Meet Me Under The Ombu Tree

by Santa Montefiore

  ‘Shhh.’ She silenced him. ‘I have a rule now. No regretting. No remorse. No wailing and pulling out your hair because you wish you had done things differently. I’ve been through this with Sofia - silly fools the pair of you. In this house we live in the present and enjoy each other without looking back, unless it’s to talk about the good old days. They were good, weren’t they, Fercho?’ He nodded mutely. ‘Ah, do you remember that friend of mine you had a crush on - my schoolfriend, you must remember? Silvia Diaz, that was her name. You used to write her love letters. I wonder what’s happened to her now.’

  ‘She never fancied me back,’ he said, smiling at the memory of those innocent days.

  ‘Oh yes, she did. But she was shy. She used to read and re-read your letters during class. She read them out to me. They were very romantic’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Oh, they were. Very romantic. You were a dark horse. We could never keep track of you. But Sofia and I once spied on you kissing Romina Blaquier in the swimming pool.’

  ‘I knew you were there,’ he confessed and grinned at her.

  ‘You didn’t show it.’

  ‘Of course not - I enjoyed the attention.’ He laughed.

  ‘That’s better. Laughter is healing, tears only make me sad,’ she said and they laughed together.

  Chapter 45

  ‘Do you remember, we used to come here every Saturday night for Mass?’ Sofia’s voice echoed against the cold stone walls of the church of Nuestra Señora de la Asuncion.

  ‘Before going to the nightclub,’ chuckled Santi. ‘Not very reverent.’

  ‘I never thought of that,’ she replied. ‘To be honest, Mass was just a chore.’

  ‘You used to snigger the whole way through.’

  ‘Quite difficult to keep a straight face with Padre Julio stuttering and lisping.’

  ‘He died years ago.’

  ‘I can’t say I’m sorry.’

  ‘You should say you’re sorry, you’re in his church,’ Santi said, laughing.

  ‘You mean he might hear? I wonder if people stutter in heaven - you never hear of stuttering angels, do you?’

  They wandered down the aisle, their alpargatas treading softly and silently over the stones. The church was very bare, not like the Catholic churches in the city. The altar stood in humble simplicity under a clean white cloth adorned with drooping flowers. The air was stale and the spicy scent of incense lingered

  as there was no open window through which it could escape. The sun streamed in through the stained glass behind the altar casting long beams of light onto the floor and walls, showing up the dust which, were it not for the sunshine, would have gone unnoticed. Icons of the Virgin Mary hung from the walls among the many statues of saints and candles that shone out of the gloom. The pews were as Sofia remembered them, austere and uncomfortable enough to stop one falling asleep during the sermon.

  ‘Do you remember the wedding of Soledad’s niece Pilar?’ said Sofia with a smile.

  ‘How could I forget?’ replied Santi, hitting his forehead with the palm of his hand and laughing out loud.

  ‘Padre Julio mixed her up with her sister and gave the whole address about Lucia!’ They tried to muffle their laughter.

  ‘It was only at the end when he blessed the happy couple Roberto and Lucia that anyone realized that the person he had just been describing had nothing whatsoever to do with Pilar!’ she added, barely able to get the words out. ‘How awful. She was so upset and all we could do was laugh!’

  When they reached the altar silence washed over them like a spell. They instinctively stopped fooling around. There were two small tables on either side of the altar covered in candles of every size and shape. Their minds turned to Maria. Santi struck a match and lit one.

  ‘For my sister,’ he said and closed his eyes in prayer. Sofia was moved. Lighting one herself she also closed her eyes and silently asked God to preserve her cousin’s life. She felt Santi’s hand find hers and hold it for comfort. He squeezed it twice and she returned his message in the same code. They stood there for a while. She had never prayed so hard. However, her prayers weren’t totally unselfish. As long as Maria lived she had an excuse to stay.

  ‘I wonder whether God minds that we only turn to Him in distress,’ Santi said quietly.

  ‘I imagine He’s used to it,’ she replied.

  ‘I hope it works.’

  ‘So do I.’

  ‘I don’t have much faith that it will, though. I’d like to. I feel guilty that I come here as a last resort. I feel I don’t deserve a miracle.’

  ‘You’ve come. I don’t think it matters that you’ve come as a last resort. You’re here now.’

  ‘I suppose. I never used to understand those people who came to church all the time. I think I do now. It gives them comfort.’

  ‘Is it giving you some comfort?’ she asked.

  ‘Sort of.' he replied, and smiled at her wistfully. ‘You know, I should have liked to marry you in this little church.’

  ‘With Padre Julio stammering “W-w-w-w-ill y-you t-take S-s-s-s-Sofia ...” ’

  He chuckled at her imitation. ‘Nothing would have mattered, even if he had given the address about Fercho!’ he said, pulling her into his arms and kissing her forehead affectionately.

  She felt so loved in his embrace. The smell of him brought back memories of another time and she longed to hold onto the moment for ever. She hugged him back and they stayed like that for some time, neither of them feeling the need to speak. She felt dreadfully melancholic and yet at the same time she was happy because she was with him. She was aware that these moments were transient so she clung to them and lived them more intensely than she had ever lived.

  ‘Did you ever confess to Padre Julio that we were lovers?’ he asked, pulling

  away.

  ‘Are you crazy? No! Did you?’

  ‘No. Did you ever confess anything?’

  ‘Not really, I made it all up. He was so easily shocked it was too tempting not to make things up.’

  ‘You’re really bad, you know!’ he said and smiled a little sadly.

  ‘I thought I wasn’t as bad as I used to be until I showed up here. I have now exceeded my own limitations.’

  ‘I should feel guilty - I did at the beginning. But I don’t now. It feels so right,’ he said, shaking his head as if his feelings were now out of his control and no longer his responsibility.

  ‘It is right,’ she insisted, taking his hand in hers. ‘It should have been like this.’

  ‘I know. I feel guilty that I don’t feel guilty. It’s terrifying how one can forget.’

  ‘Claudia?’

  ‘Claudia, the children. When I’m with you I don’t think about them any more.’

  ‘Same,’ she replied. But it wasn’t really true. Every time David’s face surfaced with those of their daughters she made every effort to suppress them. They

  had almost given up trying. But David could be very persistent when he wanted to.

  ‘Come on. Let’s get out of this place before Padre Juan catches us,’ he said, making his way up the aisle.

  ‘We’re doing nothing wrong. We’re cousins, remember?’

  ‘Chofi, I can’t forget. I think Cod made you my cousin to punish me for something I did in a past life.’

  ‘Or He’s got a sick sense of humour!’

  Once out into the sunshine they had to shield their eyes from the glare. Sofia felt giddy for a moment while her eyes adjusted to the light. The humidity was stifling.

  ‘We’re going to have one hell of a storm, Chofi. Can you feel it?’

  ‘Yes, I can. I love storms, I find them very exciting.’

  ‘The first time we made love was during a storm.’

  ‘Yes, I remember. How could I forget?’

  They walked out onto the plaza. The road was still a dirt track, unchanged since the days of their grandparents. It ran sleepily around the square which itself was lined with tall tree
s. She noticed they still painted the lower part of the bark with white Cal to keep the ants off. Small houses and shopfronts opened out into the sunshine, their shady interiors oblique behind dusty glass windows. The boliche was still in the same place on the corner. It was the cafe where all the gauchos would get together to drink Mate and play cards. Paco used to spend every Sunday morning there, reading the papers over a cup of coffee; Sofia imagined he still did, being a creature of habit.

  As it was the afternoon the shops were all closed for siesta and the plaza was still and quiet in the heat of the day. They wandered into the square to sit on one of the benches in the shade. They were about to sit down when a voice called at them from one of the other benches. To their horror and surprise it was the famous Vieja Bruja.

  lBuen dia, Senora Hoffstetta,’ said Santi, nodding his head politely.

  ‘I didn’t know the Old Witch was still alive!’ hissed Sofia through her smile.

  ‘I don’t think witches die,’ replied Santi.

  La Vieja Bruja sat hunched in a long black dress - no wonder she had been given the nickname Old Witch. As a child, she had found her terrifying, Sofia recalled. Her face was small and pinched, like an old walnut. Her eyes were as black as her teeth and you could smell her a mile off. She clasped in her long,

  knotted fingers a brown paper bag.

  The cousins sat down and tried to ignore her, but all the while they were talking Sofia could feel the woman’s eyes on her back.

  ‘Is she still looking at us?’ she asked Santi.

  ‘Yes, she is. Just pretend she’s not there.’

  ‘I can feel her. I wish she’d go away.’

  ‘Don’t worry, she’s not a witch, really.’

  ‘Don’t believe it. She makes the witches in storybooks look like Snow White.’ They both laughed into their hands. ‘She probably knows we’re talking about her.’

  ‘If she’s a witch then she most certainly does.’

  ‘Let’s go. I really can’t bear her!’ So they stood up to go.

  ‘Bah!’ she screeched. They ignored her and hurried on. ‘Bah!’ she persisted. lMala suerte. You had your chance. Mala suerte. Bah!’ They both stopped and looked at each other in astonishment. Santi was on the point of turning to confront her but Sofia managed to grab him by the arm and pull him on. ‘Twin souls. I see into your auras, twin souls! Bah!’ she continued.

  ‘O Dios, she’s frightening me. Let’s get out of here,’ insisted Sofia and they

  walked at great speed.

  ‘How dare she talk to us like that, the gossipmonger!’ Santi said angrily. ‘It’s people like her who go around making trouble for everyone.’

  ‘You know she really is a witch, there’s no mistaking it.’

  ‘Well, why doesn’t she just piss off on her broomstick then.’ They both laughed nervously.

  Suddenly, just when they thought they had seen the last of her, she appeared before them, crooked and reeking, with the semblance of an oversized, hairy bat. She shuffled up to Sofia and thrust the brown paper bag into her unsuspecting hands. She held it with the revulsion of someone carrying a bag full of dripping entrails, it felt soft and damp in her fingers. She looked into the woman’s black eyes and panicked, but La Vieja Bruja nodded at her reassuringly and closed her hands around the bag. She squirmed and stepped backwards in a vain attempt to be rid of her. La Vieja Bruja grinned and muttered her name ‘Sofia Solanas’ before disappearing back into the square.

  Once safely in the truck, Sofia slammed the door and rolled up the window. She was shaking.

  ‘What’s in the bag?’ Santi asked impatiently, beginning to find the whole

  situation amusing.

  ‘I don’t know why you’re smirking, there’s nothing funny about it. You open it!’ she cried and thrust it at him. Slowly he opened it and peered inside with half an eye as if he expected to find something grotesque within. Then he laughed loudly with relief.

  ‘Well, what is it?’ she asked.

  ‘You’re not going to believe this! It’s a sapling - an ombu tree, for you to plant.’

  ‘An ombu tree? What on earth am I going to do with an ombu tree?’

  ‘Well, it certainly won’t grow in England.’ He began to laugh again.

  ‘What an odd woman. How old is she? I thought she was ancient twenty years ago,’ she exclaimed hotly. ‘She should be cold in her grave by now.'

  ‘Why give you an ombu tree?’ muttered Santi, frowning. ‘I’m surprised she even knew who you were.’

  He started the engine and Sofia was relieved when they left the town behind and headed back to Santa Catalina.

  ‘What did she mean by twin souls?’ she said after a while.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘She’s right though, we are. But I don’t think you need to be clairvoyant to see that. She’s so creepy. The trouble is, people believe her,’ she said angrily. ‘Soledad for one.’

  ‘Oh, and you don’t?’ he said and his mouth twisted into the beginnings of a smirk.

  ‘Of course not!’ she sniffed.

  ‘Then why are we even discussing her? If you didn’t believe her you wouldn’t even bother thinking about her.’

  ‘That doesn’t make sense. I don’t believe her, she’s a nuisance and I don’t think she should go around frightening people. I don’t believe in witches.’

  ‘But you believe in the magic of the ombu.’

  ‘That’s different.’

  ‘No, it’s not!’

  ‘It is. She’s a madwoman. She should be locked up. The ombu is something altogether different. The magic of nature.’

  ‘Chofi?’

  ‘Yes?’ she said irritably. Then looked at him and noticed the beginnings of a smile tickle his face.

  ‘Has the ombu ever made a wish of yours come true?’ he said, his eyes concentrating on the road as if he needed something to distract himself from laughing.

  ‘Yes, it has.’

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘I once made a wish that you would fall in love with me,’ she replied and smiled triumphantly.

  ‘I don’t think that had anything to do with the ombu.’

  ‘You know nothing about it!’ she exclaimed. ‘You just don’t understand the power of nature and you know something, I’ll bet you this sapling will grow in England.’ She turned and caught him smiling. ‘Are you laughing at me?’ she complained. ‘Stop the car.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Stop the car. Now!’

  He steered off the road and up a track to some trees that opened out into a field. He switched off the engine and turned to face her. His large green eyes and mischievous grin were irresistible. She felt her irritation lift.

  ‘Look - she was creepy,’ insisted Sofia.

  ‘She certainly was. But what’s the harm in saying we’re twin souls?’ he said, kissing her neck.

  ‘She said we’d had our chance.’

  ‘What does she know? She’s only an old witch,’ he chuckled, unbuttoning her dress.

  As soon as his warm lips were on hers she forgot about the ranting of the old woman in the plaza. He tasted of salt and smelt of that uniquely Santi smell she loved so much. She climbed astride him, catching her breath as she negotiated the steering wheel and gear stick. He pulled up her dress and ran his hand over the tender skin of her inner thighs. They were tacky with sweat. He pulled her panties to one side and slid into her. Placing his hands in the small of her back he pulled her against him, guiding her movements. As they made love half dressed she felt once more the excitement of breaking the rules.

  Chapter 46

  Back at Santa Catalina they fell into the pool. The afternoon sun hung low in the west, smouldering like a dying coal in the limpid sky. Mosquitoes hovered about the trees and grass and the scents of Antonio’s roses and honeysuckle reached them across the water. Lying with their arms over the edge, gazing out over the fields, they talked about the things that had changed during the years that they had been part
ed.

  ‘You know, I miss Jose,’ said Sofia. ‘Pablo’s sweet, but I somehow connected with Jose.’

  ‘He was a wise old bird.’

  ‘Who’s this Javier? He’s very handsome.’

  ‘He’s Soledad and Antonio's son. Didn’t she tell you?’ he replied, surprised.

  ‘Soledad’s son? Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course I’m sure. I can’t believe she didn’t tell you. She probably assumed you knew.’

  ‘How awful. I’ve done nothing but talk about myself since the moment I arrived.’

  ‘He’s a bit of a hero.’

  ‘Really, how come?’

  Santi told her how Javier had been helping his father with the plants around the pool a few years before, while the family sat sunbathing and chatting on the terrace that circled the water. Clara and Felix had been playing quietly on the grass with their other small cousins. No one had noticed Felix crawling over to the edge of the water to feel it with his hands. Javier just happened to look into the pool to see what looked like a small grey blur sitting at the bottom, unmoving. He didn’t waste a moment. He dived in to find the small object was little Felix. He pulled the child out of the water, gasping and spluttering for air. He saved his life. If it hadn’t been for Javier, Felix would have drowned. Paco gave him a new saddle with his initials engraved on a silver plaque as a reward for saving the life of his grandson. No one ever forgot what Javier had done. Paco had always been especially fond of Javier.

  The moment they finished their swim Sofia headed back to the house, straight into the kitchen where Soledad was preparing the dinner.

  ‘Soledad, you never told me you had a son,’ she said enthusiastically, endeavouring to make up for her previous lack of interest. ‘He’s so

  good-looking too.’

  ‘Just like Antonio.' laughed Soledad.

  ‘Well, more like you, Soledad.' said Sofia. ‘I feel awful - I’ve seen him around the campo for the last few days and I’ve never said anything.’

  ‘I thought you knew.’

  ‘Well, I do now. Santi told me how he saved Felix’s life. You must be very proud.’

  ‘I am. We both are. Javier polishes his saddle every day. It’s the most precious thing he owns. Señor Paco is a very generous man,’ she said with reverence.