Chapter 6 Section five
Inspector Bathgas came again the next evening, about seven or maybe eight, for the heat had begun to pass and the daylight was less intense.As soon as I saw him come in through the door at the end of the ward, I put my upper body on my elbows and dragged myself to sit up.He came over to me, still sitting in the same chair from the day before.I didn't even say hello to him, I just cleared my throat and was about to tell him everything he wanted to know.
My second meeting with Mr. Claudio was on a Friday at the end of August.On the following Monday, he came again around noon, this time to pick me up and leave the hospital.He has already found a place for me and is responsible for helping me move.In other circumstances, this gentlemanly behavior might well be interpreted as an ambiguous emotion, but here and now we both know very well that it is his duty to do everything for me, so as not to let me who has The messy case just got more complicated.
I was fully dressed when he arrived.The clothes didn't fit very well because I lost a lot of weight.I combed a flat and old-fashioned bun, and half sat and leaned against the head of the hospital bed that had been made.The suitcase under his feet was filled with the little things that survived the escape.His bony fingers crossed across his knees, trying to gather some strength.Seeing him coming, I tried to stand up.But he gestured to me to sit down, then sat down on the bed opposite me and said:
"Wait a minute, we still need to talk."
His piercing eyes stared at me for a moment.Only then did I realize that he was neither a young man born prematurely nor an old man with flexible movements, but a man in his prime.Between forty and fifty years old, well-bred, but ruthless under the tempering of this special profession, as if the body and mind have been tempered, ready to deal with any rogue at any time.I thought to myself, under the eyes of this kind of person, any trouble caused at any time will not escape his eyes.
"You see, this does not belong to the normal case-handling procedures of our police station. But in view of the current situation and your actual situation, I will make an exception for you. But I hope you can figure out your real situation now. Although personally, I I believe that you were just accidentally deceived by the wicked, but whether you are guilty or not can only be decided by the judge, not me. But it is very confusing now, and I am afraid that no court will be able to hear your case in the near future. If I'm arresting you and throwing you in jail for no one's benefit, and God knows how long. So, as I told you the other day, I'll give you some freedom. But beware: only limited And controlled freedom of movement. In order to prevent you from having the idea of fleeing, I will not return your passport for the time being. In addition, there is another condition for you to enjoy personal freedom, which is to find a serious job once your physical condition allows Staying afloat and scrimmage to pay off the Continental Hotel debt. I've applied for a one year debt repayment grace period on your behalf and they've granted it, so you can breathe a sigh of relief for now. Then you'll have to work hard to make money , you have to be prepared to suffer, because the money must come clean, and you can't do anything illegal, is it clear?"
"Understood, sir." I replied in a low voice.
"Also, don't try to lie to me, don't try to play tricks on me, and don't force me to trouble you. Once I find out that you are doing tricks behind my back, I will do business right away. Maybe I didn't wait for you When you come back to your senses, you will be sent back to Spain, and what awaits you then will be the seven-year sentence in Quinones Prison for Women. Do you remember?"
In the face of his vicious threats, I couldn't even utter a complete sentence, so I could only nod my head repeatedly.Then he stood up, and a few seconds later I followed suit.He was quick and quick when he stood up, and I had to use all my strength to keep up with him.
"Okay, let's go." He said, "put it down, I'll help you with your luggage, you probably can't even lift your own shadow in your current appearance. My car is at the door, you go and say goodbye to the nuns, Thank them for taking care of you for so long. Then we will go."
He drove me through the streets and alleys of Tetouan. For the first time, I got a taste of the city, although it was only a small part.And I don't know how long I will stay here.The civilian hospital is in the suburbs, and we are slowly driving to the city.The closer you are to the city center, the more pedestrians come and go.It was almost noon, the streets were full of people, motor vehicles were almost impassable, and Mr. Sheriff had to honk his horn frequently to make a way through the slow, crowded crowd.There were men in light linen suits and Panama hats, kids running wild in shorts, Spanish women with baskets of vegetables, Muslim men in striped robes and turbans, and bulky, full-body There are Muslim women with only their eyes and feet exposed, soldiers in uniform, and girls in colorful summer dresses. Barefoot children are playing among the hens.There was noise from the car windows, bits and pieces of Arabic and Spanish, and a lot of people who recognized the sheriff's car came in to say hello.Looking at scenes like this, it's really hard to believe that there was a riot here a few weeks ago, and it was about to turn into a large-scale civil war.
No one spoke a word along the way.The move wasn't a pleasant ride, just a sheriff doing his job meticulously, transporting me from one place to another.But occasionally, when he feels that something is unfamiliar or novel to me, he will lift his chin and tell me what it is with some very concise words or sentences, but his eyes are still fixed on the front. "Women of Rifdigan," I remember him pointing to a group of Moroccan women.They wore striped skirts and huge straw hats with colorful tassels.In ten to fifteen minutes, we reached our destination.This is enough time for me to recognize new things in different shapes, smell strange smells, and learn the names of things.In the next stage of my life, I will be with them day and night.For example, the Governor's Palace, the cactus fruit, the caliph's palace, the water carrier on a mule, the Moorish community, the tent restaurant (Bacalido), the mint grass, and so on.
We got off at Plaza España.Several Moore children rushed over to grab my luggage, and the police chief let them take it with confidence.And so we entered Rue de la Luneta, which borders the Jewish quarter on one side and the Moorish quarter on the other.Rue de la Luneta, my first residence after arriving in Tetouan, is narrow, noisy and disorganized.There are people everywhere, there are taverns, cafes and boiling markets everywhere, and there is almost everything in it.We came to a porch, went in and went up another flight of stairs, and the sheriff rang the doorbell of the apartment on the first floor, and a fat woman in red opened the door.
"Good morning, Candelaria. I brought the task I gave you last time, and it's her." The sheriff tilted his head and pointed at me.
"What mission, Mr. Sheriff?" The fat woman put her hands on her hips, laughed and stepped aside to let us go.The house faces the sun, and the interior decoration is very shabby, and there is no aesthetic taste at all.The fat woman looked very natural on the surface, but she couldn't hide a trace of twitching. It was obvious at a glance that the police came to her, which caused her great anxiety.
"This is a special mission I entrusted to you." He said as he put my suitcase under a calendar in the narrow entrance with a sacred heart drawn on it. "This lady has to live with you." Here for a period of time, she is not allowed to charge a penny at the moment. When she can earn money, you can discuss how to settle this account."
"But my house is full, I swear in the name of Jesus. At least half a dozen people come to my house every day, but I really have nowhere to stay."
Obviously lying.The fat dark-skinned woman was lying, and the sheriff knew it all too well. "Don't complain to me, Candelaria. I told you, you have to take her in no matter what."
"Since the riot broke out, people have been pouring in here looking for shelter, Mr. Claudio, and now even the floor is full of people sleeping!"
"Don't play tricks on me, the traffic has been shut down for weeks, and not even a seagull can fly over that time. You must do what I tell you, whether you want to or not. You can put it in my In addition, you have to provide her not only board and lodging, but also help. She has no relatives in Tetouan, and she has a very disgraceful history, so you must make room for her. From now on She has to make a home here from the beginning, understand?"
She replied listlessly: "Understood, Mr. Police, as clear as clear water!"
"Okay, then I'll leave her with you. If there's any problem, you know where to find me. To be honest, I don't want her to live here either, because I'm worried that she will be spoiled by you before long." , but anyway..."
The fat woman interrupted him, pretending to be innocent and sarcastically saying: "Anyway, I have nothing to doubt now, as clear as shallots mixed with tofu, isn't it, Mr. Sheriff?"
The sheriff was not fooled by the Andalusian woman's antics.
"I doubt everything at all times, Candelaria, so I can eat!"
"If you think me so bad, why do you entrust this honorable task to me? Dear Mr. Sheriff!"
"As I said, the situation is too bad, and I have no other place to put her. Don't think I am willing to send her here. Anyway, she is in your hands. You have to find something for her to do." ...I don't think she'll be able to go back to Spain any time soon, but she has to earn money because she has a lot of debts. See if you can get her a job as a shop assistant, barber shop assistant or something. Anyway, as long as It's a decent place, you figure it out. And, I've told you a thousand times, stop calling me 'Dear Mr. Sheriff'!"
She only started to look at me at this time, as if she hadn't noticed my existence before.She scanned me up and down with her eyes, showing no curiosity at all, as if she was just evaluating the weight of this burden that fell from the sky.Then she casts her sights on the sheriff, accepting the assignment with feigned swallowing.
"Don't worry, Mr. Claudio, Candelaria will take care of her! I'll see where I can arrange her. But you can rest assured, you know, it will be no problem with me! "
The landlady’s assurances did not seem to convince the sheriff, and he wanted to put more pressure on her and negotiate with her to ensure that I could be properly settled here.He lowered his voice and raised his index finger to point at her nose. The seriousness this time made her dare not pretend to be crazy anymore.
"Be careful, Candelaria, you better be smart. It's messy enough now, and I don't want any more trouble unless it's force majeure. You better not try to get her involved in illegal business. You two I don't trust anyone, so I will send people to closely monitor. If any abnormal behavior is found, I will take you back to the police station, and no one can save you by then, understand?"
We both replied in low voices, "Understood, sir."
"Okay, so be it. You take good care of your illness, and come out to work as soon as your body allows it."
He looked at me, expressed his farewell with his eyes, and seemed to hesitate for a moment whether to extend his hand to say goodbye to me.But in the end, I still didn't reach out, and just ended the meeting with two simple words.
"Take care and see you later."
Then he left the house, walked briskly downstairs, and straightened his hat by grabbing the crown with his hands.The fat landlord and I stood at the door, watching him leave with bated breath until his figure disappeared from sight.When we heard him walk up the last step and was about to turn back to the house, his menacing voice sounded again in the corridor:
"I'll throw both of you into the cell together, and God won't even try to excuse you by then!"
"Go to hell, bastard!" Candelaria slammed the door shut with her huge butt, then looked at me and forced a smile, trying to soothe my bewilderment. "This guy is a devil. It's driving me crazy. I don't know where he got his supernatural powers. No tricks can escape his eyes. I'm like a debt collector all day long."
Then she sighed heavily, and her huge breasts rose and fell with her breath, like two bulging balloons squeezed into the tight cotton dress.
"Well, come on, my dear, and take your place in one of the innermost rooms. Oh, the damned riot, which has every one of us on our feet. There are quarrels in the streets, the barracks There's a lot of blood in here. Let's see when it's over so we can get back to our normal lives. Now I'm going out for a while, I have some small things to deal with. You pack up and get ready to stay here. I'll be back when I eat , then you will tell me what is going on slowly.” She yelled a few times in Arabic, and a little Moorish girl ran out of the kitchen in a hurry, wiping her hands with a rag. five years old.The two of them vacated a small room together and changed the sheets.From this night onwards, this hut without even a vent is going to be my shelter.I'm going to settle here with no idea how long I'm going to be here or where the future is headed.
Candelaria Ballestero, forty-seven, was called Smuggler Candellia in Tetouan.According to her own account, she received more beatings than the soldiers in the Regulares barracks.Everyone knew she was a widow, but even she couldn't be sure if her husband had really died in Spain, and maybe the letter from Malaga seven years ago claiming that her husband had died of pneumonia was just a mean A shameless lie, just to get rid of her and not let anyone go to him.They were penniless day laborers on an olive plantation in Andalusia.
After the Rif War in 1926, the couple moved to the Spanish Reserve in Morocco.They had all sorts of businesses, but most of them had meager profits, and he squandered the meager income in taverns and brothels.They had no children, and since her husband Francesco disappeared, she was alone, and because she had lost contact with Spain, she could no longer continue to do various smuggling businesses.In the end Candelaria decided to rent a house and open a low-end inn.But she didn't wash her hands because of this golden basin. Whenever she had something in her hand, she kept buying, selling, exchanging, and bargaining.Coins, cigarette cases, seals, fountain pens, silk stockings, clocks, lighters, everything is of unknown origin and whereabouts are also unknown.
Her house was on La Luneta Street, between the Moorish and Spanish quarters.Here, food and accommodation are provided to everyone who knocks on the door for accommodation, without discrimination.The residents are generally poor and desperate, but she can do business with them, with anyone she can meet: sell you things, buy your things; you owe me, I owe you; I let you Fifty cents, you give me a piece.She did it very carefully.Don't look at talking and acting like a tigress, when she does business that doesn't make sense, she seems to be able to destroy everything with her quickness, but she is not stupid at all.She knew very well that it was best not to do anything out of the ordinary under the watchful eye of Inspector Bathgas.It doesn’t matter if she jokes or ridicules once in a while, but if he really gets caught in some illegal activities, it will be a big trouble. He was able to catch me back and throw me into a frying pan alive."
That sweet little Moore girl helped me tidy up the room together.We unpacked our scant luggage and hung our clothes in the closet.It is said to be a wardrobe, but it is actually just a wooden frame, blocked by a tattered cloth curtain.A wardrobe, a bare light bulb, a battered bed and a velvet mattress are all the furniture in this room.A calendar of an unknown year and month, with nightingales and the slogan of Siglo Barbershop printed on it, is the only decoration on the four lime walls, except for the mottled marks left by the rain.There is a box in one corner of the room, and some household items that are not usually used are piled up on it.A large grass basket, a chipped washbasin, two or three urinals with peeling paint, a pair of rusty cages.Although the environment is very poor and poverty is everywhere, it is very clean.The dark-eyed little girl, as she helped me pack my messy and wrinkled clothes, which are now my property, kept saying in a soft voice, "Miss, don't worry, Hamila gang You do the laundry, and Hamila will help the lady iron the clothes."
In fact I still have no strength.Carrying luggage and emptying things out has exhausted me.I had to find a place to lean against so that I wouldn't faint again, and I sat down at the foot of the bed, closed my eyes, covered my face with my hands, and put my elbows on my knees.After a few minutes the dizziness passed and I was back in reality.The little girl Hamila was still by my side, looking at me worriedly.Looking around, it was the same barren, dark, rat-hole-like hut, with clothes hanging crumpled on hangers and unpacked luggage scattered on the floor.Tomorrow is still an unknown precipice, and I thought with some relief that, as bad as it could get, at least I had a place to go.
Within an hour, Candelaria was back.Before and after this, a few residents came back one after another, and they all ate and lived here.Among them were a salesman of hair tonic, a clerk of the post office, a retired teacher, a pair of old sisters as thin as dried tuna, and a fat widow with her son.The boy's voice was changing, and the down on his mouth was already thick, but they all called him Little Bug.When Candelaria introduced me, they all greeted me politely and sat quietly around the table.Everyone has a fixed seat: Candelaria sits at the end of a long table, as if presiding over a meeting.Others sat on the sides.The women sat on one side with little Bagg and the men on the other. "You sit across from me!" Candelaria said to me.Then she started to serve the dishes, and she kept nagging about trivial matters such as the price of meat has increased a lot, and this year's melons are especially good and sweet.These complaints and comments were not directed at anyone in particular, but she was enthusiastic and kept rambling on, no matter how insignificant they were or how absent-minded the diners were.No one interrupted, all absorbed in their lunch, moving their forks rhythmically from plate to mouth.Except for Candelaria's chatter, the clinking of spoons on china plates, and the wolfing down of food, nothing else was heard.Then, one of her oversights made me suddenly understand why she was nagging so endlessly.Just when she had stopped her eloquent speech and went to find Hamila in the kitchen, the old sisters saw an opportunity.After listening to the conversation that followed, I finally understood why Candelaria had to personally control the right to speak at the dinner table and firmly grasp the direction of the conversation.
"It is said that Badajoz has fallen." The words of the younger sister of the old sisters did not seem to be intended for anyone to hear.Maybe she was just talking to the jug, or the salt shaker on the table, or the vinegar shaker, or the slightly distorted portrait of Saint Senna on the wall.Her tone is also nonchalant, as if talking about the next day's temperature or the taste of the dishes.But I would soon know that the words were as sharp as a freshly sharpened knife edge.
"What a pity! So many good boys died defending the holy government of the republic. So many vigorous lives were squandered, otherwise it would bring joy to a needy woman like you, Sarah. Glario!"
The salesman's sarcastic answer set off a burst of laughter among the other male diners.The widow Erminia found that her little Bagg was also amused, so she punched her son on the neck so hard that the boy's neck was red.Probably to help the boy get out of the predicament, the retired old teacher said in a wise tone without raising his head:
"Don't laugh, little Bagg, it is said that laughing too much makes people stupid."
Before his words fell, the child's mother also began to intervene:
"That's why they had to rebel. Too much laughter, entertainment, and debauchery is turning Spain into ruins, and they're trying to end it all!"
This sentence is like announcing the end of the hunting ban.The three men on one side and the three women on the other began to argue with each other in raised voices.The six voices were mixed together, as chaotic as in a chicken coop, no one listened to others, and everyone was yelling at the top of their lungs, saying nasty things, and insulting each other.Countless infamy, jerk, old crook, son of Satan, old hag, outlier, villain, etc., were all added to the diners opposite.The air seemed to be on fire, filled with hysterical rage.The only ones who have remained silent are Little Bagger and me.I'm new here and don't know anything about the topic they're arguing about and don't have any insight.Little Bagger may be afraid of his mother's fierce look when he is furious.A drop of oil dripped from the corner of her mouth to her chin as she chewed her mouthful of potatoes and accused the retired teacher of being a disgusting Freemason and a admirer of the obnoxious Santanas.Meanwhile, across the table, Candelaria's attitude is changing bit by bit.Anger made her voice louder and louder, like a mare. Her face, which was still kind just now, slowly turned red. Finally, she couldn't control it, and slammed her fist on the table with such force that the table The wine was splashed from the glasses, the plates collided, and the stew was spilled all over the tablecloth.Her voice was like thunder, drowning out all other voices: "Talk about the fucking war in this house again, and I'll throw you all out on the street and throw your bags off the balcony!"
All the people were unwilling. While angrily abandoning their guns and disarming and not making a sound, they rolled their vicious eyes and barely controlled their rage and finished the first course.Everyone ate the second trevally almost silently.The dessert after the meal was watermelon. During the dessert, everyone seemed to get excited again, and there were signs of disputes, but the atmosphere was not tense enough to explode.Lunch finally ended without incident.We won't be able to meet again until dinner time.At dinner, it all happened again.It started with aperitif sarcasm and double-entendre jokes, then both sides hurled vicious words at each other, cursed at each other, and ended with outright humiliation, throwing hard bread in each other's eyes.And as a patent, Candelaria yelled loudly, threatening to drive everyone away if the two sides continued to quarrel at the dinner table.Only then did I discover that this is a repertoire of three meals a day, every day.As soon as everyone was at the dinner table, they automatically entered into a state of preparation for battle, sharpened their tongues, and prepared to shoot mercilessly at the diners opposite, but Candelaria never drove away any of these people.In times like these, with fewer back-and-forth deals, she's not going to evict a tenant who pays her every month.These hateful and pitiful people have no home or other ties, and they can eat here, sleep here, and take a bath once a week only after paying the rent.Therefore, threats are threats, and there is basically no day when the two sides do not scold each other, throw olive stones at each other, make political speeches, and fly wild turnips at the dinner table.When the quarrel became more intense, they even spat at each other and threw spoons.Life itself slowly turned into a civil war.
That's how I spent my first few days at the apartment on La Luneta Street.Of those who live under the same roof I know next to nothing except their names, and at best a general idea of why they live there.Retired teachers and post office employees are all old and alone, and they are long-term residents here.The old couple came from Solia in mid-July to take care of a relative's funeral, but before they could go home, the traffic between the two sides was interrupted.The same goes for the hair tonic salesman, who had to stay in the Spanish reserve in Morocco because of the riots.The mother and son's reasons for finding refuge there were much more obscure, though all speculated they were looking for her runaway husband, the father of the children.They used to live in the small town of Toledo, and one morning he went to buy cigarettes in Socodoville Square, and never came back.The apartment was full of wars every day, making it extremely noisy.The real war outside also raged throughout the summer.These displaced, frightened and irritable people pay close attention to every inch of the development of the war every day.In this way, I gradually got used to this home, this small world.The relationship with the landlord Candelaria is also getting closer, although as a resident, she can get very little income from me.
I rarely went out, had nowhere to go, no one to visit, and was always alone in my room.Sometimes with Hamila, and with Candelaria if she comes back, but she doesn't come often.If she had nothing urgent, or business to do, she would insist that I go out with her to see if I could find something to do.She always said, girl, your face is as pale as paper, and you can't see the sun all day long.Sometimes I don't want to go out with her because I don't have the strength, but sometimes I give in too.She took me here and there, through the maze of alleyways in the Moorish neighbourhoods, and the square, checkerboard-like streets of the Spanish neighbourhoods, with their beautiful houses and well-groomed people.Every time she met a businessman she knew, she would go up and ask if she could find an errand for the girl, or if she knew anyone who could help find a job. She was very hardworking and worked day and night.However, the current situation is bad and business is difficult. Although the flames of war have not spread here, everyone is worried about the unknown direction of the war. They are concerned about the gains and losses on their one-acre three-point land, concerned about the whereabouts of relatives and friends, and the progress of the front-line war. Progress, concerned with the living, the dead, and the yet to be born.Nobody wanted to expand the business, and certainly didn't want to hire new guys.Although every time we go out, we end up drinking a cup of khat and ordering a plate of kebabs at one of the open-air cafes in Plaza España, but days of inquiring and no news will only make my anxiety worse.Even though Candelaria didn't say anything, I could see that she was getting more and more worried.
Like my spirit, my body is recovering at a snail's pace. After such a long time, I am still skinny and breathless, forming a huge contrast with the people around me who have been tanned by the summer sun.My emotions remain dull and numb, as if my soul had been drained.The gut-wrenching pain of knowing I was dumped by Ramiro haunts me all the time.I also miss the child who was lost before he was born, only a few hours after I knew he existed and lost him.I also miss my mother day and night, wondering how she is doing in embattled Madrid.That’s not to mention, the lawsuit I’m carrying makes me worry all day long, and Mr. Claudio’s warning also makes me terrified. When I think that if I don’t pay off the money owed within the stipulated time limit, I will really go to jail. Completely overwhelmed.So I was pale all day long, unable to hide the severe pain in my heart.
Crazy love makes people stupid and blind.One of the important reasons is that it will make people lose their perception of the surrounding things, make people feel dull, and then lose the ability to observe and feel.It forces you to have to give your full attention to one person, further and further away from the world around you.It makes you hide in the small world of love, even if it happens in front of your eyes, you will not know it.Only when it was all gone did I realize that during those eight months with Ramiro, my love for him was so simple and so strong that I had no contact with anyone but him.It was then that I realized how alone I was in this world.In Tangier I never thought of being in a relationship with anyone. I was not interested in anyone except Ramiro, at most I would accompany him to see who he wanted to see.In Tetouan, he was no longer there, the pillar of my life collapsed, and there was nowhere to place my emotions.So I have to struggle to learn to live alone, to think for myself, and to forget the endless pain of his unfeeling abandonment.As the Pittman College pamphlet says: Life is a long and rough road.
August passed.The days in September are getting shorter and the mornings and evenings are getting cooler.Despite the hustle and bustle of La Luneta Street, my days were slow.People come and go in shops, cafés and markets, walk up and down the streets, stop to look in shop windows, or chat with acquaintances on the street.And I hid in the fortress of the apartment, feeling the changes of the times, watching the energetic people, knowing very well that the time for action is now, and this need is becoming more and more urgent.I had to do something, I couldn't live on Candelaria's mercy all the time, and I had to save up to pay off a huge debt.But I really don't know where to start.Sick all day, totally incapable of contributing financially.To compensate, I tried to do what I could, such as peeling potatoes, setting the table, drying laundry, dusting Hamila, and cleaning windows.I don't want to be a useless baggage, like old useless furniture.Not only was I fascinated by Hamila's usual sweet smile, I also learned a few words of Arabic from her.I help with watering the plants, sweeping the rugs, and rushing to do menial chores that I have to do in the morning and evening.The weather is getting cooler, and the apartment is starting to prepare for autumn, so I help with it.Such as re-changing the bedding in all the rooms, removing the sheets, replacing the summer bedspreads with winter ones piled up like a hill.When I found that most of the bedding was worn out, I found a large basket and carried them out to the balcony to mend any tears, loose folds, or frayed frayed edges.
At this time, a wonderful thing happened.I really didn't expect that when I picked up the little silver needle again, my heart would be filled with joy.These rough bedspreads and cheap coarse cotton sheets are nothing compared to the silks and tulles in Madam Manuela's shop, nor are the patches to compare with the fine needlework that goes into making clothes for the rich ladies in Madrid, Candela Leah's poor house has nothing in common with Ms. Manuela's workshop. The Moor girl and other noisy gamecock-like residents around her will never be able to correspond to the partners and picky customers in the workshop. .But the movement of the wrist is the same, the little needle is flying up and down in front of my eyes, and my fingers are still dexterous, making fine and perfect stitches.Of course, this is because I have been doing the same thing day after day in another place for the past many years.The sense of satisfaction was so strong that during those few hours I seemed to have returned to the happiest time of my life, temporarily forgetting about my misfortunes and pressures, as if I had returned to the past.
When Candelaria returned to the apartment as usual, it was dusk and the sky was dark.When she saw me sitting in a pile of recently mended covers, with the last towel in my hand, she exclaimed:
"It's not true, girl. You know how to sew?"
For the first time in a long time, I smiled affirmatively, almost smugly, at her question.Candelaria almost breathed a sigh of relief, because she finally found that my growing burden had something to do with it.She took me to her room and rummaged the contents of the closet onto the bed.
"This dress needs to be hemmed, the coat needs to be re-collared, the shirt is a bit unraveled, and this skirt, the butt is too small, so I need to let some inches out. I've gained a few pounds recently, so I can't wear it anyway. No more."
She handed me a pile of old clothes, so many that I could barely hold them.However, I changed them all in just one morning.Satisfied with my efficiency, Candelaria decided to put my abilities to the test again, and that afternoon she brought back a piece of Chevelt cashmere for a coat.
“这是最高档的英国羊毛料，还没开始打仗的时候我们从直布罗陀海峡弄过来的，只不过现在很难出手。你敢做吗？”
“你给我找一把好的剪刀，两米衬布，半打好点儿的纽扣，一卷棕色的丝线。我现在就给你量尺寸，明天一早就能做好。”
利用这些有限的资源，我拿餐桌当工作台，晚饭的时候已经做出了大概的样子让她试穿。第二天早饭前衣服全部完工了。那时候坎德拉利亚还没怎么睡醒，眼角沾着眼屎，头上还带着发网。她直接把新衣服套在睡衣外面，在镜子前反复比量，对衣服的上身效果简直无法置信。肩膀的位置无可挑剔，跟她的身形贴合得十分完美。精确对称的翻领很好地修饰了她过于丰满的胸部。一条宽宽的腰带使腰部显得纤细，而精心设计的下摆巧妙地掩盖了她那母马一样宽大的臀部。袖口宽大优雅的花边更是锦上添花。她简直满意得无以复加。正面、侧面、背面、半侧面，照了一遍又一遍。一会儿扣上扣子，一会儿解开，一会儿竖起领子，一会儿放下。平时喋喋不休的她现在却一句话也没说，全神贯注地看着我的作品。正面再照一遍，侧面再照一遍，最后终于说话了：
“你是从哪个娘肚子里爬出来的，丫头？你怎么从来没告诉过我你还有这能耐，亲爱的？”
从此她的衣柜里不停地添置新的衣物。两条新裙子，三件衬衫，一条衬衫式连衣裙，两件外套，一件大衣，一件冬天的长袍。她不停地从外面以最低的价格带回各种新的布料。
“这是中国丝绸，你摸摸看。南边集市上那个印度人要了我两个美国打火机，我操他娘。不过幸好我还剩两个这种玩意儿，那个王八蛋现在只收德国硬货。现在疯传共和国的货币要被取消了，要发行新的钞票。这世道真是乱了，你说是不是，丫头？”她激动地说着，打开包裹取出一块几米长的火红的布。
有一天她带回来半块华达呢，“这可是块好料子，丫头，你看这料子！”第二天她又带回来一块有珍珠光泽的缎子，绘声绘色地给我讲述她获得这块布料的曲折经历，还不时咬牙切齿地问候一下卖给她布料的那个犹太人的母亲。一小块驼色的羊毛料、一块羊驼毛织物、七寸印花贡缎……通过不断的购买、交换，我给她裁剪缝制了十多件衣物，她对每一件都大加赞赏。直到她获取布料的那股热情终于过去了，又或许她觉得衣柜里的储备已经相当丰富了，该是集中精力千别的事情的时候了。
“你给我做的这些衣服已经可以把你欠的房费结清了。”她宣布。我还没来得及感到轻松，她又继续说：“现在我们要讨论一下将来。你很有天赋，孩子，咱们必须把这个天赋利用起来，尤其是现在你还欠着一屁股债，急需一大笔钱来解决这个大麻烦。你也看到了，现在想找个差事几乎不可能，所以我认为最好的办法就是从外面接一些针线活。但是就目前的情况看，人们很难一下子打开家门接受你，你最好找个地方，开个自己的作坊。就算是这样，要找到顾客也并不容易。我们得好好打算打算。”
走私者坎德拉利亚几乎认识得土安的每一个活物。但为了确切地了解目前缝纫行业的现状，准确地定位这一职业的地位和前途，她也不得不到处去打听。这儿问问，那儿聊聊，还做了好几次理性的实地调查。几天以后，我们已经对这个职业的未来有了百分之百的信心。我了解到在得土安有两三个实力雄厚、声名远扬的裁缝店，那些军官、医生和有钱的企业家的妻女经常去那儿做衣服。稍微低一等级的，有四五个比较像样的裁缝，给家境富裕的官员家属们做些套装和周末弥撒用的大衣。最后还有些普通的小裁缝，就在街坊四邻那儿接些零活。比如，裁剪粗棉长袍、改改衣服、做几件下装或者补补袜子。当然了，情形也并非那么乐观，竞争非常激烈，我必须想方设法在这些人中间找个安身之处。虽然据坎德拉利亚说，这些裁缝里没有哪个人真的做出过什么让人眼花缭乱的复杂衣物，大部分都是家常衣物，但是却不能因此小看她们，如果做得好，有的裁缝能获得一辈子忠心耿耿的老客户。
想到有机会重新开始工作，我心里真是五味陈杂。我开始对未来萌生幻想和希望，这是长久以来都没有的感受。能够挣钱养活自己，偿还沉重的债务，而且是从事自己喜欢又擅长的工作，对那时的我来说，简直是可以想象到的最美的事。可仔细一掂量这个计划，那种不安和空空落落的未知感就像黑夜中的狼群一样把我吞噬了。要开一家自己的作坊，不管多小多简陋，也需要一笔启动资金，而这对现在的我来说简直是个天文数字，更何况我完全没有人脉关系。我需要运气，而这正是我最近生命里最缺少的东西。即便开了作坊，想要在这么多裁缝中闯出一条自已的路也并不容易，要吸引生意、培养忠实的顾客，我就必须充满创意，得拿出些跟别人不一样的东西才行。
就在我和坎德拉利亚努力寻找路子，使我的作坊能走上正轨时，她的一些朋友和熟人已经开始到公寓来找我做零活了，“丫头，麻烦你给做件衬衣吧！”
“在天冷下来之前给孩子们做几件大衣吧。”大部分都是贫苦的普通人，经济能力十分有限。她们总是带着孩子，带些布料零头坐着跟坎德拉利亚聊天，而我则在一边缝衣服。她们一起叹息着战争，为居住在西班牙的亲人的不幸遭遇掉眼泪，然后从袖子里拽出手帕擦干眼角。她们抱怨这动乱年代里艰难的生计，发愁要是战事进一步蔓延或者万一丈夫在前线阵亡，自己该如何养活一大堆孩子。她们一般给不了几个钱，而且常常要拖很久，有时甚至就不了了之，她们只能这样。不管怎么说，虽然顾客很少，活计也都很小很琐碎，可单是能拿起针线做衣服，就足以帮助我平复心中的悲伤。生活中密布的阴云已微微散开，露出一条小小的缝，透进来一缕虽然微弱却令人振奋的阳光。
到了九月底就开始一场接一场下雨，几乎每天傍晚都有一场。有时候连续三天看不到太阳。打雷、闪电、狂风，潮湿的地面落满了树叶。我还是继续接街坊邻居的零活。这些衣服既不好看，也无品味可言。布料很粗糖，纯粹是为了满足严冬季节人体基本的御寒需要，根本不考虑是否美观。直到有一天，我刚给一个邻居的孙子做完外套，正要给门房的女儿做条褶裙时，坎德拉利亚风风火火地跑了过来。
“有了有了，丫头，我有办法了，这回全妥了。”
她刚从外面回来，穿着那件新的切尔维特山羊绒大衣，腰带捆得紧紧的，头上扎着一块头巾，脚上那双旧鞋子的鞋跟都扭曲了，沾满了泥。她脱下外套，迫不及待地给我讲她了不起的大发现。因为跑得上气不接下气，硕大的胸部随着呼吸有节奏地上下起伏。她开始讲述事情的经过，像是在一层层地剥洋葱。
“刚才我去了一家发廊，我姐们儿瑞梅迪奥斯在那儿干活，因为有点儿小事要找她办。到那儿的时候，她正在给一个法国鬼子烫头发……”
“一个什么？”我打断了她的话。
“一个法国鬼子，就是一个法国佬，一个法国阔太太。”她匆匆解释了一下，“不过这是我猜的。我开始以为她是个法国鬼子，后来才发现原来是个我木认识的德国女人。其他的德国女人我几乎都认识，领事的老婆、古恩波特、贝恩哈德，还有兰根赫姆，这个兰根不是德国人，是意大利人，这些人我都很熟，跟她们做过一些小生意。扯远了，当时在理发店里，瑞梅一边给那人做头发，一边问我身上这件衣服是哪儿买的，怎么这么合身这么好看。我当然就说是一个朋友给做的。这时候那个法国佬，哦不，我刚才跟你说了，那是个德国人，她朝我看了又看，也加入了我们的谈话。她的口音听起来怪怪的，不像在说话，倒像是随时要上来对着脖子咬你一口似的。她说想找个人给她做衣服，但得是个手艺高超的裁缝，了解高档时装，就是那种质地和做工都很超群的高级礼服。她刚来得土安没多久，但是要在这里待一段时间，总之她就是想找人做衣服。所以我就跟她说……”
“你就让她来这儿找我？”我问。
“你说什么傻话，丫头，你疯了吧！我怎么可能让一个阔太太到我这儿来？这些人平时都是跟将军少校之类的人一起混的，她们只习惯另外一种地方，另外一种生活。你都想象不到那些德国女人是如何的挥霍无度，更想象不到她们多有钱。”
"Then what did you say?"
'“我呀，谁知道我当时怎么就灵机一动，我跟她说，我知道这附近很快要开一家高级定制服装店。”
我努力咽了一下口水。
“你的意思是要我开一家这样的店？”
“当然了，亲爱的，不是你还能是谁？”
我又想咽口水，但这次没有咽成，因为嗓子突然干得像粗糙的砾石。“我……我怎么可能开一家高级定制服装店，坎德拉利亚？”我有点儿被吓住了。
她先是哈哈大笑，然后不假思索、极其干脆肯定地回答：
“跟我一起啊，孩子，当然是跟我一起！”
Notes:
Notes: