Aminatta Forna - The Hired Man

‘I don’t know how.’

‘Time you learned. I’ll show you.’ I climbed out and Matthew scrambled over into the driver’s seat. ‘OK,’ I said. ‘Remember how I asked you to put it into gear the last time.’ I talked him through the rest. He stalled three times before he got going. We drove in second gear towards the farm buildings; before we reached the hamlet four or so kilometres on we switched places and I turned the car round. I let Matthew drive back to the blue house. ‘Drive into the yard. I need to check something and then we will put it back. We can make it a surprise for your mother if you don’t tell her.’

With Matthew’s help I put the car back in the outbuilding, covered it up and closed the doors. I needed a little time to tune the engine, check the contact breakers which I thought were probably the source of the shuddering, after that the car would drive perfectly. By tomorrow, I thought. I lowered the bucket into the well, drew it up and took a long drink of water. The next day was Saturday. A good day, Gost would be full.

Next morning as soon as I’d eaten and exercised, I went over to the blue house. As usual the family were sitting outside over coffee and the remains of breakfast, sleek as a family of otters basking in the sun. Laura was still in her night-clothes, Matthew was bare-chested, wearing a pair of pyjama bottoms, only Grace was dressed.

‘Hello, Duro,’ said Laura, shielding her eyes from the sun as she looked up at me. ‘Have a coffee, there’s more in the pot.’ She hadn’t yet brushed her hair (her newly dark hair) and her face was bare of make-up, her slanted eyes were half closed against the sun and her robe had slipped to reveal the strap of her nightdress, her bare legs were stretched, toes pushed deep into the grass.

I sat down. ‘Thank you.’

As soon as I appeared Matthew slipped away. When he returned he’d changed into a T-shirt and jeans, in his hand he carried Laura’s blue shawl. He winked at me as he slipped it over her eyes. ‘What’s this? Matthew?’ Laura put her hand up to the blindfold, patted her son’s fingers.

‘We’ve got something to show you.’

Laura, completely obedient to her son, offered no resistance. Instead she held up her hand for him to take. That Matthew hadn’t said anything to Grace either was obvious by her expression as she stood up to follow; she looked from Matthew and Laura to me and back. I shrugged as though I had no idea what was happening either. Matthew led his mother through the house and into the courtyard. She said, ‘Hold on, I don’t have any shoes.’ Grace kicked off the pair of flip-flops she was wearing and slipped them onto her mother’s feet. Pretty feet with painted nails, the second toe slightly longer than the first. Laura felt for the step, Grace picked up her mother’s foot and placed it so she could feel the edge. ‘Hold on! Don’t move. Stay there.’

Matthew and I opened the door to the outbuilding, which swung open with a great deal of creaking.

‘What’s going on?’

‘Hey, I said don’t move,’ called Matthew. He took the key to the car from the hook and went over to his mother, lifted her hand and pressed it into the palm. She fingered it, like a contestant in a game show.

‘Well that’s easy enough. It’s a key.’

‘You can look now,’ said Matthew.

Laura pulled the shawl down from her eyes, frowned and peered into the darkness of the outbuilding. Matthew and I each took hold of one end of the cover of the car and slid it off. Grace clapped a hand over her mouth. Laura took a pace forward. ‘You mean to say it’s ready?’

I said, ‘Yes, it’s ready to drive.’

The three of us stood back and watched her as she walked towards the car very slowly, as though it might just disappear in a puff of smoke. Carefully she opened the driver’s door and stroked the cover of the seat; she climbed in, felt for the ignition and slotted the key inside. When she hesitated Matthew said, ‘Go on. I’ve driven it.’

‘Have you?’ She looked up at him.

‘Sure, Duro let me. Yesterday.’

‘You two have been planning this?’

Matthew smiled.

‘Well, come on!’ Laura patted the seat next to her and Matthew opened the door and was about to swing himself inside but stopped. He stood back.

‘No, take Duro first.’

‘Of course. Come on, Duro,’ called Laura.

I sat in the passenger seat. Laura turned the key in the ignition and the engine started. I would have preferred to warm it myself beforehand, but that would have spoiled the surprise. She eased the car out into the courtyard and the sunlight and then into the track at the side of the house. Matthew whooped and ran after the car for a short distance, to be left behind as we picked up speed. I listened to the engine, and was satisfied. I wound down my window and dipped my hand into the wind, I turned to look at Laura as she adjusted the driver’s mirror and she caught my glance and smiled. ‘Are we going for a spin, then?’

I nodded. ‘Turn right here.’ I directed her out towards the main road, the one that heads north. A blue butterfly flew in through the open window and danced for a few moments in front of the windscreen and our faces. Laura slowed until I had time to catch and release it; she said it was beautiful. She began to sing and tapped the steering wheel lightly. She drove well, without hesitation, except once to look for the location of the indicators, and so I leaned across to show her. And she drove barefoot, Grace’s flip-flops kicked under the seat, feeling the pedals with her toes, like she was pushing them into sand, down on the accelerator. We were out on the main road, the warm wind on our faces.

‘How fast can I go?’

I didn’t answer the question. I leaned back and closed my eyes. Not so easy to relax in a car this size, you can imagine, all the same I did feel relaxed. I listened to the whine of the engine as it responded. I remembered the smell of the car, the way you could feel each rut and wrinkle in the road. Everything felt good. For the first time in many years I felt something like happiness. We did not speak, until Laura said, ‘Duro, I think we’re going to have to go back.’

I opened my eyes. ‘Why?’

‘Because I’m still wearing my night-clothes.’ And she looked into my eyes and laughed.

Later, after Laura had dressed, and after first Matthew and then Grace, and then Matthew again but driving Laura this time, had all ridden in the car, Grace and I were left alone in the yard. I turned to Grace. ‘Where’s the hat your mother bought in Zadar?’

‘Dunno. Why?’

I said, ‘Isn’t it the same colour as the car?’

‘Oh yes it is. Red hat, red car. Hang on. I’ll go and find it. Good idea. Mum will love that.’

That evening (because I had an idea about what might happen) I went to town for a drink. I’ve told you people no longer walk out in the evening, things have changed, but still there are a good many people around on a Saturday evening in Gost. Women doing last-minute shopping before the shops close on Sunday. Men sitting outside bars. Lads riding their scooters around the supermarket car park.

Plenty of people in the Zodijak. Fabjan was there. I nodded to him and said hello to the girl who took my order; I noticed she no longer greeted every customer with a smile. After she’d delivered my drink she went back to playing with her hair at the bar, pulling it out strand by strand from a patch at the back of her neck. I went to sit at Fabjan’s table; I wanted a ringside seat. Last time I’d seen him he’d been standing outside the blue house looking over the hedge at the family inside. He barely greeted me and nor did he offer me a seat (not that he ever does). He was smoking and reading a paper. I sat with my back to the bar and stretched out my legs, watching the street, and when I finished my drink I called for another one. Today I had all the time in the world.