David E Balaam - Columbus Day

Maria translated. Angel looked at her, then at George, then at Christopher who was still smiling. Angel shrugged and muttered something to Maria, and went back into the kitchen.

"Angel said to make you wash up, for a week."

"Gladly, of course. I am sorry about this. I am not leaving the country. I have just moved into the old farmhouse, El Pino. You may know it." George said hopefully.

"Si, I do," and smiled a smile that melted Georges' heart. "We had heard it had been brought by a foreigner. Ana and Julio were very nice people. They have retired to Andalucía by the sea. Lots of Spanish retire to the sea." She paused as if thinking of a solution. "Forget the payment. It is a welcome drink. As long as you come back."

George was relieved. "That is very kind of you. Please say sorry to Angel and your husband for my stupidity, and of course, I will return. Gracias, Maria, muchas gracias."

"I will tell Angel, but not my husband. He is now dead."

George didn’t see that coming. "I am very sorry. How long has it been?"

"Seven years ago."

George was about to say something but hesitated.

"My son did not really know his father," Maria explained.

"I’m sorry. It must be hard for you here."

"We survive," she smiled, not elaborating any more than that.

"Of course." George was now feeling embarrassed and started to turn away when he thought of something.

"Maria, can I ask something else of you."

"Si"

"Can I put a coin in the Jukebox? My son wants to hear one of the old records."

"If it worked yes, but it has been broken for a long time. I have not taken it down. We play the CD now," and she pointed to a modern JVC midi hi-fi system behind the bar, with speakers placed at each end of the bar on the top shelf.

George was genuinely disappointed. "Do you know what is wrong with it?" He asked, never one to see something not working when it should be.

"I do not know the technical words. It just stopped one day, and a local electric man said it could not be fixed. They do not make the parts anymore. It is very old," she shrugged.

"As I seem to have a lot of spare time, and I owe you a debt, would you allow me to look at it to see if it is truly not working?" She said nothing, so he continued. "I have some tools I brought with me. I need to get the house straight, and finish unpacking, but I will come back later in the month if that is OK. What time do you open?"

"I am downstairs around eight after I have taken my son to school," she said, "but you will be wasting your time."

"Then it’s a deal. I will see you again soon."

George went back to his table.

"Blimey dad, what was she talking about? I couldn’t tell if she was going to get rough with you." Christopher smirked.

"Well, she was very good about it. It was the other woman, Angel, by the way, who wanted to get you roughed up." He let the thought settle.

"Bloody hell – really. What did you say?"

"I was very discreet. I said you had a partner, and she understood. That’s why she left and went back outside. Seems you’ve broken another heart. Come on, let’s get back and get you on your way."

They headed for the door and George nodded to Maria who was still at the bar recalling their recent conversation, and her thoughts on this new man in town.

"See you soon," he called out and left the coolness of the café for the heat of the street.

Maria was brought out of her thoughts a few moments later by the door opening, and Senora Torres bursting into the bar.

"It’s them, it’s them!" she blurted out, pointing vigorously in the direction George and Christopher had turned. "The two dance crazy weirdoes living in the farmhouse. I went there for a job and they were dancing naked." And she proceeded to show her stunned audience, which included her husband, of how she remembered seeing the two men dance. At this everyone burst out laughing, and Senora Torres continued to dance around the bar waving her fists in the air.

"OK, you know the way back to Madrid."

"Sure, dad. Due north I believe."

"Not funny. You have plenty of time to get back and return the van and get the plane. Call me on my mobile when you are at the airport."

"Stop fussing, dad. It’s no big deal."

George was fussing. Part of him wanted Chris to stay for a while longer. He knew as soon as he left he would be alone to face his future.

"Here are two hundred Euros for petrol, etc. Have a good meal at the airport, not that fast food stuff."

"Thanks, Dad, I will."

They looked at each other for a while then hugged, and Chris kissed his dad on the cheek.

"Good luck dad. Enjoy the rest of your life." Chris said in a solemn but sincere tone. He climbed into the van and started the engine. "By the way, don’t play hard to get with Maria," he called out, as the van slowly passed George, down the gravel drive to the main road.

George wanted to give a quick and witty reply but was lost for words. He realised then his children not only expected him to find another partner, but it was OK to do so. George smiled to himself and walked back inside to start his new life.

He spent the next week opening boxes and putting the house in order. He wasn’t rushing – no need to. Senora Torres came back two days later, this time with her husband for protection, or moral support, but the language was a problem. George could understand pleasantries and order food and drink etc. but asking someone to come in two days a week to wash, clean and iron was beyond his vocabulary. Then he had an idea just as Senora Torres was leaving in frustration. "Un momento Senora, por favor." He went over to the laptop and opened up Word. He wrote:

"Please come for two days each week. Need cleaning, washing and ironing clothes. Is that OK? Thirty Euro each week."

Then he clicked on the translator option in Word and the following appeared;

"Por favor llegado dos días cada semana. Necesidad de limpieza, lavado y planchado de prendas. Es aceptar. Euro treinta cada semana."

He gestured for Senora Torres to come over to the computer. She looked at the screen where George was pointing, somewhat proudly. "Here, can you read this?"

Senora Torres put on her glasses and leaned closer to the screen as if she was approaching a dangerous animal. She read in silence. The grammar may not have been perfect but she understood the jest of it. Especially the Euro thirty part.

"Si Senor George" she said straightening herself up and removing her glasses. "Muy bien, acepto la oferta. Los martes y los viernes de las nueve hasta la una, que tengo que preparer de comida para mi marido antes de la siesta. Esta usted de acuerdo?"

George didn’t get all of that, but understood nine to one, although was not sure if she agreed on two days, and if so, which ones they were.

He eventually found out the following Tuesday morning at 9.0am. Senora Torres was knocking on the front door. George opened the door bleary-eyed in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts.