The Altogether Unexpected Disappearance of Atticus Craftsman by Mamen Sánchez Read Free Book Online Page B

the phone down her throat.
    At the fourth or fifth ring, she heard a sleepy voice on the other end of the line. Soleá was whispering.
    â€œBerta, I’m going to kill you.”
    â€œWhere are you?”
    â€œAt the squat on Calle Zurita.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œIt’s nothing to worry about, love, my night just got a bit complicated. I went to the opening night of that play I told you about, at the Triángulo, and it was raining when I came out, and the first thing I saw was this place. I came in and there was a guy from back home who played guitar really well. A sort of recital. It got late and in the end I fell asleep on a pile of sleeping bags.”
    â€œDoesn’t it smell of pee?”
    â€œOh, Berta! Shut up!”
    Without giving Soleá time to come up with an excuse, Berta told her about the urgent meeting. At the office at eleven. Soleá didn’t argue. Berta had never given her such an unequivocal order before.
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    Berta was lucky to catch María still at home. She had been up since seven because the kids were light sleepers and the sound of the elevator always woke them up. They were about to leave for a day out in the countryside. They had the picnic ready: tortilla de patatas, breaded steaks, and Russian salad. María had spent Saturday afternoon cooking, ironing, washing dishes,mending trousers, bathing children, heating soup, and tidying. She planned on spending Sunday relaxing, lying on a rug all day, in the shade, while the kids played on the swings. She had even packed a DVD so she could park them in front of a screen—thank God for laptops—while she had her siesta.
    Bernabé usually played soccer on Sundays and then went to a bar for lunch with the team. He would come home when it got dark, sit in front of the television until María and the kids got back, and invariably ask to have dinner early, because on Mondays he worked the early shift at the café. His was a hard life.
    â€œAnd what do you expect me to do with the kids, Berta? Just put them in a cupboard?”
    â€œHaven’t you got a neighbor you can leave them with for a bit, sweetie?”
    â€œNo, my love, I haven’t. I’ve got a gossiping witch, a drunk, and a madwoman. That’s what I’ve got.”
    â€œBut you do pay peanuts for rent, María.”
    â€œI suppose I do.”
    In the end she convinced Bernabé to take them to soccer with him.
    â€œTie them to the goalpost, Bernabé, do me a favor.”
    Berta’s tone of voice made it clear that something very serious had happened at work. María imagined the worst and started shaking. Her life would go to pieces if she lost her job.
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    Asunción answered right away. She told Berta that she had been awake for a while, reading. The boys were out and about as usual. She wasn’t expecting them back until lunchtime.
    â€œI’m actually glad you rang,” she confessed. “Sundays makeme feel sort of gloomy. I’ll go to ten o’clock Mass near the office so I can be there at eleven on the dot. Shall I bring croissants?”
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    Gaby was the most difficult. In a whisper, she explained that she was ovulating—“Spot on, Berta, your timing’s impeccable”—and that she had to lie down for at least half an hour after intercourse. As intercourse hadn’t taken place yet, she would try to wake Franklin up gently, wearing no underwear, to see if they could resolve the issue in fifteen or twenty minutes.
    â€œBut the earliest I can be there,” she said, “is quarter past eleven. That’s the minimum for a nice romantic quickie. You understand, don’t you, Berta?”

CHAPTER 12
    A sunción stopped weighing herself the day she hit 154 pounds. Her determination to spend her time thinking about more interesting things than the fluctuations of her