Southern Seas (21 page)

‘Are they always like that?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Playing to the gallery.’

‘We all do it, in our own ways. I just wanted to say that I want your complete concentration on the business in hand. I want results as fast as possible. Don’t let anything—or anyone—sidetrack you.’

‘I have an appointment with your daughter in five minutes.’

‘That’s what I meant. Among other things.’

‘It’s not as if I go looking her out.’

‘There are many ways of looking and not looking, but only one way of avoiding. I expect a report on this affair every forty-eight hours.’

‘Your daughter’s affair?’

‘Don’t play the fool.’

Yes was waiting him on a chair set slightly back from the table. She held her knees tensed together, and was gripping the chair as if in expectation of a release signal. Carvalho’s appearance was the signal, and she stood up. Hesitating for a moment, she rushed forward and kissed him on the cheek. Carvalho took her by the arm, disengaged himself and sat her at the table.

‘At last!’ she said, looking at him as if he was newly home from the wars.

‘I’ve just left your mother and her partners.’

‘How ghastly!’

‘That’s not the half of it. Your mother suspects me of being a corrupter of minors intent on kidnapping you for the white slave trade.’

‘And aren’t you?’

‘Not in the least. I think we should get a few things very clear. In about a week’s time, my job with your mother will be finished.
I’ll deliver her my report, pick up my cheque and move on to another case, if one turns up. You and I will not be seeing each other after that. Not even keeping in touch. If you like the idea of going to bed with me now and again, during the next week, then that’s fine. But that’s as far as it goes. Don’t build your hopes for anything in the future. It’s not my job to keep sentimental teenagers company.’

‘One week. Just one week. Let me live it with you.’

‘I can see that nothing serious has ever happened to you.’

‘Well, it’s not my fault if nothing serious has ever happened to me, as you put it. Do I have to have suffered from birth for you to take me seriously? Just a week. I’ll leave you alone after that, I swear it.’

She had taken Carvalho’s hand on the table, and the waiter had to cough in order to draw her attention back to the menu.

‘Anything.’

‘You can’t order just anything in a Chinese restaurant.’

‘You order, then.’

Carvalho ordered up a portion of fried rice, two spring rolls, abalone in sauce, king prawns and veal in oyster sauce. Yes rested her chin on her left hand as she nibbled at the meal. Carvalho mastered the indignation he always felt when eating in the company of someone with no appetite. His satiated hunger made up for Yes’s lack of interest.

‘My mother wants to send me back to London.’

‘Sounds like an excellent idea.’

‘Why? I already know English, and the country too. She wants me to go so as to get me out of the way. Everything’s working out fine for her. My brother in Bali isn’t causing any problems; he spends less money there than he would here, and he’s not forever sticking his nose in the business. The other two spend all day on their motorbikes, and only go to lectures under protest. The little one is completely under her thumb. I’m the only one who’s a nuisance to her, just like my father was.’

Carvalho went on eating as if the conversation was passing over his head.

‘She killed him.’

Carvalho began to chew more slowly.

‘I can feel him. He’s here, you know.’

Carvalho’s chewing resumed its normal rhythm.

‘It’s a hideous family. My eldest brother got sick of it and just cleared off.’

‘What was he sick of?’

‘I don’t know. He left while I was in England, but he must have been sick to death of her. Always the prima donna, always looking down on people. She treated my father like that too. She never forgave him his affairs, and never had the courage to have any herself. Do you know why? Because then she’d have had to forgive my father. No. She went on playing the virtuous woman so that she could feel morally superior to him. My father was a gentle and imaginative man.’

‘The king prawns are excellent.’

‘He learned to play the piano without ever being taught, and he played it as well as me. In fact, I’d say that he played it better.’

‘Your father was as much of an egotist as any other human being. He lived his life—that’s all.’

‘That’s not true. You can’t go through life thinking that everyone’s an egotist, that everyone’s a shit.’

‘I’ve managed to get through life with precisely that point of view. And now I’m convinced of it.’

‘Am I a shit?’

‘You will be. No doubt about it.’

‘What about the people you’ve loved? Have they been shits too?’

‘Now there’s a trap. It’s a basic human impulse to be kind towards people who are kind to us. It’s an unwritten contract, but it’s a contract all the same. We are accustomed to living life as
if oblivious to the fact that everyone and everything is shit. The more intelligent people are, the less you’re inclined to forget them. But I’ve never known anyone really intelligent to get very close to other people or confide in them. At most, he feels sorry for them. That’s a feeling I can understand.’

‘But not all people have to be either evil-minded or crippled. Is that the only distinction you make?’

‘There are also idiots and sadists.’

‘Is that all?’

‘And rich and poor. And New Yorkers and Londoners.’

‘What if you had a child? What would you think of him?’

‘While he was small and helpless, I’d feel sorry for him. When he was your age, I’d start keeping a careful eye on him, watching for that moment when the young victim undergoes his metamorphosis and takes the first step to becoming an inhuman wretch. And when he’d become an inhuman wretch, I’d try to see as little as possible of him. If he was a successful inhuman wretch, he wouldn’t need my help. If he turned out to be a failure, he would pay back with interest any help that I might give him. He’d pay it in the form of the colossal satisfaction that I’d feel in continuing to protect him.’

‘You ought to get yourself sterilized.’

‘No need. I take care of that myself. The first thing I expect from my sleeping partners is evidence that they have a coil or diaphragm, or are taking the pill. If I’m not satisfied, I put on a sheath. I always carry a packet in my pocket. I buy them at La Pajarita, a rubber shop on Calle Riera Baja. That’s where I first started buying them, and that’s where I’ll carry on doing so. I’m a very routine sort of person. Do you want a dessert?’

‘No.’

‘Me neither. I save three hundred and fifty or four hundred calories like that. Planas has infected me with his diet mania.’

Yes screwed up her nose.

‘You’re not too keen on Planas?’

‘Not at all. He’s the opposite of my father. Rigid, cold, calculating.’

‘And the Marquess of Munt?’

‘Like something out of an opera.’

‘You surprise me. You’re very hard on other people.’

‘They’re the ones who hemmed my father in and surrounded him with mediocrity.’

‘Your father had started looking for girlfriends not a lot older than you.’

‘So what? He didn’t have to pay them, did he? They must have seen something in him. You don’t know how happy that makes me.’

‘Who or what killed your father?’

‘They all did. My mother, Planas, the marquess, Lita Vilardell … He was dying of disgust, just like me.’

‘That could have been your mother saying that.’

‘No. She’s happy now. Everyone sings her praises. All the local gossip says how strong she is, how intelligent. And how she’s doing better than her husband! Of course she’s doing better. There’s nothing to distract her. She’s like a hunter obsessed with her prey. She sees everything in black and white. She’s forgotten how to relax.’

She took the hand in which Carvalho was holding his cigar, and cigar ash fell into his steaming cup of jasmine tea.

‘Let me come to your house. Just for one day. Today.’

‘You’re really obsessed with my house!’

‘It’s a wonderful house. It’s the first place I’ve seen in which my mother would feel really uncomfortable.’

‘It’s obvious you’ve never been in one of the homes that your father built for other people. I’ll expect you tonight at my place. Make it late!’

‘It’s you! I don’t believe it! Must be Christmas! What an honour.’ Charo was in the middle of putting on her make-up, and she barely gave him the chance to cross the threshold. ‘I believe I know you from somewhere.’

‘Are you going to let me in or not?’

‘Who can stop the great Pepe Carvalho from entering? Consumed with a burning impatience, she waited for the gentleman to return from his expedition to the South Pole. Are there a lot of bears at the Pole?’

Carvalho re-established himself in the familiar surroundings with a series of routine, habit-formed movements. He left his jacket on the usual chair, dropped into a corner of the usual sofa, and automatically reached for the ashtray.

‘It’s a fortnight since these walls last had the pleasure of your excellency’s company. They must have made him pope, I thought, what with all the popes that are dying nowadays. After all, my Pepe is a Jesuit, isn’t he.’

‘Charo …’

‘Jesuit is an understatement. A mega-Jesuit. If Charo’s needed, then she’s supposed to jump. If Charo’s not needed, then she can just be dumped. But Charo always has to make herself available, for whenever it suits his lordship. I tell you, Pepe, I’ve had enough. More than enough.’

‘Either the scene ends here, or I’m off.’

With her legs astride and her arms akimbo, Charo closed her eyes and shook her head. Anger was seething in her small face, whitened by the foundation cream.

‘Go back where you came from! I suppose it’s all my fault, eh? I suppose I’m the imbecile?’

Carvalho stood up, took his jacket and walked towards the door.

‘And now he’s off. The gentleman can’t be told a few home truths, because the gentleman gets offended. A woman can’t get offended. Where are you going? You think you can leave, do you? Stay where you are!’

The woman outflanked him and locked the door. Then she burst out crying and turned to Carvalho for protection. In spite of the slowness with which he raised his arms, she fell into them and continued crying on his chest.

‘I’m so lonely, Pepiño! Lonely! I start imagining things, and they scare me. Pepe, listen to me. You’ve grown tired of me because I’m a whore. I always knew it wouldn’t last.’

‘Charo, we’ve spent eight years like this.’

‘But it’s never been as bad as lately. You’re having an affair with someone else. I can see it.’

‘I’ve always had affairs with someone else.’

‘Who is she? Why do you need other women? I have to go with other men to eat, to live, but you don’t.’

‘Come on, Charo, cut this out. If I’d known you’d be like this, I wouldn’t have come. I’m in the middle of a difficult case. I have to move around a lot.’

‘You didn’t sleep at home last night.’

‘No.’

‘Because of an affair?’

‘No. I went to sleep in a tomb.’

‘In a tomb?’

‘The corpse was away.’

‘You’re lying to me, Pepe.’

She laughed amid her tears. Pepe disentangled himself and made for the door.

‘I came to fix something up for next weekend. But if you don’t fancy it, forget it.’

‘Me? A whole weekend? What did you have in mind?’

‘I’ve heard of a restaurant in La Cerdanya that’s been opened by a retired couple. She cooks very well. We could make a little
trip at the same time. To France, maybe. Buy some cheese, pâté …’

‘And I could buy some cream for these spots that I’ve started getting. Look, Pepe, look how ugly I am. Look at these spots.’

‘I’ll call you at midday on Friday. We could leave in the evening.’

‘But I have to work on Friday evenings.’

‘Well, Saturday morning then.’

‘No, Pepe. Friday. To hell with the work.’

She kissed him on the mouth, as if she were drinking him, and only detached her body at the last moment. The images of the Stuart widow and her daughter erased that of Charo in Carvalho’s mind. In the street, whores were already trawling for customers at an hour that would have been unthinkable in times of prosperity. That’s the power of market forces! An old whore, steeped in alcohols of every vintage, stood beside a younger one who, in a fortnight’s apprenticeship, had learned not to mourn the passing of her lost moral prejudices. There was more cynicism in the eyes of the younger woman. ‘You’ll have a good time with me. I fancy you, you know. Let’s screw, eh?’ The part-time whore, fresh from doing the dishes at home, glancing at her watch in case she’s late home to cook for her husband and children. She tries to appear nonchalant by gazing into shop windows in which there is nothing to see.

He had first met Charo in front of a shop displaying travel goods. The girl had started on full-time prostitution in Venezuela, and was now a self-employed call girl working from the top floor of a new house in the middle of the Barrio Chino. Carvalho was drunk at the time, and had asked her how much she charged. She said he must be mistaken. ‘If I’ve made a mistake, then I’m willing to pay a lot more.’ He then saw for the first time the flat that would often be his home until seven in the evening—the hour when Charo began to receive her regular customers. ‘Wouldn’t you be better off with a flat in a smarter part of town?’ No. The rents would be higher, and anyway her customers liked the
mixture of old-style squalor and modern sophistication. Barrio Chino plus a phone. ‘Ring next time. I don’t like doing business in the street. I’m not a street-walker and never have been.’