we could find out whether the houses were habitable or not, we would spring into action.
I have not yet forgotten the joy we felt upon opening the doors. We would rush in violently; eager for booty, we would rush through the rooms assessing with rapid glances the amount of stealable material.
If there was electric light installed, we would tear out the cables, the light fittings and the doorbells, the bulbs and the switches, the chandeliers, the glass lampshades and the batteries ; we took the taps from the bathroom because they were nickel-plated; we took the taps from the kitchen sink becausethey were made of bronze, and we only didn’t take doors and windows to stop ourselves from looking like removal men.
We would work inspired by a certain kind of painful joy, a knot of anxiety held still in our throats, and moving as fast as quick-change artists, laughing with no cause, shuddering at imagined sounds.
The cables hung in rags from the ceilings which were ripped up by the vigour of our efforts; chunks of plaster and mortar stained the dusty floors; in the kitchen the lead pipes would release an endless trickle of water, and in very few seconds we were able to get the house in good shape for a costly repair-job.
Then Irzubeta and I would hand back the keys and with rapid steps disappear.
The meeting-point was always the backroom of a plumber’s shop; the plumber was like a collector’s card version of Cacaseno: 6 moonfaced, getting on in years, with a large gut and horns, because it was well known that he tolerated the infidelities of his wife with the patience of a Franciscan friar.
Whenever his situation was indirectly hinted at, he would reply with lamblike meekness that his wife suffered from nerves, and in the face of such a solidly scientific argument there was no possible reply apart from silence.
However, he was an eagle where his own interests were concerned.
This knock-kneed man would meticulously examine our haul, weigh the cables, test the bulbs to see if the filaments were burnt out, sniff the pipes and with an aggravating patience would calculate and recalculate his sums until he ended up offering us a tenth of the cost price of what we had stolen.
If we argued or got annoyed, this good man would lift up his cowlike eyes, his face would fill with an ironic smile, and, without letting us speak further, and giving us cheery slaps on theback, he would show us to the door with all the charm in the world and leave us with the money in our hands.
But don’t think that we limited our exploits to uninhabited houses. Nobody could compare to us as snappers-up of unconsidered trifles.
We were constantly aware of other people’s property. In our hands there was a fabulous dexterity, in our eyes the speed of a bird of prey. Without hurrying, but with the speed of a gyrfalcon falling down on an innocent dove, we fell upon those things that did not belong to us.
If we went into a café and there was a piece of cutlery or a sugar bowl forgotten on a table and the waiter was distracted, then we would lift them both; we would find, in the kitchen display cabinets or any other hidey-hole, whatever we considered necessary for our common benefit.
We spared neither cup nor plate, knife nor billiard ball, and I remember well that on one rainy night, in a busy café, Enrique very neatly purloined an overcoat, and on another night I got a gold-headed cane.
Our eyes would spin in their orbits or open as wide as saucers while we were looking for things to turn to our advantage, and as soon as we saw what we wanted, there we were, smiling, care free and free-speaking, our fingers ready and our eyes alert for everything, so as not to blow it like minor-league grafters.
In shops we would exercise this same pure art, and you had to see it to believe it how we took in the kids who worked the counters while their bosses were sleeping their siesta.
Using some pretext, Enrique would take the kid outside to look at the shop
I have not yet forgotten the joy we felt upon opening the doors. We would rush in violently; eager for booty, we would rush through the rooms assessing with rapid glances the amount of stealable material.
If there was electric light installed, we would tear out the cables, the light fittings and the doorbells, the bulbs and the switches, the chandeliers, the glass lampshades and the batteries ; we took the taps from the bathroom because they were nickel-plated; we took the taps from the kitchen sink becausethey were made of bronze, and we only didn’t take doors and windows to stop ourselves from looking like removal men.
We would work inspired by a certain kind of painful joy, a knot of anxiety held still in our throats, and moving as fast as quick-change artists, laughing with no cause, shuddering at imagined sounds.
The cables hung in rags from the ceilings which were ripped up by the vigour of our efforts; chunks of plaster and mortar stained the dusty floors; in the kitchen the lead pipes would release an endless trickle of water, and in very few seconds we were able to get the house in good shape for a costly repair-job.
Then Irzubeta and I would hand back the keys and with rapid steps disappear.
The meeting-point was always the backroom of a plumber’s shop; the plumber was like a collector’s card version of Cacaseno: 6 moonfaced, getting on in years, with a large gut and horns, because it was well known that he tolerated the infidelities of his wife with the patience of a Franciscan friar.
Whenever his situation was indirectly hinted at, he would reply with lamblike meekness that his wife suffered from nerves, and in the face of such a solidly scientific argument there was no possible reply apart from silence.
However, he was an eagle where his own interests were concerned.
This knock-kneed man would meticulously examine our haul, weigh the cables, test the bulbs to see if the filaments were burnt out, sniff the pipes and with an aggravating patience would calculate and recalculate his sums until he ended up offering us a tenth of the cost price of what we had stolen.
If we argued or got annoyed, this good man would lift up his cowlike eyes, his face would fill with an ironic smile, and, without letting us speak further, and giving us cheery slaps on theback, he would show us to the door with all the charm in the world and leave us with the money in our hands.
But don’t think that we limited our exploits to uninhabited houses. Nobody could compare to us as snappers-up of unconsidered trifles.
We were constantly aware of other people’s property. In our hands there was a fabulous dexterity, in our eyes the speed of a bird of prey. Without hurrying, but with the speed of a gyrfalcon falling down on an innocent dove, we fell upon those things that did not belong to us.
If we went into a café and there was a piece of cutlery or a sugar bowl forgotten on a table and the waiter was distracted, then we would lift them both; we would find, in the kitchen display cabinets or any other hidey-hole, whatever we considered necessary for our common benefit.
We spared neither cup nor plate, knife nor billiard ball, and I remember well that on one rainy night, in a busy café, Enrique very neatly purloined an overcoat, and on another night I got a gold-headed cane.
Our eyes would spin in their orbits or open as wide as saucers while we were looking for things to turn to our advantage, and as soon as we saw what we wanted, there we were, smiling, care free and free-speaking, our fingers ready and our eyes alert for everything, so as not to blow it like minor-league grafters.
In shops we would exercise this same pure art, and you had to see it to believe it how we took in the kids who worked the counters while their bosses were sleeping their siesta.
Using some pretext, Enrique would take the kid outside to look at the shop
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