A Girl's World (3)
From the golden curry rose a foreign fragrance no one in the room had ever smelled—fierce as the sun, surging over them like a tide. Luce, of course, and Alfred and Megan at the next table, and even Jane as she served: no one could have said who gave in first, but every one of them was drinking the scent in.
Tomato sauce alone would have been scandal enough for them, and Blow had gone a step beyond even that. Curry powder was worth its weight in gold; a mere few sausages ran easily into silver. This, then, was the very best he could muster with everything he had. And just as he had calculated, Luce's face opened bright. The first button, at least, was fastened properly.
"I've never seen this powder before. What's it called?"
Luce smiled and pointed with her fork. Melo, standing tense at her side, answered with careful modesty.
"Curry powder."
"Curry...?"
"It's a specialty of Parso!"
"However did you think to use such a thing?"
Now it was Blow's turn. He answered in as easy a voice as he could manage.
"There used to be someone from Parso among the people I drank with. I was treated to a curry dish once back then, and I thought it might suit sausage, so I tried adapting it."
"Ah, so that was it. Does the dish have a name?"
"It's called Melo's Red and Yellow Sausage...!"
Melo offered the name of her own creation with shy pride. Blow nodded to her, thinking. The dish's true name was currywurst. Unless some other soul reborn from Germany happened to be sitting in this room, no one was going to lodge a complaint with the girl.
All the while his mother had been swallowing as she stared at the food. At last she spoke, cautious.
"We simply eat it like this?"
"Yes, just as it is. You may mix the sauces as you go, if you like."
The words had barely left him before Luce lifted a sausage with an elegant turn of the hand. The tomato sauce and curry powder laid over it put her in mind of rapeseed blossoms opening across red earth.
What on earth will it taste like?
Luce bit in at last, and the others, as if they had been waiting on her, brought their own sausages to their mouths.
Sweet and tart, the tomato met the sharp, biting fragrance of the curry dusted lightly above it, and both sank perfectly into the juices of a sausage whose crust might have been grilled and fried at once. It was a clash of fierce flavors that would not let a jaw rest. In moments the sausage was gone, and only a powerful aftertaste remained.
"This sauce! Th-the roasted potatoes taste good dipped in it too."
The voice was a whisper, barely there and yet perfectly clear. At once everyone began dipping the roasted potatoes into that strange sauce as well. Unlike the sausage, the potatoes were warm and plain, and the sauce painted its own color over them without holding back. No one could help but marvel.
"Tomatoes go with potatoes far better than I ever imagined!"
"Yes. I hadn't realized. They suit each other even better than you'd think."
Blow answered Luce with a face of iron, the picture of innocent ignorance. Inwardly he offered thanks to the french fries of a thousand fast-food shops—fries he must have eaten thousands of times over.
"To think I lived without knowing something this delicious. I feel as though I've been cheated of a lifetime."
"Which is why I mean to develop all sorts of dishes with tomatoes and potatoes from here on."
As he said it, Blow glanced at Melo, who was pressing a hand to her chest in relief. Time and ingredients had both been scarce. Even so, the seasoning of the dish before him could only be called superb—good enough that, eating it as though someone else had cooked it, he still found it more than fine. Melo had truly shone today. He shifted his gaze to Romang, praying that sparkle had reached her as well.
Romang was chewing through the sausages one by one, meticulously, for all the world as if she were sitting in judgment. Luce, who had emptied her plate some time ago, looked from Blow to Melo and back, and smiled brightly.
"A remarkable dish. Even someone with as small an appetite as mine wants more."
"Next time I'll prepare a more generous portion."
"It even called to mind the beer I used to drink at festivals when I was young."
"A perfect success."
Now every eye turned to Romang, who was still staring down at her plate. Roasted potatoes and sausage remained there, and her expression had gone hard. Melo could only clutch her apron tight in both hands.
"Romang, well? Isn't it delicious?"
"It was certainly unusual."
"Before we go down to Blanya, I ought to stop by the market and buy some tomatoes and curry powder."
Luce said it while watching Romang's face. Romang added nothing.
Was the seasoning too strong?
Uneasy, Blow scraped up what sauce remained on his plate and tasted it again. Perhaps only because the thought had already taken hold, the seasoning seemed heavier than before.
I should have remembered how little time has passed since I came back, and adjusted the blend...
He regretted it. There was no taking it back. While he swallowed against a dry throat, the apron Melo had been gripping slipped helplessly from her hands.
A silence stretched out, long enough to feel as if time itself had been drawn thin. Then Romang spoke to Luce, almost a whisper.
"My lady, might you step out and take a cup of tea with me?"
"Of course."
"Young master. I have eaten well."
"I'm glad it was to your taste."
The courtesies were only formal. Romang went out, and Luce followed with a face full of regret. The two of them left with Alfred, and after they were gone the room held a dead silence, as if even the mice had perished.
"Young master..."
Melo came quietly to him. Blow drew her into his arms and spoke warmly.
"Melo, you worked hard."
"Th-the tomatoes weren't quite ripe enough. And I should have measured the curry powder better......"
"No, no! It was perfect."
He said it looking straight into her eyes, so she might believe him. Melo could not meet his gaze.
"I'm sorry."
"You've nothing to be sorry for. You did your best."
"I'm a little tired."
All the strength gone out of her, Melo buried her face in her young master's clothes and rubbed against them for a long, long while.
Romang and Luce's departure left a brief lull behind it. Perhaps it was the cost of having stayed up all the night before: Blow and Melo were nodding off at the table, and Jane and Hans cleared the dishes in their place and set to washing them.
Hans asked Jane carefully.
"What do you think will happen?"
"Lady Romang's reasoning was so sound. If she won't allow it, then wanting anything more would only be our greed."
"If Melo hadn't been here, these past few days wouldn't have been nearly so happy."
"That's true, but..."
Hans's words were heavy with disappointment, and Jane was wearing a bitter smile at them when the kitchen door opened. Melo, who had dozed for only a moment, came in rubbing her eyes.
"Melo! Why aren't you resting longer? You must be exhausted."
Hans stepped toward her, worried, but Melo gave no answer. She went and stood before the piled potatoes.
"Melo?"
She began to peel them in silence. Watching her, Hans and Jane let out long breaths before they knew they had.
"Melo."
"We'll need potatoes again for dinner! I'm getting them ready now! I'm so sleepy I feel like I'm about to drop any second, you know!"
She said it with a face like sunlight. The girl's voice, though, was muffled, as if it had sunk underwater.
"And later, you and Hans have to try the roasted potatoes too!"
"......"
"They have to taste good even without me. All right?"
Neither of them could answer. One word more, and everything they had been holding down would spill over.
"It was really fun."
Melo pretended at calm. Jane had no choice but to lift her face at once and stare at the ceiling.
"It was really, really fun..."
The girl's hands, so busily peeling, came to a stop, and every sound in the kitchen stopped with them. Jane, unable to bear it any longer, pulled her into an embrace from behind. The sun, heavy with water, sank slowly, and dyed the kitchen orange.
It was late afternoon, just before the evening service, when Luce and Romang at last returned to the inn. Jane, Hans, and Melo stood as if they were serving out a punishment. In that solemn air Blow brought out the words he had prepared after waking, a long while ago.
Alfred the butler, and Luce, stared as if struck.
"Sell my pillows in the manor. Sell the wardrobe. Sell the drawers."
"......"
"I've thought it over for a long time—whether I have anything left to sell. Things like that are all that remain. I kept only what was expensive, out of the vanity of the past, so selling them ought to be enough. If need be, I'll hand over every piece of clothing I have on me now."
"Do you mean to do away with any place you might return to?"
"I came up to Caipol with that in mind. It doesn't matter."
His voice was firm and clear, and he went on.
"I'll look for someone Melo can properly learn from, too. Someone who will respect her, and be a good influence. So let me keep her with me."
Silence came down again, as if they had stepped into a tomb. Outside, by contrast, voices bustled and laughed. Only after dozens of those voices had passed did Romang's mouth open.
"Young master, I have given it some thought—"
"Mom!"
Melo had been standing beside Jane, trembling where no one could see. She could not hold it in. She burst forward. No one had expected it; every face turned to her in surprise.
The girl dropped to her knees before her mother and pressed her hands together. Then the words she had swallowed, and swallowed, and swallowed came pouring out.
"I want to stay here. I want to try more dishes, and I want to use new ingredients. I used tomatoes for the first time here, and curry powder too. I want to try squid ink as well..."
As she spoke, feeling seemed to surge up in her, and tears began to mix into the words like rain.
"The potatoes taste so much better than the first time I made them. I'm so, so happy right now, and people like me..."
"....."
Melo sobbed on like that for a long while. Jane and Hans, unable to watch, turned away, their shoulders shaking. Blow alone kept his eyes fixed on Romang, waiting for whatever she would say next.
Some time passed. Romang's eyes, shut until now, slowly opened.