leaning over like a big bat, he cast a shadow across the board. Sebastian, Niquito and Angel made jokes each time Sofia tossed the dice; Agustin, who was now winning, laughed heartily. Rafael, who had initially wanted his brother to win, typically changed sides to support the underdog. He always relented when Sofia got upset. Santi, of course, wanted Sofia to win. He had always felt like a protective elder brother where she was concerned. He could see she was miserable she was losing and probably wishing she hadn’t been so overconfident. He finally caught her eye as she looked at him sheepishly. She had pro
bably only baited Agustin for attention and because it was raining and she had nothing better to do than aggravate everyone. He knew Sofia. He knew her better than anyone.
‘I’ve won!’ Agustin proclaimed proudly, placing his last pieces into the leather slot to the side of the board.
‘You cheated,’ Sofia said, crossly. Santi laughed and rolled his eyes.
‘Shut up!’ replied Agustin. ‘I won fair and square and I’ve got five witnesses.’
‘You still cheated,’ she said grouchily.
‘Chofi, admit defeat gracefully,’ said Santi seriously, wandering out of the room.
‘I won’t. Not from Agustin. Not from him, ever!’ she cried, and flounced out after him.
‘Well done, Agustin,’ Fernando applauded, patting him roughly on the back. ‘That shut her up. Now we’ll have a peaceful afternoon.’
‘You’ll now have a peaceful afternoon,’ sighed Rafael. ‘We’ll have a horrible evening. She’ll sulk for days.’
‘No one sulks like Sofia,’ agreed Agustin. ‘But it’ll be worth every tantrum. I enjoyed that. Anyone else fancy a game?’
Sofia followed Santi down the corridor.
‘Where are you going?’ she asked, dragging her hand along the wall.
‘You should have better grace when you lose.’
‘I don’t care.’
‘You should - a bad loser is very unattractive.’ He knew that would get a reaction. Sofia was very vain.
‘I wasn’t that graceless. Only with Agustin. You know how he gets to me.’
Meet Me Under The Ombu Tree Page 6
