Summer Comes to Albarosa

by Iris Danbury

  ‘Quiet! I’m trying to write a book on some of the lesser-known Spanish fiestas and customs. The processions and so on. Everyone knows about those in Seville or Barcelona, but there are any amount in small towns and villages all over Spain. Soon many of them will disappear for lack of support, so I had the idea of including them in a book with as many photographs as the publisher will stand.’

  ‘And you were photographing Benita for that purpose?’

  ‘Not at all. I want her picture as one of my pin-ups. Besides, that costume is not really her local dress. She just wears that rig-out for her flamenco dancing. But of course, you’ve seen her.’

  ‘Once.’

  He stared at her in mock surprise. ‘Do you mean to tell me that our hero Paul hasn’t taken you to the Marroqui? I know that Don Ramiro escorted you there.’

  ‘Paul and I just haven’t time to keep going into the town for dinner and entertainment,’ she said brusquely.

  He bent his head to one side and regarded her with mocking curiosity. ‘I’m all agog to know how you spend the evenings then. Little intimate dinners by candlelight with Paul? And afterwards, I suppose, you pore over the accounts together? Or do you sit side by side and read poetry?’

  She was now so angry that she was forced to laugh. Otherwise, she might have slapped his face and that would have proved that she was really riled.

  ‘It’s fatal to judge other people by your own standards and tastes,’ she said sweetly. ‘Yes, Paul and I do usually have dinner together in my villa and I cook it. Nothing elaborate, you understand.’

  Brooke sighed gustily. ‘Some men just fall feet first into the lap of luxury and take their cushioned ease as though they had a right to it. You never offered to cook a dinner for me.’

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t hope to please you,’ she said testily. ‘You’d criticise and find fault with everything.’

  ‘Here am I, condemned to solitary snacks that I can knock up at home or else forced to eat in restaurants up in the town. Invite me one night and let’s have a sample of your cordon bleu.’

  ‘I’m not going to be ordered whom to invite,’ she retorted. ‘Wait until you’re asked. Besides, I understand you liked being undisturbed and left alone to your own devices.’

  ‘So I did. So I do!’ he corrected himself hastily.

  ‘That’s all right, then,’ she said smugly. ‘If you change your mind, I’ll send my friend along to you. She’s young, pretty and gay.’

  ‘And not weighed down by the cares of these establishments. Pity that a little bit of responsibility makes you so difficult, Caran.’

  ‘Difficult? That makes two of us. You’re the man who won’t move out of his villa for a couple of days while it’s repainted.’ She turned towards the porch. ‘Adios!’

  There was no answering farewell and Caran had walked a few paces down the path. ‘Hi! I’ve changed my mind about that!’ Brooke called in a loud voice. ‘If you’ll supply me with the paint and brushes and so on, I’ll do it myself.’

  ‘Are you capable?’ she shouted back, for she was now some distance away.

  ‘Immensely! You’ll be envious when you see the result. Besides, think of the money I’ll save you.’

  ‘All right,’ she agreed, and hurried off down the path. Brooke Eldridge was quite impossible with his ‘blow hot, blow cold’ moods. Quite probably in a day or so he would back out of his promise to do his own decorations. The only way to cope with him was to accept him at any moment as he happened to be, expansive or playing the hermit as he chose.

  Caran had more important concerns to attend to today in Paul’s absence. She had already wasted too much time on Brooke this morning and she had to make preparations for Julie’s visit.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘It was really very deceitful of you, Caran, to keep quiet about all these exciting men you’ve met!’ complained Julie a couple of days after her arrival.

  The two girls were sunning themselves in the porch of the Villa Joyosa.

  ‘What should I have done?’ asked Caran, with an amused smile. ‘Written you a precise report on them, describing their appearance, their jobs, their prospects? Besides, when you say “all these men”, you make it sound as though I’ve met half an army instead of a couple.’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t put it past you to have another couple up your sleeve with notices—“Strictly reserved”.’

  ‘You mean reserved for Julie?’ Caran laughed. ‘Actually, I’ll spill a secret. I have an extremely handsome Spanish Don tucked away in my sleeve.’ She thrust out her bare arm. She was wearing a sleeveless dress.

  Julie sighed mockingly. ‘For a girl who’s never really gone overboard for a man, you’ve hotted up the pace.’

  ‘And how would you know who might have tempted me overboard, as you call it?’

  ‘Darling, you can always tell by a girl’s face when she’s in love.’

  ‘All right. Next time you start raving about your latest conquest, I shall study your face very carefully and see what I can learn.’

  By the time Julie had stayed in Albarosa for little more than a week, it was evident that she had made a tremendous impact on Paul. Instant victory, Caran termed it.

  In fact, since the girl’s arrival, he had spent most of his time taking Julie out and about for trips to Almeria or Murcia, up the Sierras or down to little fishing villages along the coast. Usually they came home very late and Juke would explain that Paul had taken her to dinner at some delectable place along the route home.

  ‘I know I’m monopolising him, pet,’ she apologised one night as she crept into her own bed in the room she shared with Caran, ‘hut don’t grudge me my little hour. It’s not for long. Soon I’ll be back to the grind.’

  ‘Of course I don’t grudge you,’ murmured Caran sleepily. ‘Anyway, Paul isn’t my property.’

  ‘No, he isn’t.’ Julie’s decisive tone precluded argument. After a pause she said, ‘You have your compensation in the Eldridge man.’

  Caran pretended to be asleep and did not reply, but in the darkness she smiled. Julie had met Brooke Eldridge only briefly the day after she had arrived and since then he had been away for several days, either on his working site or on one of those mysterious trips that he took from time to time.

  Mysterious they might appear to Paul and others, but Caran now knew that Brooke’s absences were on account of the small fiestas taking place all the year round in one or another village or minor town. This was a confidence that, although discovered by accident, she would not divulge.

  Paul in any case was not distressed by Brooke’s nonappearance for several days. ‘I suppose he has a girl-friend or two somewhere up in the mountains or at one of the villages along the coast, but I wouldn’t care if he never came back.’ Caran smiled and said nothing. ‘I’m sorry, though,’ Paul continued, ‘to leave you to cope with all the business details as they crop up, but you’re quite capable now of handling almost anything here. I feel I must show Julie as much of this part of Spain while she’s here. You understand that, don’t your’

  ‘Of course,’ agreed Caran,

  ‘Actually, she could be a splendid advertisement for us and the villas when she gets home. Personal inspection and all that, you see. By the way, is she staying over Christmas?’

  ‘I don’t know. Have you asked her?’

  Paul looked across the garden for a moment. ‘No, but I’ll do so.’ He turned towards Caran with a sudden smile. ‘After she goes back, we’ll do some trips out together, you and I. How would that be?’

  ‘Fine,’ answered Caran in as even a tone as she could manage. So she was to be picked up and taken for car drives and outings when Julie was no longer there. Paul didn’t mean to be patronising. It was merely his way of trying to be kind.

  ‘I must see if Julie’s ready,’ muttered Paul. As he went towards the Villa Joyosa, Julie strolled out to the porch and stood there for a moment as though she were posing for a photographer. Evidently Paul thought so, too.

&n
bsp; ‘Hold it a moment while I get my camera!’ he called, and rushed away towards his own villa.

  Certainly Julie looked worth any amount of film this morning in a new dress of cream wool trimmed with emerald green pockets and scarf.

  ‘Very smart,’ commented Caran.

  Julie gurgled with laughter. ‘The dress? Or do you mean my effect on Paul?’

  Caran laughed. ‘I was talking about the dress, but I see what you mean.’

  ‘Technique,’ murmured Julie, putting a hand to her lovely red-gold hair. ‘Merely a matter of knowing when to switch on—or off, darling. You should try using it some time.’

  ‘I’m always willing to learn,’ Caran said spiritedly.

  But then Paul was back again, checking his exposure meter and posing Julie in the most advantageous positions.

  Caran knew when she was one too many. ‘Goodbye, both of you!’ she called. ‘Have a pleasant day.’

  She hurried down the path away from the villas and walked along the rough, stony strip of land above the golden beach. She stared at the sea, green as a peridot this morning, and the high, light clouds above. How fortunate it was that she had not lost her heart to Paul, or she would have been raving jealous of Julie’s possessive attitude.

  On her return she decided to inspect the two new villas in process of being built and see what progress had been made.

  A dozen workmen busied themselves with cement-mixing, fixing windows or plastering inside walls. Both roofs were on, in one case a flat roof to form an extra patio. At the moment there was no balustrade and Caran hoped no one would carelessly step over the edge into space. .

  She discussed a few details with the foreman in charge of the buildings, asking questions as to completion and receiving emphatic answers that everything would be speedy.

  ‘With never a mamma to be heard,’ she reflected.

  There were several matters that Paul must attend to, chiefly financial, and Caran was on her way back to the other villas to write down her notes before she forgot them, when Brooke suddenly appeared on the path.

  ‘Oh, you’ve come back, I sec, she remarked.

  ‘Did you miss me, then?’

  ‘Not really. I’ve had other things to do.’ She gave him a friendly grin.

  ‘Where’s your luscious-looking friend this morning?’

  ‘Out with Paul somewhere,’ she replied.

  ‘And that pair have gone off and left you: Poor little Miss Lonely Heart!’

  ‘Spare me your pity, please,’ she begged. ‘Julie is here for a holiday and doesn’t want to spend it all outside the porch of our villa.’

  ‘True.’ He nodded. Pic broke off a dead leaf from a yucca. ‘Busy today?’

  ‘Not particularly. I’ve just inspected the two new villas and I’ve a few notes to make about those.’

  ‘Right. Then how would you like to come with me to a little village along the coast? Today is one of their pre-Christmas festivals and I’d like to see what goes on.’

  Caran hesitated. Was she justified in Paul’s absence in leaving ail the villas without supervision?

  Brooke misread her hesitation. ‘What frightens you? The idea of spending a day with me? You trusted Don Ramiro, didn’t you? And that was in the dark. What about Paul? You go all over the place with him. Or rather, you did until your delightful friend arrived and shoved your nose out of joint.’

  Caran made up her mind. ‘So my nose is out of joint, is it? Very well, Mr. Eldridge, I’ll be glad to come out with you, if it’s only to prove that your assumptions are quite incorrect.’

  ‘I see. All right, I’ll accept you on the rebound, since the ball’s in my court. How long do you take to get ready?’

  ‘Ten minutes or so.’

  ‘Make it ten minutes and forget the rest,’ he advised, ‘or I shall set off without you. I don’t want to miss half the show.’

  ‘Any more remarks like that and I shall definitely decide to stay at home!’

  He put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a little push. ‘Don’t get uppish or bad-tempered. You’re not the one with red hair.’

  She was about to make some further retort, but he gave her a second gentle push. ‘Save it for another time,’ he murmured.

  In her villa she noted with dismay the untidy state of her bedroom. Julie’s clothes were strewn on the beds, on chairs, on the floor. A white sandal hung halfway out of a suitcase and a dressing-wrap lay crumpled inside the open wardrobe.

  Caran had been aware of Julie’s untidiness during the rime they had shared a flat, but then they had not also shared a bedroom.

  Now she hurriedly hung a few garments in the wardrobe, put the shoes away and attended to her own appearance. Even then, Brooke’s patience appeared to be minimal, for in a few minutes he was shouting from the porch.

  ‘Don’t be so impatient!’ she shouted back, thrusting her feet into more sturdy sandals, for she guessed that today’s outing might involve a good deal of walking.

  ‘I’d better leave a note for Paul,’ she said when she joined Brooke, who was now prowling restlessly around the porch.

  ‘Why? Will he expect you to be here when he returns so that you can welcome him with open arms?’

  ‘It’s a matter of courtesy to let him know that I’m out for the day.’

  ‘And you think he’d worry while he has your red-haired companion alongside?’

  Caran did not bother to reply. She scribbled a note and left it in a conspicuous place in the porch. Most likely she would be home long before Paul and Julie returned from their trip.

  In Brooke’s shabby estate car as he drove along the coast road Caran wondered why he had invited her to accompany him, but he would never give her a straight answer even if she asked.

  She knew that they were approaching the fishing village of Matana and somewhere nearby were some of Don Ramiro’s estates.

  ‘Can you see that old ruined castle up on the hill?’ Brooke waved a hand in its direction. ‘One of the places formerly owned by the Mendosas, ancestors of your friend Don Ramiro.’

  She was startled by the way in which it appeared that he had read her thoughts. ‘I hardly think I could be considered as a friend of Don Ramiro,’ she answered. ‘One drive from Granada and one dinner here doesn’t exactly put me into that exclusive circle.’

  ‘Oh?’ He gave her a momentary glance of surprise. ‘Is that all? You haven’t made much headway, have you?’

  ‘Some time ago you were warning me about his villainous motives,’ she pointed out. ‘Now you’re telling me that I ought to be running after him.’

  Brooke laughed loudly. ‘The idea of your running after

  Don Ramiro is very comical indeed. All I meant was ‘

  ‘Whatever you meant isn’t important.’ she snapped crossly. ‘Then why docs a simple remark make you so indignant?’ he queried in the smoothest of tones.

  She realised immediately that by rising to his bait she had weakened her own position; she must learn to play it cool with Brooke when he probed into her friendships.

  Now she judged it better not to reply too hastily in case she floundered still further. After a few moments she asked, ‘Would you have any old cast-off clothes for Felipe. Gabriela’s husband? He tries to dress respectably for his work as a waiter, but his off-duty clothes are so thin and shabby.’

  Fie negotiated a sharp bend as the road wound downhill into Matana. ‘An adroit change of subject,’ he murmured. ‘Well, I might find him something, I suppose, although most of the time I’m wearing my own old clothes.’

  ‘Yes, I know—serviceable jackets and trousers when you’re working up at the site, but if you had an old sweater, I think Felipe would be glad of it.’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ he promised. ‘Are you giving your own delightful dresses to Gabriela?’

  Caran smiled. ‘She’s shorter and plumper than I am, but I thought I might buy her a dress or two and some for the children in Albarosa, if I can find some way of giving them to her wi
thout offending her pride.’

  He nodded. ‘Well, that’s a good mark you’ve earned. At least you’ve begun to understand the fierce Spanish pride that keeps many of the people struggling against circumstances that would cripple others.’

  ‘Thank you for the compliment,’ she murmured in a mock humble voice.

  ‘Has it occurred to you why there’s been so much trouble at the villas, people not wanting to work there?’

  ‘Naturally. If they don’t receive payment, they’re not likely to continue putting in their labour.’

  ‘There’s more to it than that,’ Brooke said decisively. ‘With Spaniards, it isn’t always a sheer question of money, although they like to receive what they believe they’ve earned. But Paul Fernwood handles everyone so badly. He has the finesse of a bulldozer. Even you do better than that.’

  ‘I suppose you mean I have the finesse of a small lorry?’

  ‘My goodness, you make it difficult for a man to give you even the smallest compliment!’ he complained.

  ‘Well, two compliments from you in a couple of minutes quite bowl me over!’

  He had left the outskirts of the village of Matana and was now climbing away from the coast towards the lower slopes of the mountains. On either side of the road were terraced vineyards or olive groves, but away to the west the sierras were bare with a warm rose-brown tint.

  ‘Is your irrigation site somewhere near here?’ Caran asked after a few miles.

  ‘No. It’s much farther west and on the south side of the sierra,’ he told her.

  ‘Is it a long job?’ she continued. ‘Does it take several years?’

  ‘That depends on the size, of course. The one I’m working on is comparatively small. Others in Spain are three times as large, according to the area of supply. Then again, this southeast part of Spain is very fertile already. It grows a tremendous amount of fruit—oranges, melons, figs, grapes. So large irrigation schemes or dams are not so necessary. It’s in the interior of the country where the waterworks are needed.’