Dona Nicanora's Hat Shop (15 page)

‘I don't know. I don't know anything about these matters,' Don Bosco said forlornly.

‘Well, what do you think, doctor? You're a young man. What colour shirts are they wearing in the city these days?'

‘All sorts of colours,' replied Arturo.

‘Well what colour do you think would suit our good friend the barber here?'

‘I don't know,' replied Arturo, uncertain why in his role as doctor he should suddenly be called upon to dispense fashion advice. ‘Maybe blue. Men are wearing everything, even pink. Different-coloured shirts, shirts with jeans, you can get away with anything really.'

‘I'm not going to Sunday lunch in a pink shirt,' Don Bosco said indignantly.

‘Well, blue then,' said Teofelo with finality. ‘We'll set off early tomorrow morning and find you the finest blue shirt in the market, and a new pair of trousers to go with it.'

‘But what do you think it's all about?' Don Bosco asked. ‘Why now, why after all these years does she suddenly want to make amends?'

‘I don't know,' said Teofelo, ‘but I'm not sure I trust her. Perhaps she's planning something.'

‘You shouldn't judge her so harshly,' said Don Bosco. ‘She's a good woman, Teofelo – a little impetuous, maybe, but a good-hearted woman.'

‘Take care, that's all I am saying,' Teofelo said. ‘Look what she did to you, Bosco. You're a forgiving man, but let's face it, she ruined your life.'

‘All right, all right,' said Don Bosco, not wanting to pursue the subject further.

‘Ernesto has asked
me
to lunch on Sunday as well,' Arturo said, suddenly remembering the invitation. All three men looked up at him. ‘But I don't think I'll go,' he added, realising the inappropriateness of his announcement.

‘You see,' said Teofelo eventually. ‘She is planning something.'

‘No,' said Arturo quickly. ‘It was Ernesto's idea to invite me to lunch, but I won't go. I didn't realise that his mother had another guest.'

‘It's all right, doctor,' said Don Bosco after a while, and he reached out to shake Arturo's hand. ‘You can be my chaperone.'

A small, fat, balding man in a blue-and-pink striped shirt and a pair of tight jeans stood staring at himself in a mirror.

‘I can't wear this,' he said at last.

‘Why not?' said Teofelo exasperated. ‘We've been through this already. They were a good price and it's all they had. Anyway, you don't have any choice, because you don't have anything else. You can either wear these or your old barber's shirt and trousers, now stained with my blood, I might add. You want to show her you're making an effort, don't you?'

‘Yes, making an effort. Not deranged,' Don Bosco replied.

‘It's a new look,' said Julio without too much conviction. ‘You just need to get used to it, Bosco.'

‘But do I look dignified?' Don Bosco asked.

‘Let's say modern rather than dignified,' said Teofelo. ‘Anyway you've been dignified all your life and where has that got you? Think of this as a new stage, a new phase in your life. You're a modern man now.' Don Bosco looked at himself again in the mirror.

‘Come on, Bosco,' said Julio impatiently. ‘You'll need to make
up your mind soon. The doctor will be here in a minute,' and his friends left him to his indecision until the doctor arrived ten minutes later, wearing his smart white shirt and black trousers.

‘What do you think, doctor?' Don Bosco asked timidly. Arturo stood open-mouthed.

‘It's,' he began, ‘you … it's … you look fine, just fine,' he stammered. ‘Different, but just fine.'

Don Bosco sighed with relief at the doctor's approval, picked up the small bunch of flowers he had prepared as a thank-you gift for Nicanora, and left with the doctor for his lunch appointment.

The raised voices in Nicanora's house could be heard from the end of the street.

‘
Now
you tell me,' Nicanora screamed at Ernesto. ‘Now you tell me. Why today? Why did you decide to invite him today? He's been here for weeks. You could have invited him any time and you decide to invite him today.'

‘You didn't tell me you were inviting Don Bosco,' Ernesto shouted back. ‘You just asked me to find a plump chicken for Sunday lunch, so I thought it would be a good day to invite him to eat with us.'

‘I don't need to tell you who I'm inviting to eat in my house,' Nicanora replied. ‘And what have you got that on for?' she continued, turning her attention to Isabela, who had just walked into the kitchen wearing a low-cut sleeveless dress and displaying bright red nail varnish on her toes. ‘You look like a hussy.'

‘I want to make a good impression on the doctor,' Isabela said provocatively.

‘Well, you can make a good impression by putting an apron on to cover yourself up and helping me.'

Nena had managed to escape the morning's hysteria by claiming that she had important books to read. She had taken herself off to find a quiet corner in the plaza from where she could observe the Gringito's meditations.

‘Should I invite him to lunch as well?' she asked as she left the house in pursuit of her friend.

‘You can invite the whole neighbourhood for all I care,' Nicanora replied, which Nena took to be an open invitation. The noise in the house had even driven Lucho from the yard. He had taken up his station at the end of the street in anticipation of the arrival of the guests.

‘You had better make sure the chicken is well cooked,' Isabela said. ‘You don't want to poison the doctor.'

‘Why should I poison him? When have I ever poisoned anyone? And anyway it's been cooking for hours. Don't just stand there, you can give me a hand with preparing the table. They'll be here soon and nothing is ready.'

‘So why have you invited Don Bosco?' Isabela asked, trying to provoke her mother again.

‘He's an old friend. Do I need to have a reason every time I invite an old friend to lunch?'

‘But you never invite anyone to lunch. And you have never invited
him
before. I was just wondering why.'

‘Never you mind,' Nicanora snapped. ‘And be polite to our guests. Don't you start teasing that poor young doctor.'

‘Did you hear that?' Nicanora asked suddenly, turning to Ernesto as the distant sound of a dog snarling followed by a faint voice calling, ‘Nicanora, are you there?' drifted into the kitchen.

‘Did I hear what?'

‘Nicanora, are you there? Could you come and get us?' the voice floated in on the breeze again.

‘That,' replied Nicanora. ‘Someone is calling,' and she ran into the street to find the source of the anguish. The doctor and a man in a blue-and-pink striped shirt stood with their backs against the wall of the neighbour's house. Lucho had his paws up against the stripy man's belly and was letting out a deep guttural growl at the sign of any movement. A small bunch of white flowers lay on the ground beside the dog, their petals cast like confetti around the man's feet.

‘Get down at once,' Nicanora shouted, clapping her hands and aiming a small stone at Lucho's head, hitting it with expert precision. Lucho let out one last snarl to make it clear that he was still the boss and then, releasing Don Bosco, rolled over at his feet in the anticipation that his victim might now care to tickle his tummy. Don Bosco bent down to pick up what was left of the flowers, trying to dust the muddy paw marks off his new shirt at the same time. Nicanora stood staring at him.

‘I didn't recognise you,' she said at last. ‘You look, um, different.'

‘It's the modern look,' Don Bosco replied.

‘Oh, is it indeed?' said Nicanora. Never having seen Don Bosco lost for a quip at her expense she added, ‘Well, modern or not, it certainly frightened the dog.'

Nicanora led her guests into the yard and disappeared into the house, returning a minute later with a chair for each of them. Arturo sat down and looked around. The little muddy yard was full of broken
objects waiting for the owner to decide the next use for them. A chair with only two legs lay limply in the corner. Underneath it was stored a pile of old cans that had once contained cooking oil. In another corner a pile of rotting vegetables lent a sweet tang to the air. The chickens running around the yard filled the silence with their pointless squabbling. I hadn't realised they were so poor, Arturo thought to himself. Catching the look in Nicanora's eye, he was suddenly overwhelmed with the awkwardness of a man whose thoughts had just been detected by another.

‘Isabela,' Nicanora shouted, disappearing into the house again, ‘bring our guests something to drink.' Isabela appeared a few minutes later, nonchalantly swinging a bottle of beer in each hand.

‘So tell me, doctor,' she said, handing the beer to the guests, ‘how do you find our little town? I think my mother is worried that you're lonely up at that clinic there all by yourself. She doesn't think my brother is good enough company for you.'

Isabela leaned back and rested her foot against the wall of the house, her brown leg languishing seductively under her dress. Arturo's eyes were drawn to her perfectly formed limbs and she smiled knowingly at him as she waited for his answer.

‘I don't know,' Arturo said. ‘I suppose it can get lonely.'

‘So why do you keep yourself to yourself? Isn't it odd for a young man to want to spend so much time on his own?'

‘I don't really,' Arturo said, taking a rapid swig of beer.

‘Perhaps you're just dedicated to your work. After all, it must be exciting being a doctor,' she continued. ‘Tell me, what's the most exciting case you have ever seen?' Arturo took another large gulp of beer, desperate to think of a story to tell.

‘Well I haven't really had any patients yet,' Arturo said, finally.

‘Don't be shy, doctor,' Isabela said, ‘you must have saved hundreds
of lives before you got here. I expect you are one of those quiet sorts of heroes, aren't you?'

‘Well not really,' Arturo said candidly, and was saved from the further humiliation of Isabela's probing by Nicanora, who reappeared in the doorway and asked everyone to follow her inside.

The table, laid with six places, filled the tiny room. Behind the table was an old wooden dresser that contained Nena's school books and a collection of variously patterned plates and bowls, each still searching for its partner.

‘I don't know where Nena is,' Nicanora said, ‘but we can't wait for her. She could turn up at any time, knowing her. Isabela, show our guests where to sit.'

‘You can sit here next to me, doctor,' said Isabela, pointing to the chair in the corner and forcing Arturo to squeeze past her so that his arm brushed against her breast.

‘And you should sit there next to my mother,' she said, turning to Don Bosco. ‘You're looking very smart today,' she continued. ‘Where did you get such a colourful shirt?'

‘It's the modern look,' Nicanora said, placing a large bowl of stewed chicken on the table. Don Bosco, who had momentarily forgotten about his attire, turned pink at the attention.