tears, of swallowing his own pain, was almost too much. He patted Paco on the back a little too firmly and shook his hand a little too hard. When he squeezed Anna he did so with too much fervour so that she cried out in discomfort and he had to release her much too soon.
Anna cried too. She cried because her parents were so unhappy to lose her. She wanted to cut herself in two so that they could keep one half of her with them. They looked frail and vulnerable next to the tall, imposing frame of Paco. She was sad that they weren’t going to come out for her wedding, but glad that her new family wouldn’t get to meet them. She didn’t want them to know where she came from in case they thought she wasn’t good enough. She felt guilty that she had allowed such a selfish thought to enter her head while she was saying goodbye to her parents. They would have been so hurt.
With one last wave Anna bade farewell to her past and welcomed an uncertain future with an assurance that would have been more suitable within the pages of a fairytale.
Chapter 7
When Anna saw Santa Catalina for the first time she was able to see her future in the tall, frothy trees, the colonial house and the vast, flat plain, and knew that she would be happy. Glengariff seemed like worlds away and she was too excited to have time to miss her family or to think about poor Sean O’Mara.
She had left London in the golden glow of autumn and arrived in Buenos Aires as the city burst into flower, for the Argentine seasons are the opposite to those in Europe. The airport smelt thickly of humidity and sweat that mingled with the strong scent of lily of the valley wafting from one of their fellow passengers who had just visited the ladies’ room to freshen up.
Anna and Paco were met by a stout, brown-faced man with small shiny brown eyes and an incomplete smile. He saw to their luggage and led them through a side door out into the hot November sunshine. Paco didn’t let go of her hand for a moment but held it possessively as they waited for the car to be brought around from the car park.
‘Esteban, this is my fiancee, Señorita O’Dwyer,’ he said, as the little brown man loaded the cases into the boot.
Anna, who had learnt a little Spanish in London, smiled at him timidly and extended her hand. Esteban’s hand was hot and clammy as he took hers and shook it firmly, leaving his raisin eyes to study her face curiously. When she asked Paco why everyone stared at her and why Esteban had looked at her so inquisitively, he replied that it was due to her red hair. Very few people had red hair and such pale skin in Argentina. As they drove into Buenos Aires Anna placed her head beside the open window to allow the cool breeze to blow through her hair and fan her hot face.
To Anna, Buenos Aires possessed the languid charm of an old-fashioned city. At first glance it resembled the European cities she had seen in picture books. The ornate stone buildings could have belonged in Paris or Madrid. The squares were lined with tall sycamores and palm trees, the parks ablaze with flowers and bushes. To her delight, the concrete itself seemed to blossom with thousands of violet flowers fallen from the rich jacaranda trees. The atmosphere was sensual. The small cafes spilled out onto the dusty pavements where the people of Buenos Aires sat drinking tea or playing cards in the stifling humidity. Paco explained that when their ancestors immigrated to Argentina in the late nineteenth century from Europe they recreated in the architecture and customs reminders of their old worlds to stave off the inexorable homesickness that rattled their souls. Hence, he pointed out, the Theatre Colon is like La Scala in Milan, the Retiro Station is like Waterloo and the sycamore-lined streets are like the South of France. ‘We’re a hopelessly nostalgic people,’ he said. ‘And a hopelessly romantic one, too.’ She laughed, leaning over and kissing him affectionately.
Anna breathed in the heady scents of eucalyptus and jasmine that emanated from the leafy plazas and observed the bustle of everyday life meander up the dilapidated pavements in the form of elegant women with smooth brown faces and long shiny hair, watched brazenly by swarthy men with dark eyes and lethargic gaits. She saw the ballet of courtship as couples held hands at the small tables in the cafes or sat on park benches kissing in the sunshine. She had never seen so much kissing in one city. Everyone was kissing.
The car descended into an underground garage on the tree-lined Avenida Libertador where a smiling maid with milk-chocolate skin and eager brown eyes stood waiting to help with the luggage. When she saw Paco her large eyes welled with tears and she embraced him fondly, although she barely reached his chest in height. Laughing he put his arms around her thick body and
hugged her back.
‘Senor Paco, you look so well,’ she breathed, running her eyes up and down the length of him in wonder. ‘Europe has done you the power of good, just look at you. Ah!’ she cried, shifting her eyes to look at Anna. This must be your fiancee. Everyone is very excited. They are dying to meet her.’ She extended her chubby hand, which Anna shook in bewilderment. She spoke so fast Anna hadn’t understood a word.
‘Mi amor, this is our dear maid, Esmeralda. Isn’t she a delight?’ he said and winked at her. Anna smiled back before following him into the lift. ‘I was twenty-four when I left and she hasn’t seen me for two years. As you can imagine, she’s a bit overwhelmed.’
‘Your family won’t be here?’ asked Anna apprehensively.
‘Of course not. It’s Saturday - we never spend weekends in the city,’ he said as if it was the most obvious question. ‘We’ll just take what we need to the country. We’ll leave the rest to Esmeralda.’
The apartment was large and airy. Shiny windows looked out over the park, thick with leafy trees under which dreamy lovers gazed into each other’s eyes, laughing and necking in the breezy spring morning. The clamour of birds and children’s voices reverberated in the shady street below and a dog barked somewhere not too far away for his bark was loud and constant and unrelenting. Paco showed Anna to a small, pale blue room decorated in a very English style with flowered curtains that matched the bedspread and cushion of the dressing-table chair. Looking out she could see over the rooftops of the city to the glistening brown river beyond.
That is the Rio de La Plata,’ said Paco, wrapping his arms around her from behind and looking over her shoulder. Across the water is Uruguay. The river is the widest in the world. Over there,’ he said, pointing across the buildings, ‘is the area of La Boca, the old port area settled by Italians. I’ll take you there as the Italian restaurants are fantastic and the houses I think you’ll find rather amusing as they’re painted in bright festive colours. Then I’ll take you to San Telmo, the old part of the city, where the streets are cobbled and the houses romantic and crumbling and there I will dance with you the Tango.’ Anna smiled in delight as she looked over the city that was to be her new home and felt a rush of excitement race through her bones. ‘We’ll walk along the bank of the river called the Costanera and hold hands and kiss and then . ..’
‘And then?’ she laughed coquettishly.
‘And then I will bring you home and make love to you in our matrimonial bed, slowly and sensually,’ he replied.
Anna giggled throatily, recalling those long nights of kissing, when she had resisted her own desire that threatened to overwhelm her when he ran his lips over her skin and felt with his hands the brazen swelling of her breasts beneath her blouse. She had pulled away, her face flushed with lust and shame combined, for her mother had taught her to save herself for her wedding night. No decent girl allows a man to compromise her reputation, she had said.
Paco was old-fashioned and chivalrous, and although his loins ached under the strain of having to resist his impulses to go further than was decent, he respected Anna’s wish to remain a virgin. He had suppressed his own longing with brisk walks and vigorous showers. ‘We will have all the time in the world to discover each other once we are married,’ he had said.
Anna pulled out her summer clothes from her suitcase, leaving the rest of her things for Esmeralda to unpack as Paco had instructed. She showered in the marble bathroom and slip
ped into a long floral dress. While Paco was busy in his room she took a moment to wander around the apartment, which was on two floors, and look into the black and white photographs of his family that smiled out from shining silver frames. There was one of Paco’s parents, Hector and Maria Elena. Hector was tall and dark with remote black eyes and aquiline features that gave him the regal grace of a hawk. Maria Elena was small and fair with melancholic pale eyes and a warm generous mouth. They looked elegant and proud. Anna hoped they would like her. She remembered Aunt Dorothy’s warning that they would probably wish him to marry someone from his own ‘class and culture’. She had felt so confident back in London; now the thought of stepping into this glamorous new world frightened her. In spite of her airs and graces Aunt Dorothy was right - she was just a small town Irish girl with childish dreams of grandeur.
She heard Paco talking to Esmeralda on the landing. Then he descended the stairs with his suitcase. ‘Is that all you’re taking?’ he asked when he saw Anna standing in the hallway, clutching a small brown case. She nodded. She didn’t own many summer clothes. ‘All right, let’s go,’ he said, shrugging his shoulders. Anna smiled at Esmeralda who gave her a basket of provisions to take down to the farm and managed to mumble ‘Adios.' as she had been taught in her classes in London. Paco turned and raised an eyebrow when he heard her say it. ‘Said like a native,’ he joked, placing their bags in the lift. ‘Well done!’
Paco owned a gleaming Mercedes imported from Germany. It was a pale blue convertible and made a loud roaring noise that echoed off the garage walls when he turned the key in the ignition. Anna watched Buenos Aires rush past her and felt she was in a speedboat slicing through the ocean. She wished her horrid cousins could see her now. They’d go mad with jealousy, she thought happily to herself. Her parents would swell with pride and for the first time since she had left them their tearstained faces rose to the surface of her mind like bubbles. Her heart momentarily lurched with homesickness but then they were on the open road with the wind in her hair and the sun on her face and the bubbles burst and disappeared altogether.
Paco had explained to her that he had three brothers. He was number three. The eldest, Miguel, was like his father, dark with rich brown skin and brown eyes. He was married to Chiquita whom Paco had said she would like very much. Then there was Nico, who was also dark like his father with blue eyes like his mother. He was married to Valeria, who was sharp and not as sweet-natured as Chiquita, but he was sure they would become friends once they got to know each other. After Paco there came Alejandro, the youngest, who was unmarried but apparently very seriously courting a girl called Malena who, according to Miguel’s letters, was one of the most beautiful girls in Buenos Aires. ‘Don’t worry,’ Paco advised Anna kindly. ‘Just be yourself and they will all love you like I do.’
Overwhelmed by the difference in the scenery, Anna found herself speechless with wonder. Far from the wet green hills of Ireland she looked about her at the dry flat land of the pampas. The plain, studded with scattered herds of cows, sometimes horses, stretched out to the ends of the earth like a tawny brown sea beneath a bright blue sky of such an exquisite colour it reminded Anna of cornflowers. Santa Catalina sat like a leafy oasis of verdant trees and glimmering green grasses at the end of a long dusty track. On hearing the familiar purr of Paco’s car his mother had left the cool shade of the house to welcome him home. She wore a pair of white pleated trousers with buttons at the ankles that Anna soon learnt were a copy of the traditional gaucho trousers called bombachas, and an open-neck white shirt rolled up at the sleeves. Around her waist she wore a thick leather belt decorated with silver coins that caught the light and glittered. Her fair hair was pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck exposing her gentle features and pale blue eyes.
Maria Elena embraced her son with unbridled affection. She placed her long
elegant hands on his face and looked up into his eyes exclaiming in Spanish words which Anna was unable to understand, but knew were exclamations of joy. Then she turned to Anna and with more reserve walked over to kiss her on her pale cheek and told her in broken English that it was a pleasure to meet her. Anna followed them inside to where the rest of the family waited to greet Paco and meet his new fiancee.
When Anna saw the cool sitting-room filled with strange people she felt suddenly weak with terror. She noticed every eye scrutinize her critically to see whether she was good enough for their Paco. Paco dropped her hand and was at once swallowed up into the arms of his family who hadn’t seen him for two years. For a brief moment, which seemed to the startled Anna an embarrassingly long time, she felt herself alone, like a small boat cast adrift in the sea. Looking helplessly about her with misted eyes she stood rooted to the spot, feeling awkward and conspicuous. Just when she thought she could take it no longer, Miguel strode up to her and took it upon himself to introduce her to the family. Miguel was kind and smiled at her sympathetically.
This is going to be a nightmare for you. Just take a deep breath and you’ll get through it,’ he said in English spoken with a charmingly thick accent like his brother and placed a rough hand on her arm reassuringly. Nico and Alejandro smiled at her politely, but when she turned her back she felt their eyes still on her and heard them discussing her in Spanish although the words still failed to reach her understanding in spite of all the classes she had attended. They spoke so fast. She winced at the imperious beauty of Valeria, who kissed Anna without smiling and looked at her with steady, confident eyes. She was relieved when Chiquita embraced her affectionately and welcomed her into the family.
‘Paco’s letters said so much of you. I am happy you are here,’ she said in faltering English and then blushed. Anna was so grateful she could have cried.
When Anna saw the forbidding figure of Hector approach her she felt the sweat drip down the backs of her legs and her stomach swim. He was tall and commanding and she shrank under the suffocating weight of his charisma. He bent down to kiss her and he smelt of a spicy cologne that lingered on her skin for some time afterwards. Paco looked very like his father, with the same aquiline features, the same hooked nose, except Paco had inherited the gentle expression of his mother, and her colouring.
‘I would like to welcome you to Santa Catalina. To Argentina. I take it this is
your first time here?’ he said in perfect English. Anna caught her breath and nodded lamely. ‘I would like to talk to my son alone, would you mind if I left you with my wife?’ Anna shook her head.
‘Of course not.' she replied huskily, wishing Paco could take her back to Buenos Aires where they could be alone. But Paco withdrew happily with his father and Anna knew that he expected her to cope.
‘Come, let us sit outside,’ said Maria Elena kindly, watching her husband and son disappear into the hall with an apprehensive look that darkened her pale eyes. Anna had no choice but to allow herself to be swept out onto the terrace with Maria Elena and her family, out into the sunshine where they could see her better.
‘Por Dios, Paco!’ began his father in his deep steady voice, shaking his head with impatience. ‘She’s beautiful, there’s no doubt about that, but look at her-she’s like a startled rabbit in there. Is it fair to bring her here?’
Paco’s face flooded crimson and his blue eyes flashed violet. He had been waiting for this confrontation. He had expected his father’s disapproval from the beginning.
‘Papa, are you surprised she’s terrified? She doesn’t speak the language and she’s being scrutinized by every member of my family to see if she’s good enough. Well, I know what’s good enough for me and I will allow no one to persuade me any different.’ He looked at his father defiantly.
‘Son, I know you’re in love and that’s all very well, but marriage isn’t necessarily about love.’
‘Don’t speak about my mother like that,’ snapped Paco. ‘I will marry Anna,’ he added in a quiet, determined voice.
‘Paco, she’s provincial, she’s never been out of Ireland. Is it
fair on her to place her in the middle of our world? How do you think she’s going to cope?’ ‘She’ll cope, because I’ll help her cope. Because you will help her cope,’ Paco said hotly. ‘Because you’ll tell the rest of the family to make her feel welcome.’ ‘That’s not enough. We live in a rigid society - she’ll be judged by everyone. With all the beautiful girls here in Argentina, why couldn’t you choose one of them?’ Hector raised his hands in exasperation. ‘Your brothers have managed to find suitable matches in this country, why couldn’t you?’
‘I love Anna because she’s different from all of them. So she’s unsophisticated, she’s provincial, and she’s not from our class. So what? I love her the
way she is and so will you when you get to know her. Let her relax a little. When she forgets her fear you’ll understand why I love her like I do.’
Paco fixed his father with unwavering eyes that softened when he talked about Anna. Hector’s jaw was rigid and his chin jutted out stubbornly. He shook his head slowly and breathed in through flared nostrils, without taking his eyes off the face of his son.
‘All right,’ he conceded. ‘I can’t stop you marrying her. But I hope you know what you’re doing, because I sure as hell don’t.’
‘Give her time, Papa,’ said Paco, grateful that his father had backed down. In the lifetime that Paco had known his father he had never once remembered him backing down.
‘You’re a man now and old enough to make your own decisions,’ Hector said, brusquely. ‘It’s your life. I hope I’m not proved right.’
‘You won’t be. I know what I want,’ Paco told him. Hector nodded before embracing his son firmly and kissing him on his damp cheek, as was their custom once an argument was over.
‘Let’s go and join the others,’ Hector said, and they both made for the door.
Anna warmed immediately to Chiquita and Miguel, who embraced her into the family with unconditional affection.
Meet Me Under The Ombu Tree Page 11
