Domingo's Angel

Chapter 9

By mid-afternoon, the sun was blazing from a harsh blue sky. There was not a scrap of shade except for under doorways, and most people disdained this, choosing to stand in the open by the bar, or dance by the church steps.

Only the old people sat in the doorways, bringing their own chairs from their houses and settling down with glasses of wine to watch the dancing and to gossip. The church bells rang for three o' clock but nobody took any notice. Even the old people would not take a siesta when there was a fiesta happening. There would be time to sleep later. In the early hours of the morning, then they would sleep. Time passed too quickly when you were old and it would be a shame to miss the fun. The old ladies gossiped in small groups and the old men sat in the doorways near the bar, the smoke from their pipes and cigarettes hanging over their heads.

Angela whirled and stamped, her feet moving of their own accord, completely in tune with the rhythm of the dance. From the corner of her eye, she caught Rosalba watching her with approval, and she grinned and carried on. She would not disgrace the venerable lace mantilla and shawl. It was well past lunchtime but she had forgotten to eat and indeed was feeling a little light-headed.

At the bar Domingo muttered drunkenly to Salva the baker. "If I had a stallion like that, I would certainly catch the garland for Angela, and that would make her notice me."

Salva looked at him in some confusion. Surely she had already noticed him? Perhaps they had had an argument.

Guillermo came over, staggering slightly. He was not used to cognac and he was not sure he liked it.

"Domingo!" he cried. "How are things?"

"I am..." Domingo stopped and burped loudly..."I am very well, and you?"

"I have," said Guillermo, leaning over confidentially, but speaking at the top of his voice to make himself heard above the clamour, "had too much cognac." And he suddenly leaned over the bar and vomited into the sink.

"Nice aim," said Pepe in approval, and helped to haul him back into a semi-erect position.

"Sit him in the doorway" said Salva, "and give him water."

Several young men, seeing an opportunity to man-handle the mayor, came forward with offers of help. Between them they manoeuvred Guillermo into a capacious doorway and dropped him unceremoniously onto the step. Guillermo groaned feebly in protest. There followed a heated argument about exactly how he should be placed.

"Lie him down on his side with his head turned, so if he is sick he will not choke and die."

"You don't die from being sick,"

"My mother says you should sit them up and put their head between their legs."

"That's not for being sick, that's for fainting,"

One of the boys brought water, spilling most of it on Guillermo's trousers as he attempted to force some down the mayor's throat.

"Stand back. Give him room," cried Domingo.

The boys stood back and Domingo moved forward-

"Guillermo," he said, leaning over him and speaking very quietly. "It would be a great pity not to race the stallion. Would you like me to run him for you?"

It was not clear whether Guillermo had heard the question, but he grunted something incoherent and Domingo stood up, beaming from ear to ear. "The mayor would like me to race his stallion for him!" he announced and went over to where the horse stood patiently in the sun.

"Come here, old boy," he whispered in his ear, and led him to the water trough. As the horse drank, Domingo caught water in his cupped hands and bathed the horse to cool him down.

Pepe looked at Salva and shrugged his shoulders eloquently. Salva spat on the ground.

* * * *

In the late afternoon, the young men lined up with their horses and mules and prepared to race down the main street.

"What happens?" Angela asked.

"They are trying to catch the garland," said Marcia Belén, indicating a wreath hanging from one of the ribbons strung across the street.

"But it's far too high," said Angela.

"They use a stick."

And indeed, Angela noticed, each man held a long wooden pole, like a lance. There was a loud bang and the horses set off in a confused melee. The street was only wide enough for two at a time and the leading horsemen stood up in the saddle, lunging for the garland.

Angela realised Domingo was ahead. He made a wild swipe for the garland and lost his balance.

"Bugger!" said Domingo, as he slid sideways off the white stallion and rolled into the nearest doorway.

The stallion picked up speed and galloped away down the street, easily outrunning all attempts to detain him.

Angela leapt up in alarm and ran towards Domingo, thrusting between people and horses. "Domingo! Domingo, are you all right?"

Domingo opened his eyes and said indistinctly, "Did I get the garland?"

"No!" cried Limping Pepe, "Happy Juan got it!"

"Bugger," said Domingo and closed his eyes again.

"Let me through!" came an imperious voice, and the crowd parted magically to allow Rosalba to the front.

She stooped in front of Domingo and began to run her fingers over his limbs with a professional air.

"Ouch!" said Domingo.

"Don't be a baby," said Rosalba. "There are no bones broken. Fortunately you are very drunk."

She stood up and placed her hands on her hips, looking down at her recumbent patient with manifest disapproval.

"Take him to the shop." She said, indicating to Salva and Pepe. "And lie him down in the back to sleep it off."

Angela caught Rosalba's eye and raised her eyebrows. "Why 'fortunately'?" she asked.

"Strong drink softens the bones," Rosalba explained, adding cryptically, "amongst other things." She turned to watch Salva and Pepe struggling with a vigorously protesting Domingo and trying to force him in the direction of the shop.

"Right," said Angela. She stood up and immediately felt giddy. She leant against the side of the house and took a deep breath.

"It is not good to have a shock in your condition," said Rosalba. "Sit down in the shade for a while."

"It is just the heat," said Angela weakly.

"As you like," said Rosalba.