‘Close it,’ said Father Leopoldo. ‘Or sell it to somebody who can transform it into a respectable hotel or restaurant. Give the women money so that they can begin to lead respectable lives. Leave this country and go back to where you come from. You are still young. The ape can return to the bush, It will no doubt soon find a troop it can join.’
Hanna said nothing about the fact that Carlos had lost his identity as an ape a long time ago, and now lived in a twilight world in which he was neither an animal nor a human being. His home was a ceiling light rather than a forest.
‘You are running away from something,’ said Father Leopoldo. ‘That flight will never come to an end if you don’t return to your homeland. And leave all this messy business behind you.’
‘I don’t know if I have anything to return to.’
‘Surely you have a family, Senhora? In which case you have your roots there, and not in this town.’
Hanna noticed that Father Leopoldo was staring at something behind her head. When she turned round to find out what it was, she saw one of the Portuguese garrison’s highest-ranking officers. He was wearing his uniform, with a sabre hanging from his belt and his officer’s cap under his arm. Father Leopoldo stood up.
‘I’m sorry I can’t continue this conversation, but do come back some other time.’
He gave Hanna an encouraging smile, then accompanied the soldier into one of the confessionals. The curtains were drawn on each side of the centre wall. Hanna thought that the high-ranking officer probably had a large number of sins to confess. She had recognized him immediately. He was a regular customer at the brothel, and sometimes had strange requirements of the women who served him. Some of his perversities were such that the women refused. Hanna had blushed the first time she’d had explained to her what the officer wanted. He asked for two women at the same time, and that they should pretend to be mother and daughter. Her first reaction was to ban him, but he was a good customer. Felicia had also told her that much worse requests sometimes came from some of the South African customers who were more deserving of a ban.
They had been sitting under the jacaranda tree, talking. Felicia had explained all the peculiar perversions men sometimes had when it came to their association with women. She had been astonished, and blushed. She had never experienced anything remotely like that in her short erotic life with Lundmark and Vaz. She realized that there was a lot she knew nothing about. Things that the proprietor of a brothel certainly ought to know.
She stood up to leave the cathedral, still unsure about what she ought to do.
The man who seemed to have been asleep was suddenly standing in front of her. He was holding his white hat in his hand, and there was a friendly smile on his face.
‘I couldn’t help hearing what Father Leopoldo said. Sometimes things can be heard very clearly in this enormous cathedral. It’s only in the confessional that nobody can hear what’s being said. But I want to stress that I’m not normally an eavesdropper. My name is José Antonio Nunez. I’ve spent many years in this country, doing business. But I’ve put all that behind me now, and nowadays I devote myself to quite different things. Things that are important in this life. I wonder if I might steal a few minutes of Senhora Vaz’s time?’
‘I don’t know you. But you know my name?’
‘This is not a big town. Or at least, the white population is not so great that one can remain anonymous for very long. Let me just say that I knew your husband, and ask you to accept my condolences. I really did wish Senhor Vaz a happy and successful life.’
Hanna reckoned that the man standing in front of her was in his forties. His friendliness seemed convincing. It seemed somehow that he didn’t really belong to this town — in the same way that she was also a foreigner.
They sat down. He was confident and determined, she less so.
‘I’ll keep it short,’ said Nunez. ‘I’m prepared to relieve you of the establishment of which you are the proprietor. I would pay off the women, just as Father Leopoldo recommended. What is of value to me is the actual building. After all my years as a businessman, I’m trying to pay back something of all the benefits I have accrued. If you sell the building to me, I shall turn it into a children’s home.’
‘For black children?’
‘Yes.’
‘In the middle of the white men’s red-light district?’
‘That is precisely my intention. To create something that reminds people of all the parentless black children drifting around like leaves in the wind.’
‘The governor would never allow it.’
‘He’s a friend of mine. He knows that he’s dependent on me to keep his job. A lot of white people in this town accept my advice.’
Hanna shook her head. She didn’t know what to believe. Who was this man who had been sitting there with his eyes closed, and now suddenly wanted to buy the brothel?
‘I don’t know if I’m going to sell,’ she said. ‘Nothing has been decided.’
‘My offer still applies tomorrow, and perhaps some time into the future. I know you use the solicitor Andrade. Ask him to contact me.’
‘I don’t even know where you live.’
‘He does,’ said Nunez with a smile.
‘I need some time to think this over. We can meet here a week from now. At the same time.’
He bowed deeply.
‘I’ll be here. But a week is too long. Let us say three days from now.’
‘I don’t know who you are,’ she said again.
‘I’m sure you can easily find out.’
Hanna left the cathedral. Once again she needed some advice, and she knew there was a person she could turn to. Not only to ask about Nunez, but also about what Father Leopoldo had said.
That same afternoon she was driven out to Pedro Pimenta’s farm, where dogs were barking and crocodiles thrashing their tails before vanishing into the murky waters of their pools.
When she got out of the car and the engine had been switched off, she heard the sound of glass shattering inside the house. The veranda was deserted.
Hanna looked around. Everything seemed strangely empty. Then a white woman came racing out of the door, her hands covering her face. She was followed by a girl, screaming and trying to catch up with the fleeing woman.
They disappeared down the hill leading to the crocodile pools. Then silence once again.
A boy a few years older than the girl came out of the door. Hanna had never seen him, the girl or the sobbing woman before.
The boy, who might have been sixteen or thereabouts, paused in the doorway. He seemed to be holding his breath.
He’s like me, Hanna thought. I can recognize myself in him — there in the doorway stands a boy who doesn’t understand a thing about what is happening all around him.
56
The scene Hanna was observing was transformed into an oil painting with the frame formed by sunbeams. The boy’s face seemed to melt as he stood there in the doorway. The dogs in their cages had fallen silent: they just stood there, tongues hanging out and panting heavily.
Quietness at last! Hanna thought. In this peculiar town it is never normally silent. There’s always somebody speaking, shouting, screeching or laughing. Not even at night does the town seem to rest.
But just now: silence.
The boy stood there motionless, tied down in the middle of the painting. Hanna was just going to walk over to the steps leading up to the veranda when Pedro Pimenta came out through the door. He stopped next to the boy, who stared at him. Pimenta was holding a blood-soaked handkerchief. He had a wound in his forehead that hadn’t quite stopped bleeding. He can’t have been shot, Hanna thought. A shot in the forehead would have killed him. Then she remembered the sound of shattering glass, and assumed that the sobbing woman must have thrown something at him.