Murder Grove by E.V. Adamson

Author:E.V. Adamson [Adamson, E.V.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2022-05-27T17:00:00+00:00

31

MIA

It’s the day of the village fiesta and the hot August air is heavy with the sound of sadness. One of the young volunteers from Desert Shoots is strumming on a guitar and singing ‘Gracias a la Vida’. Her voice is sweet and pure and as I stand there in our garden listening to the plaintive lyrics, I feel the sting of tears in my eyes. ‘Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto.’ ‘Thanks to life, which has given me so much.’

I’d first heard the version recorded by Mercedes Sosa, but later preferred the original written and performed by the Chilean singer-songwriter Violeta Parra. I knew she’d taken her own life back in 1967, and some have interpreted the song as her suicide note. The lyrics make me think of Emily Thomas, that girl I’d taught who one day stepped out into the road and died under the wheels of a bus. She had so much to live for – she was so full of vitality – and yet she ended her life in that way. I still don’t understand it.

‘It’s a beautiful song, isn’t it?’ It’s Freya, who has just arrived bearing an enormous platter of griddled vegetables. ‘I used to listen to it myself, the Joan Baez version.’ She looks momentarily distracted, as if a once-distant memory has suddenly invaded her consciousness. ‘Anyway, what should I do with this?’ she asks, looking down at the burnt red and green peppers, aubergines, red onions, fennel and courgettes.

‘That looks amazing – thanks so much, Freya. If you could put it with the other food on that trestle table over there, in the shade, that would be wonderful.’

‘Quite a good turn-out,’ she says, looking over at the several groups of people gathered in the garden.

There’s a crowd of young people from the eco-charity, their tanned bodies visions of lithe youthfulness. There’s Blanca with her friends, who cluck around her like little birds; the date for her mother’s exhumation is set for tomorrow. In the far corner of the garden, under the shade of an olive tree, I spy Bill and Payton, engaged in what looks like a heated argument. Rich is standing behind the bar, serving drinks. It looks as though he’s had more than a few himself: he seems more ebullient and vocal than normal. I still haven’t found the right moment to tell him the news about my pregnancy, and I’m beginning to wonder whether the hesitancy I feel is significant.

‘Are you okay?’ asks Freya.

‘Sorry?’

‘It’s just that … I don’t know, you look a bit anxious. Is it – is it about Rich?’

For a moment, I consider telling Freya about my pregnancy. But it’s still early days and anything could happen. ‘No – just a bit tired after getting everything ready for today.’ I take her arm. ‘Thank you again for this, I really appreciate it. The vegetable platter looks amazing. Let’s go and put it on the table – it’s nearly time to eat, I think.’

We

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.