Koločep
Natali helped Lloyd to load the last of the boxes onto the sack trolley, then balanced the pop-up banner on top.
The ferry heading towards Dubrovnik was expected any moment, and she watched as he forged his way through a group of holidaymakers surrounded by luggage.
Closer to hand, two men were unloading empty beer crates from a tractor-trailer.
She wound Obi’s lead more tightly around her hand. “We’d better get out of the way.”
One of the men stopped as she walked past. “Oprostite, you’re the girl who chats to Baka. Natali, is it?”
Astonished he knew her name, she nodded. “Y-yes.”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Is Baka all right?”
“Yes, yes.” He stopped, rubbing the stubble on his chin. “Well, yes and no.”
Had her son not coming upset her so badly that she was ill? Had she had a fall?
But the man’s smile was encouraging. “Don’t worry. There’s just something you need to understand now that you’re becoming friendly. She said only yesterday how much she was looking forward to seeing you.”
“I … I like talking to her too.”
“That’s good. Very good.” He frowned. “And you mustn’t let what I’m about to say change that. Valentin, the son she waits for, he died almost fifteen years ago.”
Had she heard him right? That didn’t make sense at all. “Then w-w-why…?”
“She’s getting a bit forgetful. Probably has some sort of dementia, truth be told.
She manages very well in most ways, and when she doesn’t, the village helps out.
But a few years ago she started meeting the ferries, expecting Valentin to come.
You see, he was on his way to visit from America when he had a heart attack. ”
“That’s so sad for her.” To her surprise, Natali felt choked by tears. To wait every day, to be disappointed every day, to go home alone… How awful must that be?
“Oh, you are a sweet child. Baka was right. But perhaps it isn’t all sad, you know.
Sad, of course, that Valentin died before he could come home, and certainly Baka and her late husband suffered very much at the time.
But now she doesn’t suffer, because she thinks he’s on his way.
She has hope. And waiting for him gets her out of the house and she talks to people.
And she cooks a proper meal each day, which she might not do otherwise. ”
Natali nodded. It was so much to take in, and way beyond her experience. “S-so everyone pretends he is still alive?”
“I suppose so, yes, because if we told her he wasn’t it would hurt her most terribly. Every time anyone said anything it would be like he had died all over again, because she doesn’t remember.”
“My friend, Lloyd, he lost his wife two years ago and it still makes him sad.”
The man nodded. “And there is nothing as bad as a parent losing a child. Nothing. The bonds are so strong. Anyway, I must get on. Thanks for understanding, Natali. If you want to know anything else, please do ask me. My name’s Dorijan and I’m always here.
” He bent to pat Obi, sending her tail into a frenzy of wagging, before returning to his work.
Slowly, Natali walked away from the quay.
The upward path was still shaded, and unwilling to go past Lloyd while she was trying to make sense of what she’d been told, Natali took it.
Poor Baka, to lose her son when he was finally on his way to visit her.
It was just the most awful time for it to happen, when she’d doubtless been full of excitement to see him.
And now she was getting old, her mind was playing tricks and taking her back to those last moments of happiness when she knew he was alive.
What made it doubly strange was that in other ways she didn’t seem forgetful at all.
She remembered Obi’s name, and Natali’s, and knew when to expect them, and even what they’d talked about before.
It was almost as though Baka was living in two separate times at once, and she just couldn’t grasp how that might be.
“But I don’t have to, do I?” she murmured to Obi. At least she wouldn’t be angry with Valentin anymore. And of course it wouldn’t change how she was with Baka. Why should it? No one was perfect, after all.
“Natali! Natali!” Baka’s voice sounded behind her and she turned, her greeting drowned out by Obi’s excited yips.
Baka was waving from outside a modest stone house surrounded by citrus trees, their tops just visible over the bougainvillea-covered wall.
Of course, the slope was so steep above the village that the height of the trees made perfect sense.
Either the house was built up, or went down to a second floor that Natali couldn’t see from the path.
Baka closed the wooden gate leading from a terrace lined with pots of herbs, and waited on the path. Obi was so excited she all but scrambled along in front of Natali, her claws clicking on the asphalt.
“Are you on your way to meet the ferry?” Natali asked, as Baka bent to pet Obi.
“Yes. Valentin’s coming back from America today. Isn’t it wonderful? And what’s more, I’ve made some medenjaci. With Marin’s honey. You know, he has the stall next to the library.”
Natali nodded. “I do.”
“Don’t worry, young lady, I’ve baked enough for you as well. Here.” She straightened, pulling a paper bag from her handbag. “I have them ready. I know you come on a Monday.”
“Baka, that’s so k-kind of you, thank you.” Natali’s voice felt scratchy. No one had ever baked anything for her before.
“It is my pleasure. You need feeding up. But now I must go, or I’ll be late.”
“I’ll come with you. I have something to tell you.
” Natali fell into step beside Baka, whose walk was really quite spritely for one so elderly.
“My friend Lloyd found the Fisherman Plunk story. It’s wonderful, isn’t it, what his wife goes through to get their baby back.
She faces every challenge so bravely – some of them were properly scary. ”
“It is wonderful, and also understandable. There is nothing a mother won’t do for a child, is there?”
Natali changed her shrug to a nod just in time.
There was very little her mother would actually do for her, but it was the hand life had dealt her, and that was that.
At least she’d had Auntie Stela’s wise words to guide her and she’d been right – good things did happen if you stayed positive, and this summer was turning out to be absolutely the best.
She and Baka parted company at the bottom of the path, just as the ferry was nosing its way onto the quay, the rumble of its engines filling the bay.
How would Baka feel when she realised her son wasn’t on it?
Was the sorrow new to her every day, every time?
Natali shook her head. It was completely beyond her comprehension.
She popped one of the little round medenjaci into her mouth.
She’d never had one before and the flavour was exquisite, the soft dough melting into honey and a spice she couldn’t quite recognise on her tongue.
It was so very delicious that it made her a little tearful that Baka would never again share her wonderful baking with her son.
* * *
So typical her phone would ring when her hands were plunged into the galley sink, washing chard. Natali’s phone never rang. It was most likely a nuisance call, but all the same she wiped her hands and checked.
The word Mama filled the little screen, but she had taken too long to answer and the call went to voicemail. Just as well. She couldn’t think what her mother might want, but at least this way she would have time to consider her answer. And finish preparing the chard.
A few minutes later the phone rang again, but Natali let it go to voicemail. Honestly, did Mama think she sat around waiting for her to call? She was working. And if she’d phoned while they were mooring or tacking or something else important, she wouldn’t have been able to answer anyway.
She looked at the clock on the galley wall.
It was only quarter past three, so now would be a good time to see what her mother wanted, before Lloyd packed up the library and they prepared to leave.
She dried her hands thoroughly, put the chard in the fridge, then leant against the work surface.
Ana was in her cabin, so at least she had some privacy.
Sranje! Her mama was sobbing in the message.
She should have picked up. “He’s left me,” she wailed.
“Dario’s gone back to Italy. He … he promised he’d take me, but he told me this morning he’d changed his mind.
Oh, Natali, my heart is broken. I’m too old …
no one will ever love me again. Please call me, draga. Please.”
Natali toyed with the phone in her hand.
It was not the first time Mama had remembered her existence the moment she broke up with someone.
Not the first time she’d said her heart was broken and she’d never recover.
Normally all that her mother required was for Natali to turn up on her doorstep and hold her hand, nodding and providing a tissue every so often, then somehow cobbling together a meal from the limited contents of the fridge while her mother got drunk.
Oh, and phoning whoever her mama happened to be working for at the time to tell them she was ill.
And repeat, two or maybe three times a week, if necessary, until Mama pulled herself together and went back to her job – or found a new one if they’d sacked her.
In the past Natali had done all this, if not willingly, but because she could.
In fact, when the guy before Dario had bailed it had worked out quite well because she’d been sofa surfing, unable to find anywhere cheap enough to rent, and she’d actually moved back home.
Until her mama had got fed up with her being there all the time, and had started to shout at Obi, which had very much not been all right.
But by then it had been November, and she’d found a bedsit above a restaurant that had closed for the winter.
They hadn’t minded her having Obi because they thought a dog would keep down the rats.
As if! Obi would run a mile if she saw one.
But now it just wasn’t possible to drop by whenever her mother needed her.
All the same, it felt pretty cruel to make Mama fend entirely for herself, and sort of awkward, because last time Natali had taken advantage of the situation, so perhaps she owed her mother.
At least a call or two. Sort of dropping by, via phone.
“That was a big sigh.” Ana’s head appeared at the top of the steps as she began to climb to the galley.
“I’ve h-had a message from my mother. She’s split with her boyfriend and it sounds like she’s in a bit of a mess.” Natali sucked her lip. “She’ll want me to go home, but of course I can’t.”
“Home’s Dubrovnik?”
Natali nodded.
“Then you can,” said Ana, shrugging.
“Well, perhaps at the weekend. Take the bus from Ston…” But that wouldn’t be soon enough – or probably good enough – for her mama. Nothing ever was.
“No, come with me tomorrow. I’ve fixed up to see Ivana so I’m getting the early ferry, then back in the afternoon.”
“But won’t one of us need to help Lloyd?”
“It’s Lopud. It’s an easy set-up. I’m sure he can manage.” Ana put her hand on Natali’s shoulder. “It’s family after all. He’ll understand.”