Chapter 13 third quarter

Flower beds, palm trees, colorful cobblestone roads and white buildings around the square welcome guests.Like every afternoon, the stone benches were filled with couples and groups of friends.A tempting smell of meat skewers came from the nearby open-air cafe.I walked across the square towards the Governor's Palace.I've passed by the Governor's Palace often since moving here, but never before has it piqued my curiosity as much as it does today.The Governor's Palace is very close to the Caliph's palace, a white Spanish-style building surrounded by lush gardens.Most of the institutions of the Spanish administration are located here.Its two main floors and a smaller third can be seen through the trees, complete with corner turrets, green shutters and orange-red roofs.Moorish soldiers stood guard inside the large iron railings. , majestic and solemn, with the long cloak fluttering in the wind.Officers of the Spanish garrison in Africa came in and out through the small door next to them in green uniforms. Their stiff breeches and shiny high boots made them look heroic.Moorish soldiers shuttled inside, too, in European-style military jackets, baggy trousers, and tan bandages around their legs.The two-color national flag fluttered in the wind under the blue sky, and the cloudless weather seemed to announce the arrival of summer.I stared blankly at these uniformed people coming and going, until I noticed that many of them were looking at me in surprise and doubt.I felt very uncomfortable, turned away in some panic, and walked back to the square.What am I looking for in front of the Governor General?What do you expect to find?Why am I here?Maybe for no reason.At least for no specific reason other than to get an up-close look at the location of my new guest's unexpected lover.

Spring is slowly transitioning to summer, and the nights are colorful again.As always, I split the proceeds of the boutique with Candelaria.The bundle of pounds in the drawer was getting thicker, almost enough to pay the Continental Hotel's arrears.The agreed repayment date is getting closer and closer, and the thought that I will be able to repay this debt is very exciting, and I can finally redeem my freedom.News of the war still came daily on the radio and in the newspapers.General Mora was killed and the Battle of Brunette began.Felix still often comes for night tours, and Hamila has been helping me all the time. Her sweet and gentle Spanish has improved a lot, and she has also started to help me with some of the simplest needlework, such as loosening, ground stretching, etc. Thread, nail a button, put on a button-tab, etc.The days in the fashion store are flat and uneventful, and almost nothing disturbs my life.Only the sounds of neighbors doing their chores, or fragments of conversation drifting in through the windows that opened onto the front yard.There are also the footsteps of the children upstairs who are already on summer vacation running out to play from time to time, sometimes chaotically, and sometimes file.But none of this bores me, it feels kind, it keeps me company, it makes me less alone.

One afternoon in July, the surroundings suddenly became noisy, people talked louder, and the steps up and down the stairs became more hurried. "They're here, they're here!" a voice yelled, followed by more voices, shouts, doors slamming, and then crying, repeating names over and over again. "Goncha, Goncha! Carmela, my sister! At last, Esperenza, at last!" I heard the sound of furniture being dragged upstairs, and the hurried up and down of the corridor.Laughter, cries and orders.Fill the tub, get some more towels, get the clothes, get the mattress ready!Baby, give the baby something to eat!Then came the cries, the shouts of excitement, and the laughter.Then there was the sound of pots and pans, and the smell of food wafting through the windows. "Carmela, my God, Goncha, Goncha!" The upstairs was still busy until late at night.Then Felix came, and I was finally able to ask him:

"What happened at Elera's house? Why is it such a mess today?" "You don't know yet, do you? Josefina's sisters are here, and she managed to get them out of the occupied area." The next morning I heard the babble of voices and agitated coming and going again, although it was much calmer than the day before.Even so, the day didn't stop: constant comings and goings, doorbells, phones ringing, kids running up and down the stairs.There were crying, laughing, crying, and more laughter.There was a knock on the door in the afternoon, I thought it was the upstairs neighbor who needed help or borrowed something, eggs, sheets, jars.But I was wrong, another unexpected visitor knocked on the door.

"Ms. Candelaria, please return to La Luneta as soon as possible. Mr. Anselmo, a retired teacher, has passed away." Little Bagger, the fat woman's fat son, sweated profusely with a message for me. "Go back first and tell her I'll be right there." I told Hamila the news and she wept.I didn't shed a single tear, but felt a sharp pain in my heart.He was the closest to me among the restless people I lived under the same roof when I lived in the apartment, always offering me intimacy and camaraderie.I put on the darkest colors I could find because I didn't have mourning at all in my closet.Hamila and I hurried out, reached the door of the apartment, climbed the stairs, and couldn't go any further.A dense crowd gathered at the door, all friends and acquaintances of Mr. Anselmo's life, waiting with awe to go in and say his last farewell.With difficulty, Hamila and I squeezed our way through the crowd.

The apartment door was open, and upon reaching the foyer I smelled the smell of large candles burning and heard the hum of a group of women praying in unison.Candelaria greeted him early.She was tightly wrapped in a black suit that was obviously a size smaller, and a Madonna pendant hung from her magnificent breast.At the table in the middle of the dining room, the gray body of Mr. Anselmo lay in a coffin in a shroud.I shuddered at the sight and noticed Hamila's hand gripping my arm tightly.I kissed Candelaria twice on the cheek and she left two lines of hot tears in my ear. "He's right there, down in their everyday battle."

I think back to the day-to-day dinner table fights I witnessed firsthand.The bones of the anchovies and the rough yellow skin of the mongoose flew all over the table.Bitter sarcasm and insults, forks thrown around like arrows, yelling, and Candelaria's threats to throw them all out that he never followed through on.Indeed, the dinner table has become their real battleground.I struggled to control my sad grin.A thin old sister, a fat widow, and a few female neighbors sat by the window, completely naked, reciting the incomprehensible Rosary, their voices monotonous and crying.For a moment I thought that if Mr. Anselmo came back to life, he would be coughing violently and screaming angrily, asking them to stop praying for him immediately, smoking his Toledo cigarette.But he was dead, and they were alive.So even though his bones are not cold, they can already do whatever they want.Candelaria and I sat next to them, and she joined them in the chorus, and I pretended to open my mouth to chant, but my mind was lost somewhere.

"Holy Spirit, have mercy on us." "Christ, have mercy on us." "I have something to ask you, Candelaria," I whispered in her ear. "Christ, please take care." "Christ, please listen." "Speak, dear." She answered in a small voice, too. "Holy Father, have mercy on us." "Holy Son, our Savior." "I heard that someone can manage to get people out of the occupied area." "Almighty Holy Spirit!" Saint Trinidad, our god. "I've heard that too..." "Holy Mary, please pray for us."

"Almighty Mother." "Holy Virgin." "Do you know how they do it?" "Mother of Christ." "Mother of the Holy See." "Why do you want to know this?" "Holy Mother of Luck." "Pure mother." "Chaste mother." "Brought here to get my mother out of Madrid." "Holy Mother." "Immaculate mother." "Mother kind." "Honorable mother." "Are you going tomorrow morning?" "Mother who gave us counsel." "Mother of the Creator."

"Mother of the Savior." "I'll hurry. Now shut up and pray with us. See if we can try to get Mr. Anselmo to heaven." The vigil lasted until the early hours of the next day.We buried Mr. Anselmo the next day.The cemetery was chosen in the Catholic area, and the funeral was chanted with a solemn funeral scripture, and everything was carried out in accordance with the most devout Catholic rituals.We accompanied the coffin to the cemetery.The Tetouan wind was as raging as ever, blowing away the women's veils, blowing the skirts flying, and blowing the leaves of the blue gum trees tossing on the ground and flying all over the sky.The priest was reciting the last farewell prayer in Latin, and I leaned into Candelaria's ear and asked curiously:

"I heard from the old sisters that Mr. Anselmo is an atheist. Why do you have such a church funeral for him?" "Stop, stop, forget it, saying that will send Mr. Anselmo's soul to hell, and when we fall asleep, his wronged soul will come to settle accounts with us..." It was hard for me not to laugh. "For God's sake, Candelaria, stop being so superstitious!" "Don't tell me that, I'm an old brain, I know what I'm talking about!" She said no more, absorbed in the ritual, and never looked at me again until the last prayer, "Stop the Shelter," was said.The body was lowered into the grave, the first shovelfuls of earth were sprinkled by the undertakers, and the crowd slowly dispersed.We lined up to the exit at the parapet of the cemetery.Candelaria bent down and pretended to tie his shoes, letting the old sister, the fat woman, and the other neighbors go first.The two of us fell behind, watching their backs slowly moving forward, like a flock of crows, with black veils reaching to their waists, which are called half capes. "Come, let's have something to eat in memory of poor Mr. Anselmo, my dear, I've been so sad these past two days that I'm starving now." We walked all the way to the Haotaste restaurant, each picked a snack, and then sat on a bench in the church square to eat.The square is full of palm trees and flower beds.Finally I couldn't help it anymore, and asked the question that has been rolling on the tip of my tongue since morning: "Did you find out what I told you yesterday?" She nodded, her mouth full of meringue. "It's complicated and requires a lot of money." "Tell me about it." "Someone in Tetouan was involved in this kind of thing. I didn't find out the specific details, but it seems that the Spanish side was operated through the International Red Cross. First find the person in the occupied area, and then through some method Transfer him to some port in Levant, don't ask me how, I don't know a thing. Disguised, transported by car, or on foot, God only knows. It's in those ports anyway. Get on the boat. Those who want to go to liberated areas are sent to France and then cross the border from Bas Gongadas. People who want to come to Morocco, they will send to the Strait of Gibraltar if they can, but most of the time they go directly there to compare It is difficult, usually to other ports in the Mediterranean first, then to Tangier, and finally to Tetouan.” I feel my heart beating faster. "Then do you know who I should go to?" She smiled sadly and stroked my leg lightly, and my skirt was stained with sugar syrup. "You've got to get a lot of money before you can find someone, and it's in pounds. Did I tell you? Brits are the best money." "I haven't touched a cent of the money I've saved during this time." I ignored her complacency. "But you still have debts to the Continental Hotel." "Maybe I've saved enough to pay for both." "Impossible, my dear. It would cost at least two hundred and fifty pounds to do it." My throat went dry, and the puff pastry stuck in my throat like paste.I couldn't help coughing, and Candelaria patted me on the back lightly.When I finally swallowed the pie, I blew my nose and asked: "Can't you lend it to me, Candelaria." "Me? I don't have any money now." "What about the income of the fashion store? Don't I give you every month?" "It's all spent." "Where are the flowers?" She sighed heavily. "It was used for this funeral, as well as his medical expenses during the last period, and other bills owed elsewhere. Fortunately, Dr. Ma Dai is his friend, and he will not come to ask me for medical fees." I looked at her in disbelief. "But doesn't he have a pension? Should he have some savings?" "He has no money left." "That's impossible. He hasn't been out much for months, and he has no expenses at all." She smiled, a smile full of sympathy, sadness, and irony. "Don't know what the hell the old guy did, donated all his savings to the Red Cross." Even if I didn't have to pay off the debt, my savings were far from enough to trust someone to take my mother from Madrid to Morocco.Even so, the idea kept lingering in my mind.I barely slept that night.I imagined countless absurd possibilities, counting and counting the money saved in the drawer.But no matter how much you desire, no matter how many times you count them, their number still remains the same.Until daylight, I thought of another way. The conversation, the laughter, and the crackling of the keyboard stopped all of a sudden, and four pairs of eyes stared at me.The house was gray and smoky, with the smell of smoke and the musty smell of long damp.Except for the buzzing of flies and the languid whirling of a wooden electric fan overhead, the room was silent.A few seconds later someone passing the corridor saw me standing there and let out a stunning whistle.I was in my best suit that day, standing between four desks behind which were four sweaty men in shirtsleeves, hard at work.Or rather, it appears to be working. "I'm coming to Sergeant Bathgas," I said. "He's not here," said the fat constable. "But he'll be back soon," said the youngest. "You can wait for him for a while," said the thinnest one. "You can sit down for a while if you like," said the oldest one. I sat down on a rubber-covered chair and just sat there for an hour and a half without moving.During those ninety long minutes the men in the room pretended to go on working, but no one was actually working.Some pretended to be immersed in work, but secretly looked at me shamelessly, some pretended to beat flies with a four-fold newspaper, and then exchanged a few ambiguous expressions, or passed some scrawled notes, which were probably written all over my chest. , buttocks, legs guess and description.I don't know what they could have done if I had been a little more affectionate.At last Mr. Claudio came back, walking in like a conductor, with quick and long steps.As he took off his hat and coat, he gave orders and looked at a pile of papers that had just been handed to him. "Juan Rez, I want you to go to the strip right now, someone's been stabbed. Cordes, I'll count to ten, and if you don't get the match factory case sorted out and put on my desk, I'll Kick you to hell. Baudissa, what happened to the robbery at the tiger market? Kaniet..." He stopped because he saw me.So that Kaniet, the thin constable, hadn't been assigned any duties. "Please come in." He said simply, pointing to the office at the end of the room, and put on the half-taken coat again. "Cordes, give me the materials from the match factory later. You guys, what should you do?" he said to the others. He closed the glass door of his office and asked me to sit down.This room is slightly smaller, but it is much better than the environment in the big office outside.He hung his hat on a hanger and sat down behind his desk, which was strewn with papers and folders.Then he turned on a plastic electric fan, and the cool wind blew on his face, as if he had encountered an oasis in the desert. "Okay, what's the matter with you." His tone was not particularly kind, nor was it particularly severe. His expression ranged from the nervousness and worry during the first few meetings to the seriousness of the last time he visited a fashion store and decided not to ask any more questions. between.Just like last summer, his face was tanned by the sun again. It may be that like most Tetouans, he often goes to the nearby Mardin River Beach, but maybe it is just because he runs around in the sun all day, solving various problems. The problem. I already knew a lot about how he worked, so I made the request directly, and was prepared to answer the endless questions he was going to ask. "I need my passport." "May I know why?" "For a trip to Tangier." "May I know what you are going to do?" "To discuss my arrears." "Discuss? What are you discussing?" "I need them to give me a little more time." "I thought you were doing well and had saved enough money to pay off your debts. I know you have some very rich customers who think very well of you." "Yes, the business is really good. I have been saving food and medicine." "How much money do you have saved now?" "Enough to pay the amount owed by the Continental Hotel." "I have other things and need money urgently." "Which aspect?" "Family Matters" He looked at me in feigned surprise. "I thought your family was in Madrid." "Yes, that's why." "Please explain clearly." "For me, the only family in the world is my mother, who is still in Madrid. I want to find someone to bring her to Tetouan." "What about your father?" "I told you already that I hardly knew him. All I wanted was to find my mother." "Understood. How are you going to take her over?" I relayed to him exactly what Candelaria had told me, without mentioning her name, of course.He was still looking into my eyes as before, and seemed to be listening to me intently.In fact, I am almost sure that he knows all the details of this kind of black box operation. "When are you going to Tangier?" "As soon as possible, with your permission." He leaned back in the chair, looked at me fixedly, and tapped rhythmically on the table with the fingers of his left hand.If I had the powers of clairvoyance, I'd be able to see how his brain turned on and then went into action: Consider my request, rule out alternatives, make up my mind, and make a decision. After a while, it should be only a short moment, but it was extremely long for me, he stopped his fingers and slapped the table heavily.So I knew he had made up his mind.But instead of announcing to me directly, he leaned out at the door and shouted: "Kaniet, prepare a transit pass for Miss Sheila Siroga, and I need it now." Hearing this order, I took a deep breath, but didn't speak until he returned to his seat and told me the decision directly. "I'll give you back your passport and issue you another pass, tomorrow you'll have twelve hours to go to and from Tangier. Go talk to the manager of the Continental Hotel and see what happens. Said To be honest, I don't think there's much hope. But try it, it's better than waiting around. Please keep in touch with me at all times. Also, remember: don't play tricks on me!" He opened a drawer, rummaged through it for a while, and took out my passport.Kaniet came in, put a piece of paper on the table, and looked at me lustfully from the side.While signing the document, the sheriff shouted to the subordinate who had deserted without looking up: "Go away, Carneyt." Then he folded the paper in half, put it in my passport, and handed it to me without saying a word. Give it to me, then stand up, open the door, and wait there holding the handle to ask me to leave.The four pairs of eyes I met when I came in are now seven pairs.Seven men stood with their hands down and waited for me to leave, as if they were welcoming the holy car, as if they had never seen a woman with a slightly curvy face in a police station in their entire lives. "What's the matter today? Are you all on vacation?" Mr. Claudio yelled at them. Everyone jumps into action, pulls out files from folders, gathers to talk about important-sounding cases, and clacks away at keyboards that may actually be typing the same word over and over again.