Scenes From Village Life - Amos Oz [29]
Rachel poured three glasses of lemon squash and called to Adel to come and join them on the veranda. The old man asked for Coca-Cola instead, but this time he didn't insist. Adel came over, with his little boy's glasses hanging on a cord around his neck, and sat down to one side, on the stone parapet. Rachel asked him to play for them. Adel hesitated, then chose a Russian tune, full of longing and sorrow. His friends at Haifa University had taught him these Russian tunes. The old man stopped grumbling and extended his tortoise neck at an angle, as though trying to move his good ear closer to the source of the music. Then he sighed and said:
"Oh, to hell with it. What a pity."
But he didn't bother to explain what was a pity this time.
At ten past eleven Rachel says she is feeling tired, and asks Adel some question about the next day, something about sawing off a branch or painting a bench. Adel softly promises and asks a couple of questions. Rachel replies. The old man folds his newspaper: in two, in four, in eight, until it makes a little square. Rachel stands and picks up the tray with the fruit and biscuits, but leaves them the glasses and the bottle. She tells her father not to go to bed too late, and reminds Adel to switch off the light when he leaves. Then she wishes them both good night, steps over a couple of sleeping cats and goes indoors. The old man nods a few times and mutters after her, into empty space rather than to Adel:
"Well, yes. She needs a change. We tire her out so."
17
RACHEL GOES TO HER bedroom. She switches on the ceiling light, then turns on her bedside lamp. She stands in front of the open window for a few moments. The night air is warm and close and the stars are surrounded by patches of haze. The crickets are in full voice. The sprinklers are swishing. She listens to the sounds of the jackals in the hills and the answering barks of the dogs in the yards. She turns her back to the window, without closing it, takes off her dress, scratches herself, finishes undressing and puts on a short cotton nightdress printed with little flowers. She pours herself a glass of water and drinks some. She goes to the toilet. When she returns she stands at the window again for a while. She can hear the old man on the veranda talking angrily to Adel, and Adel replying briefly in his soft voice. She can't catch what they are saying, and she wonders what the old man wants from the youth this time and also what it is that keeps the youth here.
A mosquito buzzes beside her ear. And a moth dances drunkenly around her bedside lamp, crashing into the bulb. She is suddenly sorry for herself and feels sad for the days that go by so aimlessly and pointlessly. The school year is ending, then it will be the summer holiday, and then another year will begin, no different from the one that is ending. More marking, more staff meetings, more Micky the vet.
Rachel switches on the fan and gets under the sheet. But she is not tired anymore; instead she feels wide awake. She pours some more water from the bottle on her bedside table, drinks, turns restlessly, puts a pillow between her legs and turns again. A faint, almost inaudible grating sound makes her sit up and switch on her bedside light. Now she can hear no sound except the crickets, the frogs, the sprinklers and the distant dogs. She turns out the light, pushes off the sheet and lies on her back. And then something starts grating again, as though the floor tiles are being scraped with a nail.
Rachel turns on the light and gets out of bed. She checks the shutter, but it is open and firmly anchored. She checks the curtain, too, in case the noise came from there, and the door of the toilet, but there is no breeze. Not even a faint one. She sits on a chair for a while but hears no sound. As soon as she gets back into bed, covers herself with the sheet and turns off the light, the gnawing sounds again. Is there a mouse in the room? It's hard to imagine, because the house is overrun with cats. Now she has the impression