Given that Kukla’s life was in any case like a very bad film – at least that is what she thought – let us hope that it will support this one last observation: Kukla never forgot the young man’s attention. His attention had been like dew dropping onto a desert rose – and the foreword to Kukla’s second life.
What about us? While life stories are muddled and extended, the tale slips along in its rush to be ended.
7.
It is not true that Mevludin knew no English at all. He knew a lot, of course he did. That is why he said to the girl who was standing in front of him, crying bitterly:
‘I am sorry, I understand the full extent of your damage.’
Mevlo knew that kind of BBC and CNN English and he was in a position to enunciate eloquently such sentences as: There has been no let-up in the fighting in Bosnia. Heavy shelling continued throughout the night… Mevludin knew a lot, he knew about peace negotiations, about ceasefires and the ceasefire appears to be holding… He also knew about sporadic gunfire, progress towards a settlement, wail of ambulance sirens, the horror of the early-morning blast, he knew all about a pool of blood, explosion, reminders of horror and many, many other things.
That is why he said to the girclass="underline"
‘Stay calm but tense.’
Mevlo remembered the sentence The atmosphere in the city remains calm but tense as the ceasefire appears to be holding and he was sure that his words would comfort the girl. The girl glanced at him in horror, as though she had come face to face with smelly socks, and went on sobbing.
Mevlo considered what he could do to console the girl. Then he remembered the cheque that Mr Shaker had given him. He took it out of the little pocket in his jacket, tapped the girl on the shoulder and said:
‘Look! Take it…’
The girl looked at him with the same expression, as though there were smelly socks in front of her nose, leaned her elbows on the table, laid her head on her folded arms as on a pillow and continued to cry.
‘Look!’
Mevludin tore the cheque into little pieces and tossed the pieces into the air like confetti. For a moment the girl watched the little pieces of paper floating through the air, stopped crying, and then remembered that she had been crying, and laid her head back on the table, arranging her folded arms like a pillow, and carried on crying.
Mevludin looked at her lovely round shoulders shaking with sobs. He felt helpless.
‘Oh, for God’s sake, love, do stop crying, you’re going to melt clean away. And then what’ll I have left? Tepid water?’ Mevludin whispered in his Bosnian, a language Rosie could not understand.
And then Mevludin thought that maybe the girl was hungry, she had probably not eaten anything all day, and he had some food in his bag that he had forgotten about, a boiled egg and a slice of bread. Mevlo placed the boiled egg and slice of bread in front of the girl. For a moment she raised her face out of the tangle of her copper-coloured hair, and then laid her forehead back on the pillow of her folded arms. Her sobs were slightly weaker, or so it seemed to him.
Mevlo took the egg and started to peel it. And, what do you know, as he was peeling the egg, out of the blue, Mevlo was visited by a life-saving recollection. Once, while he was massaging one of his guests, the guest had demanded that they play him his favourite song during the massage, and he had explained the words of the song, so that Mevlo remembered it. When he left, the guest had even presented him with the CD…
‘You’re my thrill…’ said Mevlo.
The sobs stopped, but the girl still did not move.
‘You do something to me…’
The girl was as still as a little bug.
‘Nothing seems to matter…’
The girl was silent.
‘Here’s my heart on a silver platter…’ he said, handing the girl the egg.
The girl peeled her forehead off the table, and, without looking at Mevlo, took the egg with her pink, child’s fingers. First she nibbled the end indifferently and then went on nibbling the egg, gazing at an imaginary point in front of her. Mevlo crumbled bread with his fingers. He could see, as though through a magnifying glass, a little drop of yolk trembling on the girl’s lip. A leftover tear slipped out of her eye and came to rest on the drop of yolk. Mevlo broke off a piece of bread, picked up the drop of yolk and the tear with it and put it into his mouth. The girl watched him with wide-open eyes.
In that instant, Mevlo felt that the tension eight inches below his navel was easing. As though something heavy had broken off him and fallen soundlessly onto the floor. Mevlo knew perfectly well what was happening. Just as that wretched shell had cast a spell on him, so this girl with the egg in her hand had broken it.
‘Where is my will, why this strange ceasefire…’ whispered Mevlo.
The girl smiled. Those copper freckles on her face began to shine with a miraculous glow, and her wide-apart greenish eyes sparkled like two little pools.
Day Four
1.
First thing in the morning, Beba popped into the Wellness Centre to invite Mevludin to a little celebration.
‘Mashallah! I heard,’ said Mevlo warmly. ‘So what’ll you do now, love?’ he added anxiously, as though Beba’s win in the casino was a great misfortune.
‘I’ve no idea. But, what’s happened to you?’ Beba asked, as Mevludin had fervently hoped she would.
‘That thing of mine… finally drooped!’ he said brightly.
And Mevlo told Beba what had happened to him the previous evening, while he was consoling Rosie.
Beba wanted to say something like ‘congratulations’, but then it seemed inappropriate, so she just said:
‘So that’s you sorted.’
‘I wish I was,’ he sighed.
‘Come to the pool, and we’ll talk,’ said Beba.
Dr Topolanek showed exceptional understanding for his three guests’ idea, all the more so when Beba rewarded his understanding with a substantial wad of notes. Dr Topolanek ordered a notice to be put up announcing that the pool was closed due to the repair of an unexpected fault, and the three old ladies had the whole place to themselves. The hotel staff carried in vases of flowers, with broad smiles on their faces, as they imagined what fun the three aged nymphs would have in the pool. When Beba thrust a flattering tip into each of their hands, they all became suddenly serious and now they carried the flowers with dignity, as though at a funeral. They brought special sun-loungers for ‘the elderly and less agile’. Beba had found a child’s one-piece swimming costume for Pupa in the local shop. It had a stupid Teletubbies design on it, but it was better than nothing, she thought, so that problem was solved. Pupa stubbornly insisted on keeping her long white socks on, as she was not allowed to go into the water in her fur boot. The staff placed Pupa carefully on the lounger in the shape of a horizontal ‘S’, and pushed her off into the waters of the pool. Beba had ordered champagne and a lavish selection of pastries from the hotel confectioner’s, which was all arranged on trays on the very edge of the pool. The only other person left in the pool room was a young waiter who opened the bottle of champagne, poured it into the glasses and then silently withdrew.