Two Novellas by David Vogel

Author:David Vogel
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC000000, FIC046000
Publisher: Scribe Publications Pty Ltd
Published: 2013-07-29T00:00:00+00:00

Facing the Sea

This translation is dedicated to Esther Silverstone

Madame Bremon said, ‘Make yourselves at home. There’s no one here all day.’ Her wrinkled face seemed smaller beneath her wide-brimmed straw hat. She stopped washing the linen by the garden wall. In the room that she showed them, a hot, viscous darkness had settled, because the shutters had been closed for so long. Adolph Barth kept wiping his forehead. ‘Anyway, you’re facing the sea. Twenty yards. Go! Out with you, Bijou!’ She scolded the bleary-eyed black-and-white spotted puppy that was entangled between her feet.

‘Yes, we are facing the sea.’ Adolph Barth and his companion exchanged whispers. ‘It’s good enough. We’ll stay.’

Towards evening, when the heat had passed, they brought over their suitcases from the train station. The sea was spread out in its richest blue. Fishermen drifted from the shore, spreading their nets from boats scattered here and there across the horizon. In the garden nearby, the tables were set for supper.

Gina lay back languorously on a colourful beach towel. She wore a light-green cotton bathing suit that accentuated her shapeliness. A flowered Chinese parasol, planted in the ground behind her, blossomed above her head. Next to her, Barth, in sunglasses, fingered the searing gravel and flicked pebbles into the water.

Dull brown nets, from which wafted the acrid odour of fish and brine, were spread out to dry behind them. The air just above the ground trembled with the heat.

Cici came out of the water and sat beside them, folding his legs oriental-style. Droplets clung to his matted chest. ‘The water is warm,’ he said, with a distinctly Italian accent.

‘You’re shaking.’

‘I’ve been in the water for over an hour.’

Gina rolled onto her side to face the two men. Flies hovered over a forgotten little fish, left beside a nearby boat that had been drawn out of the water.

‘In three days you have managed to tan a bit, madame.’ Cici’s eyes wandered over the curve of her pale thighs. He moved himself closer and compared his skin, the colour of copper coins, to hers, as pale as ivory.

‘No, not yet like yours,’ she said. And to Barth: ‘Put your hat on, or lie next to me under the umbrella.’

‘So what is your real name?’ asked Barth.

‘Francesco Adasso. But everyone here calls me Cici.’ And after a moment: ‘My friend from Rome is here this morning. He is the interpreter from Cook’s Travel Agency, you know. He should be here any moment now.’

‘Wonderful,’ joked Gina.

He offered her a yellow packet of cigarettes. Gina declined. Cici and Barth smoked, lying on their bellies with the sun warming their backs. The sea sprawled motionlessly at their feet. Only on the horizon did a boat drift, dream-like. But here, next to them, romped Stefano’s brood, half-a-dozen dirty children aged two and up, giggling, screaming, and splashing water. And to the side, Latzi and Suzi were playing catch with Marcelle, a dark-skinned Lyonnaise who radiated charm and youthful vigour. The three of them looked as though they were cast of bronze.

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