Chapter Fourteen
Heard it on the grapevine
‘I wonder what’s changed so much since last summer,’ Andrew reflected, ‘This year, everyone seems to be rather tired or sad or I don’t know what.’
‘And hot,’ Joseph wryly added.
‘Well, for one,’ Henry observed, ‘Peter isn’t here, and Jimmy has run amok.’
‘Where is he, does anyone know his whereabouts?’ Andrew enquired.
‘Thomas told me that he’s gone to Brazil on holiday with a couple of his new friends,’ Joseph informed.
‘Yes, and Thomas has married for Christ’s sake,’ Henry chimed in.
They laughed at that, but were soon rather glum again. This summer things were, in effect, very different. Andrew and his friends were drinking maté at his home, only a few weeks after Christmas, under the shade of a couple of big poplar trees. It was hot that afternoon and once again they deplored the old swimming pool’s state of disrepair.
‘Didn’t you ever fill it up, see what—’
‘We certainly did, a couple of years ago. Don’t tell me. We cleaned the walls, painted it and it took the better part of a week to fill it up, but apparently the floor is cracked somewhere and in three days we were back to square one, all the water had leaked away,’ Andrew told them, ‘And that was the end of that, I can tell you.’
They sighed, sweating in the shade.
‘Did any one see Peter last time he was around?’ Henry asked no one in particular.
‘Uh-uh. I saw him,’ Joseph admitted lackadaisically, ‘I happened to stumble on him and Victoria at home while they were having what to all intents and purposes looked like a row or something.’
Henry and Andrew were most interested in this piece of news and asked for more details.
‘Well, I don’t know. Victoria was in tears and Peter seemed dejected. He only stayed at home for a couple of hours and when I got back from the grocer’s he’d already decamped... I don’t think we managed to exchange more than a couple of words between us. He vaguely asked about you all and—more vaguely yet—promised to visit us all one of these days. No, I don’t think so. He was only staying in Buenos Aires for a week or so, because of—’
‘What about Thomas or Jimmy?’ Andrew asked, ‘did they see him?’
‘No,’ Joseph reported, ‘they did not. Apparently Peter’s leave was suddenly shortened because he’s been transferred to somewhere in Corrientes, I don’t know why.’
‘Corrientes? That’s on the other side of the map, isn’t it?’ Henry observed. Corrientes was a province with tropical weather, nearly two thousand miles to the north of Covunco.
‘Is he being promoted, do you think?’ Andrew enquired.
‘Well, apparently not. I believe you have to serve three years as a Second Lieutenant before that,’ Henry explained.
‘The next rank being...?’ Joseph asked.
‘Lieutenant.’
‘Well, I for one am grateful to the gods for not having such a calling,’ Andrew declared with a grin.
They laughed at the preposterous idea. No one could picture Andrew as anything but his fat, unruly, unreliable, self. The maté circulated lazily and the boys kept on talking while the afternoon shadows lengthened.
‘And talking about callings, how’s Philip doing?’ Henry asked.
‘Not too well either, I believe,’ Joseph reported. They were surprised by this.
‘What’d’ya mean with “not too well”? Don’t tell me he’s thinking of—’
‘Yes, well, I don’t know for sure, but I heard Victoria speaking to him over the phone the other day and from what I gathered he’s undergoing some crisis of sorts... Apparently he doesn’t get on with Father Mole for some reason or other.’
‘I thought those two hit it off together rather well,’ Andrew said.
‘Yes, well, I don’t know. I asked Victoria to tell me what was going on but apparently Philip had sworn her to keep her mouth shut concerning whatever might be the trouble.’
‘I don’t happen to like Father Mole much myself if you ask me,’ said Andrew.
‘Yes, well, say what you want but I don’t think priests have to be likeable in any case. It’s quite irrelevant...,’ Henry said.
His two friends were taken by surprise. They weren’t used to hearing from Henry such contentious views. And this one in particular sounded rather out of character.
‘Who says so?’ Andrew shrewdly asked his friend.
Henry recognised that he had heard Thomas say so, more than once.
‘But all Christians are supposed to be of an amiable disposition. Much more, priests, for God sake,’ Joseph argued.
‘I’m not that sure,’ Andrew took up the line. ‘The old orthodox priests were severe and usually quite intimidating people, from what I remember. But they were truly faithful to their vocation. Now take a look at these modernist chaps, so sympathetic and easy going... give me one of the grim and rather frightening chaps of the old times, any day.’
‘No, I don’t think so,’ Joseph argued, ‘Oh, Lord! may the bad people be good, and may the good people be nice,’ he quipped, drawing renewed laughter from his friends.
Presently they got up and decided to buy some beer at the kiosk only two blocks away. Andrew set the pace as they trudged along the dusty streets of Bella Vista. On their way the talk turned back to Jimmy.
‘What’s the matter with him, do you think?’ Joseph asked.
‘Deranged, out of his mind, that’s all,’ Henry grumbled.
‘I’m not so sure about that,’ Andrew said.
‘You’ve a theory or something?’ Henry enquired.
‘Well... I don’t know. I’ll tell you what I think if you keep it secret,’ Andrew said, ‘I’d be in hot water if this starts to circulate, and I’ll downright deny that I’ve ever said it but...’
‘Fire away.’
‘I think, I’m not sure, but as far as I can tell... Stands to reason, doesn’t it? I mean, I can’t help thinking that he’s in love.’
‘Well, even if it’s true... I mean, you can be perfectly in love without—’ Henry said.
‘Oh, with whom?’ Joseph interrupted.
‘With your sister.’
They stopped dead in their tracks. ‘Not Victoria?’
Andrew silently nodded and Henry whistled loudly.
‘Blimey.’
The three of them stood on a corner clinging to the empty bottles of beer they had taken with them.
‘Hell of a mess if it’s true,’ Henry muttered, ‘one hell of a mess.’
‘I can’t believe it,’ Joseph said, ‘and what makes you think—’
‘Watch out!’ Henry cautioned, because, sure enough Victoria was walking towards them. She was wearing a rather short yellow dress that Henry thought most alluring, and for a fraction of a second he couldn’t quite help admitting to himself that there were times when he felt rather in love with her too. He hastily brushed these uncomfortable thoughts away. To cover up their track they simulated another argument about the merits and demerits of some soccer player or another.
‘Hello boys,’ she said when she reached them, kissing Henry and her cousin, ‘I was looking for you,’ she said, pointing her finger at Joseph.
‘What’s up?’
Victoria looked rather tired and her face exhibited a severe sisterly expression that Joseph particularly disliked.
Henry saw nothing of this. He was looking at her knees.
‘What’s up? You ask me? I’ll tell you what’s up all right. I’m all alone at home with all the children, and what do you know? When I need someone to do the shopping, all of you just disappear.’
‘Oh, stop grumbling, old girl,’ Andrew chimed in, ‘It’s not the end of the world or anything,’ and engagingly added, ‘Joseph was just telling us that we’d better go and see if you needed something.’ He lied with a perfectly straight face.
‘Very well, sister,’ Joseph said, ‘tell me what you need
and I’ll do the shopping.’
‘All right. And please don’t forget the butter.’
Victoria handed over a shopping list and some money and turned back to the house, walking slowly under the sun. Henry looked the other way.
The three of them proceeded to the grocer’s at a slow pace. Henry and Joseph returned to what Andrew had been saying.
‘Well, how do you know? Who told you? Does Peter know about—’
‘Did he actually—’
‘Hold it, hold it, friends,’ Andrew laughed at their harping questions, ‘Don’t get me wrong. It’s only a theory of mine, only something I surmise... I don’t know, I may well be wrong for all I know.’
‘Well, but you must have something a bit more substantial than that to stir up such suspicions, I mean,’ Henry reproachfully said.
‘Listen I’m not stirr—’
‘Do you think Victoria actually broke her engagement because she—’ Joseph stumblingly asked.
‘No. I don’t think so. No, nothing like that. I don’t even think Peter even knows about this... Well, friends, now that the cat is out of the bag, I might as well tell you.’
This reduced the other two to new levels of curiosity. They knew that Andrew wouldn’t invent a story like that out of the blue. There must be something to it, they thought.
‘At Thomas’s and Veronica’s wedding I happened to be quite near to the table where Victoria was sitting and... er... Well—fact is that this was before he started to play around with the fire-extinguisher,’ he added with a smile, ‘but actually before all that Jimmy came up to her asking her for a dance, as far as I could gather.’
‘Well, nothing wrong with that chum, I mysel—’ Henry said.
‘Yes. But when Victoria refused, he dashed into the toilet and, uh, on the spur of the moment I decided to follow suit.’
‘And so?’ Joseph impatiently spurred him on.
‘Well, I found Jimmy in the loo all by himself, looking straight into the mirror. And you know what? He was writing with soap on the glass.’
‘Did you see what—,’ Henry said.
‘Heaven knows,’ Andrew said, ‘As soon as he saw me he began to laugh and hastily rubbed out his soapy inscription... He said he was writing a new line for a poem he had recently concocted... but, no, he certainly didn’t expect to be caught like that.’
‘But didn’t you manage to read what he had written?’ Joseph asked.
‘Nope, not a clue. Except that I did recognize a capital "V" somewhere.’
Quite staggered by this piece of news, they walked in silence while trying to digest the unmistakable implications.
They were only a couple of yards from the grocer’s when Joseph exclaimed with a distinct note of dismay, ‘Hey, wait a sec., hold it boys.’
‘And now what’s the matter?’ Andrew enquired.
‘I’ve lost Victoria’s shopping list.’