THE SPANISH WAITER: FIVE

Ivan gets a shock

LAST WEEK

Andrea, the dusky waitress that Ivan had struggled to stop staring at since he had first been introduced to her, smiled fetchingly at him, her lovely eyelashes fluttering.

“And where?” she asked, struggling with her understandably minimal vocabulary of English.

And Ivan, who knew practically no Spanish was lost but didn’t want the lips that had uttered the two words to go elsewhere in the hotel, and it struck him straight away that verbal conversation was going to be a limited affair and he’d better find a different medium if they were going to communicate.

And apparently he wasn’t the only one to think that.

They were in the small staff lounge attached to the kitchen where they could perform two functions: that is, get some well-earned rest after a busy morning serving breakfasts and at the same time keeping their eyes on whatever was cooking or warming on the stoves.

Ivan had been working at the hotel, mostly on the bar, since his arrival and had actually managed to decipher the names of the more popular drinks even though those ordering them were Spanish. There had been little sight of his own countrymen, just a dishevelled woman who was supposed to house-keep the top floor down to the ground floor and get it done by lunch time, and as there were five floors that was quite a tall order that required her to secretly make short-cuts. In addition, though, she wasn’t exactly talkative and he found it best if he ignored her rather than struggle with an unfamiliar northern-Ireland accent.

He looked at Andrea as she sat back in her chair and found himself having problems finding even single a sentence that she might understand, and in response to his frown she smiled at him, looked carefully around for anyone who might see what she was up to, and kissed him. And when she kissed him it was fully on the mouth. And he was awestruck at the way she had clearly read his own mind.

Not wanting the moment to get lost in the past he extended the kiss and even managed to let his hand drift close to her bosom, and the two of them were only saved from what might have been a wonderful experience by the return of Tomas at the wrong moment.

“Well, my friend,” he said to Ivan, “Andrea is living up to her reputation, I see. But I have had a communication from your friend Geraldine and she wants me to convey something to you.”

He released his hand from Andrea, blushing as he did so. He knew there and then that Tomas knew ways of moving through his hotel that he as a newcomer hadn’t yet fathomed.

“Er.. yes?” he asked.

“She says she is concerned, worried even. A man has called on her and she is quite certain he belongs to what she referred to as a secret service.”

“A spook?” stammered Ivan, “what can they have to do with her? They’re the people who spend their lives searching for spies and foreign agents that might mean trouble, and Geraldine is unlikely to be either of those!”

Tomas shook his head. “We have such men too, and they are a law unto themselves, I fear. And it is known that in your country they can be more powerful even than members of the government. And sneaky: they are seen as sneaky. It is probably the same here but less is suspected.”

“Well Geraldine says she thinks it has to do with the man they believe you killed all those years ago,” sighed Tomas, “and this is a hotel, Ivan, and we can’t have such matters landing on our doorsteps. I have told Geraldine that, and she is at this moment on her way to catch a plane and come to see you.”

“But it can’t have anything to do with me, can it?” stammered Ivan, “I have been here for a few weeks now, and I think that everything has been good.”

“Tell me about the man they say you killed?” suggested Tomas, and in Spanish he asked ndrea to stop squeezing Ivan’s fingers and see to the soup for that night’s dinner.

“In case she understands more English than she seems to,” Tomas told him. “So what can you tell me about that man you are suppose to have killed?”

“Well,” began Ivan, “It was a weekend day, I think. Anyway, I wasn’t at the school where I taught but has offered to repair a man called Gaddy Carter’s car, and when I reminded him it might cost quite a lot of money to put the thing right he saw red, lost his tempter and set about shouting at me. To be honest I was scared. He was a bully, and I knew that. The next thing I knew was he had vanished off the face of the Earth, and after the police gave up looking for him they decided he must have been kied and that i must have killed him. It was total nonsense and I told them so, but they charged me anyway and concocted an almost believable account of how I did it. But I didn’t.”

“And tears later you ended up here,” nodded Tomas, “and I believe you because Geraldine, who once worked on a case with Valentina, my wife who is now high in our local police force, says so. But we can’t have anytrouble here, Ivan, you mut know that.”

Ivan wrung his hands when he realised that a past he had no control over was reaching out to even touch this new life he had found. He had been a respected teacher in a comprehensive school and now he was a barman cum waiter, but almost liking the job.

“Meanwhile,” smiled Tomas, changing the subject, “the coach load of your countrymen are due to arrive quite soon. they will be given keys to their rooms and then no doubt they will wash and change and find their way to the bar. Will you attend to serving there because Andrea finds the bar difficult when other languages are involved” He grinned at Iva, “I noticed that you might see why I keep her on. She is easy on the eye, as you say, and maybe equally easy on the mind!”

“Of course,” nodded Ivan, “you can depend on me.”

“I know th of the window at the people dismounting a modern British coach he knew that there would be soon.

It was then that he found his heart thumping because he recognised one of the passengers. There could be no mistake. It was a face that had hardly changed in the years since he had last seen him, a face that still haunted him in his dreams.

“Oh no,” he whispered to Andrea, who obviously didn’t understand, “it’s Carter, the man I killed, I’m sure of it, and he’s here!”

© Peter Rogerson 27.10.22

...