The Mermaid Garden

by Santa Montefiore

  She remembered walking down the little path to the beach, the way he had disentangled her from the brambles, the moment they had stripped off to their underwear and ran into the sea. She remembered the way they had laughed, shared stories, and returned to the Polzanze like schoolchildren trying not to be caught breaking the rules. She smiled wistfully and hoped that tomorrow would be just as special.

  Sylvia noticed Rafa’s glance at his watch. She could sense when a man wasn’t interested in her and wasn’t about to make a fool of herself. She looked at hers and gasped. “Good Lord, is that the time. I should go. Freddie will be wondering where I am.”

  “Freddie?”

  “My lover. He’ll be wanting dinner.”

  “I should go, too.”

  “Do you have a dinner date?”

  “I’ll join my students.” He grinned. “That sounds odd as none of them is under seventy.”

  She looked around. “This place is really rocking.”

  “It’s a beautiful hotel.”

  “Rumors indicate that it’s struggling.”

  “It doesn’t look like it’s struggling to me.”

  “No, you’re right. The air has changed—it feels happy. Makes me want to stay and soak it up.”

  “You’ll have to come again.”

  “I’ll drag Clemmie here next time.”

  “You do that.”

  She wondered why his face lit up. Clemmie was a peculiar creature, not a great beauty like her, and Rafa was clearly a man who could have any woman he wanted. “It’s been fun. Is it presumptuous to thank you for the drink?”

  “Not at all, it’s my pleasure.” He escorted her to the hall, glancing at his ladies as they walked through the drawing room, pleased to see that they were still heavily absorbed in conversation. The brigadier’s loud guffaws shot into the air like gunfire, filling the room with mirth.

  “They’re having a good time,” Sylvia commented.

  “My dinner companions.” He laughed.

  “Dinner won’t be dull, then.”

  “Neither will yours.”

  “No, Freddie’s a laugh a minute.” But as she left the hotel she was struck by a sudden stab of loneliness. There was no dinner with Freddie; he was at home with his family. There was no one at home for her.

  Jake stood in the hall and watched her walk across the gravel to her car. He had said “good night,” but she had responded glumly, without even looking at him. Her evening with Rafa had clearly not gone well. He wished she had stopped to talk to him. He was sure he could have cheered her up.

  The following morning Harvey drew up in front of the hotel in a gleaming Jaguar. With the roof down, he sat at the wheel, his arm resting casually on the window frame, a roguish grin carved into his happy face.

  “Go and find Marina,” he called to Tom, who gave a low whistle before rushing off to get her.

  Shane sauntered out to admire the car. “It’s a real beauty,” he gushed.

  “Jaguar XK, with all the trimmings.”

  “Nice. Whose is it?”

  “My nephew’s. He’s lent it to me. I want to see Marina’s face when she sees me in it.”

  “Nice nephew!”

  “He’s done well for himself.”

  “Will you take me for a spin later?”

  “You bet. It’ll take more than a few odd jobs to get me out of this today.”

  Marina stepped onto the gravel, and her mouth opened in a silent gasp as she saw Harvey at the wheel of a sleek racing-green Jaguar. “I don’t believe it!” she exclaimed, shaking her head in wonder. “I never thought I’d see you in a sports car, Harvey. It’s stunning!”

  “Get in!”

  “Are you going to take me for a drive?”

  “I have a little time before I’m due to take Rafa and his painters to the Powells’ for lunch. Mrs. Powell is putting on a picnic for them so they can paint the old dovecote.”

  “What a good idea. So, where shall we go?”

  “Wherever you want, m’lady.” Shane opened the passenger door and watched Marina climb in.

  “How exciting.” She laughed like a young girl going out on a date. “We’ll be gone for some time,” she told Shane. “Tell Jake to hold the fort.” With a purr the car crept smoothly into the drive. Shane and Tom watched it go.

  “I’d like a car like that,” said Tom enviously.

  “The only way you’re going to get one of those is by stealing it, or robbing a bank,” said Shane.

  “Or finding a rich bird to buy me one.”

  “You won’t find her here, lad. Rich birds go to the South of France not Dawcomb-Devlish.”

  “What a beauty, Harvey. How long have you got it for?” Marina shouted over the roar of the wind.

  “As long as I want,” he replied carelessly. “My nephew won’t be needing it. He’s gone abroad for a few weeks.”

  “It must have cost a bomb.”

  “Sixty-three grand, new.”

  “You’ve got to be joking?”

  “Nope. Well, that’s the retail price, but this is secondhand. Still, it’s got all the trimmings; leather seats, touch-screen sat nav, alloy wheels, and she moves like a big, beautiful cat.”

  “She certainly does. You’d better keep it in the garage while that robber is on the loose.”

  “I’m more worried about the boys running off with it.”

  “Shane and Tom?”

  “Yes, wouldn’t trust them as far as I can throw them.” He winked. “When it comes to those two, they’re just a pair of schoolboys.”

  They drove down the country lanes, the sun on their faces, the wind tossing Marina’s long hair playfully. After a while they ceased to talk. Occasionally, she smiled at him and he grinned back at her fondly, and in those moments she was able to forget about Clementine, the hotel, their mounting debt, and the imminent arrival of Charles Rueben. When she was with Harvey, she felt the weight of responsibility lighten, as if he was there to carry it all for her.

  * * *

  Clementine was furious with Sylvia for having deliberately excluded her from her evening with Rafa, but for once she decided not to create a scene. She was disappointed in her, having believed they were friends, but in her heart she was not surprised. Sylvia was a man’s woman, and their friendship counted for nothing when she set her sights on a new conquest.

  She got to work early, having not wanted to spend more time than necessary lying beside Joe, who seemed to have nothing to get up for, and drank a latte at her desk. She wore her hair up and her navy suit, but had packed a Jack Wills sundress, cardigan, and flip-flops in a bag for later. The very thought of spending the evening with Rafa had turned her stomach upside down. She had no appetite for breakfast and could barely sit still.

  Sylvia arrived, looking guilty. Instead of flouncing confidently to her desk she shuffled in sheepishly.

  “I feel dreadful,” she stated, coming straight to the point. “I didn’t sleep a wink last night.”

  “Why?” Clementine asked breezily.

  “Why? Because I’ve been a bitch, that’s why. I didn’t like who I was last night, and I want to say I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay, Sylvia. I understand why you did it.”

  Sylvia was surprised. “You do, and you’re not upset with me?”

  “Not at all.” Clementine’s happiness made her unusually forgiving. “I was with Joe anyway, so I wouldn’t have been able to come.”

  “Well, I should have told you. He’s your friend, not mine.”

  “He’s everyone’s friend, Sylvia.”

  “No, I think he likes you more than anyone else. His face lit up when he spoke about you.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “He’s like that with everyone, don’t be under any illusions.” But she allowed herself a frisson of excitement even though she was certain Sylvia was wrong.

  Mr. Atwood arrived in the early afternoon after a meeting in Exeter. The letters he had requested were
waiting on his desk, a list of messages neatly typed up beside them. Clementine came in with a cup of coffee. He sat back in his chair and chewed on the end of his pencil, observing her through narrowed eyes.

  “You’re becoming a rather good secretary, Clementine. I’m impressed!”

  “Thank you, Mr. Atwood.”

  “Let me ask you, why the sudden leaf turning?”

  “No reason. I’m actually enjoying myself.”

  “Good. That suit becomes you.”

  Clementine noticed the lascivious glint in his eyes and recoiled. “Thank you.”

  “You’re a pretty girl, Clementine.”

  “Is there anything else, Mr. Atwood? Because if there isn’t, I’d like to get back to my desk.”

  “Yes, yes. Of course. Don’t let me detain you.” He gave a cheerful chuckle to show that he meant nothing by the compliments. “I like a secretary who’s keen to be at her desk.”

  Back at the hotel, Bertha sat at the kitchen table with Heather, hugging a mug of coffee.

  “I think the brigadier is keen on Mrs. Meister,” said Heather. “I’ve been watching them closely. They always sit together, and he’s asked her to take a walk with him this evening. I’m ashamed to have eavesdropped, but it’s gripping, I can’t help it.”

  “Love is in the air,” Bertha sang tunelessly.

  “I’ve always felt sorry for him. You know, coming up for breakfast every morning on his own. No wife at home to go back to. Now he’s all smiles. I think it’s sweet.”

  “Which one’s Mrs. Meister?”

  “The little mousy one.”

  “Oh dear, can she cope with the brigadier? He’s like a big walrus.”

  “Her husband died, poor love, so she’s on her own, too. I think it’s a match made in heaven.”

  “I’ve got my eye on Rafa.” Bertha grinned into her mug.

  Heather was horrified. “You’re not going to do anything about it, are you?”

  “I don’t mean I fancy him. I like an older man, personally, and a little bigger. I’d squash him like a crêpe. I mean I’m watching him.”

  “Why?”

  “I think he’s got a girlfriend back home.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. When I was cleaning his room, I came across a wad of love letters from a girl called Costanza. That’s Constance, isn’t it?”

  “Must be.”

  “So, I’m just keeping an eye on him in case he strays.”

  “Why would you care if he strayed?”

  “I wouldn’t. I just want to make sure that I’m around to see it.”

  “Really, Bertha. You’re terrible, you are.”

  “Just looking for a little entertainment. It’s not often that exciting things happen down here in Devon.”

  “I’d say Baffles is exciting.”

  “If he comes here, which I doubt. Not a great deal to take of any value, here.” She snorted disparagingly and slurped the last dreg of coffee from the bottom of the mug.

  “Didn’t you see Harvey’s new car?”

  “No.” Bertha looked put out. “What new car?”

  “A Jaguar, no less.”

  “What’s he doing with a Jaguar?”

  “Lord knows, but if he’s not careful, he’ll find it gone in the morning with nothing but a note saying ‘Thank you’ in its place.”

  By five thirty Clementine’s insides were a tangle of nerves. She logged off her computer and took the tray of paperwork to the filing cabinets to file. As she put them away in the correct folders, all neatly labeled in alphabetical order, she noticed her hands were trembling. She heard Mr. Atwood on the telephone, talking to his mistress, no doubt. She didn’t imagine he called his wife “cowgirl.” As she tuned into his saccharine sweet-talking she didn’t hear the door open, nor the squeak of embarrassment from Sylvia, who was still at the front desk.

  Rafa greeted Sylvia, but his attention was drawn to the back of the room where a slim girl in a well-cut navy suit and stilettos was standing by the filing cabinets. It took him a moment to recognize her, at which point she turned.

  “Clementine?” He looked surprised. She closed the drawer and walked over.

  “Rafa.”

  “Dios mio, you look fantastic.”

  She flushed happily. “Working attire. I have something less formal in my bag. Do you mind waiting while I change?”

  He put his hands in his pockets. “Of course not. Sylvia can keep me company.” But he didn’t take his eyes off Clementine until she had disappeared into the ladies’ room.

  Sylvia smiled uncomfortably, hoping he wouldn’t refer to the evening before. She wished Clementine would hurry up. Rafa leaned on her desk and grinned down at her. “Working hard today?”

  Clementine wriggled into her dress and slipped her feet into flip-flops. She let her hair down and scrunched it between her fingers. She remembered with disbelief the afternoon daydreaming that the handsome Argentine she had met in the Black Bean Coffee Shop would saunter into her office to find her. Now he had, and the evening stretched out before her, full of promise.

  20.

  Clementine sat in the passenger seat of Rafa’s hired car, barely able to believe that they were finally off together, just the two of them. She rolled down the window and let the sweet scents of summer billow in on the breeze. At first their chat was awkward, both talking at the same time, stumbling on their words, laughing to mask their nervousness. The atmosphere had changed. Clementine didn’t know why it had changed, or when, but a frisson existed between them that hadn’t been there before.

  Rafa, casual in jeans and white shirt, glanced across at her every now and then and grinned. He wore dark glasses, and his thick hair stuck up as the wind blew through it. She had always found him handsome, but now, knowing him a little better, she saw that his good looks ran so much deeper. He had a gift for seeing the best in everyone and a generosity of spirit that gave his eyes and smile an exceptional brilliance.

  Above all, she liked who she was when she was with him, as if, in his eyes, she was a better version of herself: braver, wittier, prettier. She gazed out over the countryside and noticed how very lush it was. The bright green of the leaves and the dazzling blue of the sky filled her up until she was ready to burst with happiness.

  They pulled up into the lay-by, and Rafa walked round to open the boot. “What have you got in there?” she asked, leaning on the gate and allowing her gaze to drift over the house that God forgot.

  “Supplies,” he replied with a grin.

  She turned to see him pull out a canvas bag. “What’s that?”

  “A picnic.”

  “Who made it for you?”

  “Heather.” He peered inside. “Qué bueno, she’s included a bottle of wine.”

  Clementine’s spirit swelled. “Where are we going to have it?”

  “Down on the beach, I think. Don’t you?”

  “Good idea.”

  However, it hadn’t been such a good idea to wear a dress. The path down to the beach was narrow and lined with brambles. She hadn’t thought about practicalities when she had planned her wardrobe.

  “I’ll give you a piggyback,” Rafa suggested.

  “Oh, no, I’m far too heavy,” she protested.

  “No, you’re not. The faces I pulled last time were in jest. You’re tiny. I could swing you over my shoulder and barely notice you. Here, you carry the bag.” He crouched down. “Climb on.”

  Wishing she were a few stone lighter, she tentatively sat astride him. The blood boiled in her cheeks at the intimacy of their bodies, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it. He stood up, hooked his arms beneath her legs, and set off down the path. “You see, I barely know you’re there.”

  “Liar.” She laughed.

  “Who said that?” He turned round, pretending to look behind him. She laughed again. He swung around the other way. “And that? I thought I was alone.”

  “Silly!”

  “Who said that?”

 
“If you keep swinging round, you’re going to make me seasick.”

  “Ah, it’s you.”

  “Yes, it’s me, so light you forgot I was on your back.” He strode on down the path, careful to keep her bare legs away from thorns. At last they reached the sand, and he gently put her down.

  “You see, I’m not even out of breath.”

  They sat on the beach and watched the waves roll gently in. Gulls wheeled on the breeze, the more intrepid ones dropping onto the rocks nearby in the hope of scrounging scraps from their picnic. Rafa poured the wine, and Clementine opened the sandwiches.

  “Here’s to our renewed friendship,” he said, raising his glass. “I want to say how sorry I am that I interfered. Your relationship with Marina is none of my business. The truth is, I like you both, and I want you to like each other.”

  She raised her glass. “I accept your apology, graciously this time.”

  “So, we’re friends again?”

  “Yes. Definitely.” They drank a moment in silence. Then Clementine took a deep breath. “You know you said that I should detach from the past so as not to ruin my present? What exactly did you mean?”

  He looked at her anxiously. “You don’t really want to talk about this, do you?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “You promise you won’t run off in a fury?”

  She laughed. “I’m sorry I lost my temper. I promise I won’t run off; anyhow, you have the car keys.”

  “Okay, if you insist, I’ll share my thoughts, for what they’re worth.”

  “I think they’re worth a lot.” She took a bite of turkey sandwich. “I might learn something.”

  “First of all, you have to understand my philosophy of life.”

  “Which is?”

  “I start from a belief in our ability to choose our destinies. We come down here to experience life and learn to be compassionate, loving human beings. During our lifetime we have many choices which affect those around us as well as our own futures.

  “Imagine a pebble dropped into a pond. You may think that the pebble simply sinks to the bottom, but you are wrong. The pebble causes ripples that run to the edge, where they nudge a leaf off the bank. A bumblebee is drowning in the water, but now he is able to climb onto the leaf and save himself. The bumblebee flies off and lands on the arm of a child, who watches in wonder and thus develops a love of nature. The child’s parents are fighting, but the mother sees the bee and panics that her child will be stung. Both parents rush to help the child and forget their argument, united in their love for their child. The bee flies off and … well, you can invent whatever story you like.