Tall Story - Candy Gourlay [46]
I’d even talked to him on the phone once or twice a year. Hi, Bernardo. Happy Christmas. Happy Birthday! How are Auntie and Uncle?
But I didn’t really know him.
I decided I should make an effort to get to know my big brother.
After school, I would ask him stuff about himself.
There was so much I didn’t know.
26
Bernardo
I thought my heart would burst.
We talked from school gate to front door, from front door to kitchen table. We made a pizza, had some supper and then went upstairs to Andi’s room and talked. The years of being apart seemed to fall away. I thought my heart would burst.
Andi asked me if I had any idea that I was going to grow so tall.
To answer the question, I had to tell her about Bernardo Carpio.
I had to tell her about Old Tibo, about how giants came to be.
I had to tell her about San Andres.
I had to tell her about Mad Nena.
And I had to tell her about Gabriela.
I was just thirteen and the smallest in my class.
That is not much of an excuse.
In fact, it wasn’t an excuse at all because what I did next was stupid in the extreme. Jabby would have been horrified if he knew. But I didn’t tell him about it until afterwards.
All I knew was that I wanted to get back at Gabriela for what she and her gang did to me. Or maybe I was so upset that I wasn’t going to London after all that I needed to take it out on someone.
I decided that I was going to take the wishing stone from Gabriela the way she and her gang had taken the packet of shells from me.
I was stupid with rage.
Gabriela and her mother lived several blocks from school, in a small house, its concrete walls finished to imitate adobe brick, its windows arched like terrified eyes. It stood out amongst the dull grey houses on the street because it was the only one with a coat of paint – thanks to Ruben the painter who thought his kidney troubles would return if he didn’t do what Nena ordered him to do. So the house shone like a beacon, its gleaming whiteness concealing the blackness within.
Gabriela always parted ways with her gang at the school gates and always, always went straight home. Three days in a row, I followed her home but turned back at the last minute. On the fourth day, I steeled myself. I had to do it. If I didn’t get on with the task, I never would.
Outside was a sign, Beware of the Dog. I gritted my teeth. I’d forgotten about Judas, Gabriela’s vile pet.
Under Beware of the Dog was another sign, Trespassers Will Be Punished – I don’t understand why they bothered with the sign. It was like underlining the obvious.
Nobody in San Andres would dare cross their threshold uninvited.
Nobody would risk Nena’s wrath.
Well, almost nobody.
I licked my lips. My saliva tasted bitter.
Nena had drawn a chalk line on the pavement around the house. At each corner of the chalk line she drew an upside-down cross. The message was clear. Anybody who crossed the line would be struck down by some unspeakable curse.
Did I believe it? If someone had asked me at the time, I would have puffed out my chest and said, no, it was pure superstition. The nuns at Sacred Heart were always lecturing us about avoiding false notions, like not washing your hair before going to bed for fear you will wake up a lunatic. Or never stepping over a sleeping child to avoid misfortune. Or witches and black magic.
‘Just say no to superstition,’ Sister Mary John warned. But it had always been easy to see that the nuns were as afraid of Gabriela and her mother as the rest of the barrio.
On the day, I did not allow myself to think. Revenge. I was going to have my revenge.
I edged around the side of the house and peeked in through one of the wide, arched windows. It was shuttered with a mosquito screen and the thick curtains within were drawn. I couldn’t see anything.
But I could hear. There was a voice, raised and sharp. Nena. Gabriela’s voice replied, calm and cool. They were arguing about something.
I pressed my face against the mosquito screen, my nose flattened