Read Online Thursday Night Widows by Claudia Piñeiro - Free Book Online

things, she passed them on to Antonia, and this shirt was much better than anything she could have dreamed of giving her daughter for her next birthday. She inspected it before washing it by hand. The diamantes were set against the material in concentric circles that almost made her feel dizzy. None of the stones was missing and a couple of stitches would see to the hole.
    When the shirt had completed its cycle of washing and ironing, Antonia took it up to Mariana’s walk-in wardrobe and placed it in the compartment for black T-shirts. She knew that it would soon be hers – hopefully before Paulita’s birthday – but she couldn’t risk taking it without her employer’s say-so.

    A few days later, Mariana invited three neighbours to tea. Among other concerns, the women managed a centre offering free lunches to poor children, a few blocks away from the entrance to Cascade Heights. Teresa Scaglia, Carmen Insúa and Nane Pérez called themselves “The Ladies of the Heights”, and were setting up a foundation in that name. They tried to interest Mariana in joining their crusade.
    â€œWhat we need more than anything is trainers,” said the one who had asked for a mango-and-strawberry infusion. “Otherwise, when it rains, half the children don’t come to eat because they can’t get through the mud barefoot. Can you believe it?”
    â€œHow awful,” said Mariana, as Antonia passed her a teapot with more hot water.
    â€œYou have to come one day, Mariana, and bring your children so that they can see it with their own eyes. Otherwise we’re just bringing them up in a bubble.”
    And Mariana nodded, wondering how Romina would react to seeing the children, because she had once been like them, or worse; she had been “Ramona” and she still was, in the depths of those dark, frightening eyes. Pedro, on the other hand, had always been hers, right from the start.
    â€œThanks, Antonia, put it just there,” she said to the maid, who was standing beside her with fresh water for the pot.
    A few days later, Antonia went into Mariana’s room one morning and found a pile of folded clothes on the trunk at the end of the bed. The second article from the bottom was the black T-shirt with diamante stones. The rest were old clothes of Mariana’s or the children and two faded golf shirts of Ernesto’s.

    â€œPut those clothes in a bag and leave them aside for Nane Ayerra,” said Mariana. “She’ll come to pick them up later.”
    Antonia didn’t understand: usually Mariana gave all the old clothes to her to take to Misiones and share out among her family.
    â€œYou know Nane, right? She’s the pretty blonde one who came here for tea the other day.”
    Antonia nodded, even though she didn’t know, wasn’t listening and couldn’t understand why that shirt, which had so nearly been hers, was going to end up in the hands of a pretty blonde. Surely a woman like that was equally unlikely to wear darned clothes. Not daring to ask about it, she found a bag and put everything inside it. As she was about to leave the room, Mariana stopped her. “Oh, and if you’re interested, on Friday we’re having a jumble sale after lunch at Nane’s house, to raise money for the children’s free meals centre. It’s exclusively for maids, so don’t worry, the prices will be reasonable. All of us, no matter how much or how little we have, can do more to help, don’t you think?”
    Antonia nodded, but she didn’t really know what she thought, because she hadn’t fully understood. Or rather, she hadn’t paid attention, because all she could think about was the black diamante top. Perhaps she could buy it. The Señora had said “reasonable prices”. She did not know, though, what price might be considered reasonable by her employer. She could manage ten. Or maybe fifteen, because the shirt was