by Hilary Wilde
`Where have you been living?'
`Where? Everywhere. My husband was a bore, but a rich man, and fortunately for me he enjoyed travelling. You name it and I have been there.' She laughed. 'My father was a clever man. At the time I was angry and hurt. It was my darling Juan I wished to marry, but as my father said, Agusto was an old man and
he would die while I was still young. I would then have money enough to live as I liked or to marry any man I loved. At the time I was heart-broken.' Her beautiful face was sad. And so was Juan —but now . . .' she laughed happily, 'I am free—or will be in six months' time.'
So that was why Anita had come to Vallora? To marry Juan. And Magdalena must have known it and wanted to hurry it up. But why? Penny wondered.
The whole time Anita was with them, she took no notice at all of the children. It puzzled Penny, but then she remembered how Juan had defended women who were not maternally inclined. Was he thinking of Anita when he had done that? It was obvious that if ever Anita had children, she would want little to do with them. The children were playing quietly for once, but certainly not speaking in English.
`Why don't you think they'll ever speak English?' Penny asked suddenly.
Anita smiled. 'Because you do not know their mother. She will not allow it.'
`But Juan says it was their father's wish, and he . . .'
`My poor Juan! He thinks he can always get his own way, but sometimes he fails. He loved me, but he did not get me. He wishes to do what Pedro planned, but he will not succeed. He is not as strong as he thinks, nor does it make sense. We do not want Pedro's children
trailing after us. Let their mother and her next husband have them.'
`Her next husband?' Penny echoed.
Anita stood up. 'You have not seen? You must wake up and watch Magdalena's face when a certain gentleman enters the room,' she said with a laugh. 'I am glad we have met, for it is good to have someone to talk to who is not of the family. I will see you tonight,' she added as she left the room.
`She's beautiful . . .' Penny said slowly. Catalina came to lean against her. 'So are you,' she said.
Penny was startled. Catalina had usually said a single word of English—this was the first statement made of her own. Penny gave her a hug. 'Good girl,' she said, and kissed the child. `Bless you!'
That evening Penny dressed with care, in a long gown of cream silk, embroidered with green leaves. She had felt it was rather overdone, but Fiona said it suited a redhead perfectly. Penny went down to the drawing room early, not wanting to have to walk into a crowded room with everyone staring at her. Juan, Anita and Magdalena were waiting, glasses of some deep red liquid in their hands.
Anita smiled. 'What a lovely dress,' she said, waving to a chair by her side. 'A drink for our Penny, Juan darling,' she said, smiling at the tall silent man who turned obediently to the table covered with glasses and bottles.
Anita was also in a long dress, but hers was a beautiful gold colour, decorated with deeper embroidery, while Magdalena wore black. She said something in Spanish and Anita laughed and answered in English, smiling at Penny. `That is out of date. I wore black at the funeral, but my husband would have hated me to go on wearing it. He always said it made me look fifty years older.'
They all laughed at that, it was so absurd.
The butler opened the door and gave his little bow as he announced the guests. Penny happened to be looking at Magdalena at that moment and she saw the way Magdalena's sulky face changed—became radiant with what could only be joy.
`Come in . . . come in,' she said in Spanish. Penny had learned enough of the language to understand that as Magdalena went to meet the old lady being pushed by Alfonso in a wheelchair.
It was his mother, Doha Justina Melado, wearing a black gown and giving a friendly smile as she saw Penny.
The guests began to arrive in large numbers, and Penny was introduced to so many Delados and Dominguez and quite a few Riegos that she gave up trying to remember them. Anita was greeted by everyone and the talk and laughter was loud. Doria Justina beckoned to Penny, who felt uncomfortably aware that most of the men present were
looking at her with interest while their wives greeted her with an icy politeness and then ignored her, so she was glad to go and sit by the old lady's side. Penny saw that Juan had noticed and looked pleased, and she remembered that he had once said Dona Justina was the matriarch of the island and that if she approved of Penny, so would the rest of the family.
Not that she always succeeds,' Juan had added in a—for him—strange voice. Had Dona Justina been on his side when he wanted to marry Anita and her father refused to consider it so that Dotia Justina failed for once?
Anita kept close to Juan's side, smiling at him, talking to him, making it very obvious that she still loved him and that their broken romance would be repaired. Juan was his usual handsome self with a charm that obviously delighted his female relations but annoyed the men, judging by their cold unfriendly looks. Did they see him as an intruder? Were they on Alfonso's side?
Anita is very beautiful,' Penny said, gazing across the room to where Anita stood close to Juan, laughing at something he said.
`Beauty is not everything, dear child,' the old lady said with a smile. 'Juan is old enough now to have enough sense to know that.'
`Why didn't he marry her when he first loved her?'
The old lady's wrinkled face looked startled and, for a moment, upset before she said with a smile: 'Her father loved her dearly. He was concerned for her future. As I think I told you, he was a widower and knew that he had not long to live. He wanted her to be looked after, and the man she married was a good man.'
But surely, if Anita loved Juan . . .' Penny took a deep breath—was she asking too many questions? 'I mean—was there no other reason?'
Dona Justina's face went very pale—her hand lifted towards her heart for a moment and Penny knew that it was a question she should not have asked, so she jumped up.
Will you excuse me for a moment, Dofia Justina?' and before the old lady could speak, Penny had slipped out of the room and gone to one of the cloakrooms.
Anita was there. She smiled. 'You saw what I meant about Magdalena?'
`Magdalena?' Penny's mind was with the old lady and wishing the question had never been asked, so it took a moment or two for her to grasp what Anita meant. 'You mean . . . ?'
Alfonso, of course. Who else? He has charm, though he leaves me cold.' Anita pretended to shiver as she tidied her elaborate hair-do. 'Juan is more my type.' She smiled. `Which do you prefer?'
The question was unexpected and Penny answered it impulsively. 'Juan, of course.'
Anita chuckled. 'I agree the whole way.' `Your English is very good,' Penny said impulsively.
`So it should be—most of the ten years we spent in countries where English was the chief language. Besides, I learned it as a child on the mainland.'
`Your father didn't mind?'
`Of course not—why should he? None of my ancestors were killed by the English.' She laughed. 'Honestly, Penny, this place gets me down at times. It's far back in the past.'
`That's what Juan said.'
`I know. There are so many things about which we agree, and that is one of them. I think he's mad to leave his cattle ranch in South America and come here just because Pedro asked him to. Why not have a good manager or hand it over to Alfonso? After all, it should be his. Why should he be punished for his father's sins? You know why his father was disinherited?' Anita began, but several elderly ladies came into the cloakroom and spoke to her in Spanish, their voices disapproving as one touched Anita's dress.
Penny slipped away and returned to Dona Justina.
She smiled at Penny. 'Come and sit down, dear. We were talking about Anita and Juan. He was young and still trained to family discipline. Today I know he would refuse to allow the girl he loved to marry simply for
material reasons. He would rebel.'
It was odd, but that was the word Juan
had used himself.
Alfonso, though, had said there was another reason that the marriage was impossible. He had implied that Juan's ancestors were murderers and that Juan was, too.
The next afternoon when the house was quiet, as everyone but Penny enjoyed the siesta, she decided to explore some more of the countryside. She had no desire to be pestered by Alfonso and he was too big and strong a man to risk having to fight.
It was a hot afternoon but with a delightful breeze coming from the Mediterranean, so she strolled along the earth road past the houses of the family—noticing how they were, many of them, built in forms of terraces, some being higher than the others. Then she saw what looked like an old road, half covered by weeds and odd bits of boughs. She walked down it slowly and ahead was a huge rock—strangely shaped like an egg, balancing dangerously on one end. The old road went round it and as Penny reached the other side, she caught her breath with amazement.
Never had she seen such a beautiful sight. The blue sea—the white crests of waves—a large white liner going by, several small yachts.
Far down below her was a cove and on the small plateau where she stood was a house—at least, it had been a house once. Now it was a tragic, depressing sight—with broken windows and knocked-down doors and weeds covering what must have been a beautiful garden with old tubs full of now-dead plants. It was a big house, three-storey, with the usual terrace and verandah above. What had been the front garden was not big and the ground seemed to be mostly of stone with little earth. Penny walked towards the edge and could see a terrific drop down to the cove below. The cove was not sandy, it was more a mass of rocks with the sea coming in at a terrific rate, dashing as if angry with the rocks that defied their power.
`Look out!' a deep voice called, and Penny jerked with surprise. She was not close to the edge, but Juan strode over the ground, caught hold of her by the arm and pulled her back. 'I thought you were afraid of heights,' he said accusingly.
`I wasn't near the edge.'
`You could have tripped. This is bad ground or you could have stumbled. What are you doing here?'
`I wanted to avoid Serior Alfonso Melado,' she said bluntly. 'I thought I'd take a different walk.'
`Such energy! Why choose this way?'
`It's a positive crime to miss this sunshine,
and I just looked for a path.'
`I shouldn't come here if I were you,' he told her, his voice cold.
`Why? Is there a feud or something?' she asked with a smile, for it really was absurd, some of the reasons members of the family had for not speaking to one another.
`No, just an unpleasant memory. My parents and I lived here before we left Vallora. I . . . I was about ten or eleven.'
Penny stared at him. Alfonso had told her Juan was in love with Anita when he was twenty, and it had been ten years since he left the island. And then he had said that Juan had killed a small boy—Alfonso's brother. Was that why the family had left the island?
`It's such a beautiful view and it must have been a lovely house,' Penny said. 'You must have hated going.'
His face changed, became like a mask as if he was hiding his feelings. 'I was glad to be out of this hell-hole,' he said with a startling violence.
`Why? Why did you go?' she asked, then wished she hadn't. Why must she always ask questions without thinking first?
He looked at her, a cold look as if he didn't see her. 'Because my parents went,' he said, and walked away, leaving her to stand alone, watching him go.
Penny followed him slowly. She could not believe that he had ever murdered anyone.
--
Despite his quick temper, she was certain he could control it.
But a boy of ten . . . Could you expect him to control his temper? She shivered and hurried away from the house. Was that why Doria Justina had looked so upset and ill when asked why Juan had not been allowed to marry Anita? If he had murdered a small boy when he was ten years old would the family ever allow him to forget it? Was that why he was hated so much?
Yet she could not believe it. She could not believe it of Juan.
CHAPTER TEN
When Juan del Riego came as usual next morning to play with the children, Penny found herself watching him. Was it true that Juan, as a boy of ten, had caused the death of Dona Justina's youngest son? If so, it could only have been by an accident—but it would explain his hatred of the house where it had happened. No wonder he hadn't wanted to talk about it. How terrible for a small boy— she could imagine how the narrow-minded family would have behaved. What a terribly cruel thing, though, to say to a boy of ten— that he was a murderer. In any case, it was obvious that Dofia Justina didn't see it that way, for she was so fond of Juan, so glad to see him.
`Dreaming, as usual?' Juan asked Penny suddenly. Startled, Penny dropped the pencil with which she had been drawing a house.
`No, not exactly.'
He was frowning, his arm round Abilio. `You feel they're learning something?'
Penny nodded, her red-gold hair swinging forward so she had to brush it back. 'Catalina especially. I think the other two are very young.'
Juan turned to the small girl, who looked at him, her eyes wide with dismay. She spoke
rapidly in Spanish and Juan nodded, smiling as he patted her hand. Then he turned to Penny. `It would be advisable not to repeat what you said just now.'
Puzzled for a moment, Penny looked at him. `You mean . . .' she paused, because the door opened and Magdalena stood there, frowning.
She spoke rapidly in Spanish, obviously angry about something. Penny stood silent, wishing she could understand. Juan was answering, his voice crisp with anger but controlled, then he turned to Penny. 'I'm afraid I must go,' and he and Magdalena left them.
Catalina came to look at Penny's house and took up the pencil and added a chimney. She looked up at Penny and said with a smile, ` Chimbley.'
Even as she spoke, Catalina turned quickly to see if the door was shut and they were alone. Was that what the child had been saying to Juan? Penny wondered. That no one must know that her English was improving! Poor little Catalina. If only her mother would see how sensible it was for the children to learn the language while young. Why did Magdalena so hate English?
Penny put her arm round Catalina. 'Our secret,' Penny said, then realised Catalina might never have heard the word. 'I will tell no one. Understand?'
Catalina nodded vigorously, her hair
swinging. Penny stroked it and kissed the girl's cheek.
`Good girl. Can you draw a train? I've got a picture here . .
The days slipped into weeks and life on the island was the same. Juan had remembered his plans for the children and one part of the garden was railed off for them with a climbing frame, a chute down which they could slide and land in the sand-pit, and a shallow pool in which Penny taught them to swim. Sometimes it seemed to her that Techa and Abilio had accepted her, for they rarely screamed, but it was Catalina who had the most endearing habit of sliding her hand into Penny's as they talked.
During the siesta time, Penny often went swimming with Mike and Valentin, sometimes in the pool but more often in the sea. There was a winding path that found its way down to the small cove of pale sand and tall palm trees that edged the beach where the sea came in, more calm here because of the huge rocks that took the first thundering of the waves. In the evenings, Penny joined the family and grew to know all the different relatives. Some were friendly to her, a few hardly spoke, and when they did, it was with disdain. Penny heard more and more about the family feuds—and
stories of their ancestors of whom they were very proud indeed, and each one was certain that his or her ancestors were the finest!
Anita's words about Magdalena and Alfonso were absolutely right, Penny realised as she saw how Magdalena's face lit up and her eyes shone when he came into the room. He took little notice of her, but it was as if there was a secret liaison between them, for he would kiss her hand and she would look yea
rs younger and more beautiful as she glowed.
The most amusing thing was the battle between Julieta Melado, the great-niece of Dofia Justina with whom she was staying, as both her parents had been killed in a car crash, and who had a beauty of her own, and was obviously determined to win Juan's heart, despite the arrogant and obvious way that Anita took it for granted that now she was free, there was no question but that Juan would marry her!
It was so blatant the way the two girls, each one beautiful in her own way, behaved, each one determined to get Juan, that at times Penny could hardly keep from laughing, but Juan took no notice, and was charming to both girls, seeming to divide his time to keep them satisfied.
Alfonso was Penny's biggest problem, for he persisted in following her if she went for a walk during siesta time. Somehow or other, he was always there, following her, refusing to
leave her, insisting on talking to her—always about Juan and what a selfish, money-grabbing, callous man he. was. Although there were times when she thought Juan del Riego was callous yet she knew he was not selfish— just look at the way he was concerned about the children —but Alfonso's constant and often frightening insistence on following her made her go swimming with Mike more often.
He didn't mind. He said it was more fun swimming with a red-headed beauty. Usually Valentin was with him and they would lie on the hot sand, the graceful leaves of the palm trees waving overhead, casting shadows on their bodies.
One afternoon, Penny rolled over, leaning on her arm and looking at Mike. He smiled. `What's the problem?'
`Juan.'
Mike pulled a face. 'I guessed it would happen. You're breaking your heart over him.'
