The comment brought on a chorus of laughs. Jacobo’s young companion had not lasted even one campaign on the plantation. One night, some men had decided to pick on him in Anita Guau for being white. Nothing happened in the end, thanks to the timely intervention of some employees from another plantation, but the following morning, he asked for his pay and left without giving any explanation. Garuz was not happy losing someone who had already been trained. It was more and more difficult to find Spaniards willing to travel to Fernando Po, so Jacobo had to take on double the work.
“You lot could leave without looking back,” Manuel butted in. “But not so for people like my in-laws, who have their business here. They’d have to abandon the shop.”
“But what are you saying?” Kilian did not want to hear a word about leaving the island. “There’s cocoa here for a good while. Everything is working the same as before.”
“What world are you living in?” Jacobo reproached. “Did you not listen to the minister saying that it’s the time for big changes?”
His brother rolled his eyes.
“Who would have thought, huh, Kilian?” Gregorio shook his head. “In the end, you are the one who has really taken to the island. Sade is probably right. You know what she’s saying, don’t you?”
Kilian became tense. He began to regret coming out. His nights in the casino with Mateo and Marcial were fine, but he still could not stand Gregorio.
“And what is she saying?” asked Jacobo. “Why am I the last to hear?”
“Probably because you spend more time with Pao and Dick than with us,” said Marcial. “Are the clubs in Bata better than the ones here?”
Jacobo turned to Gregorio. “So what is it?”
“She says that your brother abandoned her for someone else, just as . . .” Seeing Jacobo’s confused expression, he continued. “Sade had a child by your brother. Well, that’s what she says, of course,” he added hurriedly. “And it is certainly mulatto.”
Jacobo opened his mouth, dumbstruck. A long silence followed. “But . . . how?” He frowned. “Kilian?”
His brother had not flinched.
“One moment.” Jacobo looked at everybody. “And you all knew? Manuel?”
“I never believed it for an instant, Jacobo,” he said. “Gregorio, isn’t it true that Kilian stopped seeing Sade long before she got involved with you?”
Jacobo breathed easier. It was one thing to enjoy the girls, another entirely to leave them with child.
“Gregorio, maybe we should be congratulating you on becoming a father,” said Kilian in a calm voice. “Weren’t you the one who always criticized the owners of the plantations for being miningueros and having mulatto children around? Now you’ve become one of them.”
“I’m not the only one to have slept with her.”
“Yes, but I’d bet anything you’d like to be the one who hit the target.”
Gregorio gave him a threatening look.
“I don’t like it one bit that she’s going round slandering my brother,” Jacobo interrupted. “I hope she isn’t thinking of going to the authorities.”
“And if she did?” Gregorio lit a cigarette. “No one would pay much attention to her.”
“That’s a relief, isn’t it, Gregorio?” Kilian stood up. He had had enough socializing for the day. Fortunately, in a few hours, he would be with Bisila. “Well, I’m off.”
Mateo patted him on the arm.
“You’re getting more like your father every day! From work to home and from home to work.”
Kilian said nothing. His eyes happened to meet Manuel’s, and Manuel rapidly looked away. The doctor believed he knew the reason for Kilian’s frequent visits to the hospital. He was not blind. Kilian was always attended to by the same nurse.
“You know what Julia says?” Manuel said finally, minutes after Kilian had left. “That if we took a trip around the city orphanage, we’d hang our heads in shame.”
Sade picked up her pace along the dusty path that led to the native maternity hospital in Santa Isabel, where she had given birth to her son three months before. The building was made up of one two-story wing beside a four-gabled turret joined onto another building with an upper balcony. She approached the entrance steps and paused. She raised her eyes to the starry sky and took a deep breath. No sound could be heard as nature enjoyed its final minutes of calm before dawn.
The baby slept quietly in her arms. She covered his little body with a thin white cloth, stroked his cheeks, bent down, and left him at the door. She remained for a few seconds, watching him, then turned around and left.
When she got to her house, near the club, she prepared a crontiti infusion and sat down beside the window of the small sitting room. She told herself once again that she had done the right thing in freeing herself of the child. In some corner of her heart, she felt a pang of remorse and sighed deeply. None of her entreaties to the island’s government administrations nor those to the Sampaka plantation’s manager had had any effect. The most she got was a hurried investigation, after which it had been concluded, thanks to the firm declarations of Kilian’s friends, that there was not the slightest chance Kilian was the father. They had also warned her that if she persisted in her accusations, the law would come down on her for slander. At what moment had her pride convinced her that since she was now a Spanish citizen, some possibility existed that someone would force Kilian to assume responsibility? Was that not what they did in Spain? During her months of pregnancy, she had even fantasized about a life together to bring up the child she had just abandoned.
After the investigation, it did not make any sense to admit who the real father was. Everything had gone wrong. She had lost Kilian and had brought a baby into the world.
She brusquely dried a traitorous tear. Never again would she allow her feelings to interfere, although, thanks to her pregnancy, a promising future had opened up for her. She had a lot to think about now.
Over the past few months, Anita had agreed to allow her to help in the management of the club. As the days went by, the woman, now old, had noticed the girl’s ability to, among other things, attract clients, give advice to the new girls, and design the band’s playlist so that customers never felt like leaving the club. Sade had also redecorated. Anita wanted to live the last years of her life quietly. She had discovered in Sade the ideal person to inherit the business.
For Sade, the numbers added up, if and only if she could free herself of the one obstacle that would hinder her ambitions. All her energy needed to be focused on running the business, and, if possible, expanding it. The orphanage would surely look after the baby well, she thought, making sure he got an education. She only had to look at the difference between the children who grew up neglected by the other mothers in the club and those brought up in the Spanish center. If everything worked out, she would even be able to get the boy back in the future . . . After all, she was not a bad mother. She had only led a bad life.
Only she, and she alone, could change her circumstances.
“Why can’t you do me this small favor?”
Generosa did not yield at her daughter’s insistence. “I don’t understand why you’re interested after so long. What does it matter what that woman did?”