Page 149 of Atlas: The Story of Pa Salt

She nodded, taking a moment to look us up and down. Seemingly satisfied, she invited us in. ‘Okay. Come.’

We were led inside a rudimentary building. The floors and walls were concrete, and the atmosphere was dark and dingy. In truth, the place reminded me a little of a prison. We followed the woman through a second door, and I was shocked by the sight that greeted us. Thirty or more children of different ageswere crammed into a single room. Overwhelmed staff were struggling to remain calm in the heat of the day, berated by a cacophony of screaming and crying. To my eye, the main issue appeared to be that there were simply not enough toys to go around.

‘Mon dieu,’ Marina breathed. ‘Poor, poor children.’

As we walked through the room, dozens of wide eyes followed us. I am ashamed to say that I tried not to meet their gaze, for fear that my heart would simply break in two. It had been over forty years since I had set foot in an orphanage. I had, naively, assumed that conditions would be better after all this time. More money, more resources, more knowledge... more love. But here, in the middle of Rio, it saddened me immeasurably to see that things were even worse than they had been in the Apprentis D’Auteuil forty years ago.

Marina and I were taken into a separate room which housed approximately ten babies. It was staffed by one woman, who was attempting to make sure each child was adequately swaddled. We were led to a crib at the end of the room.

‘You baby,’ said the lady we had been following.

Marina and I peered down into the cot. I was taken aback by the shock of dark hair on top of the child’s head, alongside the pair of huge, startled eyes which blinked at the two new faces they were observing for the first time.

‘Oh,bonjour, little girl,bonjour!’ said Marina. ‘Or should I sayolá? Look at her eyes, Atlas. They are enormous! And so open for one so young.’

‘She looks like her great-grandmother,’ I said, honestly.

‘Really? How beautiful.’ The lady gestured to the baby, and Marina gently took her in her arms.

We walked back through the overcrowded room. Just as we were about to leave, the lady clapped her hands, as ifremembering something. ‘Um momento, por favor!’ She ran back through the door.

The baby began to cry, and what started as an uncomfortable gurgle soon turned into full-on bawling. ‘Oh, shhh,chérie, all will be well, I promise.’

‘Do you need a bottle, Marina?’ I hurriedly dived into the leather satchel that was slung over my shoulder.

‘I actually feel a little faint,’ Marina said. ‘It’s the heat and the sight of all those darling children. Would you mind taking her a moment?’

‘Oh, I haven’t held a baby for many years. I’m not sure...’

‘It’s very easy, everyone can do it. Here...’ Marina gently passed the child to me. ‘Be careful of her head. Rest it still on your elbow. There we are.’ She quickly made her way to the sole, rusty chair in the corner of the room.

I looked down at the baby, who stared up into my eyes. Out of some sort of primal paternal instinct, I naturally began to rock her back and forth. To my surprise, the little girl stopped crying, and her face wrinkled itself into a gaze of bizarre contentment.

‘There you are, Atlas. You’re a natural,’ Marina said with a wink whilst fanning herself vigorously.

‘She is very beautiful,’ I replied.

The lady returned, clutching something in her hand which looked like a pendant. She tried to give it to me, but as a novice baby holder, I simply shuffled awkwardly. Marina valiantly stood up and walked over to claim it.

‘What is this?’ she asked me. I looked vacantly back at the woman.

‘For baby. From mama,’ she said.

‘Ah,’ I replied, understanding. ‘Thank you.Obrigado.’ Marina slid the pendant into my back pocket. ‘We’ll leave now. Goodbye.’

The woman nodded at us again. ‘Take good care. Please.’ She put her hands together in a pleading gesture.

‘I promise, we will.’

Our time in Rio was all too short, and before the day was over, the three of us were back in the first-class cabin of the jumbo jet. Marina cradled the baby, who had slept contentedly in her arms for the majority of the afternoon. As we climbed into the Brazilian sky, I had a thought.

‘Marina... is it our responsibility to name her?’

She sighed, and gave me a weary smile. ‘I am not sure. This whole thing has been such a whirlwind that I have not even considered it.’

About an hour into the flight, just as the cabin lights had been dimmed for passengers to get some sleep, the baby began to become unsettled, no doubt because of the discomfort of cabin pressurisation. As I shifted in my seat, I felt the pendant in my pocket. I reached inside and pulled it out.

It really was the most amazing piece. I examined the central gem’s opalescent hue, admiring its blueish, billowy glow. I was almost certain it was a moonstone. The gems have acquired a certain amount of romantic lore about them, much like their namesake, becoming associated with love and protection. Without warning, a lump arrived in my throat at the thought of Cristina leaving the necklace with her child as a link to her past.