Havana Best Friends. Jose Latour

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СКАЧАТЬ Marina, interpret for your husband. For many years, the government didn’t allow private businesses in Cuba. Now, some are allowed. They are heavily taxed, can’t expand beyond a certain point, have to comply with many regulations. It’s why some are…clandestine. In fact, all the best are clandestine. I’m taking you to what Cubans call a paladar, a private restaurant. How would you translate paladar, Marina?’

      ‘Sense of taste?’

      ‘I’ll remember that. Now, few foreigners dine at a clandestine paladar. You need a sponsor to get in, someone whom the management trusts and can make a reservation. We’ll be the only customers there tonight. The food is excellent, the service great, fine entertainment…’

      ‘Good evening,’ Elena said with a pleased smile on entering the living room. Sean stood up. She shook hands with him, bent to kiss Marina’s cheek, overlooked her brother, then eased herself on to the edge of the remaining club chair. Fresh out of the shower, with just a touch of make-up around her eyes and on her lips, she was even more attractive than twelve hours earlier, Sean observed. The thick, long, dark-blonde hair fell past her shoulders gracefully. She appeared to be wearing the same skirt and shoes, but her black, long-sleeved silk blouse embroidered with multicoloured butterflies would have won approving looks at the most exclusive of fashion shows.

      ‘What a beautiful blouse!’ Marina said with sincere admiration.

      ‘You like it? It belonged to my grandmother, my mother inherited it, then she gave it to me a few years ago, arguing she was too old to wear it.’

      ‘It’s lovely. Your brother mixes excellent mojitos. Would you like one?’

      ‘Yes, I would.’

      Pablo was nonplussed for a moment, but he recovered fast. ‘Sure,’ he said, before getting to his feet and marching into the kitchen. Marina zeroed in on Elena and girl talk prevailed for a couple of minutes. Pablo returned with the cocktail and handed it to his sister. ‘Drink it quickly,’ he snapped. ‘We are late because you were late.’

      ‘I wouldn’t have been had my dear brother helped me to tidy up a little,’ Elena remarked wryly to Marina. ‘But he never does, you know, never.’

      ‘Oh, it’s only 8.09,’ Marina said, after glancing at her watch, pretending not to notice the intense antagonism. ‘And these mojitos merit slow appreciation. Tell me more about your grandmother’s Spanish fans…’

      After a minute of feathers and sticks inlaid with mother-of-pearl, when the topic became so esoteric that the men were effectively excluded, Pablo tried to communicate with Sean. He moved closer to Sean by sliding his bottom to the edge of the seat and resting both elbows on his knees. ‘You said “wild night” and, in this paladar, two girls, beautiful, incredible, one black, the other blonde,’ he said in a low, conspiratorial tone, ‘but you are with wife…’

      ‘I’ve got to pee,’ Marina mouthed to Elena as Sean considered his reply.

      ‘Excuse us for a moment,’ Elena announced, rising to her feet. They left their cocktails on the tray and disappeared from view in the hallway.

      Pablo sighed with relief and lit up before seizing at the opportunity. ‘I want you have good time. I don’t know if you can…send wife back to hotel?’

      Sean shook his head. ‘No, Pablo, I can’t,’ articulating slowly, making it easier for the bald man. ‘Marina has this fiery Latin temperament. She’d get pretty mad if I did that to her in public. When I said “wild” I meant, you know, a nice meal, drinks, driving around, maybe going to a nightclub. I might return soon – alone – then you can take me to the best places to refine my “sense of taste”. Okay?’

      

      From the toilet seat, Marina examined the fairly clean bathroom. The usual plus a bidet. An old plastic shower curtain frayed at the bottom, a circular swing window by the bathtub. Two gaping holes by the sink indicated where a towel rack had been. Marina wondered what purpose a plastic bucket full of water served. No toilet paper was in sight and she fished for a Kleenex in her handbag.

      After zipping her skirt up, Marina closely inspected the ceramic soap dishes coated in white enamel recessed in the walls alongside the bathtub, by the sink – where a sliver of soap survived – and next to the bidet. Then she turned to the toilet-paper holder. The four pieces were level with the light-blue glazed tiles on the wall. In all probability they had been there since the tiles were installed.

      Marina flushed the toilet. Aside from a little gurgling, nothing happened. So that was what the bucket was there for. She poured half its contents into the toilet bowl, closed the lid, looked around. She filled a glass jar by the sink with water and washed her hands. She was inspecting her face in the medicine-cabinet mirror, shaking the drops off her hands to pull out a fresh Kleenex, when there was a knock on the bathroom door. Marina said ‘Come in,’ and Elena turned the knob and handed her a towel.

      ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realize there weren’t any in here.’

      ‘It’s okay.’

      ‘We have running water from five to seven p.m. only. It’s when I shower and fill up all the buckets and pans in the house.’

      ‘And why is that?’ Marina asked as she wiped her hands dry.

      ‘For two reasons, according to the President of the Council of Neighbours,’ Elena said, watching Marina’s manicured hands with envy. ‘The system of pipes supplying water to the city is in ruins; half of what’s pumped into it is lost underground. So, the cistern never has water for more than three or four hours of normal consumption. Secondly, the electric water pump that fills the tanks on the roof of the building is too old and breaks down frequently, so the neighbour who tends to it turns it on two hours a day only.’

      Marina returned the towel to Elena. ‘Such a nuisance. It seems to me that life here is fraught with problems.’ Feeling her way.

      ‘It is, it is. Inconveniences, nothing tragic, but you may have to wait two hours for a bus, two months for a beef steak, save for two years to buy a decent pair of shoes.’

      ‘And to live in a place like this?’ Marina asked as she produced a lipstick from her purse and turned to the mirror.

      ‘Well, maybe two centuries,’ Elena said with a wide grin. ‘Apartment buildings like this are a thing of the past. This one was completed in 1957. It’s ugly, looks like a big box, but back then we had professional construction workers and those guys knew their business, they built to last.’

      ‘It’s a great apartment,’ Marina said, once she’d pressed her lips together and capped the lipstick. ‘The rent on a place like this in Manhattan? No less than five thousand dollars a month; as much as eight thousand in a nice area.’

      ‘Really?’

      ‘Really. This could use some refurbishing, though. You haven’t made any repairs, have you?’

      ‘Never. But it’s in good shape. No cracks or fractured pipes. Paint is what it needs, badly. But it’s sixteen dollars a gallon.’

      ‘That’s not too exorbitant.’

      ‘No, not for you. Probably you make as much in an hour.’

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