Domingo's Angel

Chapter 6

Guillermo the mayor sat at the back of the church thinking dark thoughts. There was the young priest, striding about, full of his own self-importance, and here was he, the mayor, sitting at the back, unnoticed. He was consumed with jealousy, not only did he resent the priest's moment of glory. No, he also, and most particularly, resented Rosalba, sitting in the most important place, right at the front, right in the middle, with the queer foreign woman beside her. He could only see the back of her head but somehow it seemed to exude self-satisfaction.

Once again, he thought morosely, I am denied my proper place.

The ceremony was coming to an end. The priest was giving the blessing. Guillermo made his responses automatically, seething inwardly. Then the procession started. First the priest, as was correct, followed by the altar boy, then, inevitably, Rosalba. At the entrance to the church, Rosalba stopped to greet the priest and congratulate him on the magnificence of his mass. You could tell the priest was pleased. He seemed to be almost quivering with delight at being addressed by such an important person.

Rosalba graciously moved on and went down the steps to take up her position outside Pepe's bar, at the head of the table in the shadiest place. The rest of the procession lined up, each anxious to greet the priest and then join Rosalba and the foreign woman. Pepe himself came bounding out and straight down the steps, giving a perfunctory wave and smile to the priest, as he rushed to open the bar. It was going to be a busy afternoon.

Taking his own place in the queue, Guillermo continued to brood. It was all very well for Rosalba to take all the credit for the foreign woman, but who had brought her to the village in the first place? He had.

He had met her in the town hall in Benalvista. He had had business there with the council a matter of important papers to sign and there, at the counter, stood this extraordinary woman. She was making strange barking noises at the girl behind the counter, who was plainly terrified. He hung back, fumbling in his case, consumed with curiosity, slowly becoming aware that she was actually trying to say words, but that they came out in such a peculiar way that it was very hard to understand.

"Forgive me," he said, moving forward and stretching out his hand. "Can I be of service? I am the mayor of Amendillas." The woman swung round, her face alight with relief and pleasure. "Oh, please."

She was the most extraordinary creature he had ever seen enormously tall, with bright orange hair and disturbing pale eyes. He had to suppress an impulse to reel back in horror.

"I am wanting a house," she said. The words were spoken with a strange, guttural sound, but he was sure he had understood. "I am wanting to buy a house."

He smiled. "Well, that is not a problem. I myself have several very beautiful houses for sale."

The woman gave him a delighted smile. Out of the corner of his eye, Guillermo could see the girl behind the counter looking at him with admiration and respect. His chest puffed out with pride and his voice took on an authoritative tone. "I presently have very important business with the council, but I could see you afterwards. There is a bar across the road." He waved towards the open door with a wide, sweeping gesture, almost dropping his papers.

The woman followed his gaze and nodded. "I will wait there for you."

He made his way to the council chambers, his mind feverish with possibilities. She was obviously some kind of foreigner, and probably fabulously rich. He wondered how much she would pay for a house. Possibly as much as a hundred thousand pesetas or even more.

By the time he returned, the price was a hundred and fifty thousand pesetas. She looked up and smiled as he approached. "How far away are the houses?" she asked.

"Not far," he said, vaguely.

By the time they were halfway up the mountain, she had asked the question again several times. "Is it far? How much further is it?" The mules laboured up the slope in the late afternoon heat, the sweat was running down his back as well as collecting around the band of his hat, and Guillermo had to make an effort to reply. "No, not far, not far at all."

But after a while she lapsed into silence and he settled into a kind of uneasy relief.

He turned with quick concern, when he heard a sudden intake of breath behind him, imagining her mule had stumbled, but she had stopped and was gazing around her, an expression of total wonderment in her eyes. "It is beautiful," she said. "Very much beautiful."

Guillermo gave her a satisfied smile and continued riding.

* * * *

By the time they reached the pass, the sun was low in the sky and the mountain was reflecting fire. They took the track to the right, heading towards the first of his casitas. It was not the biggest, but it had good land planted with olives and almonds, and there was a little spring which ran all year.

After twenty minutes or so of track, they breasted a ridge and looked down at the house. It nestled in a little hollow at the head of a steep valley. Ahead of them the view dropped down and then rose again to the smaller coastal range of mountains and beyond them the sea - deep blue, almost purple in the evening light.

She gave a little gasp. "Is that the house?" she asked. "Here? What a wonderful view!"

Guillermo nodded.He was not interested in the view. He used to like to come to this house when he was a child, but not for the view. He liked it because of the spring and the rocks. He and his brothers would take time out from planting or harvesting, or whatever the business was in hand, to splash in the stream and climb the rocks round about. And there were orange trees at the side of the stream and blackberries growing wild in the autumn. Suddenly, he felt a piercing nostalgia for that lost time and wondered if it was such a good idea to sell this place, even for a vast fortune.

The strange woman got down from her mule and stepped lightly around to the front of the house. Standing on the terrace, she took it all in - the mountains, the sea, the little stream, the greygreen leaves of the olives and the lighter, almost yellow-green of the almonds. The nuts were swelling in the branches, fat in their furry cases. The olives were tiny and yellow, but already recognisably olives. Some trees still had the ripe fruit from the previous year, swollen and purple-black. Guillermo watched nervously as she inspected the trees. "I had very little time to pick last year. My job is very taxing," he said.

He couldn't tell whether she had understood him, or even if she had heard. She appeared to be engrossed in the view.

Shrugging his shoulders, he went to the back of the house and removed the key from the stone under the winepress. It was very rusty and so was the lock. He had to grasp the key with both hands and use all his strength to turn it. With a mighty squeal the lock finally gave way and he opened the door by delivering a swift and hefty kick. Nervously, he glanced over his shoulder to see if the woman had noticed, but she seemed totally unconcerned, still looking out to sea, her hand shading her eyes against the fierce glare of the setting sun.

Guillermo looked inside the casita. It smelt musty and seemed to have shrunk. The furniture was so old and battered that it should really be classified as junk, but when he opened the shutters to let the light in, it seemed a little more welcoming and even to have a sort of rustic charm.

A shadow fell across the doorway. She had followed him in. "How much is the price?" she asked.

Taking a deep breath, and mentally sending up a little prayer to the Virgin, he named an unthinkably high figure.

"How much!" she exclaimed.

Damn! "Well, it is very good land," he said," and it has its own stream that runs all year."

She was looking at him with a puzzled expression.

Suddenly, with absolute certainty, he knew she would have paid more. That she had been astonished at how low the price was. Damn!

"Two hundred thousand pesetas," she repeated slowly. Then, "I will buy it, please."

She went back to her mule and began undoing the straps on her saddlebags. He went over to help, and between them they lifted down a heavy wooden chest with brass hinges, set it on the rickety table and she unlocked it. Inside was more money than he had ever seen in his life. Damn! He should have asked for two hundred and fifty thousand.

She carefully counted out the pesetas and handed them to him. He took the money in a kind of trance."Do I need a ..." she paused..."a paper?" He couldn't imagine what she meant. She lifted her book from the saddlebag and searched through the pages. "A receipt," she said, and then, "A title deed."

"Ah," he shrugged his shoulders. "I do not have a deed, but I will order everything correctly tomorrow. I am the mayor!"

And with this grand announcement he got back on his mule and rode away. At the top of the ridge he looked back. The woman was on the flat bit in front of the house, dancing."

"Completely mad," he thought, and then went on to think pleasantly about how he would spend the two hundred thousand pesetas.

* * * *

And now, here she was, sitting in the square next to Rosalba, nodding and smiling as everyone in the village came up to be introduced.Feeling so angry he thought he might actually faint, he stood and waited to congratulate the priest, dreading the moment when he, too, would have to go over to Rosalba and suffer the look of triumph in her eyes.