Isabela Goes to Live in the House… 2

Isabela bent towards the little window and breathed in the smell of fresh coffee

seeping out between the cardboard boxes. The heavy bouquet of mould, mingled with the aroma of some Brazilian blend, made up her mind for her. She looked both ways along the street. The empty pavement encouraged her. She sat down on the flagstones and stretched her legs out against the boxes that hid the inside of the basement. Her soft shoes failed to shift them at the first kick, but after a few more feeble shoves one of them slid and fell to the floor inside the basement. The rustling sound had not yet died away when the second box dropped almost soundlessly onto the pavement. She worked both legs into the opening, pushed herself along with her hands and got the greater part of her body in as well. Only just, only barely, could she drag the travel bag after her. She had wound its strap around her left wrist and now felt a sharp pain at every tug. A moment later the weight of her body pulled her inwards and downwards into the house. She did not know how high the window was above the basement floor, so she braced herself for a painful landing. Then her feet struck hard stone slabs. The pain was cut short by the travel bag falling onto her back. She grimaced and stood up. Her back and legs hurt badly, but she could move. She looked around. Her eyes could barely make out the outlines of things in the basement. She took a few more uncertain steps forward. Yes. She could walk without trouble. The rays coming in through the window let her step a little further in before she stopped to let her eyes adjust to the gloom.

She still could not get her bearings, but she could already make out a steaming pot of coffee left on a small table near the gas ring on which it had been brewed. There was no time to look more closely, for she caught faint voices coming nearer. Her hearing had sharpened to make up for her eyes, still adjusting to the half-dark. But she could not tell rightly where the approaching voices were. Nor did she know what she ought to do. Get ready for the meeting, or hide. The hesitation was soon over. The door at the far end of the room quietly opened.

“What… are you doing here?”

For a moment there was silence. Then Isabela turned towards the two figures, lifting her head slightly.

“Hi!”

“Uh-huh…”

“Coffee or tea?”

“Uh-huh…”

Isabela smiled. It was an all but invisible smile. Only at the corners of her dimples.

She turned. She took the coffee pot and poured herself some coffee. The taste of the coffee was not improved by the dried grounds in the cup.

The two young girls stepped closer. One of them sat down beside her and took the coffee pot. She didn’t pour any for herself. She only looked at her from close up. Her motionless head lent the moment calm and length.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m thinking of living here a while,” Isabela answered in an even voice. “Unless I decide otherwise after we’ve talked. Or it becomes clear I’m not wanted.”

“You mustn’t move the boxes,” she heard the other girl say as she bent over the box that had fallen from the little window.

“I’ll be careful.”

They sat on like that for a few more minutes in the darkened room. No one was in a hurry to go anywhere. At least, that was how it felt. A kind of calm and weakness came over her. Isabela finished her coffee, picked up her bag and made for the door through which the two young girls had come in.

“Come on. I’ll show you.”

She turned round.

“Let me get by.”

Isabela stepped aside. They went along a narrow corridor. Then they opened another old door, which led them out into a green, sunlit courtyard. The house enclosed it on all four sides.