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A lady with broad shoulders and ample bosom was walking down the long corridor. She was arrogant, and tottered along noisily in a pair of high heels that did little to detract from her short stature. The clattering could be heard throughout the entire nursery whenever she moved around in the centre of the building, although she had never stopped to think if this might bother anybody. After all, it was her nursery. She had opened it when she was still almost a child, she had guided it throughout its existence and, of course, everybody there always did as she said. One carer is more than enough to keep order over forty children, she often maintained rigorously, although she would never say no to the regular and altruistic stream of students doing internships. Perhaps that was the reason why that little business had survived over the years: its excellent economic profitability.
In the classroom at the back, there were only twelve children today, although as it was a festive day, nearly all of them were of different ages. Miriam, the permanent carer, had divided them up by age around the little tables, each with a big piece of card in front of them, coloured pencils and even scissors for the older children. Between them, they would be creating a mural that she herself would take home and place on her bedroom wall. Without a doubt, the project had had a great reception amongst the little ones, who were clearly delighted with the idea.
For Alberto, today was the fifth day of his internship. He was helping to cut out the pieces of cardboard and provided a plethora of ideas regarding which colours would be the best to successfully complete the very delicate business of creating a ‘mural’, as he called it. His devotion to the children was sincere, and he never refused the small walk up to any student who raised their hand, in need of his services. Every now and then, he would catch Miriam’s eye, and they would smile. The children were excited about the project, and by the simple fact of being there. The two adults, perhaps even more.
When the short, broad-shouldered woman arrived at the end of the corridor, she opened the door without knocking. The classroom was then quiet. She did not greet anybody. Perhaps she must have thought that those little beings did not yet have the capacity to appreciate the compliment of the formality when it came to good manners. Or perhaps, in her head, they simply did not deserve the privilege of being greeted.
She strode confidently through the classroom and approached Miriam, gesturing for her to come closer. Miriam leaned in, straining to hear what it was she had come to tell her. The murmuring was imperceptible.
Upon finishing, the young woman slowly stood up. As for the other woman, she turned around and went out into the corridor, leaving the door open. She would wait outside.
“Toni,” called Miriam, once she had stood up completely.
Once she had the little boy’s attention, she proceeded:
“Come here, they’ve come looking for you.”
The child then looked nonplussed at why he would have to go. It was just at the point when he was no longer sleepy and, besides, he was starting to have a good time.
Alberto’s expression appeared to imitate that of Toni’s. Miriam approached him and whispered in his ear.
“A policewoman’s come looking for him. It seems that they suspect that her father could be the next target of the ‘Golf Ball Assassin’, and it looks like they want to protect him, so as not to run any risks.”
Alberto looked fixedly at her, trying to assimilate what he had just heard.
She turned now to Toni, seeing that he was struggling to do up his jacket.
“Come over here so I can help you,” she said.
The little boy let her fasten the jacket.
When she had finished, the girl bent down and combed his hair with her fingers. Then she caressed his cheek, and then ran her fingers through his hair again, this time without the aim of combing it:
“Be good,” she said, as a goodbye, accompanying it with an almost maternal kiss.
It was with some difficulty that Toni nodded. The nearby presence of his carer combined with the little jacket done up to his neck was severely limiting his mobility.
When Miriam finished saying goodbye, Alberto placed his hand on Toni’s back, and together they left the classroom:
“I’ll go down with him,” he told Miriam.
It’s possible that he thought that that small and innocent being was too fragile to go alone with the woman of short stature and appearance of marble.
Once they had left, the woman began to walk ahead in front of them, imperially. Alberto and Toni followed closely behind. The young man guided the child along by the shoulders who, in order to keep up with the adults, needed to take more steps running rather than being afforded the luxury of being able to walk.
When they reached the end of the corridor, they turned to the left. Ahead was another bit of corridor, with three small steps midway, and finally there was the exit to the right. As soon as the woman had descended the steps, she snatched Toni away from Alberto, taking his hand until they reached the door. There waiting for them was a policewoman, with blonde hair and a round face. Alberto observed her from the distance. Toni looked at her, without understanding why she was waiting for him:
“You have to go with this lady, she’s a police officer and is going to treat you very well,” the woman said to the child, without letting go of his hand.
Toni now looked at the woman, as if asking for an explanation, but it was the policewoman who spoke to him, trying to get his attention.
“Come with me and we’ll get some ice-cream,” she said with a smile that sweetened her face even more. “Do you like ice-cream?”
“Can I?” asked Toni, bewildered.
“Yes,” the young woman answered in a honeyed tone, now taking control of the situation. “Tell me, how long has it been since you last had ice-cream?”
The boy raised his hand to his head as a response, accompanying it with such an endearing face to say that he didn’t even remember. Even the owner of the nursery understood this, who now let out a smile.
“That’s because we’re in Holy Week now, and the last few months have been winter. Soon the summer will be here and there will be ice-cream everywhere, but I know of one place that’s selling them today,” explained the policewoman, extremely lovingly. “So if you’re well-behaved, you’ll be the first little boy in Ourense to eat ice-cream this year.”
He couldn’t let an opportunity like this pass him by, Toni must have thought, and almost without realising it he was already walking down the street, hand in hand with the policewoman who, as she spoke to the boy, turned back towards the nursery school and waved to the owner:
“Thank you,” she said in the distance.
The woman let out her second faint smile of the day, as her way of saying goodbye, and closed the door from inside. Alberto was waiting at the foot of the stairs:
“That’s girl’s a police officer?” he asked.
“Yes,” the owner answered brusquely (she seemed to have already maxed her quota for smiles for that day).
“Well, I know her from somewhere,” he reasoned. “I don’t know where exactly, but I’m sure I’ve seen her face before.”
“I don’t think that police officers change their faces when they go home,” she said ironically, with a certain level of disdain.
“No, no, I’ve seen her before, and... I don’t know.”
“As you can imagine, before handing over the child, I asked her to identify herself, as the law requires,” said the woman, borderline aggressively, with the intention of dispelling any element of doubt in the student’s head.
Alberto made a gesture of indifference and went off down the corridor.
“Calm down, he’s in good hands,” she called out, in that tone of superiority only attained by one who feels certain of having carried out their duty.
The young man shrugged and continued on his way. The other eleven children were waiting for him in the classroom. But I know her, he repeated in his head.