“I’ve got a torch in my rucksack,” said Alfonz, “we can go and have a look later.”
There was no real enthusiasm.
He lifted his rucksack, unfastened it quickly and took out the torch.
“What else have you got in there?” asked Max.
“Anything I thought we could use,” answered Alfonz with embarrassment.
“Oh, yeah, pliers, fuses and look! a handy camper’s axe. Are you going camping, Sad Alfonz?”
Alfonz blushed, searching for an excuse.
“Let’s look here and on the first floor to begin with,” said Max still with a grin on his face.
They decided to have their party in the dining room. It had the right sort of table: long and sturdy. They took off the dust sheet and almost suffocated in the cloud of dust which forced them to open the window. The sun had touched the surface of the sea and the sky was red.
The light switch worked and Max proudly remarked that his father had promised to cut the builders’ balls off if they did not sort it all out properly.
“Can you imagine,” he added, “if there were balls there instead of the light bulb?”
“Illuminated balls,” quipped Samo.
“Hot ones,” Alfonz joined in.
Raf missed his turn and this time they did all look at him. He tried to redeem himself with a smile, desperate to hide his embarrassment. He went back to looking around the room which was what he had been doing while the others were trying to be witty. He could not quite establish what it was that seemed so peculiar.
They examined the other rooms. In the kitchen, they were amused by the old fashioned water pump, the handle of which had to be pushed down a good few times before some smelly brown liquid came out. Max repeated his usual commentary. As for the toilet, they decided that they would go outside on the grass instead. On the first floor they walked around the bedroom and the study full of memorabilia belonging to the old diplomat — they established that the man had to have travelled all around the world and laughed at his portrait on a dried out old photograph which must have been taken in a desert, judging by the clothes he was wearing and the background.
Only the nursery shutters were so tightly closed that almost no light came in. Max tried to put the ceiling light on — like he did everywhere else. The successful cooperation of the lightbulb was accompanied by his mumble of approval. He thought how the only thing he respected in his father was his ability to bully anybody who worked for him. Max had never seen any of them do anything but their best. But maybe the secret was his father’s knack of recognising the right people in an instant. Just as he managed to choose his short-term female companions after a single glance.
The fluffy elephant on the bed under the nursery window looked very sorry for itself. The heat and the dust seemed to have got to it. None of them touched it. Max started going on about how filthy the place was. In the corner they noticed a baseball bat and agreed on a short game the next day. If any of them still felt like it.
Max was the first to notice the framed photograph of a young and extremely beautiful woman, the Indian woman, judging by her appearance and clothes. He started his predictable speech, which Raf found obscene, as it concerned a woman who had undoubtedly been dead for a long time, and Max talked about things which belong to the living only, the very things that make us alive.
Samo sneezed a few times and suggested they went outside otherwise they would suffocate in all that dust. Max agreed immediately:
“Let’s go and have a ciggie!”
“Something’s wrong,” a voice said inside Raf again when he was the last one to leave the nursery. He looked back at the fluffy toy. The elephant did not return his look, instead it kept stubbornly staring ahead as if the answer lay in its dark eyes almost completely obscured by dust.
Uncle Aco did not become any more talkative and made no effort to explain anything. He stood by the window looking at the sea. He turned round only once and he looked completely calm, just slightly remote. He started asking her very detailed questions about the boys, demanding a description of their appearance and anything else she could remember.
Ana did her best to please him and she noticed how she spent most of the time talking about the thin boy who had not spoken to her even though he had a chance.
Aco nodded from time to time and when she finished talking he turned away again. Ana pottered round the kitchen, put the rest of the fish in the bin, washed up, sat down, saw the red sky behind her uncle’s head and tried to gather courage.
She wanted to ask him for permission to go for a walk but she forced herself to change the question into a statement:
“I’m going for a walk.”
She had to say it again, before he mumbled something which she interpreted as his permission even though she suspected he had not really heard her at all.
They sat on the sand by the sea giving in to the sunset. Max and Alfonz were smoking with the ferocity typical of smokers who have been deprived of cigarettes for a whole hour because of the heat and the burden they have been carrying, but whose bodies had now calmed down and were demanding tobacco.
Alfonz had also brought a bottle of brandy and it travelled among them slowly.
“Yuck, it’s hot!” yelped Max.
“Yeah, we’ll have to cool it,” agreed Alfonz.
He took the bottle to the sea and spent a while trying to position it in the water by digging it in and surrounding it with stones so that the precious contents would not spill.
“That won’t work,” said Samo. “We can’t be coming here in the dark during the party. Besides, if the tide comes in, the sea-water will go into the bottle.”
“You’re right,” agreed Max.
“What if we took all the drink to the cellar?” suggested Alfonz.
“Yes, there was quite a cold draft when you opened that door. Alfonz, you sort it out! I leave it all to you. Samo, what do you think?”
“You’re right, Max. But it would be best to cool the beer a bit in the sea first, while it’s still light.”
Alfonz got up obediently and made his way to the veranda to get the crate. Raf accompanied him with his eyes, wishing he would rebel just once.
“What’s the matter Raf, why are you so quiet?” Max prodded him.
“Oh, nothing.”
Suddenly, Raf felt a strong desire to mention the girl from the ferry. Just like that, in passing, even though he knew what sort of comments about her he could expect from the others. But if she was not present at least in their conversation it seemed to him that she would become very remote, non-existent. He had to clench his teeth, so overwhelming was his desire for her presence. He had to talk about her, he had to!
“I’m still knackered from the journey,” he said.
“Yes, it was boring,” sighed Max. “It was too long".
“No interesting passengers,” added Raf, congratulating himself on his cunning.
“Yeah, except that babe who wasn’t too bad,” agreed Max.
“Well,” said Samo, “she could be a bit fitter, her hips were too small.”
“And her tits weren’t very big either,” grimaced Max.
In the background they could hear the clanking of the bottles as Alfonz arranged them on the veranda.
“I do like them to have big tits,” went on Max dreamily, “but they have to be nice and firm!”
“Yeah, right,” yawned Samo, stretching.
Every word cut into Raf’s heart. How nastily they spoke of her! But even that was better than the silence after they had exhausted the subject of all the relevant parts of the female anatomy.