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The Night Watchman. ll

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…He was in the act of sitting down when suddenly he stiffened. He was sure he could see a movement in the field opposite the factory on the other side of the road. Perhaps it was the breeze. No, not with that kind of movement, surely. He could not be certain in the gathering dusk. But he could not let it be. He had to still his suspicions. He hobbled over to the low rubble wall on the other side of the road. There, sitting on the ground, resting against the hard-jutting granite of the rubble wall was a young woman. She hardly looked a day older than twenty.

Martin sighed. “I thought you were a…”

He stopped, shrugged and hoping that his confession could somehow expiate his sense of guilt continued, “…a thief! Funny isn’t it! I thought you were a thief. I’m sorry!” Suddenly he was aware of the whiteness of her small breasts visible in the deep plunge of her yellow shirt.

The girl bit into a luscious fat fig she had just peeled, and with her mouth full, some seeds dribbling from the edges of her mouth, said “Who said I’m not a thief?”

“I’d rather you were not!” The girl got up and eyed him defiantly. “Well, I am. You’d better catch me!”

She climbed over the rubble wall and, her bare feet hardly making a noise on the tarmac, ran into the factory. Somewhere in the pit of his stomach the old familiar pain swelled up. Was it possible she did not know he was a cripple? Suddenly he heard her shout. The great dane was barring her way. Growling, it was poised to spring at her slightest movement.

“Boy, come here boy, come” but the dog, sensing the girl was a friend, began to bark and jump around her. She responded to the animal and began to chase it up and down the road. Martin limped into the factory and sat down on the flat stone watching them from behind the iron bars.

Soon it was too dark to see as the road was badly lit. She came towards him and bid him good-bye. “So you’re going then!”

“I have to. Besides I’m hungry. We have green peppers in tomato sauce today!”

He felt his mouth dry. He licked his lips. “Don’t, please don’t. You make me hungry!”

Her laugh rippled towards him in the stillness of the night as she vanished over the rubble wall running towards some buildings behind a clump of oak trees.

Suddenly Martin felt alone. The great dane, its huge tongue dangling out of its mouth, settled down near him. All around was silent and now and then a solitary car rushed through the night, its headlights cutting tunnels through the darkness. Otherwise he was alone, the tiles his inanimate companions.

Suddenly, just as he had decided it was safe for him to get some sleep, he felt an icy hand covering his eyes. He turned and grabbed the intruder. It was the girl. “You gave me a fright. You shouldn’t do that.”

“I’ve brought you some food!” She offered him a plate she had hidden on a flat tile some distance away. “Not that you deserve it. You make a bad sentry. I could have bumped you off easily!”

He pleaded mockingly: “Have a heart!”

When he had eaten the green peppers she looked at him mischievously, “You liked it?”

“Thank you, yes.”

“Well I must now demand payment.”

“What do you want?”

“Give me a kiss.”

Shyly he kissed her. He had never kissed a girl before. He felt he did it right, very much in the same way he had seen people kissing on the big screen. She clung to him and kissed him again and again. He stiffened and then quivered like a jelly. Silently she led him to his small room. The great dane was left near the iron door to do his master’s job.

It became a habit and every sunset she used to come and spend some time with him, first letting him eat the food she had brought, then making love to him Her name was Carmen. Her mother had grudgingly allowed her to work on a farm nearby, but that virago was not happy with the situation because she never liked her to sleep away from home. “What would your father say!” she would complain; but father was far away earning a living in Australia, and every time he wrote he promised to return, knowing he had no intention of doing so.

Summer soon ended and the leaves on the trees turned to mellow brown. The nights grew cold but Carmen was there to keep Martin company. Until one day she failed to turn up. What could have happened? Perhaps she was sick! A week went by and she never came. Plucking up courage, Martin hobbled towards the farm and asked for her. The farmer smiled wryly.

“Her mother took her away. I heard they emigrated to Australia.”

“Like that? Without notice?”

The farmer scratched his bald head: “Seems they took the place of some other family who could not go.”

The night watchman limped back to the factory. Two small tears trickled from the edge of his eyes but he quietly wiped them away. His eyes had to be sharp and alert. After all was he not the guardian of the tiles?