He drove down the sandy track into the village that sat in the quiet evening light, apparently deserted except for a three-legged mongrel that sniffed the ground hungrily. When he saw a car parked in the driveway of Don Ignacio’s house his heart leapt in his chest - at least someone was home. If Estella needed help of any kind he was certain she would run to Señora Mariana whom she liked very much. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, licked his hand and smoothed it over his thin hair in an effort to make himself look respectable. Then he jumped out of the truck and dusted down his shirt and trousers. He did up the buttons as far as his chest, leaving the remaining few loose to expose the silver medallion of the Virgin Mary that he always hung about his
neck for luck, and to protect him against the odd evil soul who cursed him in the cemetery. Then he inhaled deeply, remembering afterwards to hold his stomach in and his shoulders up, and made his way towards the front door.
He hesitated a moment before ringing the bell. The tall acacia trees towered over him like sentinels. The house was as big as a fortress. Suddenly he felt humbled and embarrassed that he had come at all. Besides, he wouldn’t know what to say. The living muted him. He was about to turn and leave when he heard voices coming from the other side of the house. He stood and listened. There was no mistaking that the laughter was Estella’s. She had a very distinctive laugh, like the bubbling of a merry river. Pablo loved that laugh more than any other sound on earth and he felt a suffocating fury grip his throat again. He clenched his fists and ground his teeth like a bull about to be taken on by the bullfighter. He rang the bell.
The laughter ceased immediately, dissolving into urgent whispers and the light patter of feet. Pablo rang the bell again. Then he waited completely still as if conserving all his energy for his fight. The door opened after a long pause and Don Ramon Campione stood in the doorway.
‘Can I help you?’ he asked politely. Pablo searched for the right words but he had never been very good at expressing himself in syllables to living people so he simply pulled his arm back and sent his fist crashing into the proud jaw of his adversary, sending the larger man reeling back into the house where he fell to the floor and glared up at Pablo Rega in astonishment.
‘Hijo de puta!’ he exclaimed, taking his hand away from his wound and examining the blood. ‘What the hell was that for?’ But he knew.
‘Papa!’ Estella cried. ‘What have you done?’ she gasped in horror when she saw Ramon stagger to his feet, his face dripping with blood.
‘How dare you steal my little girl?’ Pablo stammered angrily, his fist poised to hit him again.
‘He didn’t steal me, Papa, I came willingly. Didn’t you get my note?’ she interrupted in exasperation, bravely placing herself between her father and her lover. ‘Enough, Papa,’ she ordered. ‘You’ve done enough!’
‘Marry her, Señor!’ Pablo pointed a threatening finger at Ramon, who looked down at the squat little man with impatience.
‘There’s the slight problem of me being married already,’ said Ramon flippantly.
Pablo’s face swelled crimson and his lips began to tremble. ‘So what are you
going to do?’ he asked hoarsely, shaking his head incredulously.
‘Papa, please come in and we can discuss this calmly,’ said Estella, taking her father by the arm and leading him into the house. Ramon watched them walk through the hall and sitting room and out onto the terrace. He noticed how her confidence had grown with the baby and he admired her for it. He remembered the shy little girl he had seduced and smiled in spite of his throbbing jaw.
Pablo slumped into a chair and looked up at his daughter with weary resignation. Estella sat opposite him, placing her hands on her large belly. Ramon stood by the door with his arms folded in front of him. He let Estella do all the talking; he had no desire to sweet talk the old man. As far as Ramon was concerned, his affair with Estella had nothing to do with anyone else but them.
‘Papa, I love Ramon. He is the father of my baby and I want to be with him. I don’t care about marriage. Ramon will buy us a house in Cachagua and make sure we are looked after. This is what I want,’ she said calmly.
‘Your grandmother would turn in her grave,’ he muttered, gazing at his daughter with watering eyes.
‘Then she’ll have to turn, Papa,’ Estella replied resolutely.
‘You’re committing adultery. God will punish you,’ he said, instinctively touching his silver medallion of the Virgin Mary. ‘He’ll punish you both.’
‘God will understand,’ said Ramon, who hated the way the church kept everyone in line by filling their hearts with fear.