‘Children, we must all speak English now we have an English guest,’ said Jose Antonio, running a large hand over his son’s hair. ‘Show us what you have learned in school.’
‘Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday,’ said Tonito with a giggle.
‘Surely you know more than that?’ Agatha exclaimed, unimpressed.
‘I don’t want,’ Pia complained, looking up at her father beneath thick black lashes. She had already mastered the art of flirting.
‘George flies aeroplanes,’ said their mother, attempting to engage them. ‘He fought in a war.’
‘Like a bird,’ said Pia, pointing to the sky.
‘Just like a bird,’ George agreed, smiling at her. ‘But once I crashed. Fell to the ground. Not like a bird!’ The children giggled, clearly understanding more than they let on.
‘Good God, George. Did you?’ Agatha’s eyes widened.
‘Damned nearly killed me,’ he said, then added softly, ‘Saved by the grace of God.’
Suddenly the sound of breaking china, scraping chairs and Dolores’ inimitable screech alerted them to trouble in the kitchen. They all stiffened and strained their ears, looking at one another in bewilderment. Pia giggled nervously into her hand. Jose Antonio got to his feet, still chewing on a piece of cheese and membrillo, and walked unhurriedly across the terrace. He entered the kitchen to find the old woman standing in the middle of the room wielding a knife at an invisible aggressor. Like an angry crow she was dressed in her usual black gown and sensible black shoes, her hair pulled up into a severe bun. ‘Out! Out!’ she shouted, rigid with fury. When she saw her boss she turned on him too. ‘Señor, if you have come to take me away I ask God in advance to forgive me my actions.’
‘Dolores, why would I want to take you away? No one cooks empanadas like you do!’ His voice was calm but forceful.
‘I have a melon growing in my stomach. For that they have come to take me away.’ Jose Antonio looked at her quizzically. He towered over her and it wouldn’t have been difficult to wrest the knife from her, but her eyes shone with terror more than rage.
‘Who has come to take you away?’ he asked patiently. ‘I see no one there.’ She stuck out her jaw and nodded to the wall.
‘Spirits. They come when your time is up, to take you on to the next world. But I tell them I’m not ready yet. Váyanse, váyanse!’
Jose Antonio’s face darkened and he frowned. This wasn’t the ranting of a crazed woman for he knew of spirits and had seen them himself. ‘Who is there, Dolores?’ he asked. His voice was barely a whisper.
‘Mama and Ernesto.’
‘Put down the knife. You cannot harm spirits with knives.’ He walked a few paces towards her. She raised her eyes, now bloodshot and moist, bit her thin lip and placed the knife in his hand. ‘By all means tell them to go, but politely,’ he said, placing the knife back on the table. This she did. He watched her wave her hand as if to dismiss a tiresome dog. Then she turned, patted her grey hair and nodded at him gravely.
‘My time is near, señor,’ she croaked.
Jose Antonio put his hands on his hips and sighed ponderously. ‘A knife and a few obscenities cannot delay your meeting with God, Dolores. No, they come with a warning. I will call la señora.’
When he returned to the table Agatha was busy telling George all the famous Dolores stories. The time she was nearly killed by a wild pig, the fight she had had with a whore in Jesús Maria, and the discovery that her husband, Ernesto, had been leading a double life with another family in La Cumbre. ‘Of course he died shortly after,’ Agatha was saying. ‘She made life impossible for him as you can imagine.’ When she saw her husband approach her voice trailed off and she raised her eyebrows enquiringly.
‘What the devil is wrong with her now?’
‘Gorda, go and see her. She says she has a melon growing in her stomach. I don’t believe it is a real one.’ He turned to George. ‘This is women’s business.’
‘Is she going to die?’ Pia asked as she watched her mother fold her napkin neatly and place it on the table.
Jose Antonio patted her shoulder. ‘Of course not, mi amor,’ he replied.
‘Qué pena!’ said the child to George’s astonishment. He knew few phrases in Spanish, but there was no doubt in his mind that she had just said ‘pity!’.
‘Pia, have more respect, please!’ Agatha chided irritably. She hated getting involved in the personal lives of her staff, much less in their bodily functions. The idea of a melon in the woman’s stomach made her head swim. She didn’t want to know any more about it. But she did as her husband asked.