Unhappy Christmas Page 4

  ‘To Callao,’ replied Natalia.

  She hadn’t had time to think about it much, but that was where she had shaken off Miguel the first time that morning, where she had met the friendly gaze of that beggar and where nobody would bat an eyelid at the fact that she was wandering around with no shoes on while she popped into a department store and bought a new pair of shoes.

  At least now she had a mission: to buy shoes, because, to tell the truth, the rest of her day and her life had gone completely up the spout. Natalia kept her mission in mind: she just had to think about buying the shoes. She’d figure out what she was going to do later. She got out of the taxi right in the middle of the square in her wool socks. The tide of people was so close together and blinded by the Christmas nights and shop windows, so high on Christmas spirit that nobody noticed that Natalia had no shoes on.

  Natalia made her way through the crowd, thinking that it was quite comfortable walking down the street in socked feet, as long as you didn’t step on glass or more dog crap. She laughed at that thought and was busy celebrating that she hadn’t lost her sense of humour when she noticed a tug on her bag.

  She looked down and saw that her bag had disappeared. Turning round, she saw two guys hurrying away through the crowd dressed in designer sports gear. Natalia shouted out and tried to stop the people who were rushing through the square to get them to help her, but nobody paid the slightest bit of notice. All of them looked at her in distrust. Without thinking twice, she ran after the men who had stolen her bag, pushing anyone who got in her way. She caught up with one of the thieves, grabbed him by the elbow and forced him to turn around.

  ‘Hey, you! Give me my bag back!’

  ‘What bag?’

  ‘I’m not stupid! I saw you. You’ve probably passed it to some accomplice of yours. I know how it works. But seriously, give it back and we’ll just drop the whole thing. It’s a matter of life or death.’

  ‘Leave us alone,’ the second man butted in. ‘It’s hardly a matter of life or death for you when you go around handing out twenty euro notes.’

  The two crooks laughed in her face and scurried away among the crowd. Natalia was stunned, rooted to the ground in her wool socks. The hordes passed her by, flowing around her like a river parting around a rock. She was left with no mobile, no purse, no documents, no money... Her rich woman's hairstyle looked like a bird’s nest and she wasn’t wearing any shoes. At that very moment, all she had was her designer coat. What could she do?

  Slowly, it dawned on her. From the comment they’d just made, those thieves must have been around when she gave the twenty-euro note to the beggar with ninety-nine coats. What if they were his accomplices or something like that? She had to find that beggar, he couldn’t have gone far.

  Her only chance of independence hung on her getting her bag back. The other option was to give in and go home to Miguel. Wait until he got home and opened the door to her. Listen to his apologies, his lies... Maybe forgive him and eat with his hateful snobbish family yet another Christmas Eve. No! She’d look for the beggar even if it were the last thing she did in this life. Anyway, she didn’t know what else she could do, so that was that.

  Chapter 8

  A tramp with class

  Natalia waded confidently through the human river, heading to the corner of the street where she had met the beggar. When she got there, she was surprised to see that he was still there, wrapped in his layers of coats with his cardboard sign saying: ‘You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours.’

  The beggar recognised her right away, fixed her warm eyes on her and even smiled.

  ‘You’re back?’ he said, seeing Natalia coming towards him.

  ‘They’ve taken my bag!’ Natalia told him, as if he should know what had happened.

  ‘Who?’ said the beggar, bewildered by Natalia’s demeanour.

  ‘Your friends,’ replied Natalia, staring at the beggar to see if she could detect any expression in his face that would give him away as an accomplice. Instead, she found an expression of genuine innocence.

  ‘I don’t mix with thieves.’

  ‘Well, they told me that I’ve been going around giving out twenty-euro notes. And the only person I’ve given one to is you.’

  ‘Those scumbags!’

  Natalia was left defenceless at the tramp’s honest indignation.

  ‘I saw them watching me when you gave me the note. When you left I glared at them so that they’d know I’d seen them and they wouldn’t do anything. They ran off in another direction and I thought you were safe. But they obviously followed you.’

  ‘I don’t think they followed me,’ Natalia mused, relaxing her shoulders and giving in to the facts. ‘It seems that I was just unlucky to run into them again.’

  ‘I’m really sorry. My name's Jacob,’ said the beggar holding out a tanned, weathered hand, protected from the cold by a mitten.

  Natalia looked at his hand and hesitated. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to touch a tramp’s hand. But the truth was, after the day she’d had, the only person who had shown her any kind of humanity was Jacob, so she accepted the hand he was holding out to her with a humble smile.

  ‘I’m Natalia, nice to meet you.’

  ‘Let’s see, Natalia. Is there any way I can help you to get home? I feel a bit bad about what's happened.’

  Natalia studied Jacob’s bearded face, wary of his good intentions. He was a strange tramp: he spoke very correctly, seemed to be the friendliest person she had ever come across and for a beggar, he was fairly well-groomed. There was something noble about his features, friendly warmth in his eyes, and there was something attractive about his well-formed nose and square jaw. Yes, he reminded her a little of Miguel - a badly dressed, tanned version of Miguel. Miguel, back on her mind again...

  ‘I don’t want to go home,’ whispered Natalia, holding back the tears.

  ‘You’re not wearing any shoes?!’ Jacob exclaimed suddenly, genuinely surprised.

  ‘No...’ whined Natalia, unable to get the words out.

  ‘Hey, what’s up? Come on, don’t cry... Come here,’ he said, concerned, giving her a hug.

  Natalia felt Jacob’s warmth; the stranger who had asked her for money on a corner of Callao was giving her the first genuine hug she’d had all day. She burst into tears, pressing her cheek against the coat of this king of the street, whilst Jacob patted her on the back and tried to console her.

  Natalia sobbed for a while and then started to wonder what she was doing on a street corner hugging a beggar that she didn’t even know. She had to get it together.

  ‘Are you feeling better?’ Jacob asked her.

  ‘Yes, thanks...’ Natalia replied, apprehensive once more. ‘Hey, you asked me if you could help me with anything.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Could you give me my twenty-euro note back?’

  Jacob didn’t speak for a moment, analysing Natalia’s expression while she in turn held the beggar’s gaze challengingly. Now she’d see if this king of the street was really the honourable gentleman he’d made himself out to be.

  ‘I’d love to, but I can’t.’

  ‘What do you mean you can’t?’ Natalia’s voice went up a tone or two and she crossed her arms, pursing her lips. ‘That note is mine.’

  ‘Was yours. I don’t mean to contradict you, but technically the note is mine, seeing as you gave it to me totally voluntarily. Even so, as you’re asking, I’d be happy to give it back if I hadn’t already spent it.’

  Natalia looked him up and down, trying to catch a hint of irony in his attitude that would allow her to shout at him or insult him, but didn’t find anything she could reproach in Jacob’s demeanour. That just wound her up even more.

  ‘I don’t believe you. Where did you spend it? When?’

  ‘Just after you gave it to me. I hurried off to spend it. The truth is the note was something like a Christmas miracle, like in the movies.’

  ‘And what did you spend i
t on, if I might ask? I can’t see you carrying anything.’

  ‘No, I haven’t spent it on myself. Well, I have a bit.’

  ‘I’m not in the mood for guessing games. I gave you that note out of good faith and now I need it and you don’t have it because you’ve spent it. Fair enough, but could you tell me what on?’

  Natalia was fuming and couldn’t think straight. This Christmas Eve was turning out to be a right nightmare. She had no shoes, no money and no phone in the centre of Madrid, was arguing with a beggar and the only real option she had right now was to walk in socked feet across Madrid to her house in Goya where she’d have to wait, humiliated, for Miguel to open the door. If at least she had that twenty-euro note she could catch a taxi home, call Veronica, take a bus to Teruel, and a thousand other possibilities to get her day back on track.

  Natalia’s gaze dropped to the ground. That was how she found the solution to her problem just inches from her nose. She couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw that marvellous chest full of shiny coins, copper, silver and gold, big and small. Just at her feet, the beggar’s small biscuit tin, full of coins, shone like a treasure trove. Treasure well worth a few euros, enough to make up for the twenty euros he owed her, enough to sort out her day.

  She didn’t think twice. She bent down quick, slammed the tin shut and started to run down the street with it under her arm. Jacob set off after her, shouting.

  ‘Hey! She’s robbed me! Thief!’

  The desperate thief looked over her shoulder and saw him coming after her, as swift as a hare, gaining ground fast. The people got out of the way, scared, letting through who they thought were two strange tramps fighting over a tin of biscuits. Natalia managed to turn a corner and enter a side street where, bumping into people, she kept on running in desperation. But it was no good; a strong grip caught the back of her designer coat, forcing her to stop. Jacob’s grip was strong enough to stop Natalia in her tracks and the biscuit tin flew into the air, its contents flying everywhere as it went, just like confetti.

  When Natalia saw all those coins rolling around on the pavement, glinting in the sunlight and chinking together, she realised just how stupid she’d been. Jacob had stopped, watching her with a severe expression on his face whilst his coins fell and bounced around on the street.

  Without saying anything and without even looking at her, clenching his jaw Jacob took a couple of steps towards his empty biscuit tin, grabbed it and knelt down to start picking up coins among the indifferent crowd that was just starting to move again after having stopped to stare when the tin flew through the air.

  Natalia, embarrassed, didn’t hesitate and got down on her knees and started to pick up coins. Jacob, furious, watched her out of the corner of his eye. He relaxed a bit when he saw Natalia come towards him with a handful of coins and then put them in the tin.

  Chapter 9

  The hellhole

  When they finished picking up the coins, under the feet of the passers-by who were totally oblivious to the concerns of those living on the streets, Jacob looked Natalia in the eye.

  ‘Thanks for helping me pick up the coins.’

  ‘Sorry for stealing them. I don’t know why I did it. I’m a mess.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Come on, I’ll treat you to a drink.’

  And before Natalia could reply Jacob headed off up the street with his biscuit tin under his arm. Natalia was confused, unable to decide what to do, without her shoes, her bag, money... So she followed Jacob, dragging her fluffy socks on the cold pavement.

  They soon reached a side street behind Gran Vía, where there was a door in a corner, unnoticed by the passers-by who carried on walking up and down the street, laden with shopping bags and staring into space like zombies with nothing in their heads except for their shopping.

  It was a small metal door next to a tiny window with dirty smoked glass painted with faded colours and letters that once said ‘fried pigs’ ears’ and ‘battered squid baguette’. The window only reached halfway up the wall, not letting anyone see what was inside. Jacob stopped at the door to wait for Natalia and they both went in.

  The dim light of the pub and the suffocating reek of stale grease welcomed them with its filthy claws and pulled them in. The bar was claustrophobic, a toxic cloud of stale cooking oil hanging in the air. The metal trays on the bar were embellished with nondescript food, wilted and unappealing under the scratched glass cabinet. The fruit machine played a grating melody. There weren’t many dumps like that left in Madrid. For Natalia, feelings of disgust and discomfort mixed with gratitude at being able to enter a place that was at least fairly warm.

  The four or five Formica tables were crowded with a handful of outcasts spending the few cents they had: hookers - male and female, old men and women, drunk, desperate, leery, tiresome, boring, extravagant tramps... some, even several of these rolled in to one. Natalia didn’t want to pay them too much attention; she was scared she would end up becoming a part of that community. But she knew that at that very moment she had been admitted into that select club, like it or not.

  ‘Good morning, young man!’ The barman shouted to Jacob. ‘Well, well, well, I see you’ve got a lady with you today.’

  The barman, as thin as a rake, with limp oily hair and wrinkled skin, wearing an off-white shirt spattered with grease stains, examined Natalia with his bloodshot eyes and fish-like expression, smiling shiftily.

  ‘Yes, she’s a friend. Well, what are you having?’ Jacob asked Natalia.

  ‘I haven't got any money,’ Natalia answered, feeling slightly wary and humiliated.

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s on me.’

  ‘Could I have a whisky?’ Natalia asked shyly. She needed something strong, which would warm her up and steady her nerves. Without even realising, she thought of Miguel’s favourite drink.

  ‘If that’s what you want... I’ll have one too.’

  ‘What whisky have you got?’ Natalia asked the barman who, in response raised his half-bald eyebrow, turned around and planted a bottle of ‘Cutty Shark’ whisky in front of Natalia with two shot glasses. Natalia forced a smile.

  ‘There’s the bottle. All for you, Sir, Madam,’ said the barman winking to Jacob and Natalia. ‘Happy Christmas,’ he added, sounding like a dog with no bark.

  Natalia launched herself upon the bottle, degraded, desperate and downtrodden. She poured two shots and chinked glasses with Jacob.

  ‘Thank you very much.’

  ‘You’re welcome. They owe me favours. It’s not all about money in this life.’

  Natalia didn’t want to think, she just wanted to drink. She downed a shot and immediately poured herself another.

  ‘Hey, slow down,’ said Jacob.

  ‘Don’t tell me how to drink,’ Natalia snapped. She didn’t care that she felt like an alcoholic in the making. She needed a drink, alcohol to cushion her feelings and dull all reason.

  ‘I see desperate people drowning their sorrows in alcohol every day. I’m not judging you. I’m just saying you need to pace yourself. The day is long.’

  ‘You’re right, it’s a long time until dinner time,’ said Natalia drinking her third shot, already a bit tipsy. ‘Maybe I will turn up drunk at Miguel’s parents’ house later after all.’

  ‘Who’s Miguel?’ Jacob asked her.

  ‘A bastard. It’s his fault I’m like this. Another?’

  Natalia was already going for her fourth shot and didn’t even bother putting the top back on the bottle between each glass. Jacob couldn’t keep up with her.

  ‘Seriously, you’re going to make yourself sick.’

  ‘Good. Nobody cares.’

  ‘Now I’m sure that’s not true.’

  ‘Wow, now I’m starting to realise who you really are. You're a Christmas angel come down from heaven to save me. I feel honoured,’ said Natalia, ironically and full of malice.

  Natalia’s sarcasm got the answer it deserved from Jacob.

  ‘I’ve seen ‘It’s a Beautiful Life
’ too you know, smarty pants. People who help you aren’t angels, they’re just people. There are still some good people left in the world.’

  Natalia was speechless.

  ‘So, tell me. What happened to you? Who’s Miguel? You can trust me,’ he looked around and whispered in her ear. ‘I won't say a word, my lips are sealed.’

  Natalia started laughing, amused by the melodramatic gesture. Natalia looked into Jacob’s eyes. This strange beggar’s biggest defect and biggest virtue was his sincerity. She wasn’t used to that, nor was she used to people showing concern for her without having an ulterior motive, that is, if Jacob really didn’t have any hidden agenda as it really did seem. She was so lost that she clung shyly to this unexpected lifeline.

  ‘Well, look... Everything’s gone wrong. Everything.’

  ‘It can’t be that bad.’

  ‘I’m telling you, it really has. I’ve crossed an ocean to spend Christmas with my husband only to find him in bed with another woman. I’ve tried to talk to friends and get their help, but I didn’t know what to do and, well, either I couldn’t find them or they’re not the friends I thought they were... Then I lost my shoes, my bag was stolen and I’m sitting here drunk in this dive of a pub...’

  ‘Hey, what’s wrong with this pub?’ shouted a raspy voice behind Natalia.

  Natalia turned round and saw a toothless being with bulging eyes and a crown of long limp hair hanging down to his shoulders, decorating them with copious flakes of dandruff. He reminded Natalia of those fish in the depths of the ocean with terrifying jaws and horrendous eyes. Apparently he’d overheard their conversation and was furious with her for insulting his favourite bar.

  ‘If you don’t like it, you know what you can do,’ he struggled to get the words out through the mist of alcohol coming from his mouth. Just then, he tripped and flung his arms forward towards the bar to stop himself from falling, knocking over the bottle of whisky that was standing on the bar top. As the bottle was wide open, the whisky that was left poured out in a matter of seconds, completely soaking Natalia’s designer coat, although she didn’t realise until she felt it seep through to her back.