Dona Nicanora's Hat Shop (33 page)

‘I just thought she needed some help to get started. She is doing this for Bosco, after all.'

‘Is she?' Don Julio said. ‘How do you know she's telling the truth?'

‘I trust her,' Teofelo said.

‘You've changed your tune,' Julio said. ‘But Teofelo, what if she just saw this as an opportunity to steal Bosco's property? I still don't understand how she got the key. Bosco has never given anyone the key to his shop before. You know what he's like, he's so secretive. Why would he hand it over to her? She's a woman, Teofelo.'

‘I had noticed,' Teofelo replied, laying down another string of
dominoes. Being true to his promise he had not breathed a word to Don Julio, or anybody, about his parting conversation with Don Bosco, nor about the letter he had been entrusted to hand to Doña Nicanora. He had also not told Julio of the promise he had made as he bade his dear friend farewell. ‘If she asks for your help, will you give it to her?' Don Bosco had said. It was true, Doña Nicanora had not, strictly speaking, asked him for help, and nor, he suspected, would she. She was very like Bosco in that regard, too proud for her own good. But he knew that now was the time she really needed him as a friend, and he was determined to be just that until his faith was proved unfounded.

‘My face feels as if a swarm of bees has been playing on it all afternoon,' Julio complained.

‘Stop making such a fuss,' Teofelo replied, finishing off the game. ‘I think, perhaps, she didn't use enough soap. She will get the hang of it soon. After all, we were her first customers.'

Nicanora had been as astonished by Gloria's sudden arrival at the shop as she had by Teofelo's bravery in front of the crowd. ‘Doña Gloria,' Nicanora said after Teofelo had been pushed from the shop, ‘it is delightful to see you up and about again, but your husband will be very unhappy if he finds you here. It will be bad enough when he finds me, without your help.'

‘Good. Let him stew in it,' was Gloria's response.

Don Julio had just entered the shop, encouraged in by Teofelo, and had placed himself in the barber's chair ready for Nicanora to begin her work. Gloria, seated in the corner, was filing her nails and watching as Nicanora slowly and meticulously started to scrape the razor over Don Julio's chin.

‘If you carry on like that,' Gloria said to Nicanora, ‘your customers will have no faces left. You will frighten everyone away.'

I'm not sure who she thinks she is, talking to me about frightening the customers, Nicanora thought to herself. It seemed to Nicanora that Gloria had not paid too much attention to the detail of her attire as she had left the house that morning and she was looking decidedly off-putting. Her lipstick was smeared across the lower part of her face, her hair was piled in a makeshift knot on her head, and her dress looked as if it had been slept in. Which, Gloria confessed to Nicanora later, it had been. At the clinic.

‘You stayed at the clinic, last night. Alone?'

‘No, with the doctor.'

‘You slept at the clinic with the doctor?'

‘I was sick,' Gloria explained. ‘We slept in separate rooms of course,' she added. ‘After all, we only just met. But he made me feel very welcome.'

‘Did he indeed?'

‘Anyway,' Gloria continued, ‘he was very kind. Do you know, he is the first person who has ever really listened to me. I mean, properly listened to me. He made me feel that I was not a useless person. I do have something to offer. And so this morning I realised what was wrong with me. After all these years, I think he has finally discovered a cure for my problem.'

‘And what is that?' Nicanora asked, busying herself tidying the shop in preparation for her next customer.

‘I need a purpose.'

‘A purpose?'

‘Yes, I need to give my life meaning. The doctor said everyone needs a purpose, otherwise there is no point in getting out of bed in the morning.'

‘Doña Gloria,' Nicanora said, ‘I have been getting out of bed every morning for the past forty years and I have never once had a purpose.'

‘Of course you have,' Gloria said. ‘You just haven't realised it. You go to the market, you come home, you peel potatoes, you wash clothes, you listen to your children squabbling, you wash the dishes, and then you go to bed.'

‘And that is a purpose?'

‘Yes.'

‘My dear Doña Gloria, I wish you had come to me and told me so years ago. I would gladly have moved out of my house and let you take over.'

‘Maybe I don't want to do that exactly. But I need something to do with my days other than worry about where my husband is, and who he has been with.'

‘I'm glad we have brought a doctor all the way from the city to tell you that,' Nicanora said.

‘Yes,' Gloria agreed, ‘he's a very clever young man, and so handsome. It has all worked out extremely well.'

‘What has?'

‘Well, you see, I was crossing the plaza on my way to find you, as the kind doctor had suggested that it might do me good to stay in your house.'

‘He did, did he? So that you can see what my life is like to make you more contented with your own?'

‘And then I saw what was happening here,' Gloria said, ignoring the possibility that she might just have given offence, ‘and I realised that this is exactly the purpose I need. I said to myself, I will help Doña Nicanora become a barber.'

‘Why?'

‘Because', Gloria said, ‘I have been shaving my husband's wretched beard for years and I know exactly how not to give him a shaving rash. There we are,' Gloria said, pointing to Don Alfredo who, egged on by Don Julio, was now hovering in the doorway of the shop. ‘Your next customer.' Nicanora picked up the razor to start. ‘More soap,' Gloria instructed from the chair. ‘And quicker with the razor. No, not like that, watch me,' and she snatched the implement out of Nicanora's hand and with short, precise movements cleared Don Alfredo's face of any sign of stubble before he had a chance to open his mouth to protest.

‘I will make a deal with you,' Gloria said triumphantly, as Don Alfredo leapt from the chair a free man once again. ‘I will teach you how to give as good a shave as Don Bosco ever has, and I won't ask for any payment, if you in turn let me work here with you, and perhaps sleep at your house, for the time being at least.'

‘But I don't need any help,' Nicanora said. ‘Don Teofelo was very happy with the shave I gave him.' Then looking out of the window she caught sight of Teofelo helplessly scratching at his face.

‘He was just being kind, wasn't he?' she said turning to Doña Gloria. ‘We have a deal.'

After the initial excitement of the morning, word spread quickly that Teofelo and Julio were looking decidedly red in the face. The men started moving away from the plaza, worried that if they hung around for too long they would be forced to take their own place in the barber's chair. Don Alfredo had been dispatched by Don Teofelo to persuade a few of his friends that the service had improved dramatically, but custom had been very slow for the best part of
the morning. It was only after Nicanora came up with the ingenious idea of a two-for-the-price-of-one promotion, offering a free haircut with every shave and unlimited quantities of coffee for her clientele, that business began to pick up. Doña Gloria was also proving herself not only to be adept with a razor, but highly proficient with a pair of scissors.

‘I have always thought this would make a lovely little salon,' she said to Nicanora. ‘I have told my husband over the years, it was such a shame it was allowed to become a crusty old barber's. No disrespect to Don Bosco, of course,' she said, hastily looking at the hat on the pole, and then she crossed herself.

Don Pedro, encouraged by Teofelo, had been the first to take up the offer of the free haircut. ‘Not too much off,' he warned, as Gloria approached his thick hair with the energy of a wild beast.

‘And how is business these days?' Nicanora asked Don Arsenio, who had taken his place next to his friend in the barber's chair.

‘Not too good I am afraid,' Don Arsenio replied. ‘What with the price of coffee falling it is hard enough to make a living, and with the rains being so temperamental this year, I'm afraid that my crops on the slopes won't even ripen properly for the harvest.'

‘Oh dear,' Doña Nicanora replied, her instinct getting the better of her. ‘That is a worry for everyone. But don't be too concerned – the rains will start by the end of the week.'

‘And how are things at home?' she asked her next customer, who was watching in astonishment as lumps of Don Pedro's hair cascaded to the floor.

‘Not so good I'm afraid,' he replied. ‘My wife has been a little off colour. I think she's going down with the swamp fever again.'

‘I wouldn't worry,' Nicanora replied. ‘I'm sure it's just a cold. When you go home this evening she will be right as rain, you'll see.'

‘What have you done? What have you done to my lovely thick hair?' Don Pedro suddenly screamed from the chair, his reflection having just been revealed to him.

‘I saw it in a magazine. It's apparently how all the men in the United States are wearing their hair these days,' Doña Gloria said as Don Pedro rushed out into the plaza with Nicanora following behind in an effort to calm him down. It took her some time to convince the small group of lingering men that they were being given not only a free haircut, but the very latest style to have reached the city from abroad. By late afternoon, the word had spread so effectively that by the time the mayor reached the premises a queue had formed and was stretching round the corner.

Don Julio was the first to see the mayor approaching. ‘He doesn't look too happy,' he whispered to Teofelo, who rushed inside the shop to warn Nicanora. Doña Nicanora had been expecting a visit from the mayor, but had become so absorbed in her burgeoning business that she had almost forgotten about him. She suspected that none of the townsfolk had been brave enough yet to inform him of the whereabouts of his wife, especially as a good many of the men were now rather diffidently sporting Gloria's creations on their heads.

‘Don't you worry any more about your chickens,' Nicanora was telling Don Amelio as Teofelo burst in, ‘they just took fright and are hiding. They will be back in your yard by the time you get home this evening.'

‘What the hell is going on here?' the mayor shouted, storming into the shop and halting any further conversation about lost chickens. ‘Where is Bosco?'

‘He isn't here,' Nicanora replied. ‘He hasn't yet returned from his travels. Were you wanting a tidy-up?' Nicanora heard a stifled snort coming from the back storeroom.

‘What on earth are you doing, woman?' the mayor demanded. ‘Have you gone quite mad? You are trespassing on municipal property and I demand you leave it this minute.'

‘Municipal property?' Nicanora said calmly. ‘But this is Don Bosco's shop.'

‘Haven't you seen my notice? Don Bosco gave up rightful possession of this shop the minute he left. It is now the property of the town council, as my notice has made quite clear.'

‘What notice is that, Don Ramirez?' Nicanora asked.

‘The notice that was pinned to the shop door yesterday evening and that you appear to have removed. I have already given warning that if Bosco is not back today, razor in hand, then under the terms of the lease this shop comes under my jurisdiction. And you, madam, now appear to be trespassing. I warn you if you do not leave peacefully, I will have you removed by force.'

‘By whom?'

‘By whom?'

‘Yes, by whom?' Nicanora asked. She looked into the plaza at her hovering clientele. She caught sight of Ramon peeping round the corner of the town hall. ‘Who exactly will you get to remove me?' she asked. ‘I see nobody here who would be either willing or up to such a task, especially as I am quite within my rights to be here.'