Domingo's Angel

Chapter 3

Limping Pepe went into Rosalba's shop. "Did you know that Domingo goatherd has moved into the smallest casita of Guillermo the mayor?" he asked.

"Of course I knew," snapped Rosalba. She was furious, as it was the first she had heard of it. "I know everything that happens."

Pepe went on as if she had said nothing. "He is building a huge corral for his goats on the hill behind the house. He follows her everywhere like a dog. He is entirely bewitched by her."

"Do not talk nonsense, Jose Fernandez Negrete. You know nothing about such things. It is a disgrace! Thank the blessed Virgin that his mother is not alive to see such a shameful thing!" And she crossed herself piously.

"I would have thought," said Limping Pepe, "that his mother would have been only too pleased to have some help in the house."

Rosalba swung round angrily. "Jose Fernandez Negrete, do you believe for one minute that a respectable woman like Dolores Garccia Guerrero would have allowed a woman like that, and a foreigner, to live in her house? Anyway, everyone knows that foreign women are unable to cook and clean properly. Look at what happened to Salva Domcinguez Garccia. He married a woman from Sanisido del Monte.None of his children were properly fed and now they are all sickly and go about in rags!"

"I don't know," said Limping Pepe. "My own mother came from Canillas de Daimonos."

"Exactly so," said Rosalba with enormous satisfaction, and Pepe, who knew when he was beaten, went out of the shop.

Rosalba began to scrub the floors with unnecessary vigour. She had an uneasy feeling that she was losing her grip.

* * * *

That evening she announced to the family, "It is time that we visited our casita at the ridge of the pass. We have not tended to our vines for some time."

"But, Granny " Antonito's mother kicked him hard under the table and he shut up. He was always getting kicked under the table when he said things to Granny. It was impossible to know what it was that he was doing wrong. He had only been going to point out that there was nothing left to do to the vines. They had been pruned and treated with sulphur ages ago, and would not need picking for at least a month. He was eight years old now, almost a man, and he knew these things. He glanced over at his mother and she was staring at him very hard. Her eyebrows had met in a little frown and he knew what that meant. Better to say nothing.

* * * *

Domingo and Angela stood on the terrace looking at a large orange cat. "He just turned up," said Angela, "when you were out with the goats. He jumped down on the terrace, went 'pprrrrppp!!!'" She made a strange noise halfway between a cat's mew and the trill of a bird, "and smiled at me."

Domingo raised his eyebrows. "Smiled?"

"Like this," said Angela, and closed her eyes briefly and smiled just at the edges of her mouth. At the same moment the cat assumed exactly the same expression, as if to demonstrate the point. His fur was exactly the same colour as Angela's hair. They opened their eyes simultaneously and Domingo noticed that his eyes were also exactly the colour of Angela's. It was faintly disturbing. Then it bowed its head slightly and mewed softly. It sounded suspiciously like the noise people make when they are agreeing with what you say.

"He almost talks, doesn't he?" said Angela. "Can we keep him? I always wanted a cat, but my mother would never let me have one."

"But, of course," said Domingo. "It is necessary to keep a cat in the house, in order to keep the mice away."

The cat gave another mew of agreement and walked away.

"I wonder if he'll come back," said Angela.

The next morning there was a neat little row of headless rodents laid out upon the terrace.

* * * *

Late on Saturday afternoon, Angela looked up and saw Rosalba walking down the track. "Domingo!" she cried, on the verge of panic. He looked up from his work on the wall of the corral, wiped his hands on his trouser seat and grinned. There, coming down the track was Rosalba, accompanied by her son, Antonio and her grandchildren, Little Antonio and Little Dolores. Their mother, Dolores, had been left in charge of the shop. Antonio carried a large carafe of wine and Antonito carried a basket. Rosalba walked ahead, carrying nothing, leading the procession.

Domingo ran lightly down the hill to be standing at Angela's side as they arrived.

"Good afternoon, Domingo Garccia Guerrero," said Rosalba. "It is a surprise to find you in the smallest casita of Guillermo Garccia Fernandez. We have come to greet our new neighbour."She gave Domingo a meaningful look and he stepped back hurriedly.

Angela came forward smiling. "Good afternoon, Rosalba," she said."I have heard much about you."

Rosalba gave a satisfied nod, but did not smile. Everyone politely refrained from mentioning the unfortunate previous meeting in the shop.

"Antonio!" Rosalba waved imperiously towards her son and he stepped forward, proffering the wine.

"I will get glasses," said Angela, grinning wickedly over her shoulder at Domingo as she went.

"I am surprised," said Rosalba, staring up at the sky, "to find you here, Domingo Garccia Guerrero. I did not know that you had a house in this neighbourhood."

Domingo looked down at his feet, then, suddenly inspired, looked up and said, "I am building a corral!" He made a sweeping gesture to indicate the rather uneven enclosure which was beginning to take shape on the hillside.

Rosalba pressed her lips together in a tight line and hissed, "Why did you not take her to live in one of your own casitas?"

"Because," he hissed back, "she would not come."

"Aja," said Rosalba. And it was impossible to tell what she was thinking.

When Angela returned with the glasses, the whole family was sitting at the table and Antonito had put down his basket in the exact centre. Inside were eggs, onions, potatoes and tomatoes.

"Oh, Rosalba, how kind of you!" she exclaimed. Rosalba bowed her head in acknowledgement and made a deprecating grimace, but did not smile. Then she narrowed her eyes and asked, "Which village do you come from?"

"She does not come from a village," said Domingo. "She comes from Angeland."

Rosalba gave him a withering stare and he was silent.

"I come from a village across the sea," said Angela. "In a place called England. In a village called Leeds."

Rosalba nodded wisely. "And do you have family in Amendillas?"

"I do not," said Angela. "I came because my mother died and I was alone in the world and I had heard that the people of Amendillas were the kindest in the world and would comfort me and be my family. And see," she went on, waving at the basket of produce and the wine, "how true that is."

Rosalba did not smile but she was wearing an expression that could only be described as smug. Domingo stared open-mouthed at Angela in unfeigned admiration.

After discussing Angela's mother's last illness and symptoms in great depth, and comparing her infirmities with those of a great many other people known to Rosalba, they progressed to the rather trickier problem of the mass. By this time Domingo, Antonio and the children had wandered off, bored. Domingo was showing Antonio his work on the corral and Antonio was explaining to him how he was going wrong. In doing so, he had built a considerable section of new wall. The children were running amongst the goats with little hoots of delight.

"I noticed," said Rosalba, "that you have not been to mass since you arrived." She settled back more comfortably in her chair, which creaked in protest.

"I am so glad you asked about that," said Angela. "I needed to ask someone who knows the right things to do." Rosalba nodded encouragingly. "You see, I do not know whether a person from another village is allowed to go to mass in the church in Amendillas. I did not want to go there and find that I was doing the wrong thing. What would you advise?"

"Why," said Rosalba, "nobody would question the right of any friend of mine to enter the church." And she glared about her fiercely, as if daring someone to contradict.

Angela poured another glass of wine.

"These are nice," said Rosalba, holding the glass against the sunlight. "Where did you buy them?"

* * * *

After she had gone, three hours later, Domingo and Angela sank exhausted onto the bed. The marmalade cat suddenly appeared at the window and jumped down to join them. "Pprrrrppp!" he said.

"Oh, hello," said Angela. "And where were you when we needed you?"

He rubbed his head against Angela's shoulder, purring softly.

"Cats know when to stay out of the way," mumbled Domingo.

"Do you think I have passed the examination?" she asked, turning on her side to face him with a slight frown of concern.

"You were magnificent," he said, with absolute sincerity. "But who knows what Rosalba thinks? Does it matter?"

"I think it does." She nodded and went on. "I think whatever Rosalba thinks today, the village will think tomorrow."

"Then," said Domingo, "It would be wise to go to mass like Christians." And they both collapsed into helpless laughter.

The marmalade cat smiled.