The Portuguese House

by Pamela D Holloway

  “It’s true,” Jack added. “I don’t know if he just says it to put us off the scent or whether he means it.” Liz nearly choked on her scone.

  “You two are priceless, I shall refuse to let this conversation continue or it’s no more cake for either of you.”

  chapter 27

  Ronnie rang just after she arrived home. Tim was going to Italy but beforehand he had some leave due and they wanted to travel around India for a while. Could they, Ronnie wondered, come and visit Liz for a few days? “Tim has never seen your lovely villa or the beautiful beaches there.”

  Liz was delighted. It would be great to see Ronnie again and she had always liked Tim. They talked dates and time of arrival and Liz said she would lay on a party of some kind. They were, she knew, party people.

  A few days later she had another unexpected telephone call – this time from her new agent. She had hoped to meet him on her last visit to England as her previous agent had retired and his nephew, whom she had not yet met, had taken on his uncle’s clients. It seemed he was taking a holiday in India and rather wanted to mix business with pleasure. Could he visit her and could she recommend a hotel nearby?

  “I can, of course, recommend a hotel,” she replied. “But why don’t you stay at the villa?” After a moment’s hesitation, he agreed and she realised his visit would coincide with that of Ronnie and Tim. She just hoped he wasn’t gay as well – she didn’t feel she could cope with a gay triangle.

  Aarav was in heaven. At last Madame O’Mal was going to do some real entertaining again. They would have three house guests plus one dinner party for twelve, and, even better, a large luncheon buffet for around seventy, with music, lights in the garden and tables overlooking the beach and sea. He immediately requested that Nina be allowed to help him, she was, he told Liz, a really good sous chef these days, apparently delighting in learning about foreign foods and particularly good with a whole range of desserts from crème brûlée to terrine of lychees.

  Even Liz was getting excited. It had been a long time since she had held a big party, she hadn’t been in a party mood for a while. She looked in her wardrobe and knew she could wear neither the red or the gold dress, so she moved them to the back of the cupboard. Even looking at them brought back too many memories.

  Bernadette came to visit, bringing Marie, Therese and two more little girls she and her husband had already taken under their wing. She seemed troubled about something and Liz knew that she must be patient, waiting for the girl to speak when she chose.

  They sat in the shade of the palms watching the little girls play whilst the babies slept in the big pram they shared head to toe. “It seems I can’t have children,” Bernadette said quite suddenly. The response “but you already have four” almost slipped out. Liz bit her tongue it would have been a thoughtless and flippant comment. “Oh Bernadette, I am sorry, so very sorry. Are you sure?” Bernadette nodded wordlessly. They were silent. Liz knew that in her own good time Bernadette would talk, it was why she had arrived unannounced today.

  The girl pulled herself up straight, and with her eyes cast downwards said in a low tone, “I was raped you see, by my uncle. I was very little three or maybe four, but I still remember. It happened later too, then my parents found him one night because they heard me crying and he was sent away. I was badly hurt by him physically I mean and had to go to the hospital.”

  It was Shantaram who had thought there might be a problem because of what had happened, she continued. “We have tried so hard to have a child of our own. The hospital did many, many tests and now, finally, they told us yesterday there was no hope.”

  “Oh, Bernadette, I am so very, very sad for you both.”

  “I know Madame, Shantaram said you would understand.”

  “Shantaram is a kind man Bernadette, you are fortunate to have found him – and he you.”

  “He is sad, but do you know Madame that yesterday he told me that the next child we take in, he is sure will be a boy and he will be our son, as the girls are our daughters.” Liz hugged Bernadette to her and they both cried. Marie and Therese stopped playing and came to look, fascinated to see “grown-ups” crying. They looked so grave and concerned that Liz and Bernadette wiped their tears and each picked up a little girl to hug. “Perhaps that is why God sends me children,” Bernadette said quietly.

  “I am sure you are right,” Liz reasoned.

  *

  Alex Wylde arrived a few days later. Liz hadn’t known quite what to expect. He was tall, fair-haired and blue-eyed behind round glasses. He was, she thought, quite serious looking and probably about her age. She later found out their birthdays were a few days apart, although he was one year younger.

  Ashok had met him and Alex confessed to being slightly shell-shocked at the state of the roads and the occasional mind-blowing moment of Ashok’s driving, which, in truth, had not improved a great deal since his early driving lessons with Ronnie.

  Liz showed him to his room, giving him the opportunity to shower and change after his overnight flight – it was now mid-morning in Goa. Before leaving him she asked if he would like a late breakfast or an early lunch. He decided on lunch but insisted it be at the Goan time as he wanted to adjust quickly. He would however like a cup of Earl Grey tea if it was possible. “A man with good taste,” she responded smiling.

  Alex looked refreshed after his shower, and after a few pleasantries over Earl Grey, they started discussing the first chapters of her latest book. It was, unusually, based on a boys’ boarding school and his first comment was that, as per her reputation, she had obviously researched her subject with her usual thoroughness.

  Liz felt a pang of guilt – seeing the boys regularly, hearing their comments on the masters, senior boys, sport and general “boy” language had sparked the idea of a missing boy and a diplomatic incident. “Your synopsis is different though, Liz.”

  “Really?” she replied, a shade dryly, knowing full well what he was going to say. That the ending was unclear and, of course, she could not explain to herself, let alone to him, that she had no idea what the final scenario would be. She decided to come clean. To her relief, he seemed unperturbed. “In a way Liz, that’s good – it leaves you with more flexibility. I must say I want to know who the villain of the piece is.”

  “So do I,” Liz joined in his laughter. She poured them more tea and they both felt more relaxed now that their first business conversation was over, though she knew before he left he would be pressuring her for a completion date for the first draft.

  “Did I see stables from my window?” Alex asked.

  “You did. I have two horses, do you ride?” When she learned that he did they went outside to admire Coco and Guinness enjoying the cool air in their air-conditioned stables. Having admired the horses, Alex wanted to know where and when she rode. Having explained her routine she invited him to join her pre-sunset ride. He had no idea how privileged he was, the companionship of her horses was sacrosanct. Liz always rode alone, she loved the peace and solitude – the company of her horses all she desired.

  When she returned from her ride she would wash them down; this had caused consternation in the household when she had her first horse, but now they accepted that Madame O’Mal did things her own way. Although Ashok designated two garden boys to keep the stables clean. There was, he told Nina, no way Madame was going to do that chore. Liz had explained that washing down and grooming a horse was part of the relationship between rider and horse, and that in England most people did what she did and that it was their choice. Liz told Ashok that riding in the winter months could be challenging and that the horses sometimes rolled in the mud for sheer pleasure. He was surprised to learn they had special blankets for the horses to wear if it was too cold, and at the end of the winter the blankets all had to be washed ready for the next winter. Ashok couldn’t even begin to picture it, but if Madame O’Mal said it was so, it was so!

>   Grooming her horses, she checked their unshod feet carefully. They had not been shod as they only ever ran or walked on the sand, so was for her an everyday pleasure. She worried about them when she was away, but she had trained Ashok and one of the garden boys and they would walk them on the beach morning and evening and would let them run free in the sea later. Neither horse was big – both around fifteen hands. Liz explained to Alex that, as she had only one saddle and bridle, she was more than happy to ride bareback, which she quite often did anyway, and she would just hold on to the halter of whichever horse she rode, deciding to give Alex his choice. “I am looking forward to sunset as never before,” he admitted, thinking with pleasurable anticipation of the ride ahead.

  They ate lunch in a relaxed atmosphere. He was, he said, starving. “Aarav will be delighted, he is always disappointed with my appetite.” For lunch, they had a cold soup of carrots and coriander with cream and herb croutons, followed by a vegetable and chicken biryani and, for dessert, passion fruit and pomegranate shrikhand.

  “This has to be the most delicious dessert I have ever had,” Alex commented, and insisted on going to the kitchen to both thank Aarav and ask how he made such a succulent, almost souffle-type, dessert.

  It was eleven-thirty p.m. when Ronnie and Tim arrived. Alex had disappeared to bed several hours earlier – jet lag having finally caught up with him. They were on good form, arriving in high spirits, and it was very evident that their relationship had moved on apace since Liz had last been with them.

  They were a real duo, a couple in every sense of the word. They both hugged her and gave her presents that surprised and delighted. “Opal earrings to match your ring,” Ronnie said. They were perfect, the colour of opals varies so much and these matched exactly – neither too pale or dark and, like her ring, each opal was surrounded by tiny diamonds. “I don’t deserve anything like this,” she protested. “You do, you do,” they chorused. “Without you, we would never have met,” Tim stated quite soberly.

  They also brought a picture of the villa painted by Ronnie. “Tim chose the frame,” Ronnie added, handing it to her and watching with pleasurable excitement as she started opening the package with particular care and attention. “Oh Liz, you are impossible!” Ronnie grabbed it back and unceremoniously tore off the packaging. “That’s how you should open things. With gusto!”

  “I like a bit of finesse in my life,” Liz teased. He had handed her the picture upside down, turning it around, she exclaimed with delight. “Why it’s beautiful, Ronnie.” It was a painting of the house bathed in the soft late-afternoon sunshine with the tubs of flowers and the tall spirals of bougainvillea adding colour to the quietude of the rest of the painting. “Oh Ronnie,” she said, getting up to hug him. “What a perfect gift. It is beautiful, really beautiful, and the frame exactly right.” Tim smiled, feeling immeasurably pleased with himself, as he had chosen the frame with a great deal of time and thought put into it. He so wanted Ronnie’s painting shown off in the best possible way.

  The three of them talked about where it should hang and, after pacing around and much umming and aahing, decided the dining room was the perfect setting. Ronnie went off to track down Ashok to ask him to make a fixing for it for Madame, meanwhile the other two made a small mark on the wall, indicating exactly where it should hang.

  They sat down for a very late supper in the kitchen. Aarav had left several covered and labelled bowls in the fridge, and whilst Liz drank a glass of dry white wine, the two men tucked in to chicken tikka sandwiches and salad washed down with chilled sandpiper beer for Tim whilst Ronnie shared the bottle of wine with Liz. They finally wended their way upstairs at one a.m. trying to make sure they did not disturb the sleeping Alex.

  chapter 28

  Of course, Alex heard them. He had heard them earlier in the evening and, for a moment, had been tempted to join them, but had decided it would not be appropriate to interrupt the friends’ reunion. He found himself thinking about Liz. He had seen her photograph on the back covers of her books but they didn’t do her justice. She was beautiful, calm – the adjectives to describe her continued in his head as he lay in bed. The last adjective being sexy. He sat up in bed with a jolt. God dammit, she was a very sexy woman.

  He lay down again, savouring the memory of her riding bareback along the beach, cantering her horse Coco. He visualised her hair, tie undone, streaming out behind her. The splashes from the sea, soaked her loose cotton shirt and he could clearly see her body outlined with the wet shirt sticking to it, moulding every curve.

  She had turned to see if he was alright and he realised she wasn’t wearing a bra. He was close enough to see her nipples standing proud – the cool water stimulating them. She had waved and he had waved back, enjoying every moment of this rare experience. Guinness, responsive to his touch, leapt forward until they were cantering and galloping side by side, both laughing and happy – the world forgotten for a short space in time.

  Alex had enjoyed the ride but now was enjoying the culminating fantasy perhaps even more. After they had cantered for what seemed like an eternity, Liz slid off Coco’s back and walked him to the shade of some palm trees. She didn’t tie him up, letting him roll on his back in the sand, enjoying his own bit of heaven. In his fantasy, Alex followed her, watching as she undid the girth and removed the saddle from Guinness, who, like his stablemate, neighed happily and joined Coco in a roll around in the sand, drying off the sweat from the ride.

  Then the fantasy seriously took over. Alex noticed that a cool-looking sheet lay on the ground, several yards away from where the horses stood nuzzling each other. There was an ice bucket and a bottle of wine cooling. They sat. Alex opened the bottle easily and, instead of glasses, they passed the bottle between them. It spilt and wine ran down her damp shirt highlighting her high, firm breasts. He heard himself groan, but this fantasy was too good to stop. She stood and, leading him by the hand, walked towards the sea. There, as the waves crashed over them, they made love – the movement of the water adding to their pleasure. He didn’t remember where the fantasy ended and sleep began, he wondered if he would ever dare look at her again.

  The fantasy had been the most vivid he had ever had – so vivid it seemed real. As the dawn broke he dressed hurriedly, not wanting to keep her waiting. When he arrived at the foot of the stairs he found Anjali was hovering in the hall. “I’m afraid sir,” she greeted him. “Madame O’Malley will not be riding this morning she was very late to bed last night because of our other guests.” She smiled seeing his crestfallen expression. “It’s alright sir, Madame says please ride whichever horse you like and let the other horse follow you. They will both do that now,” she explained.

  Alex was disappointed, but didn’t want the housekeeper to realise how much. “Fine,” he responded, as nonchalantly as he could, wondering at the same time whether he would be able to “tack up” properly. Normally when he rode some stablehand had put on the saddle and bridle for him and he kicked himself for never bothering to do it for himself. On impulse, he decided to do as Liz had done the evening before – she had appeared to almost leap on Coco’s back and ride with just one hand on his mane. Being taller than Liz he couldn’t envisage any problems mounting a horse.

  Thankfully, both horses were wearing head collars. For a moment he wondered if he should postpone this ride, then a vision of Liz on Coco came into his mind and he knew he wanted to feel a horse’s body beneath him as Liz had riding bareback the previous evening.

  As he led both horses out of their air-conditioned stable, he sensed them looking around for Liz. “No chaps it’s me and the two of you today!” He put his hand on Coco’s mane, as he had seen Liz do, and quickly realised he could no more leap on his back and not fall off the other side than fly to the moon. He spotted quite a nice sized rock so led the mystified horse to it. Using the rock as a step, he managed to climb on quite easily.

  Liz, who had woken early despite the l
ate night, happened to glance out of the window at that precise moment and put her hand over her mouth to stop herself laughing out loud at the spectacle – not that he would have been able to hear from that distance, but he might somehow have sensed her.

  As if on cue he looked up, and she moved hastily back out of view. He couldn’t have seen her, of that she was sure, but she was amazed he was riding bareback. She watched discreetly as the trio – man and horses – walked down the path that led to the beach.

  Alex had never been so uncomfortable in his life. Coco’s spine seemed to dig right into him. He daren’t get off in case he’d never be able to re-mount. The horses were prancing now, waiting for their full-stretch canter. Finally, with only the headcollar to try and steady the horse and himself, he had no choice. He let him run. It was an unforgettable experience and he thanked God he had strong legs. He had never gripped like it before. He turned Coco’s head towards the sea and Guinness immediately changed direction too. For a few blissful minutes the horses swam, and the buoyancy of the sea lifted his body slightly off Coco’s spine.

  He insisted the horses walk back and he had never been, in his entire life, so thankful something had come to an end. He slid off and found his legs were trembling with the exertion. He knew he would suffer in a few hours. He rubbed both horses down as he and Liz had done the evening before. Ashok arrived to give them their breakfast oats. “A good ride on this lovely morning sir?” Ashok enquired politely. “Yes, excellent, thank you. It’s Ashok isn’t it?”

  “Yes, sir. I am Ashok, my wife is Nina and my children—” he began. Alex cut across him. “Sorry, Ashok, I need a shower before breakfast.” If Ashok was offended he didn’t show it, but as he said later to Nina, “That is a man I do not like so very much. First, he is troubled by my driving of the car, now he has no patience to learn the names of our children. I hope Madame O’Mal does not like him very much either.” Nina soothed him in the quiet way she had and soon he had forgotten Alex as he played with his children and ate the breakfast Nina had prepared for them all. “You are such a wonderful cook Nina. If Aarav leaves this establishment you should become the cook.”