Domingo's Angel

Chapter 10

Domingo woke up in the middle of the night. He had dreadful pains in his head and his stomach was churning alarmingly. He realised he was very seriously ill and probably dying.

"Angela," he whispered hoarsely to the dark shape beside him, but she didn't stir.

To his horror, he realised that he was about to be sick. He slid from the bed and crawled outside. He made it as far as the edge of the terrace and was violently and noisily sick under the prickly pears. What came up was a dark liquid, almost black in the moonlight, certainly blood.

"Oh, God," he moaned, rolling on his back and looking up at the stars.

And there was Angela, looking more like an angel than ever in her flimsy white night-gown. She was carrying a water jug.

"Here," she said, offering it to him.

"Angela," he whispered, "I believe I am dying."

"No," said Angela, smiling in the moonlight. "You just have a hangover."

"But Angela, I am coughing blood."

Angela looked in some alarm at the dark pool under the prickly pears.

"That is just red wine," she said. But her voice sounded uncertain and she knelt down beside Domingo and took him in her arms, feeding him from the water jug as if he were a baby.

"There," she said. "You will feel better soon. Go and wash your face in the spring and I will make you something to help."

Domingo made his way unsteadily to the spring, and as he went, he could hear Angela clattering in the house, mixing something in a bowl with a fork.

* * * *

"What is it?" he asked, peering suspiciously into the glass. Inside was a yellowish brown liquid.

"Never mind. Just drink it," said Angela. "It works. I promise. I used to make it for my dad."

Domingo looked up at her with a lost puppy expression. "But, Angela, I don't want to."

"Very well," said Angela. "It is mostly egg, with a savoury sauce. Drink it."

Domingo closed his eyes and shuddered. His stomach churned as the liquid slid down his throat, and for a moment he thought he was going to be sick again, but his stomach settled down and, with an enormous effort, he drained the glass.

Oddly, he began to feel better almost immediately.

"My dad was a sailor," said Angela, settling down on the bed beside him, "and every time he came home on leave he always got very drunk on his first night back. My mother used to make him this drink. And sometimes, when I was a bit older, she used to let me do it."

Domingo wasn't listening. He had turned over on his side and was already fast asleep.

* * * *

He woke up to the sound of Angela making coffee in the other room. He felt marvellous.

"Angel, you are an angel, "he shouted, laughing at his own joke. "I feel marvellous."

Angela peeped round the doorway, smiling.

"I told you it would work, "she said. Then, with a little frown, "But have you no other aches and pains from falling off the horse?"

Domingo looked down at himself.

"There is a bruise here," he said, indicating a very small discoloration at the top of his left arm, where his shoulder had struck the doorway.

Angela came up and kissed the place.

"And here," said Domingo, indicating a place on his ribs.

Angela couldn't see any bruise, but she kissed the place anyway.

"And here."

"Domingo, you're just rude!" said Angela, laughing.

"Come here, "said Domingo, reaching up and pulling her down on top of him.

"The coffee"

"It will keep. I will bring you a cup in bed later".

* * * *

Later, sitting up in bed sipping her coffee, she said, with a carefully casual air, "What do you think of children, Domingo?"

Domingo stared at her, baffled.

"I mean, do you like children?"

"Of course I like children. I love children! Everybody loves children. Do you think that I am some kind of monster that does not love children?"

He was waving his arms about to emphasise his point, and Angela hastily put her coffee down for fear that he would knock it out of her hand.

"No," she said. "I mean, your own children. Would you like to have children of your own?"

Domingo leapt out of bed and began striding around the room.

"Of course I will have children," he cried, striking his hand against his chest. "I will have many fine sons. I will teach them everything I know. We will do the harvest together."

He caught Angela's eye. She was laughing at him silently, her shoulders shaking.

"Angela?" said Domingo, his eyes wide with wonder.

The smile dropped from Angela's face and she bit her bottom lip. She gave a small, frightened nod.

"You are pregnant!" shouted Domingo. "Hurrah!"

He leapt straight up in the air and swung from the roof-beam, which creaked alarmingly, then dropped down and ran back to the bed.

"Now you must marry me," he cried. "We will be married and you will never leave me, even though I am only a poor goatherd."

Then he unexpectedly burst into tears. "Oh, Angela," he sobbed, laying his head against her breast. "I was so afraid."

Angela hugged him and rocked him like a baby.

"Limping Pepe," he said between sobs, "said that you would leave me as soon as you noticed how ugly I was, because you are rich and I am only a goatherd."

Angela took his face between her hands and looked into his eyes.

"Domingo," she said, with complete sincerity. "You are the most beautiful man I have ever seen."

Then she turned her head away and bit her lip again.

"And anyway, it's not my money" she hesitated, then turned back to look at him. "Domingo," she said, in a fearful whisper, as if she thought they might be overheard. "I stole the money."

"What!"cried Domingo.