‘About my running off?’ Yöst chanced, confident Pascual had no interest in pursuing her husband’s line of questioning. ‘It’s just that I feel so alone. Rico’s never about, either off with Adelita or Ramon and …’
‘Zande and TaTa. Aren’t they worth spending time with?’
‘They’re children. I know nothing about children. I mean …’ he remembered on the island, how irritating Zande’s endless questions had become.
‘Then you will have to learn, Yöst, because to them you are both father and mother.’
‘I am?’ he said, his face a cartoon of conflicting emotions – pride overlaying astonishment.
Pascual laughed. ‘You should go on the stage. I was talking to Zande earlier. Poor child, he was wandering round the house like a lost soul.’ Yöst flinched. ‘It’s all right, Yöst. You’re not responsible for what happened to him.’
‘I know but …’
She waved her hand silencing him. ‘Most times when I ask Zande a question, he replies, ask Yöst, he’ll know. And TaTa … Ana told me, she never speaks a word all day until she sees you.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Yöst sensed tears welling up, and shame, like sharp thorns, pricked his shoulder blades. ‘I promise I didn’t know. Your girls …’
‘You mean girls are born knowing about brothers and sisters?’
Ashamed, he recognised the sarcasm. Wiping his face on the towel, he rubbed at his hair to dry it. ‘Will you teach me?’
‘I can teach you cooking and sewing and potty-training for TaTa; the rest … what they’re made of, what they are interested in and how they react to different situations, you’ll have to learn for yourself. What do you know so far?’
‘Zande likes drawing. TaTa, I don’t know.’ He shrugged helplessly. ‘She never cries. That’s it, really.’ He fished in his pocket pulling out the nickel coins, their surfaces grimy and worn. ‘Ramon gave me some money. Will it be enough to buy Zande a drawing book and a pencil?’
‘Ask Rico.’ Pascual swung away, hanging the oven cloth back on its hook, ‘but perhaps not tonight.’
‘Why, what’s happened?’ he asked, an anxious frown sweeping his eyebrows into a question mark.
‘He’s been in a fight and won’t be doing much of anything for a couple of days, stupid boy. I’m making him soup for dinner. If Ramon had his way, it would be bread and water.’
Pushing aside the curtain, Yöst wandered into the open space of the beehive house. ‘Do me a favour, Yöst,’ Pascual called after him, ‘tell him from me, if there has to be a next time, to pick on boys his own size not two sizes bigger.’
‘Okay, but he won’t like it much.’ He grinned, aware Rico’s quarrelsome nature wouldn’t allow him to do anything he considered cowardly.
Lamps had already been lit; one the wicks burning unevenly and guttering, casting a shadow over the stairwell, where their beds had been laid out. From upstairs, he caught a faint clattering of the treadle on the sewing machine, and Katarina chatting to Adelita.
Rico was curled on his side, facing the wall, a bandage masking a cut on his forehead, his cheek swollen and bruised.
Anger surged through Yöst, wishing it was him who was hurt. Rico wasn’t built for fighting. Besides, being carinatae he healed quicker.
‘It looks worse than it is, honest,’ Rico whispered painfully. ‘One of the kids from school called me a dirty gyppo, same as the people on the island. So, I socked him.’ Raising his arm, he stared proudly down at his fist, a thick film of white salve covering the broken skin on his knuckles. ‘I don’t care about the bruises, only the name-calling. Still, I felt better afterwards.’
‘You can’t speak or eat, what’s there to feel better about?’ Yöst pulled the copper coins from his pocket. ‘I was going to ask next time you went to market, if you’d buy Zande a sketch pad and a pencil.’
‘Can’t, Ma’s barred me. Says I’m not to be trusted. Ask Adelita, she told Pa she’ll do my shift on the market stall.’
Yöst hesitated.
‘What?’ Rico stared closely. ‘You can’t be scared of her? Not Adelita!’
He shrugged.
‘You are! Ouch!’ he screeched in pain.
Yöst found his hand flying forward of its own accord. ‘You okay?’
‘Will be termorra,’ he mumbled awkwardly. ‘Want to know a secret about Adelita?’
‘Go on.’
‘She hates living here.’
‘You telling the truth?’
‘Course.’ Rico’s attempt at a smile, disintegrated into a lop-sided grimace. ‘She likes the city. Says in the country there’s too much fresh air and not enough shops.’
17
The autumn rains swept in, with apparently no intention of ever stopping, and by the end of another week it wasn’t only Maestro who complained; everyone in the house was affected, snapping at the slightest word – even Pepe. His usually beaming face was covered in a scowl, his good humour evaporated. Ramon made his displeasure very obvious, constantly grumbling about the number of mouths he had to feed, only relapsing into a state of bonhomie in the evening, after a couple of glasses of wine.
Wondering if Ramon had regretted his decision to let them stay, the sense of unease Yöst already felt worsened. With the weather so bad, and Rico fit again, there wasn’t sufficient work for both of them and Ramon might well tell them to leave.
Then what?
They couldn’t go back to the town. The priest hadn’t finished with them of that he was certain. And after what Ramon had overheard, they couldn’t return to the island either.
Finishing his chores, he wandered back into the house, aware he had reading to do with the twins, while Ana helped Zande and Clara. From the kitchen came the sound of crashing saucepans and Pascual shouting at Rico, ‘Come in here again and I’ll take the broom to you.’
Tatania flinched back at the angry sound and Yöst picked her up, conscious how quiet she really was, yet she seemed contented enough.
‘She’ll speak when she’s ready,’ Pascual had told him, leaving him to wonder if the child’s continuing silence was somehow connected to her mother’s final appeal … not a word. That Zande missed his mother was obvious, although he never said anything. Instead, he drew his doubts out on paper.
Unable to bear the suspense any longer, he headed into the kitchen, taking Tatania with him, and stood waiting to be noticed.
Pascual was peeling potatoes at the sink. ‘What?’
‘Do you want us to leave?’
‘Leave? Why on earth should I want you to leave?’ Pascual swung round, her hands dripping water onto the floor, her dark eyes wide with astonishment.
Yöst shifted uneasily. ‘Everyone’s so angry. I wondered if …’ he hesitated, and wrapped his arm more firmly around Tatania, ‘maybe it’s having too many people in the house.’
‘It is! Everyone under my feet all day long, I can’t stand it. That doesn’t mean we want you to leave.’ The glance she gave him was keen and penetrating. ‘It happens in every family, didn’t it in yours?’
Memories of rain-filled skies and his grandmother’s grumbling filled his head. Her anger had always carried traces of amusement in it, the cobs teasing her whenever she threatened him with a beating. Most times she’d end up laughing too, shouting at him to go away and not come back until he’d learned his lesson. To which the cobs had added, ‘You’ll be living on your own a long time then, Mother; boys seldom learn lessons. Look at us.’
‘No!’ He edged a hesitant smile.
‘Then who dried your clothes when it rained?’ Pascual asked.
‘They mostly dried on us,’ he admitted, feeling awkward, wishing he could explain how no one bothered how they were dressed, except perhaps on bitterly-cold nights. Then he and his friends wore everything they owned, and with a sheepskin draped around their shoulders, huddled by the fire listening to stories, their imaginations fired up by tales of long-legged monsters and birds with wings that couldn’t fly. Clothes were s
omething you wore for other people, not for yourself. Only for school did he put on a shirt and tie, and wear socks and boots.
‘Ah! Well, that’s not going to happen here, Yöst. I’m not having you falling sick. And I’m not going back to drying your clothes either, as I was doing a few weeks ago. You’ll just have to put up with it and stay indoors with the rest of us.’ Dipping her finger into a bowl of sugar, she held it up for Tatania to lick off the grains clinging to it. ‘For farmers, it’s the weather that rules. If it’s too hot, too cold, too wet, too dry, we complain about everything. Didn’t you realise that?’
Yöst shook his head.
‘What a strange boy you are, you seem to know nothing about ordinary life. Even my girls check the weather before deciding which dress to wear. I might shout and so might Ramon … that doesn’t mean we don’t want you here.’
‘But?’ Pascual examined him closely and heaved a sigh. ‘What is it, Yöst, and don’t say nothing? A bit of advice; when you’re grown up, never try lying, especially not to girls. Your eyebrows will betray you every time. So, what is it, apart from my shouting?’
He shifted uncomfortably, aware there was a vast library of words and sentences he daren’t use; raking around for something innocuous that wouldn’t spawn more questions. ‘Ramon said I had to earn enough to feed the three of us and with all this rain, I can’t do that. And I’m useless as a teacher,’ he confessed with a sheepish grin.
Pascual laughed. ‘Berte complained she does sums in her sleep.’ Her smile vanished, becoming concerned. ‘You think Ramon will throw you out because of that?’
He shuffled uneasily, frowning down at the ground, conscious of another reason, one perhaps more pressing than a need to earn money. Even though Ramon had chosen not to refer to the conversation he’d overheard in the marketplace, he hadn’t forgotten it either.
‘Ramon believes in the value of work for both boys and girls, especially for boys. As men, they will be expected to provide for a wife and family. It’s an important lesson, Yöst, one he is trying to pass on to both you and Rico. There’s too few people as kind as Monsieur and Madame Meijer, willing to share what little they have with a stranger.’ The firm cadences in Pascual’s voice were overtaken by both anger and despair. ‘Our people used to be like that … We come from Catalonia,’ she replied to his silent enquiry. ‘Didn’t you know?’
‘Only that you spoke a different language.’
‘Ramon … he’s a good man. I promise, he has no intention of showing you the door because it rains all winter and you can do no work.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Of course. We like having you. We like your funny face.’ Smiling gently, Pascual patted his cheek. ‘Besides, you’re company for Rico, and Zande is good for Clara. Haven’t you noticed she’s stopped whining when he’s about?’ Pascual didn’t wait for him to reply, continuing, ‘Well, she has. And Delors and TaTa are the best of friends. Aren’t you, sweetheart?’
Tatania nodded, her attention fastened on the sugar bowl.
‘How about I ask Ramon if you can play in the barn?’
‘Yes, please,’ his response flew out, his tone once again sparking and full of life. ‘I really, really, hate being stuck indoors.’
‘You mean you find my girls too noisy?’
Yöst blushed.
‘I agree. They are sometimes exceedingly noisy.’
‘It’s not really that,’ he shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, ‘it’s just that I’m used to being outside. TaTa and Zande are too.’
‘Not Clara, though. She has to learn her catechism with the other girls.’ Reaching out, Pascual pushed aside the curtain. ‘Ramon?’
Her husband, who had been playing checkers with Pepe on one corner of the vast table, didn’t stir, his gaze fastened on the board. ‘What?’
‘Yöst is asking if they can go and play in the barn?’
‘Who’s they?’ Maestro carolled, ‘because if you are thinking of me, forget it.’
‘And me.’ Adelita said, her knitting needles flashing in and out. ‘Why not ask Pepe, he’s losing all his money to Ramon.’
A smile coloured Pepe’s already red cheeks, his head nodding like a marionette.
‘If they want – but not to upset the animals,’ Ramon moved a counter, his attention firmly fixed on the game in hand. ‘I can replace children but animals cost.’
‘Don’t children cost, Ramon?’ Adelita cooed sweetly. ‘While she was giving birth, I’m sure Pascual would think they cost very dear.’
‘Quiet, woman, you know what I mean. Ask Rico. He’ll go with you.’
‘Ask me what, Ma?’ Rico, whistling loudly, wandered in from outside, the shell curtain rattling behind him.
‘If you’ll go and play in the barn with the children.’
‘Ma!’ Rico rolled his eyes in mock horror. ‘Not my sisters. They’ll spend all their time moaning about their dresses getting dirty.’
Yöst grinned. ‘Pascual meant me.’
Rico’s face cleared. ‘Okay then, as long as it’s not Clara.’
‘Rico, what an awful thing to say about your sister,’ Pascual threatened.
‘You don’t know her, Ma.’
She laughed. ‘Make sure the children put on their boots.’
‘Pa was talking about school again, for me and the other girls,’ Rico confided once they were outside, Zande and Tatania walking on either side of Yöst, their hands linked with his. ‘Not Ana, she’s too old. Said we could start straight after Christmas and stop in the summer. Says in winter, we’re always under Ma’s feet. Problem with my pa is that he forgets when it suits him. And it suits him to forget about my bruises.’
‘We’d better keep you outside for the whole of the winter then. That would suit me, all right.’
‘Me too,’ Rico grinned and took Tatania’s other hand, the two boys swinging her over the puddles. ‘If it hurries up and stops raining, once we’re working again Pa won’t bother about school – at least, not ’til next winter.’
‘Is there much work in winter? I was scared Ramon would send us away because we cost too much to keep.’
‘He wouldn’t do that,’ Rico’s face grew serious. ‘He gave his word to that lady, Madame Meijer. And once Pa gives his word – it stays given.’ Yöst heard the pride. ‘In any case, there’s no lack of work. Pa’s not short of cash, neither. Says, he’s keeping it for a rainy day.’ He held out his hand, the rain splashing down in huge droplets. ‘Adelita told him that so far we’d had almost a month of rain. Pa said that didn’t count because he only said a rainy day.’ He rolled his eyes, sniggering at the well-worn joke.
‘Mostly in winter we go out chopping trees. Our landlord owns a stretch of woodland, the other side of the river. He’s too mean to keep his men on through the winter, so he pays us to work it. Pa’s got all the tools too. Remember I told you he used to climb up high until he sprained his ankle. And there’s two other vineyards higher up the river, their owners often give us a day’s work in the autumn. Course they’re all after us in summer, but Pa says our land comes first.’
The open-fronted barn was as big, if not bigger than the beehive house, despite being differently shaped. Rectangular instead of round, its heavy roof supports were covered by galvanised iron sheets, the rain resounding loudly as it struck the metal. At the front of the building, rust had already eaten into them, water dripping through a hole into a conveniently placed bucket.
‘Don’t care about it raining, if it saves me a job,’ Rico pointed to the bucket as they walked past. ‘The thing about Pa; he hates parting with good money, prefers to barter. That’s how he came by the straw and the hay.’ He nodded towards the rear wall, where straw had been stacked, in places the bales reaching almost to the rafters. ‘Back in the summer, when we finished work on our fields, of an evening, me and Pa and Pepe, we helped a local farmer harvest his crop of grain. Pa says the straw will last all winter and cost nothing.’ He grimaced, adding bitterly,
‘Never counts the holes in our shoes, nor our blisters and bad backs.’
He pointed to the old cart parked near the entrance filled with hay. ‘Pa got that for clearing trees last winter. That’s when he did his ankle; still finished the job.’ Once again, his words were spoken on an outburst of pride, at odds with his earlier criticism.
The two horses had been housed in a plywood stall, its walls tall enough to block both wind and rain. Rico had just finished feeding them and, on hearing voices, they broke away from their hay bag swinging round inquisitively.
Slipping Yöst’s hand, Zande darted over to pat them. Rico grabbed him and pulled him back. ‘You are never to stand behind a horse,’ he yelled.
Zande jumped. ‘Why?’ he managed, his voice trembling at the harsh rebuke.
‘Sorry, didn’t mean to shout, but you didn’t ’alf give me a start.’ Rico patted him on the back. ‘See their eyes.’ He pointed at Barone, the animal’s nose once again deep in its hay bag. ‘They can’t see you standing behind, but they can sense you.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means smell.’
‘But I had a bath last night,’ the young boy protested.
Rico grinned at him, relieving the tension. ‘They can still smell you, no matter how many baths you have. See, smelling’s how they make friends. Once they know your smell, it’s okay. If they smell something strange, it makes them afraid and then they kick out. Sometimes,’ he added ghoulishly, winking at Yöst, ‘we find dead rats on the floor, all covered in blood they are.’
‘Why?’
‘Because they were stupid and ran behind the horses.’ He led the boy into the stall. ‘Now, raise your hand up slow and pat its nose. They like that.’
Zande’s laugh erupted as the animal nuzzled his hand, its breath warm and slightly moist. ‘TaTa, you do it. It tickles. Can I ride him?’
Rico gave a mock bow, speaking politely. ‘Barone, this young lad would like to ride you.’ Understanding the sentiment if not the actual words, the horse bobbed its head several times. Instantly, Tatania’s merry laughter rang out across the barn. ‘Yöst, put TaTa up on Duchesse. She’s gentler than Barone.’
The Click of a Pebble Page 20
