The Life History of Guillermo Brown (Edit)

The church bell chimes eight, so those villagers awake know it is six. There are no watches to check. Cocks crow. A lonely donkey sings in a broken baritone. A body lies across the doorstep of the church, sleepy flies drone above the broad-brimmed straw hat covering its face. The bells fall silent, bringing momentary quiet. A figure steals past the church wall, the silence crumbles before the cry of a baby.

Under the hat is Guillermo Brown: the Englishman. Seňor Brown has several addresses in the pueblo of San Riquelmo; Church Threshold, Calle de la Cruz, Terrace of Bar Luisa on the village's other street, to name two of the better ones. Guillermo's clothes have been good, but have a somewhat scruffy look to them. He says he has always been an untidy fellow, even as a boy his socks fell down and there was always a tear in his shorts.

Today is a red letter day. Guillermo visits the post-office in Valparaiso once a month to collect, of all things, a postal order. For a little more than the 2/6d of old, thank goodness! Valparaiso is thirty miles off, but Guillermo knows Paco is taking his mother to visit her sister in the Hospital. It's not too uncomfortable on the flat bed of the truck. Besides, by the time he tramps the couple of miles to the Post Office from the funicular by 'El Bar Ingles', he won't smell so much of pig.

He'll pick up his envelope; Brown Esq. Poste Restante, Valparaiso, open it and walk to the British Consulate to cash the order. This will take a while, even though he comes every month to do it. The Consul insists on dealing with him personally, so sometimes he has to wait. But the marble is cooling and the high ceilings are good for staring at, when you've nothing better to do. Besides, the consul is an old acquaintance, from short-trousered days. Even so, after Brown waits for up to several hours, Hubert Lane conducts his business with Mr Brown briskly and ever so formally, before sending him on his way.

Paco's horn toots, barely audible above the rackety diesel engine. A hand rises to remove the hat. A tousled head appears above a boyish face that offers a reminder of the rascal he must once have been. Guillermo Brown rises to his feet, a wry smile on his face as he remembers the days when he was just William.