The Alvarez Carpet

It was always a leisurely flight. I departed Hong Kong at one o'clock, and landed in Manila mid-afternoon. In fact, I was gradually reaching the stage of regular commuting: it was my second trip that month.

I hailed a taxi at the airport, and half an hour later walked into our representative office in Makati: the central business district of the sprawling city.

Responding casually to the greetings of the receptionist and junior secretaries, I made my way upstairs to Derek Vicker's office. Derek and I had first met at London Polytech', graduated together, and found employment with Inter-Cal when they were still very much a fledgling company in the rapidly-developing world of computer science.

With the advent of silicon technology, our company achieved some innovative breakthroughs in the field. Partly due to our inspired research, I hasten to add. Then the world was our oyster. The company went public, quickly expanded, and opened offices in the major trading cities of both hemispheres. At last, computers were a cheaper and more efficient proposition for the business dogmatists to entrust their mountains of records and accounts.

We were both based in Singapore for some years, before our main Asia offices and assembly plant were established in Hong Kong. I stayed with engineering, and became head of our Asian field service division. Derek was enticed into programming, and eventually sales and marketing.

When a regional office opened in Manila, Derek was promoted to Marketing Director of Inter-Cal (Philippines). But that was five years ago now. I would fly down whenever the need arose. This time in response to an urgent telex from Derek that Allied Commercial Banking were experiencing problems with their IC 580L computer mainframe.

I strode into his office, depositing my attaché case and flight bag by the door, as he looked up from his desk.

'Afternoon, Bob that was quick. I didn't expect to see you until tomorrow afternoon,' he commented.

Seating myself comfortably in a padded armchair by his desk, I replied, 'Afternoon Derek, how are things in Sin City this week?'

'Oh, much the same as usual. Apart from Allied's computer playing Robin Hood with their current accounts.'

'Yes, so I understand from your telex. That's the main reason I hopped on this afternoon's flight: before it makes paupers of their prime clients.'

'Johnny Diokno worked on the mainframe all yesterday, but still can't solve the problem with it. Thus, he requested your presence. After all, you virtually designed the unit,' he reminded me with a smile.

Derek turned away, and by the medium of his desk intercom, instructed his secretary to call Mr. Velasques, the manager of Allied Commercial, and let him know a field service engineer would be there first thing in the morning to rectify their computer's malady.
'So,' he said, 'I take it you've not checked into a hotel yet?'

I replied that I hadn't.

'Well, why don't you come out and stay at our new place in Corinthian Gardens? We finally moved in last week-end. There are four spare bedrooms now, not like the apartment, with its huge lounge and kitchen, and only one bedroom. God, what a waste of unplanned space that was. I told Elizabeth provisionally that you would be staying, but she won't expect you until tomorrow evening. Hang on a second, Bob.'

He again depressed the button of his intercom, and asked his secretary to ring Mrs. Vickers, and inform her that Mr. Penhaligon had arrived, and would be staying with them for a day or so.

Releasing the button with an exaggerated flourish, he turned back to me with a smile. 'Well, that's that taken care of, old man and as the cocktail hour fast approaches, why don't we enjoy an early finish and head over to the Prince of Wales for a drink before we drive home?'

I readily agreed, and we left the office, bidding secretaries and all a hearty farewell until the next morning.

We must have sat at the bar of the English-style pub for a couple of hours: talking over business, and putting the sad shambles we call the world to rights. Then Derek declared that the rush-hour traffic would have subsided, and we started out for his new home.

It was fairly quiet on the EDSA highway, with Derek driving at a careful pace, and we enjoyed a smooth trip out to Corinthian Gardens. The sub-division was truly beautiful, I observed, as we drove along the tree-lined avenues. Their house was equally as beautiful: a mansion really, set in half a hectare of gardens, with a swimming pool and tennis court. Yes, the aroma of success hung in the air to give the frangipani blossoms stiff competition.

I had a good idea what Derek earned, and even with his sale's commissions his salary could never pay for this house in half his lifetime. Thus, I concluded Elizabeth's father had been extremely generous to them.

She was a funny girl, Elizabeth, in certain ways but definitely born with the proverbial silver spoon in her mouth. Her father was a wealthy industrialist and land owner, had been a Senator in government, and once held the Philippine Ambassadorship to Singapore.

After siring five sons; Elizabeth was born: and became the daughter he doted on. She attended the best schools in Manila, and eventually went to the States to study at Harvard. When she returned to the Philippines following her graduation she became an integral part of her father's diverse business empire, along with her brothers.

She and Derek met originally at the Manila Trade Fair, and his easy banter and manner had attracted her instantly. They enjoyed a story-book romance, and married the following year. He became quickly aware of her privileged family background when her parents laid on a wedding reception for five hundred people - most of them from the upper echelons of government and commerce.

But, to give Derek his due, he was steadfast on being the provider in their marriage. They lived initially in a modest apartment before her father's construction company built this house for them. Derek has spoken to me about it during my previous visits that year, but I never conceived it was a veritable hacienda.

We parked by the front of the house, and Elizabeth came out to greet us both.

'You're getting to be a regular visitor to Manila, Bob,' she teased. 'Perhaps you should consider moving here permanently.'

'I wish I could Elizabeth,' I replied, 'but the rest of Asia is regularly inundated with gremlins in their computers too. In fact, I've made three trips to Taiwan in the last fortnight to exorcise mainframe demons. I'm spending all my life on aeroplanes and in hotel rooms. Every time I walk into my apartment in Hong Kong, the amah looks at me as though I'm a stranger.'

We walked into the house together. I deposited my luggage at the foot of the magnificent green marble staircase then followed them both into the main lounge.

'Your new house is really something. The rent must be astronomical,' I jested.

They laughed, and we sat comfortably in the gleaming rattan armchairs, padded and cushioned in dark-brown corduroy.

'He never changes, does he?' Derek commented, turning to his wife.

'No, Elizabeth answered,' but that's what keeps him looking young, his lively sense of humour and fun. Isn't that right, Bob?'

I smiled widely, by way of reply. We had been friends for a long time, and I enjoyed their collective company tremendously - forever poking fun at each other, in jest, when we came to be together.

We chatted and had drinks then Derek showed me to the guest room that had been prepared. I showered and changed into light, casual clothes for the evening. When I returned to the lounge, dinner was ready to be served. Sitting down to the sumptuous meal at a prestigious narra dining table, I asked Elizabeth of its origins.

'It was a wedding present from my uncle in Mindanao, he has a hardwood exporting company there. He had his carpenters carve it for us but was too big to fit through the door at our apartment. So, my mother stored it at their house: until we had a house of our own. That's why you've not seen it before.'

The soup was my favourite: Ng Cavite. A bouillabaisse made from shellfish, lobster tails, crabs, prawns, vegetables, and cream. Our entree: roast chicken in ginger sauce, with crisp veg' and baked potatoes. Papaya, doused in calamansi juice, was the fragrant dessert. We polished off three bottles of Hoc during the meal, and with the drinks Derek and I had consumed earlier, I was mellowing very nicely.

Leaving the table to be cleared by the house maids, we retired to the lounge once more: to enjoy coffee and brandy. Chatting away endlessly, and warming to one another's company, our only disturbance was a brown-out, an electricity cut, for a few minutes. During the time the power was off, a houseboy appeared with an emergency lantern, which was switched off when the lights were quickly restored.

'Well,' chirped Derek,' that is one of the shortest brown-outs on record. We need Mussolini here: in charge of the power stations. He'd keep the lights burning.'

'I always thought Mussolini was famous for making Italy's trains run on time?' I queried.

'Ah, that was after he got the lights switched on properly,' Derek rejoined.
We all started into fits of giggling. Yes, the combined effects of the wine and brandy were making our humours very mirthful indeed.

I leaned forward in convulsing giggles, and my foot caught the coffee table, almost tipping both coffee cup, and brandy bowler onto the floor. Luckily, I managed to arrest its movement before anything was spilled.

'Oops, sorry,' I said, apologising, “getting clumsy as the evening advances.'

“Thank God you didn't spill anything on the Alvarez heirloom, Bob. Elizabeth would have you hung, drawn, and quartered,' Derek cautioned.

I looked down at the carpet: pure white. Its thick pile without spot, stain, nor blemish: thankfully.

'My mother had the carpet brought down for us last week-end, when we moved in,' Elizabeth informed me. 'She saved it for me until I married and had a house of my own. It came from Spain with my great-great grandfather last century. It's woven from Andorra wool. I really do consider it a family heirloom, Bob, and an integral part of my Spanish heritage.'

Now this was one of the things Elizabeth was funny about, as I mentioned earlier. I had teased her often in the past when she spoke of the Alvarez family, and their high-born Spanish descent. A couple of hundred years ago, in the middle of the Spanish colonial rule, it was decided by the provincial governors to take an accurate census.

With so many tribal names in the archipelago, most of them unpronounceable for the ruling administrators, they allotted Spanish surnames for the indigenous population to choose from. Thus, Kayunamanggi's became Zobel's, and Alvarez's were perhaps previously Babankalangan's - the Spanish equivalent of Smith and Jones, really.

I loved to tease her over this point. Even more so when she once related that Derek had told her the Vickers family had come to England with the Norman Conquest. I rebuffed they were itinerant Hugenot clergymen, who had changed the spelling of their clerical title to avoid persecution by the Papal authorities.

She thought my family name, Penhaligon, was very ancient-Briton sounding. And most impressed too when I informed her that the Penhaligons of Cornwall had built Stonehenge, and the Great Pyramid. I do in fact come from a long tradition of stonemasons: but not quite that long, I must admit.

'Tell Bob about Mike Dennings, from Interface Systems, Elizabeth,' Derek urged.

'Oh, that man,' she moaned in exasperation. Her hands reached out as though to strangle some unseen antagonist. Then she settled back in her chair with a sigh, and related the tale.

'We invited them over for dinner the other evening, he and his wife. Having just moved in, the occasion was partly to let them see the new house, and partly because he had just signed a big contract with Derek for Inter-Cal technology.'

'After dinner, we came and sat down here for coffee: much the same as we are tonight. Of course, Mike's a heavy drinker, and was swilling the brandies down, then he tried to get up to go to the comfort room, and knocked his drink all over the carpet in the process."

'I was furious, and could have murdered him on the spot. He and his wife were trying to mop the drink up, and made it worse. But all I could say was, 'Oh, don't worry about that, I'll clean it up tomorrow', with him being a dinner guest and a good customer of Derek's. But honestly Bob, in all truth I could have grabbed him by the throat and choked the life out of him.'

'It took me hours the next morning to get it clean. All I could think of while the maids were helping me sponge the stain was Mike Denning's neck in my hands, instead of the cloth.'

I was almost in tears laughing as she related the story: complete with detailed gesticulations. Derek too was chuckling heartily. Then the giggles caught Elizabeth once again. Soon we were helpless trio of hysterical howls and shrieks as we looked at each other's laughter-contorted faces.

My sides were splitting. I grasped them with my arms, turning in the chair as I did so: my feet catching the edge of the table, and knocking the coffee cup onto the floor. A deadpan expression covered my face as I quickly pulled a handkerchief from my pocket, and began to mop at the widening brown stain on the pure-white carpet. The Alvarez heirloom.

A pall of silence had descended over the room, until Elizabeth's voice broke it.
'Oh, don't worry about that Bob. I'll clean it tomorrow.'

Derek's eyes met mine, and we simultaneously burst into unavoidable, helpless laughter. I was still laughing even when Elizabeth's hands closed around my throat.