Soon after that he went home, leaving behind a chilly atmosphere and a great deal left unsaid. Alarm bells rang, but Chabela decided not to mention the subject again for a few weeks, by which time she hoped that Pilar might be on the mend.
As it turned out, however, the question didn’t have to be repeated. After all those years of waiting, the answer came so suddenly and unexpectedly, it was like an earthquake or tsunami.
Chabela could remember the moment of truth as clearly as if it were yesterday. She and Alfonso had been having an early evening drink in her apartment when he received an SOS call from his older son. He had twisted his ankle playing tennis and needed a lift to the hospital. He was clearly in a lot of pain and his father rushed out in a panic, leaving behind his jacket.
After washing the wine glasses, Chabela went around the apartment, turning on lights and closing blinds. Finally, she got around to plumping the cushions in the living room and it was only then that she spotted the jacket on the back of an armchair.
She picked it up, intending to hang it in the cupboard, and for some reason felt compelled to dip a hand into one of the pockets; she’d never done that before. Inside, she found a wodge of folded up paper, consisting of several sheets of A4 stapled together. Feeling slightly guilty, she pulled the papers out and opened them up.
At first glance, they didn’t look remotely interesting. As she flicked through, however, she began to feel as if someone’s hands were in her guts, swirling them around and wringing them out like bits of washing.
It soon became clear that she was looking at details of luxury retirement villas for sale near the city of Mérida, on the sunny Yucatán Peninsula in south-eastern Mexico. There were quite a few to choose from, all accompanied by glossy photographs and elaborate floor plans, but one in particular caught her eye.
The property was called Hacienda Masul, which apparently meant Birdsong in the ancient Mayan language, and someone had put a ring around the name with a heavy black pen.
She could see why, because it was undoubtedly the most beautiful home of the lot: large, light and airy, with giant windows overlooking a garden filled with lush jungle plants. There were four big bedrooms with en suite bathrooms and a swimming pool, as well as a white sandy beach just a stone’s throw away.
The blurb also highlighted the fact that the villa, although secluded, was not far from a shopping mall, complete with a cinema and theatre complex, and there were two golf courses and a thriving bridge club in the area, too.
The words ‘Golf’ and ‘Bridge’ were underlined in the same black pen as before, with a giant asterisk alongside. On seeing this, Chabela’s hands started to shake and goose flesh chased up and down her spine. Alfonso loved golf, he always said that he hoped to play a lot more when he retired, and she happened to know that his wife was a big fan of bridge.
She tried to persuade herself that all this meant nothing. Alfonso had probably been handed the leaflets by a random estate agent in a shopping mall, or perhaps Pilar had been house-hunting and passed the details to her husband, little knowing that he was on the point of leaving her.
But why, then, keep them folded up so neatly in his pocket? Why not throw them away? And what about the underlining and asterisks?
In her heart of hearts, the answer was obvious, but Chabela needed to be a hundred per cent sure and when Alfonso arrived back at her apartment later that evening to pick up his jacket, she was waiting.
At first, when confronted, he tried to deny everything: of course he wasn’t intending to retire and move to Yucatán with Pilar! Of course he wasn’t specifically looking for somewhere with a golf course and a bridge club. What a ridiculous notion!
But she could tell that he was lying and in the end, with tears in his eyes, he admitted the truth: he couldn’t leave his wife because she wouldn’t cope without him, and the children would never forgive him either.
He also said that he was tired of working, but wouldn’t dream of trying to drag Chabela away from Mexico City and the job she loved.
‘The age gap between us is just too big,’ he said plaintively. ‘We’re at different stages in life. We want different things.’
Implying that he had her interests at heart, too, was the last straw. For once, Chabela lost all control and flew at him, punching and slapping with all her might while he tried to defend himself, until she ran out of energy and slumped to the floor.
‘Go,’ she said wearily at last. ‘Take your stuff and don’t ever come back or contact me again.’
He did as he was told, all apart from the last bit. A couple of days after the debacle, he tried to call but she blocked his number. Later, he knocked on the door of her shared office at the university, but she asked a colleague to turn him away. He sent a letter, too, a long, heartfelt one, begging her to try to understand his point of view. She wasn’t sure if he was hoping she would keep the bed warm for him in Mexico City once he moved away or if he simply wanted to assuage his guilt. In any case, she tore the letter up without replying.
For a few months, she went about in a sort of dream, seeming on the outside to be functioning normally, but inside she was falling apart.
She lost a lot of weight, felt permanently exhausted and often went to bed as soon as she returned from work. But she only felt more tired than ever the following day.
Colleagues started to comment on her gaunt appearance and urged her to see a doctor, but she denied that anything was wrong. Then one morning, she arrived at the lecture theatre to give a talk to third year students, only to discover that she couldn’t think of a thing to say or even what topic she was supposed to be discussing.
For what seemed like an age, she just stood there, eyes wide with panic and her heart racing. Eventually, one of the female students stood up and asked if she needed anything, at which point Chabela burst into tears, rushed from the room and barely stopped crying for a month.
Still, she didn’t tell anyone, not even her closest friends, what was happening and in the end it was a neighbour who came to her rescue. Concerned that she hadn’t seen Chabela for a while, the elderly woman knocked on her door and insisted that she see a doctor.
The pills that he prescribed helped to get Chabela back on her feet, but she was a mere shadow of her former self. All the joy and curiosity seemed to have been sucked out of her and she could see no point in anything.
For several more months, she just went through the motions, getting up, going to work and returning to her apartment to eat and sleep. It was more like existence than living.
Gradually, her appetite and sleeping did start to improve and she began to feel a little stronger, but still, she didn’t think that she would ever recover from the grief, heartache and betrayal. She had given everything to Alfonso and felt as if there was nothing left.
The seasons passed and spring arrived again, which always seemed to bring with it the promise of fresh beginnings. Still stuck in her rut, however, Chabela began to wonder if she needed to do something drastic, like quit her job and move cities or even countries.
She started looking at job ads for other universities and putting out feelers, but nothing appealed. Then Simon’s letter arrived and before she knew it, she was arranging a business visa and booking her trip to the UK.
Friends thought she was mad. Why Cornwall, for goodness’ sake? Why not Paris or Rome instead? As a single woman, wouldn’t she be safer in a big city – and wouldn’t she have more fun?
But they couldn’t see inside her heart or know how badly she was hurting. So here she was, on a dark night in faraway Tremarnock, weaving in a taxi along narrow country lanes that seemed as different from the highways and byways of Mexico City as you could possibly imagine.
It wasn’t long before they reached Polgarry Manor and passed through the heavy iron gates. About halfway up the drive, she spotted a welcome light on in Bramble’s and Matt’s bedroom window and guessed that they must be home.
After leaving the cab and paying the fare, she h
eaded towards the front door. Her feet scrunched on the gravel and the sound seemed to echo around the silent cliffs. Not so long ago, the unfamiliar quietness might have troubled her, but now, she found it comforting. The air felt soft and warm on her skin, like being wrapped in black velvet, and not far off, an owl hooted and seemed to say that she wasn’t alone; she was surrounded by friends that she just couldn’t see.
Never before, she realised, had she felt so connected to a place, so at one with her surroundings. It must be the Cornish blood surfacing in her veins.
This thought amused her and laughing silently to herself, she tiptoed up the stone steps to the old oak front door and used the spare key that she’d been given. For all she knew, Alfonso hadn’t even heard of Cornwall, and he’d certainly never visited. Hope fluttered its delicate wings.
Here, she was forging real memories that he had nothing to do with. She scarcely dared think, far less believe it, but perhaps, just perhaps, slowly but surely, with baby steps and inch by inch, she was beginning to move on at last.
Chapter Sixteen
While Chabela slept soundly in her grand, first-floor bedroom high up on the cliff, residents in a particular part of downtown Tremarnock were having a restless night.
As it was warm, most of the windows were open in the small flat that Jesse and Loveday shared in Towan Road. This meant their neighbours could hear pretty much everything that was going on, and it wasn’t pleasant.
‘I saw you!’ Loveday screeched. It was after midnight and she’d been shouting, off and on, for at least half an hour. ‘You were staring at her chest!’
Jesse protested loudly, but his girlfriend was having none of it. ‘Stop trying to deny it! I’m not stupid, you know!’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ Jesse ranted. ‘How many times do I have to tell you – I DO NOT FANCY THAT WOMAN!’
This clearly didn’t cut any ice with his girlfriend, however.
‘You’re playing with fire!’ she went on, as if she hadn’t heard a word of what he’d just said. ‘She’s not this nicey-nicey person you think she is. She’s a man-stealer. Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.’
The pair descended into loud bickering for a while, until Jesse’s voice rose once more above the hubbub.
‘WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?’ he yelled, and at this point, his girlfriend leaned right out of the window, cupped her hands around her mouth and began to holler.
‘THAT MEXICAN COW! WATCH OUT, EVERYBODY! SHE’S A MARRIAGE WRECKER! SHE’S AFTER YOUR MAN!’
If the neighbours had been in doubt about what or who was the cause of the couple’s argument, they weren’t any longer. As far as anyone knew, there was only one Mexican currently residing in Tremarnock – and that was Chabela.
The rowing quietened down after that and most folk were able to doze off at last. Unfortunately, however, the damage had been done, the genie was out of the bottle and it wouldn’t go back in.
News travelled fast in the village and by noon the following day there was scarcely a soul who hadn’t heard the gossip about the sexy foreign visitor. Some said they didn’t believe it, others shook their heads and condemned prevailing ‘petty bourgeois’ attitudes, but ‘There’s no smoke without fire,’ seemed to be the general consensus.
Robert was one of the few prepared to defend Chabela, even after Liz told him how upset she’d made Rosie.
‘She’s Latina,’ he said. ‘Dancing’s in her blood. I doubt she even noticed Rafael was flirting with her, or Jesse for that matter. And even if she did, and she encouraged it – and I bet she didn’t – it would only have been a joke. They’re young enough to be her sons.’
Liz was inclined to agree, but still, loyalty lay with her daughter, who had wept bitterly last night and insisted that she and Rafael were finished. Chabela should have known better, Liz thought, and her behaviour seemed like a double betrayal, given that Liz was the one who’d introduced her to Robert and helped her get the job.
Of course Chabela had no idea what was going on behind her back, and was a little surprised by the cool reception she received at the Secret Shack the following morning from staff and customers alike.
‘Are you OK?’ she asked Loveday at one point, because the girl looked shattered and was scarcely speaking to her. Rosie seemed distinctly frosty, too, and Rafael was monosyllabic.
‘I’m fine,’ Loveday replied, swishing her hair and marching over to the other side of the kiosk.
But something was clearly up and Chabela did fear that her salsa dancing yesterday might be to blame. It seemed to make no sense, however, because she hadn’t done anything wrong. Was it her, or had the world gone mad?
The beach was usually packed on a sunny Sunday, even before the official start of the tourist season, and today was no exception. For several hours, Chabela was so busy serving teas, coffees, ice creams, cold drinks and snacks that she had no opportunity to delve further into the strange behaviour going on around her.
To her dismay, even Liz, who came at lunchtime with Lowenna, Tabitha, Danny and Oscar, was offish. In fact the only person who seemed, if anything, friendlier than ever, was Rick.
He turned up at around five p.m. having closed his shop early, and hung around at the kiosk for a while drinking a bottle of mineral water. When he’d finished, he made a great to-do about the fact that he was going for a swim.
‘Anyone care to join me?’ he quipped, glancing sideways at Chabela, who pretended not to notice. ‘The water will be cold, but there’s nothing like the hot shower after. You feel fantastic.’
He made it sound vaguely suggestive, and Chabela picked up a damp cloth and started vigorously scrubbing the work surface.
‘No takers?’ Rick went on. ‘Shame.’ And with that, he proceeded to strip off down to his trunks right in front of the open serving hatch.
Chabela tried not to look but couldn’t help noticing that he had a very big body and an awful lot of stringy grey hair on his chest and shoulders.
‘OK if I leave my stuff here?’ he asked, plonking his clothes in a bag on the ground by one of the tables before anyone could object. ‘I’ll be back in a jiffy. Won’t be long.’
‘Like we care,’ Loveday muttered under her breath, but he didn’t hear. She really was in a foul mood today.
He set off for the seashore, picking his way through the groups of people still on the sand, soaking up the last rays of sunshine. The wind had picked up a bit and parasols and coloured towels were flapping. Quite a few folk had donned sweatshirts or cardigans but seemed in no rush to pack up their things and leave.
Rick wasn’t deterred by the breeze either. The tide was coming in and Chabela watched his large, bulky frame in bright green shorts arrive at the water’s edge. Without any girly dithering, he launched himself in with a terrific splash, forcing onlookers into a hasty retreat, and proceeded to crawl quite far out, stopping only once to look back and adjust his goggles.
Chabela couldn’t help being impressed and was even more awestruck when she spotted the tall, statuesque figure of Audrey striding down the beach in bare feet, a towelling robe and white swimming cap. Before long, she’d shed the robe and was doing a stately breaststroke towards Rick, though she’d have a devil of a job to catch up with him.
‘Are you sure they’re not dating?’ Chabela asked Loveday, who was standing nearby. She had temporarily forgotten that the girl wasn’t speaking to her. ‘They seem to get on so well.’
‘What’s it to you?’ Loveday said nastily, which made Chabela flinch, as if she’d been stung by a wasp or bee.
‘Please,’ she said, mustering all her courage and looking steadily at Loveday. ‘Will you tell me what I’ve done wrong? I really don’t know, but I want to put it right if I can.’
Loveday chewed her lip. For a moment it looked as if she might just be considering opening up, but then she tossed her hair again in that haughty fashion and turned the other way.
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
There was nothing more that Chabela could do, and she was still smarting when Robert arrived unexpectedly with boxes of fresh supplies. He smiled warmly at her and she felt like kissing him because the atmosphere had been so cold all day.
‘How’re you doing?’ he asked, setting the boxes down in the corner; they didn’t look heavy.
Chabela failed to notice Loveday’s scowl or Rosie’s gimlet eyes, but Robert did.
‘I hope you two are pulling your weight?’ he said fiercely. ‘Why do I get the impression Chabela’s doing most of the work round here?’
‘That’s not true!’ The last thing she wanted was to seem like the class swot. She was in bad enough odour as it was.
She must have looked rather desperate because without any warning, he reached out, put an arm around her shoulder and gave her a friendly hug.
Grateful for his kindness, she inclined her head towards him and allowed herself to sink a little into the comforting embrace. She was only there a moment, but it was long enough for Liz to see.
Having got up from where she was sitting, she was making her way towards the kiosk, holding Lowenna with one hand and carrying a heavy basket in the other. On spotting the pair, she did a sort of double take, then tried to cover it up by bending down to adjust her flip-flop.
It didn’t fool Chabela, however, who quickly broke away, fearing that Liz might get the wrong end of the stick. Sure enough, she approached with a stony smile and laid claim to her husband by asking if he wanted her to record something for him on TV.
‘Is the restaurant full tonight?’ she said then, and he told her there were a few empty tables.
‘We might get passing trade,’ he added, scanning around the beach. ‘I reckon there are quite a lot of people down for the day.’
Just then, Rafael dropped a tumbler on the floor and it smashed into pieces. Everyone turned to look.
‘Shee-it!’ he yelped, staring helplessly at the broken bits of glass.
He had had his back to Liz while he was loading the dishwasher, but he glanced at her now, and Chabela noticed the other woman purse her lips menacingly.
The Girl Who Came Home to Cornwall Page 21
