The Telling Time : A Historical Family Saga Page 26

  ‘I’ll take Luci down with me,’ said Mare.

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked Antica.

  Mare smiled and patted her mounded stomach. ‘I need all the practice I can get.’

  ‘I’ll join you,’ said Mama. ‘Leave you three to catch up.’ She held out her arms for Luci. ‘Come on, Draga. Shall we find some waves?’

  Antica handed her daughter over and Luci squealed with delight. ‘You be good.’ She waggled her finger at Luci, who was snuggled into Mama’s chest.

  Mama and Mare picked their way down, passing Luci between them like a precious parcel at the steep drops. The men were already sprawled, shirts off, a collection of nut-brown bodies strewn on the slate. It was Ivan’s first visit here, and all week I’d been anticipating showing him our local jewel. As usual, Dinko and Antica’s Marin had joined us. Branko had opted out with an excuse of helping his baba and dida. I knew he was still bitter at Ivan but I’d been half-relieved, not wanting any tension to spoil what had become our favourite annual family event. Over the years I’d come to think of Josip’s birthday picnic as my party too; my own birthday fell in mid-January, a miserable time for celebrating, and besides, Josip always invited my friends to bolster his numbers. In Branko’s place, or at least that’s how it seemed, Josip had invited Stefan, a new acquaintance none of us knew well. He seemed the quiet type, much like Josip.

  We had crowded onto Krešimira mid-morning under a burning blue sky, with Tata at the helm, to make the half-hour trip across. Our favourite beach was an indent in a coastline of hewn angles, each one another link in the dramatic chain. Even Ivan, who had seen so much, stopped short and whistled. Pin-pricks of pride tingled through me. It was his affirmation that a place I valued, despite my limited world, was also admired by someone of importance who had travelled widely.

  Mama and Mare were side by side on the beach, their skirts hitched up and legs outstretched. From our vantage point Mare’s taut stomach might have been a ball resting on her thighs. Luci bounced against it, squealing with delight, her legs dancing in and out of the crystal-clear water that lapped onto the shore as though tickling the white pebbles and painting them with foam.

  Nada and Antica had already slipped out of their skirts and blouses down to their swimsuits. I followed, squeezing alongside Nada, my stomach flat against the stone, the warmth radiating through me. Perched on that spot we all knew so well, the sun having worked its summer magic to turn our torsos golden, I could almost trick myself that it was like old times. And yet I was struggling to feel enthused. So much had changed in a year. Antica was already a mother and about to get married. Nada was heading in the same direction with Dinko. I felt her criticism, so much so that our friendship had become strained, as though each conversation held a built-in reserve. Ever since my visit to the construction site, and despite our best efforts, Branko and I had become more distant.

  It was true that I had veered off course. Ivan’s stories about the opportunities for young women like me had rekindled something I hadn’t felt since school days, Jadranka having squeezed all the passion out. How could I explain to Antica and Nada that their talk of marriage and babies bored me? Mama and Mare were obsessed too. Lately I’d been left feeling there was nothing to look forward to. When I’d confided in Ivan a few weeks back that I wanted to escape Korčula he said he understood. But deep down I knew my dreams were no more than marbles rattling inside my head, a pinball machine with a deafening clatter. With no money there was little prospect of me ever making a change. I would likely be stuck on Korčula forever. The thought filled me with dread.

  ‘I don’t envy Mare,’ said Antica, grimacing as if on cue. ‘There’s worse to come yet.’

  ‘She’ll cope,’ I said, forcing a smile. ‘Everyone does. Even you.’

  ‘Come on, Nada. Funniest memory of the week?’ said Antica.

  Nada’s face transformed into an impish grin and I felt a wash of relief. Some things didn’t change; perhaps a visit to Proizd was all we needed.

  ‘Has to be Vinka going for the factory slide,’ said Nada, breaking into a fit of giggles.

  Antica and I laughed too and it felt liberating. ‘She had it coming,’ I said. ‘Who does she think she is? Firing off orders all day.’

  ‘How perfect she went down by the scaling table.’ Nada swiped the tears from her eyes. ‘Did you see the scales coating her backside? Serves her right. She’s the worst.’

  ‘Yuck! No! What about Sretan Musin?’ said Antica, her face scrunched like the inside of a fig. ‘He’s revolting, how he carries those food scraps in his beard.’

  I cringed.

  ‘Every morning’s the same,’ said Nada, her words muffled behind her fist. ‘What does he see in the mirror?’

  ‘Just his good looks,’ I said, ‘obviously.’ I smirked, feeling my frustrations slip away. ‘Vinka should focus on him — that would be a job worth doing.’

  ‘He’d better watch it.’ Antica’s face crumpled again. ‘I’m so used to cleaning up Luci I might do the same with him.’

  ‘You wouldn’t!’ I cried. ‘But just imagine the look on his face.’

  ‘Don’t put it past me,’ said Antica, with a wry expression. ‘I’m that damned tired, who knows what I might do. There’s plenty of things I do now that I don’t even realise.’

  ‘No one would let you forget it,’ said Nada, lying back and closing her eyes. ‘Change the subject. Something nice. I want that horrible man out of my head.’

  ‘All right. New subject,’ said Antica, leaning close to the edge to peer down. ‘Uncle Ivan.’ She turned and flashed me one of her devilish grins.

  ‘What?’ I said.

  ‘He’s got all the girls talking. The whole factory’s swooning. He’s Korčula’s latest attraction.’

  Antica was right. Ivan could have the pick of any girl he wanted, going by the table talk over the past months. Not that he’d shown anyone the eye. I was almost certain of that.

  ‘Can’t see what the fuss is about,’ said Nada, her eyes still closed.

  It seemed she was relishing getting her knife out and twisting the point. I propped up on my side and glared at her.

  ‘You can’t be serious?’ Antica said, prodding her in the ribs. ‘Sit up. Take a proper look, girl. If it wasn’t for my Marin, I’d be no different than the rest of them and Jela’s handsome uncle wouldn’t stand a chance.’

  I shot her a warning look. Most conversations had the potential to lead back to Branko.

  Nada hauled herself to sitting. ‘Looks aren’t everything,’ she said, her voice prickly.

  I hated that she might consider me fickle or unkind, but it had been difficult lately to deny that Branko and I weren’t right for each other. From down below came the sounds of scrambling and jeering. We all jostled forward to the ledge. Josip, Ivan and Dinko had stripped to their swimming trunks and were strutting about as though parading.

  ‘Ah, well, even I can’t deny that,’ said Nada with a sheepish grin. ‘Surprising what you can hide under your uniform.’

  ‘Nada!’ I said, shocked, but I’d noticed the bulge in Ivan’s swimming trunks too.

  ‘Seems your eye’s tuned in too,’ said Nada, returning my look. ‘Hope it wasn’t my Dinko you were sizing up.’ I could have thumped her.

  ‘What a catch,’ said Antica, her eyes twinkling. ‘Pity you’re related, eh, Jela?’

  My ears were burning and I turned away, flipping onto my stomach to rest my head on my arms. ‘You’re both too much,’ I muttered, as a loud splash erupted below.

  ‘Relax,’ said Antica. ‘We’re only joking.’

  The heat crept across my face. I’d be the colour of a tomato soon. I was disgusted at myself but there was no denying he was handsome. It was difficult thinking of him as my uncle: he seemed too young and unlike anyone else in my family. I could have just as likely met him on the street and been the same as the other young girls in Luka, throwing him a chaste eye while thinking the exact opposite. A few girls at work ha
d mentioned how they were jealous that I had Ivan living at home. And life had become more interesting since his arrival. Lately he’d started teasing me, like an older brother might, and I was surprised at how quickly I’d adjusted to feeling at ease in his company. Ivan was far more interesting than Josip. I thought of my brother as a delicate flower refusing to unfurl, whereas Ivan was resplendent in full bloom.

  There was another loud roar and I glanced up. Antica and Nada were on their feet and I edged back across to the ledge. Marin was below, drumming his barrel of a stomach with his fists.

  ‘Leave some water for us!’ Antica yelled.

  The men were a row of bobbing heads, wet hair plastered against their faces. I was grateful the attention was off me but the heat still felt too intense. ‘I’m getting baked dry. Shall we join them?’ I said.

  ‘Excellent idea,’ said Antica, already moving away to start the clamber down.

  We chose a spot towards the rear of the men’s ledge under some shade cast by a gnarly tree. I helped Mama lay out the picnic lunch. Throughout the morning my spirits lifted as we feasted on all the offerings of our crystal-clear playground: jumping off the rocks and ducking down to pierce the aqua depths like arrows; floating weightless like corks, our faces to the sun, then retreating to the rocky ledges to bake our bodies dry again. It was easy to forget my troubles in that place of beauty with the salt a powdery slick on my limbs, a gentle itch, a reminder of the fun times we always had in this place.

  Mama had packed the usual staples: bread, goat’s cheese, tomatoes, stuffed peppers, and some luxuries too. Over the weeks she had squirrelled away a stash of Ivan’s špek and I couldn’t wait to see the reaction from the others. It was difficult to pin down, but all morning the men had seemed less relaxed, as though they were skirting around conversations. I wondered if, like me, Mama hoped the atmosphere might shift to one where Ivan felt more accepted. Perhaps our friends were unsure how to address him? It was clear they had plenty of questions but they often seemed forced or unnatural, as though too much time had been spent composing them. I’d felt Nada and Antica’s scrutiny too, as though they were judging how I acted around my uncle. I was reminded of that first dinner with Ivan at home.

  Mama clapped her hands and called everyone to eat. Tata was there first, filling his plate before claiming a quiet spot at the side. The other men hung back and I wondered why they hesitated. Dinko gestured towards Ivan. ‘Visitors first,’ he said, but he wasn’t looking at Stefan.

  I felt embarrassed, knowing that Ivan would hate to be seen as different, but he stepped forward to crouch over the food and fill his plate. He had no sooner moved off than the other men crowded in, filling their plates and spreading themselves around the edges. Stefan went to sit by Ivan.

  ‘Don’t wait,’ said Mama. ‘Eat.’

  This surprised me — Mama insisted on grace, even when picnicking, and everyone bar Ivan and Stefan would know this. I shot her a questioning glance and she made an underhand gesture towards Ivan. I realised she was likely trying to defuse any possible tension around our religion, given that Ivan was one of Tito’s representatives.

  Mama, Mare and I hung back until Antica and Nada had filled their plates.

  ‘What have we here?’ said Marin as though unable to contain his delight. He pointed at the špek. ‘Same as Christmas, Luci — but where’s Santa?’

  ‘Over there.’ I pointed across to Ivan, feeling smug that this treat was commonplace.

  A general acknowledgement and mutter of ‘Thanks’ went up from everyone.

  ‘Just as well you left some for us,’ said Antica. Luci twisted on her hip, stretching towards the food as though she couldn’t wait a moment longer to devour something.

  I sat down with my food. Ivan was talking with Nada and Stefan who were sitting close by. I was proud my special relative was showing he wasn’t above anyone. I wished Branko was there to see it and hoped Nada would see the fun side of Ivan and report back favourably. But just as in the earlier part of the day the conversation felt a little sparse, as though a hint of hesitation hung in the air, and everyone preferred to focus their attention on eating.

  Mama handed around Josip’s favourite sweet treat, fritule, and Luci grabbed two, stuffing both into her mouth. Antica scolded her, but who could blame Luci when treats were such a rarity, even for children. Our laughter felt cathartic as we watched Luci, her eyes like shiny beads and her cheeks bulging, determined to chew while all the while clapping her hands. Afterwards, when we sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to Josip, it felt like old times again.

  Much later in the afternoon, Dinko called us together for the annual Trofejni Izazov, the Challenge Trophy. This was our favourite game, one that had evolved over the years. Dinko explained the rules for Ivan and Stefan’s benefit, while the other men made a show of limbering up and flexing their muscles. It felt odd standing next to Ivan wearing only my swimsuit, and I was aware of Nada’s piercing stare. I swung my arms then stretched them above my head, trying to appear relaxed while focusing on the trofej, the mound-shaped rock about a hundred metres out which never failed to separate the swimmers from the stragglers. When my swimsuit rode up, catching in the crick of my bottom, I glanced towards Ivan, feeling paralysed, willing him to look away.

  ‘Remember, the Trofejni Izazov is more than just a swimming race,’ Dinko cut in again. ‘The winning team is the one who gets all three people onto the trofej ledge, at the same time, with the scarf. You can’t shout “Šampions!” until you are all there and the scarf is raised.’ He waved his arms to quieten us. ‘And now, Antica and Mare will announce the teams.’

  This was my chance. Ivan looked away and I wrenched my swimsuit down.

  Dinko and Stefan were in my team; Mama had Ivan and Josip; Nada was with Tata and Marin. Both Antica and Mare had opted out. We all knew Antica hated swimming but she used Luci as her excuse, saying she wanted to settle her for a nap. Mare joked that she’d have an unfair advantage with two motors on board.

  ‘Nothing wrong with double the engine size,’ said Marin, patting his stomach.

  ‘No special treatment next year, mind,’ said Josip.

  ‘You’ll be the one on the sideline then,’ Mare retorted, waggling her finger at Josip.

  ‘I’ll believe that, when I see it,’ said Marin under his breath.

  Josip nudged him as though backing him up, but if anyone could change the order of things, it was Mare. The talk at Jadranka was that she coddled Josip, that he should stand up for himself — be a man’s man. Mare’s pregnancy and Ivan’s arrival had cast a spotlight on our family.

  Dinko handed each team their coloured scarf. Ours was green. Antica made a show of saluting him when he asked her to start us off. She picked up the two rocks he’d put aside.

  ‘Ready, set, go!’ she shouted, clapping the rocks together.

  ‘Quick,’ said Dinko, rushing forward. ‘Make sure you tie it tight.’

  ‘Get going.’ I flicked my arm towards the water. ‘Tying a scarf’s something I can do. Get!’ I was the fastest swimmer of the women and Dinko one of the fastest men; speed was likely our team’s best asset whereas the others would have the advantage of strength once they reached the trofej ledge.

  Josip had already launched, and both Stefan and Dinko dived off to give chase. I checked for Ivan, expecting him to do the same, but Mama was helping him tie the red square around his neck. This was a new tactic. Men were never the scarf carriers.

  Nada was busy securing her yellow scarf. I concentrated on tying my knot so that it was secure enough to keep the scarf on, but easy to undo once I reached the trofej. Mama slipped off the ledge, making her way by breaststroke so as to keep her head above water. It was an unspoken rule, although there were always exceptions when it came to the Trofejni Izazov — no dunking Mama unless absolutely necessary because she hated her curls turning to a frizzle. After a spectacular splash Tata and Marin were on their way too.

  ‘Go, Ante! Go, Tata!’ shouted Antica. ‘That�
��s your Tata making the big splash, Luci-loo.’ Luci squealed and pounded her fist against Antica’s chest.

  I rushed forward and dived, keeping as shallow as possible to protect my scarf. When I resurfaced there was a swell of unsettled water behind me. I checked that my scarf was still intact and stroked out, finding my rhythm, taking the most direct route. Nada would be using Mama’s tactic, keeping well to the side, out of harm’s way. Nada’s team was lucky: she might be the easiest to pull off the ledge but she’d made a name for herself over the years at being the most skilled at holding her breath under water. If she timed it right, her teammates could pull her onto the ledge at the last minute.

  I was gaining on Tata and Marin’s white foam, focusing on keeping my strokes steady. They were out to the side now, treading water. I was angling away to give them a wide berth when a hand clamped over my leg, stopping me short, then dragging me backwards so that I swallowed a mouthful of sea water. I resurfaced, coughing and spluttering, feeling disorientated. There was Ivan, stroking off, a flash of green rotating in and out of the water on his wrist.

  ‘Catch me!’ he called from up ahead, waving my scarf high, taunting me.

  My legs and arms burnt as I raced out after him, the taste of salt making breathing difficult. This was another level of cunning, to steal a team’s scarf before getting to the trofej — without it we couldn’t win. If I didn’t reclaim it I’d be left looking a fool. With each stroke I tried to work on a plan but when my fingers slapped hard against rock I cursed, for being distracted. Stefan, Josip and Dinko were already jostling for space on the trofej’s ledge; Ivan was nowhere to be seen. Stefan got flipped off and was floundering about just to the side of me, trying to catch his breath. I guessed Ivan must have gone around the back of the trofej but time had likely run out for following him. Tata and Marin were already closing in, and Mama was angling in from the side like a cat hunting a bird, biding her time. I knew Nada wouldn’t be far behind; she might be hiding at the side already, waiting.