Dona Nicanora's Hat Shop (31 page)

What aggravated him most was that all he had ever really wanted was to gain Don Bosco's respect, which was something he had never achieved. It infuriated him, how Don Bosco would stand in the doorway of his shop and tip his hat whenever he saw the mayor crossing the plaza, in some ridiculous parody of deference. It made him uncomfortable, knowing that behind the closed doors of the shop he was the object of ridicule at the hands of the barber's quick wit and good-natured humour. After the history between them, he had never felt comfortable taking a seat in the barber's chair. Doña Gloria looked after his haircutting needs, and so he was excluded from the very centre of male town life, which only added to his sense of isolation. And yet Don Bosco had rescued him on more than one occasion and had offered him help when he had feared that the town and his position within it were under imminent threat.

It had come to Don Bosco's attention a few years previously that a group of antiquity hunters were roaming the forest in search of the church and the precious Virgin housed within it. Don Bosco had alerted the mayor to the threat and he had without hesitation allowed Don Bosco to send a group of reliable men to drive the treasure hunters into the swamp and to ensure that the rumour was kept quiet so as not to alarm the townsfolk. In return, the mayor had made Don Bosco keeper of the Virgin, to guarantee she was protected under siege. From that day on the church had remained locked, Don Bosco and the mayor being the only people to hold the key. The mayor was able to stop worrying about his
most precious charge, secure in the knowledge that she slept safely under the protective gaze of Don Bosco.

In recent years, the quiet influence that Don Bosco exerted over the town had begun to play on his mind. He felt the steady eye of the barber watching him, as if in passing over the charge of the Virgin he had handed Don Bosco a greater power than he could ever have. Don Bosco knew all the important affairs of his clientele, and all the really serious disputes were resolved within a beard's whisker of his razor. It had become very apparent to the mayor that he held his position in name only; it was Don Bosco to whom the townsfolk turned when they were in trouble, and it was Don Bosco they listened to when they needed advice. Don Bosco quite literally had at his fingertips the ears of all the men.

The mayor had known what he had to do ever since his return from Rosas Pampas. Above all, he needed to convince Don Bosco to give him the shop back so that he could start his plans to develop the town. He had taken his time to think through how to deal with the situation and had finally approached Don Bosco just as he was closing on Sunday morning, Don Bosco having in recent years taken to opening for a few hours even on his day of rest, due to popular demand. Don Bosco had clearly been in a strange state of mind and was very distracted when the mayor had knocked on the door. It was true, in all their years living side by side the mayor had only stepped over the threshold of the shop on a handful of occasions, once to seek advice regarding the protection of the Virgin, and on the others for some counselling on how best to deal with Gloria's fits of depression. Indeed, Don Bosco knew more about the ups and downs of living with Doña Gloria than he probably cared to.

The mayor had never encountered Don Bosco in such a state of
agitation before. He was pacing up and down the barber's shop as if he had no idea where he was, dressed in the most outrageous set of clothes. As the mayor entered, Don Bosco turned to greet the visitor and, on seeing who it was, froze on the spot.

‘Not a bad time to catch you is it?' the mayor asked. ‘I see you have been splashing out on new clothes.' Don Bosco visibly winced at the reference to his appearance.

‘Yes,' Don Bosco replied. ‘I have an engagement.'

‘Oh,' the mayor said, still trying to make sense of the sight in front of him. ‘Your shirt is very, very …'

‘Modern,' Don Bosco replied, providing him with the word for which he was most certainly not searching.

‘Modern, indeed,' the mayor agreed. ‘You are looking very modern today.'

‘To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?' Don Bosco asked. ‘It is some time since we have had one of our chats, but I am afraid today we will have to be brief. I am expected elsewhere very soon. Everything is how it should be at home, I trust? I heard that Doña Gloria has not been herself of late.' He said this with such sincerity in his voice that the mayor was momentarily taken off his guard.

‘All is as it should be, thank you for asking,' the mayor replied. ‘But I haven't come here today to discuss my wife's health, although I appreciate your concern.'

‘And so to what do I owe this honour?' Don Bosco asked again, looking anxiously at his watch, awaiting the doctor's arrival.

‘I realise you are busy,' the mayor replied, ‘so I will get to the point. I have come to make you an offer. An offer to which I hope you will give due consideration. Don Bosco,' the mayor continued, ‘for all these years, you and I have been bound by an agreement, an agreement that on reflection I feel has brought neither of us
much joy. You have been true to your side of the bargain and have diligently provided this town with your services for six days of the week.'

‘Seven,' Don Bosco corrected him.

‘Indeed,' the mayor said, ‘seven days a week. And the townsfolk are most grateful to you for doing so.'

‘I know they are,' Don Bosco replied.

‘And now I want you to be a free man.'

‘A free man?' Don Bosco replied. ‘I am as free as I choose to be.'

‘You have been bound to this wretched shop for over twenty years because of the lease I asked you to sign,' the mayor replied. ‘I want you to be free from it before it is too late,' and he reached inside his shirt and handed Don Bosco an envelope.

‘Who are you to give me my freedom?' Don Bosco asked. ‘Do you think I could not have walked away from here any time I wanted?' and he took the package, looked inside and then handed it back.

‘It is a very reasonable sum,' the mayor continued.

‘And what are you asking in return?' Don Bosco said.

‘Nothing,' the mayor replied. ‘Only that I have the shop back and that you enjoy your retirement. Every man deserves to find happiness in his life.'

‘And why would I go in search of happiness now, after all these years? It can come and find me should it so wish.'

‘Don't be a fool, man,' the mayor replied. ‘I am making you a very good offer.'

‘Why?' Don Bosco asked. ‘You still haven't answered my question. Why do you want my shop?'

‘Because', the mayor said, ‘times are changing whether you like it or not. Haven't you seen? We have tourists here now, the old
ways are going, Bosco, and people like you need to move aside to let that happen. Even you, after all, are now going for the modern look.'

Don Bosco stared at the mayor and then at his feet. ‘I think you should leave,' he said at last.

‘Just think about it,' the mayor said, and he placed the envelope on the stand next to the sink on which Don Bosco kept his brushes and razors. ‘This should help you make your decision. The money is yours, if you shut up shop.'

The mayor had not expected that Don Bosco would make a decision so quickly and certainly had not anticipated that he would leave town, without a word to anyone. He raised a toast to the barber to wish him well, and returned home to find Lucia reclining on the chaise longue eating a box of chocolates, his wife was nowhere to be seen.

The mayor was so distracted by the loss of Gloria that, at first, he did not pay too much attention to what Ramon was telling him. He simply could not understand where Gloria could have gone, or why she would have left like that. He had methodically searched the house from top to bottom, looking for her in all the cupboards, under the beds, in the servants' rooms. The only place in which he had not been able to look was Lucia's room, the door having remained firmly locked since their altercation of the previous evening.

‘Don't worry, I will stay and keep you company until she is back. I could not dream of leaving you alone,' Lucia had reassured him as he entered the house. He was not sure what had horrified him most, the sudden departure of Gloria or the apparent permanence of Lucia in his home.

‘I don't understand. We were getting on so well again,' he said. ‘We only just made up. Why would she have gone off like that?'

‘I can't think,' Lucia said, stuffing another chocolate into her mouth. ‘She is very up and down these days, just like dear Mother.'

‘You don't think she might have done something foolish, do
you?' the mayor asked, and in voicing his deepest fear he was overcome by a terrifying anxiety. Over the past couple of years his wife's black moods had increased in frequency and intensity, and they seemed to overtake her with no apparent warning. ‘Have you been saying things to her again, Lucia?' he asked, seeing the look on Lucia's face. ‘I swear to God, if I find out that you have anything to do with this I will not be responsible for my actions.'

He reassured himself that Gloria would not have gone too far. She was not an adventurous woman and he was certain she would not have strayed much beyond the confines of the house. He had just begun his search of the garden that morning when Ramon found him on his hands and knees under the bushes. He had listened to Ramon's ramblings with only half his mind on what he was being told and the other half occupied with how he was going to throw Lucia out of the house and ensure that she never stepped foot in it again. He decided he would not leave for work that morning until he had at least accomplished that task.

He must have got the wrong end of the stick, the mayor told himself as Ramon beat a hasty retreat after imparting his news. I will wait for Lucia to come back and then see what is going on. I expect it is just that wretched Nicanora woman creating a stir about something or other again. She gets herself into everything these days. I must keep my eye on her – she is a troublemaker, that is for sure. He was, he had to remind himself, grateful to her for having brought the Gringito to town, just when he needed something to show the visitors. Whatever she is up to, he told himself, that shop is now rightfully mine and I have the authority to take it. Bosco has given me that, and I will do so as soon as I am good and ready.

As for the visitors, he was certain that Ramon was getting himself in a state over nothing as usual. The district officer had assured him
during their meeting that he would be given at least a month to make the preparations for the visit. After all, there was a good deal at stake for the authorities, the district officer had made that quite clear. ‘You had better not screw up,' had been the exact words he had used. ‘You show them that our money has been well spent, and before you know it, you will have your own private helicopter in which to leave town.' The district officer had suggested that there may even be foreign dignitaries among the party, and they were to be received with a full official welcome. The mayor had not felt it politic to ask what a full official welcome might entail.

He had drawn up his plans as soon as he had arrived back in town; he knew exactly what he needed to do. He had decided that even though he had not yet received word from the authorities, the time was right to start to prepare the townsfolk for the changes that were afoot, and that meant removing Don Bosco from the shop on the prime site in the plaza. He had certainly not envisaged that it would be quite so easy to convince Don Bosco to leave. He is an intelligent man after all, the mayor said to himself. He simply realised that he could not stand in the way of progress. It was, nonetheless, unfortunate with the visitors coming that he was having such trouble with Gloria again. He was certain that a full official welcome would at the very least entail a reception hosted by the mayor and his wife and it would not look seemly to say he had lost her. I am sure I will have time to sort it out before they arrive, he told himself, and with Gloria in mind he went back into the house.

As he entered, he noticed that the door to Lucia's room was slightly ajar. He had seen her leaving for her morning stroll just before Ramon arrived. He knocked gently on the door to make sure she had not returned unnoticed, and then opened it and peered
inside. Lucia's possessions were neatly laid out, as if she had been resident in the house for years. Photographs of her mother and father were placed on the little dressing table, and numerous pink cuddly toys were displayed on the bed. ‘Gloria,' the mayor called softly, ‘are you in here, my sweet, my little peach?' There was no reply. He stepped inside and rapidly started to search the room. He looked in the wardrobes, now stuffed full of Lucia's clothes, in the cupboards, in the drawers, and finally in the bed. And there it was, the thing he knew he had been looking for all along: the evidence of Lucia's treachery. Hidden under the sheets was a ridiculous set of women's underwear the like of which he had never seen in his life and a sheet of paper torn into pieces. Carefully placing the fragments together he read the note, apparently signed by him and written to a young lover. The evidence of Lucia's untamed jealousy was shocking enough, but what really disturbed him was that Lucia would go to these lengths to risk her sister's health and delicate frame of mind just to get her revenge on him. After all these years, Lucia had never forgiven him for refusing her advances. He had not been able to disclose to his wife the reason for his distaste for Lucia, convinced that it would threaten Gloria's stability if she knew that her sister had tried, on several occasions, to betray her with her husband. Besides, he was concerned that if he were to accuse Lucia, Gloria would be more prone to believe her sister's lies over his honesty in this matter, his integrity having been rightfully called into question so frequently.

The ludicrous picture now conjured up in his mind, of being cornered in his own house by his overbearing sister-in-law, would have made him laugh out loud had it not also been so pitiful. He had never really understood what possessed Lucia to make her lascivious propositions to him. Perhaps it was loneliness that
inspired her, although Lucia had a confidence and zest for life that made this hard to believe. Perhaps it was an untamed sibling rivalry that continued to play itself out in increasingly adult games. Or perhaps it was simply that Lucia still wanted her younger sister as her own, her possession, her shadow that she could control with nobody coming between them, just as it had been in their desolate and unloved childhood. For the sake of his marriage, and his sanity, he knew he could no longer risk having Lucia in the house. He packed her possessions into the cases piled in the corner of the room and placed them outside the door with a note asking Lucia kindly never to return, and then gave instructions to the servants to change the locks and under no circumstances to allow Lucia to step foot in the house again. With the underwear still in his pocket he made his way to the town hall to see what trouble was brewing there.