Aminatta Forna - The Hired Man

Later that evening, standing on the slopes of the lone hill, I saw the lights of the car as Laura arrived home. The family had left in the morning to spend the day at the national park, riding the boats up and down the rapids. The drive was two hours there and back. I watched the lights of the house go on one by one as they moved through its rooms, imagined Laura’s pleasure at finding the water pressure doubled. Somewhere nearby a nightjar started up. Whirr. Pat, pat. Whirr. By my side Zeka and Kos sank to their haunches to wait for me, the minutes passed but I didn’t move. Even in the dying light from where I stood I could see everything: the river and the town: in the forefront the grain stores on the riverbank, beyond them the coppered steeple of the church, the tiled roofs of the taller buildings, the roads and the cars upon them. I enjoyed the feeling of being there, able to watch over the family. But the dogs were hungry and became restless until Kos stood up and let go a long, low howl that reached out into the darkness and touched the blue house.

Laura’s husband had to delay his plans to come out. She’d been hoping he would come this week, but now he’d called to say it wasn’t possible. Laura picked up the message on her way to the national park yesterday. While she said this she ran her fingers across the surface of the table, backwards and forwards. Then she stopped, pushed her hair away from her face and sat up very straight.

I said, ‘Grace and Matthew will be disappointed not to see their father.’

‘He’s not their father,’ Laura replied very quickly. She’d been divorced from Grace and Matthew’s father, married again eight years ago. Grace got along well with the husband, but the same couldn’t be said of Matthew, at least not any longer. These days he answered back, there were rows, the rows ended with Matthew saying he didn’t have to listen to this man who wasn’t his father. ‘The trouble is Matthew’s right. I left their father and I feel very bad for them about that. It’s my fault.’ There were confrontations between Matthew and his stepfather so Laura made the decision to take all matters of discipline into her own hands, which hadn’t pleased her husband, but Laura said that she was Matthew’s mother and the responsibility belonged to her. This was how she explained it to me anyway. I didn’t really understand but I said nothing. If it wasn’t her husband’s place to discipline a boy who lived under his roof and ate the food he paid for, then it wasn’t my place to comment. Instead I raised the matter of the tree at the front of the house and we stepped outside into the sun to look at it.

‘We’ll have to bring in a tree surgeon,’ said Laura. ‘I expect that will cost a bit.’

‘I can do it. Easy.’

‘I don’t know what I would do without you,’ said Laura. ‘I can’t even think how to go about looking for a tree surgeon and even if I did I wouldn’t understand what they were saying to me.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t mean I’ll find a tree surgeon, I mean I’ll bring the tree down myself.’

Laura and I stood on the road facing the house. A few metres away Grace was busy excavating the fountain. She looked just like an archaeologist with a red polka-dot scarf around her head. She’d finished work on the mosaic on the wall of the house, the giant bird taking to the wing behind her. At the bottom of the fountain a terracotta-coloured fish entwined in emerald weeds was being revealed.

‘Duro?’ said Grace.

‘Yes?’

She stood up heavily and crossed to the mosaic and I followed and stood next to her. She smelled faintly of raw egg. Something about Grace prompted my pity and yet, though she was plain, much plainer than her mother and brother, she was a cheerful girl who’d at least found a way to occupy herself, whilst her pretty brother slept until noon and roamed the fields with wine stolen from his mother. ‘You know some of the tiles are missing, well I’ve put back all the ones that fell off. And then there were some other gaps, but I’ve replaced most of them with the ones we found in the outbuilding. the green and blue ones. They’re the same, you know. The problem is these ones.’

She pointed to the tail of the bird where several of the deep red glass tiles were gone and then to the body of the bird where the tiles, also red but a paler red, looked like they were made of quartz. ‘And these ones too. I can’t find any replacements about the house. There are others, the wing tips have a couple missing, but you don’t really notice. I was wondering if you could help me, if you knew where I could get some.’

Before I could reply Laura interrupted. ‘Don’t bother Duro, Grace. He doesn’t have time to help you look for tiles.’

‘Oh, OK. Sorry.’ Grace pressed her lips together and hummed her little tune.

Laura had already turned away. ‘What kind of trees are these anyway? Do we need to plant another one?’

‘Almond,’ I said. ‘They’re almond trees. They’ll fruit in another month or so.’ I turned back to Grace who was once more bent over the fountain. ‘Of course I can help,’ I said. ‘I know where we can find something like this. There is a town on the coast where you can buy crafts. We would have to take a trip, it’s about two hours away, but I’d be happy to show you.’

‘It’s too much trouble,’ said Laura.

‘Not at all,’ I insisted. ‘I’d like to go myself, it’s a long time since I went to the coast. Perhaps one Sunday when I have a little more time. They have excellent ice cream.’

Grace grinned. ‘That would be so cool, Duro.’

I turned to Laura. ‘OK, Laura?’

Laura shrugged and raised her eyebrows. ‘It’s OK with me.’

That evening I decided to go to town for a drink. I went to the Zodijak where Fabjan commented on my new sociability.

‘Just looking for company,’ I replied pleasantly. As I spoke I looked deliberately at the waitress. Fabjan grunted, took a long draught of his beer and set the heavy glass on the table in front of him; he stared over the top of it and cracked his knuckles.

I decided not to sit with Fabjan and chose a table near the railing which separated the Zodijak’s terrace from the road. As far as I was aware nobody in Gost knew I was working at the blue house. Nobody had seen me there, and that included the drivers of the cars that had passed by (I had been up the ladder each time); Laura couldn’t tell anyone even if she wanted to. Ever since he became the sole owner of the Zodijak, Fabjan has been busy getting his fingers into every pie in Gost; he rents out several properties and is part-owner of various other ventures: the hardware store, for instance, and a building company which also took care of wells: pumps, refits, that sort of thing. That’s why I’d chosen an out-of-town company for Laura’s well.

I drank my beer slowly. Fabjan’s BMW was parked on the other side of the road. I decided that when the summer was over and I’d made my money I would buy a car, something to replace the old Volkswagen I was driving. Behind me the waitress stared at the road, switching her gaze back and forth between the phased movement of the cars like a sheepdog eyeing sheep. I signalled for another beer. When she brought it over I asked her name and how long she had been in Gost. In return she told me her grandparents lived here, she had come to visit and ended up getting a job at the Zodijak.

‘What of your parents?’ I asked.

‘They left here when I was five.’

‘And how old are you now?’

‘I’ll be twenty-one soon.’

‘Congratulations,’ I said.

She smiled and squirmed, tilting her head and rubbing her chin against her shoulder. I invited her to sit down and saw her eyes flick in the direction of Fabjan. I gestured at the chair. She shrugged and was about to pull it out, when Fabjan said, ‘Go and wash the glasses at the back.’