Meet Me Under The Ombu Tree (8 page)

‘You have five more chukkas to pull yourself together, Agustin,’ Paco said gruffly during the break at the end of first one. ‘If you hadn’t been floundering about in the middle of the field, Roberto Lobito wouldn’t have had the chance to score - twice.’ He said the word
twice
with emphasis as if it had all been Agustin’s fault. While they swapped their exhausted, frothing ponies for fresh ones Agustin glanced uneasily across the field at his sister. ‘You may well look anxious, son. If you don’t improve your game, Sofia will be taking your place,’

Paco added before striding off the field. That was enough of a threat to get Agustin through the second chukka, although Santa Catalina was still lagging behind by two goals.

The whole of Santa Catalina and La Paz had come out to watch. Usually they all sat together, but today was different; the importance of this match meant that they sat in groups watching the other camp suspiciously. The boys all stood together like packs of wolves, shuffling their feet nervously, one eye on the match, the other on the girls. The girls from La Paz draped themselves over the bonnets of the Jeeps in short A-line skirts and headscarves, discussing boys and fashion, their dark glasses obscuring eyes that more often than not were lustfully hooked on one of the boys from Santa Catalina. Meanwhile the girls from Santa Catalina, Sabrina, Martina, Pia, Leticia and Vanesa watched the handsome Roberto Lobito ride his pony like a dashing knight on a charger up and down the field, his pale blond hair flopping over his beautiful face each time he bent his head to hit the ball. Sofia and Maria kept their distance, preferring to sit on the fence with Chiquita and little Panchito, who played around the sidelines with a mini mallet and ball, so that their attention would not be distracted from their brothers and cousins.

They can’t lose!’ Sofia protested passionately, watching Santi gallop towards the goal, then pass the ball to Agustin who consequently missed.
‘Choto
Agustin!’ she shouted in frustration. Maria bit her lip anxiously.

‘Sofia, don't use that word, it isn’t dignified,’ Chiquita said softly, without taking her eyes off her son.

‘I can’t stand to watch my idiotic brother, he’s an embarrassment.’

^l
Chopo chopo
,’ laughed Panchito, hitting the ball against an unsuspecting dog.

‘No, Panchito,’ chided Chiquita, running to the rescue. ‘That’s not a nice word, even if you don’t say it properly.’

‘Don’t worry, Sofia. I can feel the wind of change,’ said Maria, catching her cousin’s eye.

‘I hope you’re right. If Agustin continues playing like this we’re sure to lose,’ she replied, then winked at Maria behind Chiquita’s back.

By the fourth chukka, in spite of Santi and Fernando scoring a goal each, Santa Catalina were still two goals down. La Paz, confident that they were going to win, sat back complacently in their saddles. Suddenly Agustin seemed to appear from nowhere, seize the ball and thunder towards the goal unchecked.

With hearty encouragement from the sidelines he whacked it.

‘Oh my God!’ shouted Sofia, cheering up. ‘Agustin’s scored.’ There was an uproar from the Santa Catalina support team, who nearly tumbled off their bonnets with relief. However, his pony didn’t stop at the goal but galloped on victoriously before coming to a sudden halt, throwing a delirious Agustin into the air. He landed with a groan and lay inert on the grass. Miguel and Paco rushed to his side. Within seconds he was surrounded. There passed a terrible few moments that seemed to the distraught Anna to last an eternity before Paco announced that he had nothing more than a sore head and a heavy hangover! To everyone’s surprise he shouted for Sofia.

‘You’re on.’

She looked at him, stunned. Anna was about to object but a moaning Agustin diverted her attention.

^l
Como?

‘You’re on, now get a move on.’ Then he added gravely, ‘You had better win.’

‘Maria, Maria!’ cried Sofia in amazement. ‘It worked!’ Maria shook her head in disbelief and awe - the tree really was a magic tree after all.

Sofia couldn’t believe her good fortune as she scrambled into a pink shirt

and mounted her pony. She noticed the boys from La Paz laughing in disbelief as she entered the game. Roberto Lobito shouted something to his brother Francisco and they both sniggered scornfully. She’d show them, she vowed. She’d show them all what she was capable of. She had no time to speak to Santi and the others. Before she knew it the game had recommenced. In seconds she was passed the ball and ridden-off by Marco who nudged his pony against hers, pushing her off-course; she could only watch helplessly as the ball whizzed between her pony’s legs and out the other side. Furious, she threw herself against him and then against Francisco for good measure before galloping off. She found that Rafael and Fernando were reluctant to pass to her; only Santi used her when he could, but Santi was heavily marked by a sneering Roberto Lobito. In fact, Roberto and Santi seemed to be playing out some sort of private battle as if they were the only two people on the field, knocking into each other, hooking mallets and shouting obscenities.

‘Fercho, on your left!’ Sofia shouted to Fernando when an opportunity arose. Fie glanced over to her, hesitated, then passed the ball to Rafael instead who was consequently ridden-off by both Marco and Davico at once in a vicious sandwich. ‘Pass it to me next time, Fercho. I had a clear ride to goal!’ she

shouted furiously, glaring at him.

‘Sure you did,’ he replied spitefully and cantered off. She noticed Roberto Lobito break their silent rule and shake his head sympathetically at Fernando.

Sabrina and Martina were horrified that Sofia had been allowed into the game.

‘She’ll cock it up for them,’ Sabrina said irritably.

‘She’s only fifteen, for God’s sake,’ Martina sniffed. ‘She really shouldn’t be allowed to play with the big boys.’

‘It’s Santi’s fault, he encourages her,’ said Pia, spitefully.

‘Lie’s got a soft spot for her - God only knows why. She’s spoilt rotten. Look, she’s hanging around doing nothing. No one’s using her. She might as well pack it in,’ complained Sabrina, watching her young cousin floundering in the middle of the field.

At the end of the fifth chukka they were still one goal down.

‘Use Sofia, for God’s sake! We’re a team, and the only way we’re going to win is with teamwork,’ exploded Santi, dismounting.

‘We use her and we’re sure to lose,’ replied Fernando, removing his hat and shaking out his black sweaty hair.

‘Come on, Fercho, don’t be childish,’ said Rafael. ‘She’s playing and there’s nothing you can do about it. They won’t expect us to use her, so make the most of it.’

‘We’re not going to win as a three-sided team,’ shouted Santi, exasperated, ‘so bloody well include her!’ Fernando scowled at his brother with loathing.

‘I’ll show you chauvinists that I can play better than that idiotic Agustin. Just swallow your pride and play with me - not
against
me. The enemy’s La Paz, remember?’ And Sofia cantered confidently back onto the field. Fernando quietly smouldered while Rafael raised his eyes to the sky and Santi chuckled with admiration.

The tension was almost tangible as they cantered onto the field for the last chukka. When the game began, a hefty silence descended upon the spectators. The final chukka was an aggressive display of one-upmanship as each side desperately tried to outdo the other. Santi, who was undoubtedly the best player on the team, was heavily marked, and Sofia, who they all assumed wouldn’t get a look in, was hardly marked at all. Time was running out. In spite of their earlier dispute Sofia was hardly passed the ball and spent most of the time angrily covering for the others. At last, Santi managed to even the score.

The spectators were now on their feet unable to remain seated as the battle intensified in the last few minutes of the game. They all knew that if they didn’t finish it in time they would have to go on to ‘sudden death’. The field resounded with furious cries and impatient commands as Roberto tried to control his team and Santi tried to persuade his brother to play with Sofia. Maria jumped up and down in agitation, unable to keep still, willing Sofia to score. Miguel and Paco paced impatiently up and down the sidelines, without taking their eyes off the match. Paco looked at his watch - one minute to go. Perhaps it had been a mistake letting Sofia play, he thought bleakly.

Suddenly Rafael took possession of the ball, passed it to Fernando who passed it back. Santi snaked his way past Roberto and Marco who galloped after him in pursuit. There followed a burst of fevered shouts, but Rafael managed to pass it to Santi and he flew unmarked down the field. Only Sofia and her opponent, Francisco, stood between him and the goal. He had a choice, he could dare to ride past Francisco and try to score himself, or he could risk hitting it to Sofia. Sure that Santi wouldn’t pass to Sofia, Francisco left her side to ride him off the ball. Santi raised his green eyes to his cousin who understood immediately and positioned herself. Just before Francisco crashed into him he

whacked the ball to Sofia. ‘Go for goal, Chofi!’ he shrieked.

Not one to miss an opportunity like that she cantered after it, clamping her jaw together with resolve. She hit it once, twice, then swinging her
taco
in the air with a practised arm she thought of Jose, her father and then of Santi as she struck it straight through the posts. Seconds later the whistle blew. They had won the match.

‘I don’t believe it!’ gasped Sabrina.

‘My God, she’s done it. Sofia’s scored,’ cried Martina, jumping up and clapping her hands. ‘Well done, Sofia!’ she shouted.
^l
ldola
.' ’

‘Just in the nick of time!’ Miguel beamed, slapping Paco on the back. ‘Luckily for you, or you just might have been barbecued with the
lomo
.’

‘She played well - let down by her own team. There’s no question about her ability, though,’ he said proudly.

Rafael cantered up to Sofia and patted her on the back.
‘Bien hecho, gorda!’
he chuckled. ‘You’re a star!’ Fernando nodded to her without smiling. He was pleased they had won but couldn’t quite bring himself to congratulate Sofia. Santi almost tugged her off her pony by grabbing her behind the neck and pulling her towards him so he could kiss her dusty cheek.

‘I knew you could do it, Chofi. You didn’t let me down,’ he laughed, removing his hat and scratching his damp hair.

Roberto Lobito walked up to her as she dismounted her pony. ‘You play well for a girl,’ he said, smiling down at her.

‘You play well for a boy,’ she replied arrogantly.

Roberto laughed. ‘So, will I be seeing you more often on the field?’ he said, his brown eyes tracing her features with interest.

‘Perhaps.’

‘Well, I look forward to it,’ he added, winking at her. Sofia screwed up her nose, before dismissing him with a husky laugh and running off to join her team.

Later that evening, when the first stars sprinkled the twilight with silver, Santi and Sofia sat beneath the sinewy branches of the craggy ombu and looked out onto the horizon.

‘You played well today, Chofi.’

‘Thanks to you, Santi. You believed in me. I had the last laugh, didn’t I?’ And she chuckled, remembering Agustin falling off his pony. ‘Those brothers of

mine ...’

‘Ignore them. They only wind you up because you rise.’

‘I can’t help it. They’re so spoilt - especially Agustin.’

‘Mothers are like that with their sons. Just you wait.’

‘A long, longtime, I hope.’

‘Maybe a lot less long than you think. Life is never what you expect.’

‘Mine will be, you’ll see. Anyway, thank you for trusting me today and for standing up for me. I really showed them, didn’t I?’ she said proudly.

He looked at her earnest face through the dusk and placed his hand affectionately on her neck. ‘I knew you could do it. No one has the determination that you have. No one.’ He then went silent for a moment as if lost in thought. ‘What are you thinking about?’ she asked.

‘You’re just not like other girls, Chofi.’

‘I’m not?’ she replied, pleased.

‘No, you’re more fun, more ... how can I put it? You’re a
personaje.’

‘Well, if I’m a “character”, to me, Santi, you’re an
idolo!
Do you know that?’ ‘Don’t put me on a pedestal - I might fall off,’ he chuckled.

‘I’m lucky to have a friend like you,’ she replied bashfully, feeling her

heartbeat accelerate. ‘You’re most definitely my favourite cousin.’

‘Cousin.’ He sighed deeply and a little sadly. ‘You’re my favourite cousin, too.’

‘Girls are just as good as boys at games,’ announced Sofia, absentmindedly flicking through the pages of one of Chiquita’s magazines.

‘Rubbish!’ replied Agustin, breaking away from his discussion with Fernando and Rafael to rise to her bait like a hungry trout.

‘Ignore her,’ Fernando said testily. ‘
Collate
, Sofia, why don’t you go and find Maria to play with and leave us alone.’ Sofia was four and a half years younger than him and he had little patience with children.