Koločep
Natali handed Lloyd the ice-cold bottle of water she’d bought at the minimarket and he pressed it against his forehead.
“It’s so damned hot today,” he said. “Not even a breeze.”
“It’s making everyone grumpy too,” she replied. “Especially the woman in the shop. She really snapped at me when I asked if the veg had come in yet, so I guess it hasn’t.”
Lloyd shrugged. “I’m sure there’s a tin of tomatoes on the boat.”
Natali nodded. It wasn’t the same, but she knew he had more important things to worry about than his supper.
Like what that lying cow Mirjana might say to Kristina for a start.
But all the same, when she’d come back on Saturday afternoon she’d noticed the tiniest of changes in Lloyd, although it was hard to pinpoint exactly why or what it was.
She carried on along the path towards the quay and the rocks beyond, where she’d moored Dida Krila’s tender. The late-morning ferry had left a while ago and the next wasn’t due until early afternoon, so she was as surprised as Obi was delighted to see Baka on her bench.
“I thought you would have gone home to get out of the sun,” Natali said.
“I’m waiting for a ride.” Baka indicated one of the lawnmower tractor-trailers. “My friend brought me all these peppers from her garden – they’ve ripened so early. I’m going to make ajvar relish but I can’t manage these bags as well as my stick.”
“That sounds lovely. If you don’t want to wait, I’ll carry them up for you.”
“Would you? Ajvar takes so long, by the time the peppers have roasted then cooled. I really need to get on so it’s ready before Valentin arrives.”
“Of course.” Natali wound Obi’s lead around her palm and took a carrier in each hand. They weren’t heavy, but they were certainly bulging, and her mouth began to water at the thought of the delicious relish Baka was planning to cook.
“I’ve never made ajvar,” she told her.
“Then you shall help me, and in return I will give you a jar.”
Natali hesitated. “I’d like to, but I must make sure Ana doesn’t need the tender. Or there’s no urgent work for me to do.” But ajvar would be the perfect accompaniment to the ?evapi she had planned for supper, so she wouldn’t mind betting that Ana wouldn’t be hard to persuade.
From the path, Baka’s house appeared to be a simple single-storey stone building with neat white shutters, but its position on the steep hillside meant there would be a cellar, or even more rooms, carved into the bank beneath the part she could see.
Below and around it was a sizeable citrus grove, but Natali couldn’t tell if the trees were oranges or lemons.
There was so much about the islands she didn’t know, although increasingly she yearned to find out.
Baka pushed open the door and Natali followed her inside.
“You don’t lock it?” she asked.
“Why would I do that? Everyone here is honest.”
Natali shook her head. “I saw a pickpocket in the village only a few weeks ago.”
“Pah! They’re too lazy to climb up the hill.”
She followed Baka through a living room that was cool behind closed shutters.
As her eyes adjusted, she could make out a sofa and two easy chairs, with old-fashioned lace protecting the arms and decorating the backs of the seats.
A dark wood sideboard dominated one wall, its top covered with photographs, some black and white, some colour, but no doubt all family members.
Looking at them made Natali realise there wasn’t a single picture of her in her mother’s apartment.
Even if there had been one before Saturday, it wouldn’t be there now, Natali could guarantee it.
Mama would be cross for days – maybe even weeks – but Natali couldn’t help that.
Everyone – Auntie Stela, Ana, Lloyd – had said she’d done the right thing, the best thing, and in her heart of hearts she knew it too.
Her mother would come around, and in the meantime, well, it wasn’t as if she generally heard from her from one month to the next anyway.
You couldn’t miss what you didn’t have. And right now she had the prospect of cooking with Baka for the next couple of hours and that promised to be so much fun.
As Natali put the bags of peppers on the scrubbed wooden kitchen table, Baka flung the shutters wide and sunlight poured in, making every surface sparkle.
A plethora of mismatched pottery jugs, mugs, and plates filled the double row of shelves which lined the walls, and on the windowsill was a pretty glass vase of white and yellow daisies.
“Right,” said Baka, tying an apron over her dress, “once the vegetables are roasting we will make some coffee, but for now I would like you to pick two aubergines. The biggest ones. Through that door are the stairs to the lower floor, and you will find the plants just in front of the house.”
Obi trotted happily after Natali, down the wooden steps and into a wide corridor lined on one side with shuttered windows.
On the other were the open doors of three rooms, and Natali couldn’t resist peeping into them.
The middle one was a rather quaint bathroom with an antiquated shower over a curved bathtub, and the others were generously sized bedrooms. Natali felt a pang when she saw the made-up bed and jug of daisies in the one closest to the stairs.
How often would Baka refresh the flowers ready for her son who would never come home?
And yet she understood what Dorijan had said about it being no bad thing if it saved Baka from the agony of knowing Valentin had gone forever.
Natali couldn’t begin to understand the workings of the human mind, far less how Baka felt or what she thought at the end of every day when she came home alone, but it was not hers to question.
Was she, in fact, doing something not dissimilar herself, by refusing to look beyond the summer?
The thought had begun to take root in her mind when Auntie Stela had given her a hug as they said goodbye on Saturday and told her to stay positive, that something would come up because it always had before.
But quite a few of the somethings had been less than ideal, and the thought of going back to cleaning or pot-washing filled her with dread.
It was so unrewarding, but with her school certificates being such poor grades, what else could she do?
She stopped with her hand on the door handle.
There must be something. Surely there was something.
If she’d learnt anything about herself this summer, it was that she wasn’t half as stupid as she’d thought she was.
Look at all those books she was reading, for a start.
All those new words. And in English too!
If she could do that, then could she do something to actually shape her life after September, like the people in the stories did, rather than leave herself at the mercy of Auntie Stela’s karma?
But that was not for now. Baka would be waiting for the aubergines, so she opened the door and went outside, Obi following half a pace behind.
As Natali looked around, the little terrier sniffed the air then zoomed off between the trees.
Natali only hoped the walls were in good repair so she couldn’t get out, but Obi’s excitement as she ran, and sniffed, and ran again, all the while wagging her tail, was palpable, and filled Natali’s heart with a huge ball of joy.
Back in the kitchen, Baka had halved the peppers and put them in a large, enamel dish. Natali washed the aubergines under the tap and cut them into large chunks as Baka directed, then everything went into the oven.
“We roast them until they’re almost black,” Baka said. “It gives the smoky flavour we need. So now I will make coffee and you can crush the garlic. Lots of garlic. It’s how my Valentin likes it.”
They worked in companionable silence, Obi following Baka around hopefully.
“She likes it here,” Baka said.
“She loved the garden. Ran everywhere. She isn’t often off her lead.”
“Then shall we take our coffee outside? As long as you carry the tray. I made some savija?a od vi?anja this morning. My wrists still ache from working that pastry but the cherries are wonderful at the moment.” She leant towards Natali. “I’m sure Valentin won’t mind if we have a couple of slices.”
“Do you make everything from scratch?”
“What else would I do? Made with love is the best.”
Natali nodded. “I like to cook too, but I don’t know many recipes.”
“Your mother did not teach you?”
“My mother cannot cook at all. Everything in the microwave. I learnt from the television when I had no work.”
Baka tutted. “No wonder you are so thin.” She loaded an extra slice of the strudel onto the plate. “Never mind. Now you’ll be able to make ajvar and perhaps, if there is time another day, when Valentin is out seeing his friends, I can teach you more recipes.”
From nowhere, Natali’s eyes filled with tears. “I’d really, really like that.”
Baka rested a sun-spotted hand over hers. “So would I.”