She leaned back so that her face was in the shade of the jacaranda tree. Felicia was standing there, staring at her hands. She had broken a fingernail. That seemed to irritate her.
But she still hadn’t sat down, despite the fact that there was plenty of room on the bench. It dawned on Hanna that she didn’t know this black woman at all, despite the fact that she had probably saved her life. In fact she was scared of her, just as she had been scared of the black men sitting round the fire on the quay. This fear somehow reminded her of how she had been scared of the dark when she was a little girl.
I can see you, Felicia, she thought. But what do you see? Who am I for you? And why don’t you sit down? The bench is big enough for both of us.
The young waiter came with the tea and broke her train of thought. Hanna looked at his hands as he served her.
Only she received a cup. Not Felicia.
‘What’s his name?’ she asked Felicia.
‘Estefano.’
‘How old is he?’
‘Fourteen at most. But he hasn’t had sex with a woman yet. So he’s just a child. His hands are still very soft.’
Hanna drank her tea in silence. Afterwards, when she had slid the cup to one side, she asked Felicia to tell her about everything that had happened during the days when all she could remember was shadows, loneliness and a pain that kept coming and going in waves.
Felicia was not to leave anything out. She should just say exactly what had happened. And speak slowly, so that Hanna understood.
25
Felicia said:
‘Laurinda, who gave you the lantern when you arrived, told me that there was a white woman staying in room number 4. I didn’t know that you had taken up residence in the hotel as I had been visiting my husband and my children in Katembe. I meet them once every month — never at a prearranged time, but when Senhor Vaz thinks it’s appropriate. I had just returned and was entertaining my first client when Laurinda came running up. I thought she must have seen a ghost or some kind of phantom, and that she wanted me to kill it. But when I came into your room you immediately became a real, living person. A bleeding woman is more alive than anything else I can think of. The blood running out of our bodies proves that we are alive, but also that we are dying. I understood what had happened even though I didn’t know who you were or where you had come from. You should really have danced for me. That’s how we get to know strangers in my village and my family. When we see them dance we discover who they are.
‘But I got to know you through your blood. I whispered to Laurinda that she should fetch warm water and towels. You seemed to be awake and looking at me, but it was as if you didn’t know what had happened even so. One should always talk to frightened people in a low voice, that’s something I learnt from my mother. Anyone who shouts in the presence of somebody who is ill can see his or her shout changing into a fatal spear.
‘Laurinda came with water and towels, and I took off your blood-soaked clothes. When I rummaged around among your underwear I found some banknotes — a large amount that made me wonder even more who you were. For one English pound you can share my bed for a whole week. You had tens of them. I couldn’t understand how a woman could have so much money, even though you are white.
‘But I must also admit to thinking that if you died, I would take the money. Assuming there wasn’t anybody waiting for you, and that it didn’t belong to somebody else. Anyway, I put the notes back among your underclothes — but I knew now where they were. You were bleeding profusely, and your forehead felt hot. There was a moment when I thought it would be impossible to save your life, and that I had been wrong after all. Perhaps it wasn’t a miscarriage, but something else that had afflicted you, some illness I knew nothing about.
‘Laurinda stayed in the background, but all the time she was on hand to help me. Then I heard Senhor Vaz coming into the room. He spends his life taking people by surprise, catching them doing something they shouldn’t. I heard him whispering, asking what had happened: Laurinda didn’t know what to say. When I heard him talking about sending a messenger to Dr Garibaldi I got up from the side of the bed where I’d been squatting down and told him that wouldn’t be necessary: Dr Garibaldi didn’t understand this kind of bleeding. As I did so I thought Senhor Vaz was going to hit me — he never allows one of his whores to express an opinion. But he didn’t touch me. I think he could see from my eyes that I knew Dr Garibaldi would only make a bad situation worse. And he didn’t want that to happen. That might give his establishment a bad reputation. His clients might choose to go to other whores, even if Senhor Vaz had the reputation of running a brothel that was both spotlessly clean, and had a team of attractive black women. But if a white woman were to bleed to death in one of his rooms, that could be a bad omen. There might be an evil spirit hovering over O Paraiso. Even if all white folk despise what we believe, we have had a certain amount of influence on you. Evil spirits can also injure white people. There was a time when we thought that our African medicine had no effect on people with light-coloured skin. Nowadays we know that isn’t true. You are just as scared as we are of the evil spirits that are spread by people that wish us ill. I didn’t know who you were, nor where you were going to. But when I saw you lying there with your blood-soaked underwear, I immediately had the impression that somebody wished you ill, that somebody wanted you to die.’
Felicia suddenly fell silent, as if she felt she had said too much. There was a clattering sound made by a cart in the street outside.
It seemed to Hanna that there was still so much that she didn’t understand. Not only because she could barely grasp what Felicia had said, but because she now realized that the hotel she had checked into the evening she had fled from Captain Svartman’s ship was more than it seemed. The hotel was a front for a brothel, something she couldn’t have avoided hearing the crew of the ship talking about. And so Felicia, who was standing in front of her next to the beautiful jacaranda tree, was in fact a prostitute.
She thought she ought to stand up, return to her room, get dressed and immediately move into a decent hotel.
But it was Felicia who had saved her, together with the woman she now knew was called Laurinda. Why should she need to flee from them? She had nothing to do with the brotheclass="underline" all she had done was to take a room that she intended to pay for with her own money.
The money that Felicia hadn’t taken, despite the fact that she’d had the opportunity.
Felicia was looking at her, and seemed to read her thoughts.
‘A rumour started,’ she said. ‘And it spread like wildfire. It was alleged that Senhor Vaz had acquired his first white whore. New clients immediately started queuing up. But they soon realized that you were something as rare as a normal hotel guest. There was no end to their disappointment.’
‘This Senhor Vaz,’ said Hanna. ‘The owner. Who is he?’
‘He’s a man who can’t bear the sight of blood,’ said Felicia. ‘When we are bleeding, that’s bad for his business — apart from when we entertain those disgusting men who can only bring themselves to have sex with a woman when she’s having her period. But he hates everything else to do with blood. As long as you’re ill he’ll keep out of your way.’
‘And then what will happen?’
‘I assume that as long as you pay for your room, you can stay on.’