by Nesta Tuomey
As Sally emptied the last of the wine into their glasses - Bunny had long since fallen asleep, her fact creamed and her kiss curls pinned flat for the night - her friend began lavishly describing the double wedding they would share.
‘Just think of it, Kay, you so dark and me so fair. We’d be perfect foils for each other.’
‘Yes,’ Kay nodded. ‘I can just see it.’
She visualised the pair of them gloriously gowned in white, gliding up the aisle past a sea of faces. Graham was there looking suitably heartbroken - it gave her quite a pang to see him - and Harry and a score of rejected suitors gazed towards her with full eyes that all too clearly denoted their hopeless longing. Dave, elegant in morning coat, surveyed the scene with a humorous expression, his deep set eyes meeting hers with philosophical regret which she divined had something to do with Carlos’s age.
‘Why are you doing this?’ she seemed to hear him murmur. ‘Throwing yourself away on a chap old enough to be your father.’
At the implied rebuke, Kay impatiently switched to the more enjoyable reflection of what a stir their double engagement would cause in the hostess section. ‘My fiancé Carlos,’ she heard herself say and was annoyed not to feel more triumph. Somehow Carlos seemed less real when they were apart. It was as if he had to be created afresh each time or he might fade like the grin on the Cheshire Cat.
It had something to do with the language barrier Kay felt. Once she learned Spanish (and his English improved) it would all change she was convinced, or the wine convinced her. Together they would uncover a treasury of close-shared thoughts and feelings, with a past as well as a future to explore.
THIRTY NINE
A little later, Florrie arrived back from her date and listened in dismay to all the extravagant talk between the two girls about marrying and settling in Spain. Were the pair of them mad? In Florrie’s opinion, the continent was there strictly for fun, not to be taken seriously, not for real.
‘Do you think you should?’ she asked, concerned when Sally having drained the last drop of wine in her glass, suggested brightly, ‘Tonight’s a second bottle night, methinks.’
There had always been a slight antagonism between Sally and Florrie and now Sally, irritated by what she considered interference on Florrie’s part, answered acidly. ‘Maybe not, Miss Temperance, but let’s live dangerously while we can. What do you think Kay?’ Shall we be devils and broach another bottle?’
‘I don’t mind. Why not?’ Kay gave a woozy grin. She could have gone on for ever sipping the slightly woody tasting wine and listening to Sally cosily sketching out their lives a L’Espanol.
But it seemed that Sally was joking. They would have had to go out for another. She gave a satisfied smile in Florrie’s direction as though to say, there you see, we poor alcoholics can take it or leave it,’ and thereafter ignored the other girl as she curled up more comfortably against Kay’s pillows.
‘I couldn’t have walked a step anyway,’ Kay confessed. She closed her eyes and slid deeper in the bed.
A tense look on her normally serene face, Florrie set about making coffee, aware that even this innocuous action might be wilfully misconstrued by Sally.
The coffee jar was empty.
To her surprise, Sally offered to run out to a nearby bar with a shop attached.
‘Good thing you noticed it, Florrie,’ she said pleasantly, obviously sorry for her earlier ill-humour. ‘If I’m not back in five minutes call the Guardia Civilia.’ And with a throaty chuckle, she disappeared out the door.
The minute she was gone Florrie exploded.
‘Kay, you’re not thinking of marrying Carlos, are you? For the love of Mike, Kay! I think Sally’s gone off her rocker. But you! You can’t be serious!’
‘He’s very nice,’ Kay ventured a little thickly.
Whenever she tried to bring Carlos to the forefront of her mind to consider just how nice he was, he had a habit of doing his Cheshire Cat trick. All she could focus on was an image of his open mouth singing ‘La Cucharacha.’ So this then was what it all came down to in the end, she told herself muzzily, to be considering marriage to a man who sang about a cockroach.
‘He’s years older than you,’ Florrie persisted. ‘At least Eulogio is nearer Sally’s age. Anyway you don’t love him!’
Although she didn’t say, ‘You love Captain Pender,’ it hung unspoken between them. But was Graham any more suitable, married, older, Florrie couldn’t help wondering.
‘Love!’ Kay repeated, her voice suddenly bleak.
She was swamped by the memory of her last meeting with Graham. The hopelessness of her love for him assailed her with fresh conviction. Maybe she would be better off throwing in her lot with Sally here in Spain. Oh, Graham!
‘You’d need to be in love to stick it out here the rest of your life,’ Florrie said strongly. ‘A lot of people get married and settle here quite happily,’ Kay protested, though if she were asked to give even one example, she couldn’t have done so.
She stared in dissatisfaction at her friend. The trouble with Florrie was that she just couldn’t envisage anything outside her own tight little rural experience of life. She just wasn’t cosmopolitan enough, Kay decided, with the faint superiority of a city girl for her country cousin.
‘Have you given thought to the fact that when you’re forty-four, Carlos will be the same age as Bill,’ Florrie calculated in amusement, although she didn’t know Carlos’s age, or Bill’s either. .
Kay shrugged. It was a sum she had already done regarding Graham and weathered reasonably well. With Carlos, however, her acceptance was not quite so instantaneous. What would her fair-haired Spaniard look like in another twenty years? With that leonine head, he would certainly be imposing. An imposing, passionate old man, she thought, echoing Florrie’s giggle. It could be worse!
‘At least he won’t be down the garden all the time in jungle greens wearing himself out on a bunch of cabbages,’ she retorted.
‘Ah, I don’t know,’ Florrie responded with a droll shake of her head. ‘Maybe when you have six or seven little Joses running about your feet, you’ll be wishing he was.’
‘This is too silly,’ Kay protested, beginning to sober up. ‘I’ve absolutely no intention of marrying Carlos.’
Marriage with Carlos, what an idea! But she couldn’t help recalling their conversation that night on the way back to the apartment.
‘Querida, could you be happy here?’ ‘I am happy.’
‘With me, mi preciosa. Here in my country. Siempre! Will you give me an answer before you go away?’
‘But that’s not for days yet.’ ‘Promise me.’
‘Of course... if that’s what you want.’ ‘Si, mi bella preciosa, it’s what I want.’
Kay dodged the memory and concentrated on trying to convince Florrie that marrying the Spaniard was the last thing on her mind. It seemed imperative to put her straight.
‘What an imagination you have, Florrie,’ she chided laughingly. ‘It isn’t like Sally and Eulogio, you know. He hasn’t asked me to meet his mother.’
Had Carlos a mother? But that was silly. Everyone had. But was she alive, Kay couldn’t help wondering.
Florrie looked sceptical. ‘He will,’ she said firmly.
‘I honestly can’t see Sally settling here,’ Kay said, trying to get off the subject of one mature Spaniard by analysing Sally’s relationship with the other. ‘I think she’s just in love with the whole idea of Spain, of marrying a foreigner. Once she’s back home she’ll meet someone else in a week and forget all about him. You know Sally.’
When Florrie said nothing, Kay frowned. ‘Sally thrives on change,’ she tried again after a moment’s reflection. But which of them didn’t? ‘Sally likes to be in the limelight.’ It was true. Her friend did like to be the object of envy and with Eulogio Sanchez Blanco in tow - attractive, intelligent and of good family - she most certainly would be. There was no denying that having a handsome, adoring Spaniard or a wealthy Dutchman
in hot pursuit was miles more exciting than a laconic Celt.
Florrie stared. ‘Isn’t she over the moon then about Eulogio?’ she asked, having followed Kay’s line of reasoning with wrinkled brow and puzzled, half-incredulous attention.
‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Kay agreed slowly. ‘But then Sally is always in love with someone. I think she loves Eulogio more for loving her than anything else.’
‘Well I think we’re all suckers for fellows who say they’re mad about us,’ Florrie agreed wisely. ‘Fellahs I wouldn’t have given a second glance, I ended up losing sleep over just because they kept on saying they couldn’t live without me. But the minute I began to get hooked, they cooled off.’ She supported her curly head on her wrist and gave Kay her limpid smile. ‘Aren’t we all eegits all the same? We never learn.’
Kay grinned sheepishly back, struck by the truth of what Florrie was saying. She was forced to acknowledge that while she had found Graham attractive from the beginning, it was only when he singled her out and seductively murmured his praises that she had truly fallen for him. There is nothing so beguiling as to be continually told how precious and indispensable you are to someone else, Kay realised. When it is repeated often enough it becomes the most sought after truth and essential to your well-being. For a brief moment she recognised the power of such knowledge - it was a night for such insights - but unfortunately it would avail her nothing, she would be as defenceless against the next honey-tongued seducer that came along.
‘What’s keeping Sally?’ she asked with a yawn, sliding lower in the bed. ‘She’s had time to go to Brazil and back.’
A moment later there was the sound of footsteps on the stairs. That’ll be her now, Kay thought but to her surprise, there was a sudden rap on the door.
‘Senoritas... Senoritas,’ a voice called from the landing, which she recognised as that of the Conserja.
Kay struggled sleepily up but Florrie was off the bed before her. ‘Hold on... un momento,’ she called as she went to open it.
Outside, the Conserja stood in her flowery overall, her black hair straggling untidily from the loose pinned-up roll on her neck.
‘Excusa, senorita, un telegramme.’ She handed it over and with a clatter of sandals disappeared down the stairs.
‘Gracias, senora,’ Florrie murmured automatically. She stared down at the envelope with a mixture of surprise and foreboding. ‘It’s for me,’ she said, turning back into the room.
Kay watched her curiously as she tore open the envelope and read the contents. Florrie gave a sudden stricken cry.
‘What is it, Florrie?’ Kay was shocked at the other girl’s her expression as she sank, white-faced on the bed.
‘It’s Daddy!’ Florrie said in dazed, unbelieving accents. ‘He’s had an accident. A... a bad accident.’ Limply, she offered Kay the telegram.
Kay took it quickly and read: ‘Father in coma following tractor accident. Come at once. Mother.’
‘I must go home at once,’ she repeated over and over, opening the cupboards and beginning to haphazardly pull dresses off hangers, flinging clothes in a heap, almost out of her mind with grief.
Kay watched her helplessly, wishing there was something she could say or do to ease her friend’s distress. All she could think of were the platitudes that immediately sprang to mind at such a time.
‘Maybe it’s not as bad as you think,’ she faltered inadequately. Florrie’s choked sobs gave the lie to this hope.
‘Poor Florrie,’ Bunny said, having woken up and read the telegram. She handed it to Sally who arrived in soon after with the coffee.
‘Strong tea,’ Sally ordered, after taking one look at her. ‘And plenty of sugar.’
As she rushed to obey, Kay wished she had thought of it herself. She lit the gas and when the water boiled, quickly made the tea. Mindful of Sally’s instructions, she heaped in two spoonfuls of sugar.
Florrie sat wanly sipping the tea and trying to imagine the details of her father’s accident. ‘He’s probably brain damaged,’ she said. ‘Even if he lives, he’ll never be able to lead a normal life again.’ Bravely she tried to face what yet might be in store for her.
‘Try not to think about it,’ Kay urged, distressed to see the way she was tormenting herself.
‘Oh if only I was at home now,’ Florrie fretted. ‘Of all the bad luck to be away.’ She choked suddenly. ‘Supposing I’m too late. Oh Daddy!’ she cried, jumping up and dragging her case from under the bed. Feverishly, she started piling her things into it.
The others watched with pitying eyes. In the end it took all their efforts to make her understand that there was nothing she could do that night and the only sensible thing was to try and get some rest before morning.
When it dawned, they were all up early for once. Quickly pulling on shorts and tee- shirt, Sally volunteered to go down to the tourist office and enquire about flights. CA only operated to Malaga at weekends so Florrie’s best hope was to get on a flight to London and from there home.
Kay felt it was out of the question to allow Florrie to travel on her own and offered to go with her.
‘Would you really come with me?’ Florrie was touchingly grateful, ‘Oh but I couldn’t let you cut short your holiday, Kay. Are you really sure?’
‘Of course,’ Kay hugged her, glad at last to have something concrete to do. As she began packing rapidly, she hoped that Sally wouldn’t mind. After all, it wasn’t as if she was deserting her. She still had Bunny.
But when Sally came back a little later with news of a Sabena flight leaving at midday, she immediately approved Kay’s decision.
‘Of course you must go with her,’ she urged, glad of a chance to atone for her earlier unpleasantness. ‘Bunny and I will be fine. Won’t we, Bunny?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Bunny quickly agreed.
‘Thanks, Sally, you’re a topper!’ Florrie squeezed Sally’s arm gratefully, her difference with the other girl forgotten. All she wanted was to get started on her journey and reach her father with all possible speed.
As they took off from Malaga, Kay was conscious of a rush of emotion. With haunting sweetness came the memory of Carlos’s whispered, ‘Te quiero siempre... eterno.’ For a dizzying regretful moment she felt she had made a terrible mistake in rushing off so hastily. Then she became aware of Florrie’s muffled sobbing by her side and knew she had done the right thing. Hopefully when Carlos got her message via Sally, he would understand there had been no time for goodbyes.
FORTY
The girls arrived into London to find the airport in chaos. Early morning fog had disrupted flights causing prolonged delays and it was only just beginning to get straightened out. Kay cast an anxious look at her friend’s pale, grieving face, and ached for the expression of stunned misery she saw there.
Suddenly she wheeled about and headed for the telephones, suddenly struck by the thought of how much time would be saved if they had someone to meet them at Dublin airport. She would ring Dave, she decided. He would surely meet them.
‘I’m ringing from London Airport.’ Kay had to shout to be heard over the background noise.
‘But I thought you weren’t due back till next week.’
‘We weren’t but Florrie’s father had an accident and may be dying.’
Just putting it in words brought a lump to Kay’s throat and she fought tears before she could go on. ‘She’s terribly upset.’
‘I can imagine,’ Dave’s voice came sympathetically over the wire. ‘Poor Florrie.’
‘Yes, isn’t it awful. Listen Dave, we may be cut off. Can you do us a favour and meet us at the airport. We’re hoping to get on a BEA flight around four o’clock.’
Before he could answer the operator cut in with, ‘Do you want another three minutes, caller?’
In dismay, Kay rummaged in her pocket for change but all she came up with was a shilling. ‘I’ve no more money,’ she admitted, and was relieved to hear Dave say, ‘Don’t worry, Kay. I’ll be there... four o’clock!�
�� She was about to tell him it wasn’t certain they would get on that flight when they were cut off. As she hurried to get the coffees and rejoin Florrie, she only hoped he would realise they were on standby.
Their luck was in and just before three, Florrie and Kay thankfully surrendered their boarding cards and followed the remaining passengers on to the BEA plane bound for Dublin. As they went on board, they were greeted enthusiastically by a slim, well-groomed stewardess, who turned out to be none other than Cecily Lewis.
‘Kay!’ she cried, gripping her arm. ‘Long time no see.’
When Kay got over her shock, she introduced her to Florrie who made a valiant effort to smile. Remembering the gauche. hesitant girl Cecily had been in training, Kay was struck by the change in this poised young woman in the smart navy BEA uniform. She would hardly have known her, especially without the heavy fringe. The other girl confidently showed them to their seats and left them, promising to come back later for a chat.
As the roar of the engines steadily mounted before take-off, Kay relaxed tiredly in her seat relieved to be on the final stage of their journey home. She fervently repeated the prayer she had been saying ever since they left Malaga that morning, please Lord, let Florrie be in time to see her father alive.’
When they were airborne she felt a gentle pressure on her arm and turning her head, was horrified at the desolation she saw on her friend’s face.
‘Oh Kay,’ Florrie said brokenly, her eyes brimming over with tears. ‘Daddy wanted me to go home last month and I wouldn’t because Jimmy was taking me to a dance. It was selfish of me. Oh if only I had gone home!’ There was a wealth of regret in her tone. ‘Now I’m being punished.’ And turning her face to the window, she wept bitterly.
Kay put her arm round her, ‘Hush Florrie, hush,’ she soothed her. ‘It’ll be all right, I tell you. It’ll be all right.’ But how could it, she asked herself, the poor man was dying, perhaps already dead.
Nevertheless, she kept on murmuring the words over and over until the tension went out of Florrie’s slim body and Kay felt her gradually relaxing against her. When she looked again she was relieved to see the blonde girl had fallen asleep, worn out by fatigue and emotion.
