Never an Empire Read online

‘Aren’t you going to buy anything?’

  ‘No, I don’t like sour things. I only bought them as a treat for someone I know.’

  The woman looked down at her fruit.

  ‘They’re not to everyone’s taste. Won’t you buy some for your friend? My son and I walked a long way to get them here.’

  Maria picked up half a dozen of the small, green fruit, haggled for a moment then paid and went on her way. Instead of strolling and stopping to talk and buy, she hurried, leaving the market with her basket not even half full. She walked quickly back to the church, covered her head, and went in. Morning Mass and Confessions were long over and the church was empty except for a young man in one of the pews, whose head was bent in prayer.

  Maria left her basket beside the door, genuflected to the altar, then moved into the pew where the young man knelt. He looked round, made the sign of the cross and sat up.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I have a report to make. Things have been happening, unusual things. There is a young woman who managed to wheedle her way into the house. She has slept with the priest.’

  She waited in case the young man wanted to make any comment or ask a question.

  ‘Slept with the priest, yes, go on.’

  ‘She told me she had been sent by her village. That they wanted her to try and get the priest to go there.’

  He turned this time and looked at her.

  ‘For what reason?’

  ‘There hasn’t been a priest in their village for many years.’

  ‘To say Mass, baptise, and marry?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Nothing more?’

  ‘That is what she told me.’

  ‘And you helped her?’

  ‘It didn’t seem unreasonable. She gave him something so he should give her something.’

  ‘And he went?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘With a police escort?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did he ask for the escort?’

  ‘No, not that I know of. In fact I’m sure he didn’t.’

  ‘But he got one anyway.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And a lieutenant from our army was waiting?’

  ‘We didn’t know that at first, but the next morning he was there and the policemen were taken. The woman who slept with the priest was the lieutenant’s wife.’

  That got a surprised look.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes. She was at his side when he presented himself to the priest. They had their child with them.’

  ‘I see. What else?’

  ‘Then there has been an American.’

  Another surprised look.

  ‘An American? What sort of American?’

  ‘He said he was a reporter from New York.’ And slowly, carefully, and as accurately as she could, Maria told him about the American’s visit and what had passed between him and Father Enrique. She finished with Carmen’s return and her taking up residence in the house once more.

  ‘She doesn’t like me and I don’t make it pleasant for her but she bites her tongue. It’s not easy for her to do that, I can see, she’s a cat and she’d prefer to claw but she wants Father Enrique to take her back. She seems to want it very much. Too much.’

  ‘Yes. How did the priest explain having her there in the first place?’

  ‘He didn’t, I did. I told people she was the daughter of my cousin who has come from her village to stay with me and look for work. I said her father’s sick and her family need the money for medicine. While she’s looking she’s helping me out.’

  ‘And people accept that?’

  ‘He’s our priest, a good priest; people want him to stay. Why make trouble for him? If I say my cousin has a pretty daughter who needs to find work and lives in the house why should they bother if I’m telling the truth or not?’

  ‘But you’re worried?’

  ‘Too many things, too quickly, connected but not connected and all to do with the woman. I thought the general should know.’

  ‘Yes, I agree. The general needs to know.’

  ‘Do you know this lieutenant?’

  ‘I know of him. Lately we’ve all come to know of him. He’s very close to the general since he got our men back.’

  ‘Is there anything else? Think carefully.’

  ‘No, I don’t think so.’

  The young man then asked Maria a few more questions which she answered as best she could. Neither looked round while they were talking so neither noticed a face look round the church door and watch them. It was Carmen’s face.

  When Maria arrived back in her kitchen Carmen was sitting at the table. Maria ignored her and put her basket on the table. She took out the pahos and threw them into the waste bin.

  ‘What are you doing with those?’

  ‘Nothing but if you want them you can get them out of the bin. I suppose it’s what you’re used to where you come from. We do better here.’

  She then put away the rest of her shopping and set about preparing Father Enrique’s lunch.

  ‘Your basket didn’t have much in it. Were you in a hurry today? Did you get everything you wanted?’

  Maria kept on with what she was doing.

  ‘I got all that was needed.’

  ‘Can I go to the market and get anything?’

  The offer wasn’t given with any real enthusiasm and it was received with less.

  ‘No. I’ve told you before this is my kitchen; sit in it if you want, get coffee when you want, but leave everything else to me.’

  Carmen stood up.

  ‘I’ll get out of your way then and go for a walk.’

  ‘Go wherever you like.’

  Carmen left the kitchen, looked up at the clock in the church tower, and then set off.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  About a quarter of an hour after leaving the house Carmen arrived at the office of the chief of police where she gave her name and was told to sit and wait. After half an hour a policeman came to her and she was taken up to the chief of police’s office. The American was sitting behind the desk. No one else was there. He gestured to a seat opposite him and Carmen sat down.

  ‘How’s it going with the priest?’

  ‘Well enough.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘For him, that is, not for me.’

  ‘And what’s the problem for you?’

  ‘When he’s in the house his eyes follow me everywhere. He says nothing but I know what he’s thinking. All day he’s correct and proper, like a saint who could never stoop to any sin. At night of course it’s a different story. Once the housekeeper has gone to bed I go to him. Every night he needs his Carmen. It’s hard work.’

  The American gave her a wide grin.

  ‘Not enjoying it?’

  ‘As soon as my legs are apart he’s inside pushing and grunting. Sometimes I think he’s so busy that he’s forgotten it’s me under him: it could be anyone, even that cow of a housekeeper. Then, when he’s finished, he rolls off and lies there and says nothing. When I hear from his breathing that he’s asleep I get up and leave and the next night we begin all over again; so, no, I’m not enjoying it.’

  ‘And the housekeeper, Maria?’

  ‘She doesn’t like having me there and she shows it in all sorts of small ways. What she needs is a good slap in the face.’

  ‘But you won’t give her one.’

  ‘No, I won’t.’

  ‘Well, it sounds to me like you’re nicely settled. A big house, plenty of food,’ he smiled at her, ‘soft beds.’ Carmen gave him a sour look. ‘But maybe you deserve a rest from all that hard work on your back. Tell the priest that you want to go and see your daughter and while you’re there get a message to your husband. I don’t want him to try too hard; Sakay’s no fool and he’ll catch on straight away if he’s hurried, but tell him I need progress. If I can do anything to help let me know.’ The American sat back and folded his hands over his stomach. ‘That’s all, you can go, and next t
ime wait until I send for you. You work for me, not the other way round. Try to remember that.’

  But Carmen stayed seated.

  ‘There’s something else. It might be important, that’s why I came.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Maria met someone in the church, a young man.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Today, just before I left and came here to meet you.’

  ‘How did you know about it?’

  ‘I didn’t. I had nothing to do so I went out into the square.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I wanted to be out of the house. Enrique might have come back early for his lunch and I didn’t want him coming into the kitchen with his silly excuses and looking at me so I went out.’

  ‘And you saw them meet?’

  ‘No, I saw her go into church. She seemed to be in a hurry and I was curious. I looked inside and she was sitting next to a young man. They were talking.’

  ‘Did either of them see you?’

  ‘No. I didn’t stay long; all I wanted was to see what she was up to.’

  ‘Was there anyone else there?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Maybe it was nothing.’

  ‘Perhaps, but when she came into the kitchen her basket had hardly anything in it: almost empty except for some onions, bread, and some fruit. Usually it’s full when she comes back from the market. The other odd thing is that she’d come back earlier than she normally does so it could be that she’d had to leave the shopping to meet the man. When she came in she took the pahos out of her basket and threw them away. Why buy pahos just to throw them away?’

  ‘What are pahos?’

  ‘A sour fruit. You brine them, then cook them. Poor people’s food.’

  The American gave the matter some thought. The idea of Maria having quiet meetings disturbed him. This wasn’t the time to find there was someone in the priest’s house who might be working for Sakay. He stood up and went to the door, opened it, and shouted. A minute later a sergeant came.

  ‘Do you know the market?’

  ‘How do you mean, know the market?’

  ‘If someone was selling,’ he turned, ‘what are the things called?’

  ‘Pahos.’

  ‘If someone sold pahos in the market could you find them in a hurry?’

  ‘Yes, it wouldn’t be difficult to find them.’

  ‘Then get three men and go and look. If there’s more than one seller leave a man with each.’

  ‘To keep watch, nothing else?’

  ‘Just keep watch. If the seller is a young man,’ he paused, ‘no, the seller won’t be a young man. He wouldn’t have left his stall. I’m on the lookout for a young man.’ He turned again to Carmen. ‘How was he dressed, what did he look like?’

  ‘I only saw his back.’

  ‘Then describe his back.’

  ‘Long hair, below the shoulder, rough, grey shirt, broad shoulders. That’s all I could see.’

  The American turned back to the sergeant.

  ‘You heard that?’ The sergeant nodded. ‘Better make it five men. If you find anyone who might be this man where pahos are being sold they’re to be watched. Is there somewhere in the market you could leave a man so I could find him?’

  ‘By the fountain.’

  ‘Good, then get going.’ The American closed the door and came back to his chair and sat down. ‘Well done, Carmen.’ He reached inside his jacket, pulled out his wallet, took out a note, and pushed them across the desk. ‘Buy yourself something nice.’

  Carmen almost snatched it up. She’d seen the denomination; it was a lot of money.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘That’s nothing to what you’ll get if all this turns out like I want. You and your husband won’t regret helping us, believe me.’

  Carmen had pushed the notes into the top of her dress.

  ‘I believe you.’

  ‘Good. Now get out; I have work to do.’

  It was mid-afternoon when Carmen returned. Maria was outside at the washing tub. She stopped as Carmen walked up to her. She was swinging a large, brown paper parcel tied with string in one hand and had a big smile on her face.

  ‘What have you got there?’

  ‘A dress. A brand new dress.’

  Maria returned to the contents of the tub.

  ‘Where did you steal that from?’

  ‘I didn’t steal it. I bought it.’

  ‘And what did you use for money?’

  Carmen had been looking forward to showing off her purchase to Maria. There was no real fun in having a beautiful new dress if there was no one to show it off to. She had hoped to get into the house, change into it, and let it come as a surprise. No, not a surprise, a shock. She wanted to see the look on Maria’s face when she saw it. Now it was all going wrong.

  ‘I have money.’

  ‘Oh yes. Been bending over in some side alley and lifting your skirts up?’

  ‘That’s a lie. A friend gave me the money.’

  Maria stopped her washing and looked at her. Carmen, too late, regretted her words.

  ‘What friend? Who do you know in San Juan?’

  ‘He’s not from San Juan.’

  ‘And why did he give you money?’

  Carmen looked at her straight in the eyes. She was all right now. All she had to do was tell a story. She liked telling stories; she was good at it.

  ‘He was a friend of my father. They were in business together when they were younger. He was in these parts and went to my village. He wanted to see me. They told him I was here so he came when you were out and we arranged to meet and have coffee in the hotel.

  ‘I thought you said you were going for a walk.’

  ‘Why should I tell you my business? I bet you have enough secrets of your own.’ Her manner changed slightly, and not for the better. ‘Maybe you meet people sometimes and don’t want anybody to know about it.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Nothing, just that I didn’t want anyone to know my father’s friend was visiting me. Everyone needs a bit of privacy, something of their own.’

  Maria still didn’t like it but the choice was to ask Carmen straight out if she’d seen her talking in the church or leave it alone. Asking was no good because she was pretty sure Carmen would lie, so she left it alone.

  ‘In business together where?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘This man and your father. What sort of business?’

  Carmen managed a smile. Maria might not believe her story but she had no way to disprove it.

  ‘It was a printing business.’

  ‘Oh yes. Then if your father was in the printing business how come you came to live in that God forsaken village? Did your father sell up and retire there for his health?’

  ‘He became ill. He had to give up the work. He sold the business but lost the money gambling and we became poor.’ As the words came the story seemed to grow of its own accord in her head. ‘Then he died and we had to move away. But my father’s friend was very fond of me, treated me like a daughter. He offered to take me into his house as his own child but I could not take charity, not even from him. I was too proud.’

  Carmen would have been happy to go on. She liked the story. But Maria had heard enough and the washing wouldn’t do itself.

  ‘But you’re not too proud to take Father Enrique’s charity.’

  ‘It’s not charity. He loves me.’

  That got a laugh.

  ‘He doesn’t know what love is. He barely knows what sex is. He’s like a child with a new toy.’ She paused from her struggle with the mass of wet clothes and soapy water. ‘I give you three more weeks before he begins to get tired of you and then what will you do?’

  Carmen walked past her. She wanted to put on her new dress and be wearing it when Enrique came home. He would appreciate it.

  ‘I’m not a toy and Enrique’s not a child. He won’t get tired of me, I’ll see to that. Some of us aren’t rough old cows and can p
lease a man in other ways than washing their shirts and cooking their meals with their coarse, rough hands. Some of us have hands that can do other things.’

  And before Maria could reply Carmen was gone into the house, laughing.

  Maria took her hands out of the tub and wiped them on her damp apron. She looked in at the doorway to make sure Carmen had gone, then looked at her hands. They weren’t so rough, not that it mattered one way or another. What mattered was that Carmen had got enough money for a new dress somewhere. Some man must have given it to her and men gave money like that only for one reason and it wasn’t because they were friends of your father. If that’s the way things were going there’d be trouble. If the little bitch was going whoring in her spare time she’d have to go and go quickly, but Father Enrique couldn’t know. It was going to be a problem. But she’d find a way and then things could go back to what they had been and everything would settle down again, just as it had been before.

  Father Enrique was late and when he finally came home for his evening meal and it was clear at once that he was upset, almost one might say distressed. He completely failed to notice the new dress Carmen was wearing and was not at all interested in what Maria was trying to say to him about his food.

  ‘A terrible thing has happened. Two people killed just outside of town, robbed and murdered. The police came for me to give them the last rites but they had both been dead for too long. I said some prayers …’

  And there his voice petered out.

  Maria turned to Carmen.

  ‘Go into the kitchen. There’s a bottle of brandy in the cupboard. Pour a good glass and bring it.’

  Carmen left and Maria sat down at the table.

  ‘Tell me about it. Do you know who they were?’

  ‘No. A woman and a man. They might have been mother and son. They had both been shot.’ He looked at her with shock in his eyes. ‘I have seen dead people, Maria. Death is no stranger to me. A priest must accept death, the sick, the old, even the young. But this, this was different, horrible. They had both been shot, twice. Once in the body and once in the head.’

  His face went into his hands. Carmen came in and put a glass on the table and stood waiting. Maria took it and pushed it towards him.

  ‘Drink this, Father, it will do you good.’ Father Enrique looked down at the glass then slowly picked it up and took a sip. ‘You didn’t know them? Were they from the town?’