Summer Comes to Albarosa

by Iris Danbury

  Beside Julie, Caran knew herself to be diminished. When they had shared a flat their jobs had divided them during the day, they met sometimes for an evening meal when Julie had no man to take her out to dinner. Breakfast was a rush with one eye always on the clock.

  But now with Julie here all day unless she was out with Paul, Caran was aware that her own personality, her lively spirit, her zest in helping to manage the villas was slowly evaporating, leaving her a negative shadow in the background.

  Caran told herself that she must snap out of such self-deprecatory attitudes and recover her own individuality. Julie was obviously bored for the time being with Paul and needed a new stimulus of masculine gender. Let her tackle Brooke, then, and if he proved a harder nut to crack than Julie expected, then perhaps that would keep her pleasantly occupied all the longer.

  With these thoughts running through her mind, Caran picked up her inventory lists and moved towards the porch of Paul’s villa.

  ‘I must go back to Joyosa,’ she said. ‘My day out yesterday has left me with plenty to do. I’ve also Brooke’s notes to type out for him when I have time.’

  ‘Notes? What notes would they be?’ Julie was instantly alerted.

  ‘Oh, just some jottings about the fiesta generally,’ Caran answered casually. She realised that she had been slightly indiscreet.

  ‘Why does he want notes about it?’ queried Julie. ‘Does he write for the papers or something?’

  ‘Nothing like that, I think. He’s been in various parts of Spain on irrigation schemes and I suppose he likes to keep some sort of record.’

  Caran escaped before Julie could ask any mere questions.

  The Villa Joyosa was in its usual state of untidiness, with Julie’s possessions strewn about and as Caran collected shoes from under a chair and replaced Julie’s dresses in the wardrobe, it occurred to her that Julie could make herself more useful. At the present time most of the domestic work fell upon Caran, who had to try to keep the villas, her own and Paul’s, clean. In addition, she usually prepared lunch for the three when they were all at home. So far, no maids had been engaged, but that was a point on which she must soon approach Paul.

  ‘Yes, I’ve been thinking about that,’ Paul agreed, when she mentioned the subject. ‘We must find some suitable girls in the town. There ought to be plenty. What about that girl who was here last year? Benita, I think her name was.’

  ‘I told you she was working in a shop in the town,’ returned Caran.

  ‘We’ll see if we can get her back again. A pretty little piece, if I remember.’ Into Paul’s eyes came a reminiscent glow.

  ‘I’ll ask her,’ promised Caran.

  She was anxious to see Benita on her own account, for she wanted to know where Gabriela and her family had gone and if they were comfortably accommodated.

  She called at the shack where Manuela and Benita lived, but the girl was apparently not in a very talkative mood. She was busy sewing the hem of a new flamenco dress, one with a red satin bodice and black lace flounces edged with red.

  ‘I came because I wanted to know what your sister and her family had found a comfortable place to live,’ explained Caran, after her first enquiries had met with silence or a muttered ‘Si or ‘No’.

  ‘She is comfortable,’ asserted Benita.

  ‘Is it possible for me to see them? Where do they live now?’

  Benita lifted an alarmed face. ‘Not possible. Gabriela would not like that.’

  Caran shrugged. There was no point in pursuing that rack.

  ‘How would you like to come back to the villas and work instead of in the shop?’ she asked. ‘We could offer you good wages and this rime I promise that you will be paid properly every week without fail. If she’s not too far away, perhaps your sister could also help.’

  Benita shook her head. ‘No,’ she said at last. ‘I do not wish to work in the villas.’

  ‘Why? You were happy enough last year, weren’t you? Oh. I know you had too much to do, but we could avoid that this year. We will take on enough maids for all the villas.’ Benita’s refusal was even more vehement.

  ‘If the English senor persuades you to come, would you agree?’ asked Caran.

  She was unprepared for the storm of hostility that her innocuous question aroused.

  Benita flung aside the dress and jumped to her feet. ‘I will not come for the English senor! I do not like him.’

  Caran stared at the Spanish girl. ‘But I thought you liked him quite well—unless you’ve quarrelled with him. Why, only the other day he was taking your photograph in your other flamenco dress.’

  A wave of relief broke over Benita’s features. ‘Oh, yes, the Senor Brooke. Yes, he is kind. But the other English senor, the one called Pablo—him I do not like.’

  ‘I see.’ Caran accepted the position. If the girl disliked Paul, there was nothing to be done.

  ‘Not even the Senor Brooke would wish me to work in the villas again after—’ Benita broke off abruptly.

  Caran smiled encouragingly, but did not press the girl for further information. Paul had remembered Benita, so it was not difficult to guess that at some time last year he had flirted rather too heavily with this attractive Spanish girl.

  ‘Then if you know other girls in Albarosa who would be willing to come to us, would you let me know?’

  Benita’s full rich mouth became a thin red line. ‘Senorita, you have been kind to my family and for this I would like to help you, but if the Senor Pablo is to stay here for a long time, then the girls will not come.’

  ‘I’m sorry about that,’ was all that Caran could say at this moment. The villas apparently had a bad reputation with the girls of Albarosa.

  ‘Then you see I have my dancing,’ continued Benita in a happier tone. ‘If I were a maid in a villa, I could not also be dancing in the evenings.’

  ‘We could arrange that for you, no doubt,’ offered Caran, ‘but anyway, think it over and if you change your mind, come and tell me.’

  Benita smiled, a slow, sad smile that told Caran that there was not the slightest possibility that the girl would change her mind.

  Benita picked up the flamenco dress again and made a courteous little gesture towards Caran. ‘You will permit me to continue with the sewing?’

  ‘Of course. It’s a handsome dress. A new one?’

  Benita’s eyes softened as she smiled. ‘Yes. The Senor Brooke bought it for me. But last night at the cafe I tore one of the flounces, so I must repair it.’

  ‘I see. Adios, Benita.’

  Caran was thoughtful on her way back to her villa. So Benita apparently detested Paul because he had probably pawed her once too often and Brooke bought her new flamenco dresses. An interesting situation, she reflected. Was Brooke also responsible for finding accommodation for Gabriela? She now suspected that he had invited her to the fiesta so that she should not be on the spot when Gabriela and her family moved out. But why couldn’t he have told her?

  The next evening Paul took both Julie and Caran to dinner at the Marroqui restaurant in Albarosa, the one to which Don Ramiro had first taken her and where Benita usually danced.

  The evening could scarcely be called a success. Paul overplayed his hand by devoting most of his attention to Caran and almost ignoring Julie. Possibly he was trying to make Julie jealous, but Caran could have told him that this was not the method.

  After Benita’s performance Paul beckoned to the girl, inviting her to join him at the table, but she smiled graciously and with a provocative twirl of her skirts disappeared through a door at the side of the dais on which the musicians played.

  ‘Surely you don’t have to invite tenth-rate flamenco dancers to in us,’ complained Julie, moodily gazing into her wineglass.

  ‘She isn’t only a dancer,’ put in Caran quickly. ‘She lives near the villas and I’ve been trying to persuade her to work for us as a maid.’

  ‘She seemed all right last year,’ murmured Paul.

  Julie immediately
smiled. ‘Oh, last year! All is now clear. She had enough of you, Paul Somewhere you slipped up and offended her. Now she won’t come when you whistle to her.’

  Paul flushed a little uneasily. Then he glanced from Julie to Caran and back again. ‘I’m not worrying much about a Spanish dancing girl when I’ve you two to keep me company.’

  ‘You’re not really very expert at driving tandem,’ was Julie’s opinion.

  Caran was relieved when they were all home again. Julie’s presence had created undue tensions in a situation that had started as a simple dinner for three. Next time she would insist that Paul took Julie alone. Then they could wrangle as they pleased.

  Paul went off to Almeria early next morning before Julie was up.

  ‘What a meanie!’ Julie exclaimed when Caran told her. ‘Not even asking me if I wanted to go with him.’

  ‘Did you want very much to go with him? The other day you were bored by his company.’

  ‘I’m just as bored here and at least I could have done some shopping in Almeria,’ retorted Julie.

  ‘Then suppose you cook the lunch for us both while I run around the villas and see what’s going on.’ suggested Caran.

  ‘Oh, no, indeed. I’ll come with you on your inspection tour and see if this elusive Mr. Eldridge has yet returned from playing with his dams and canals or whatever they are.’

  ‘In that case, you’ll get fruit and cheese for lunch,’ threatened Caran. ‘Nothing else.’

  ‘Suits me.’ Julie laughed. ‘We ought not to be doing these things for ourselves anyway. What are maids for?’

  Caran turned to face her friend. ‘All right. Then if you’re so bored, go up into the town and see if you can obtain a maid or two. You’ve already said that Paul wants you to take on public relations work for the villas. Now’s your chance to try your hand at the job. I’ll give you a note of what we can pay and the number of hours they’re expected to work.’

  Julie gasped with astonishment, tinged with admiration.

  ‘Caran! I’d no idea you were such a good business woman. Yes, I’ll do as you say. I’ll have lunch somewhere in the town, so don’t wait for me.’

  ‘Huh! I shall eat my melon and cheese whenever it suits me.’ Caran gave Julie an affectionate push. ‘Now get out from under my feet, there’s a pet.’

  Julie laughed again. ‘Oh, Caran darling, that’s overdoing it. Just because I said you were a good little business woman, you’re imagining yourself a high-powered director of the company.’

  Caran grinned but said nothing as she went out through the gardens on her way to check up the painting and decorating.

  About the middle of the morning Brooke appeared. He came along the shore path towards his own villa and Caran noticed how tired he looked. His face was almost grey, he had two days’ stubble on his chin and his hair was caked with mud.

  ‘Hallo,’ he greeted her, yawning.

  ‘Buenos dias,’ she answered. ‘You look as if you’ve been up all night.’

  ‘All of two nights,’ he told her.

  ‘Trouble at the irrigation works?’

  ‘More than trouble. Nearly a catastrophe. Up in the sierra where the dam straddles across the valley, a new road is also being built. Part of the concrete work gave way and a few thousand tons of rubble cascaded down into the valley.’

  ‘Oh, that was bad luck. Anyone hurt?’

  ‘Fortunately, no. Or at least no one seriously damaged. One man clambered down to look for his tools and managed to hurt his leg. It was lucky there wasn’t much water in the valley or we’d have been in a worse mess. As it is, it will take several weeks to clear up.’

  ‘I expect you want a bath and some sleep,’ she suggested. ‘Can I get you a meal or anything?’

  He rubbed his mud-stained hands through his equally muddy hair. The smile he gave her was unexpectedly amiable, almost tender. ‘Thoughtful little soul, aren’t you?’ His tone of voice held the usual derision, whatever the smile might have conveyed.

  ‘All I wanted was to help,’ she grumbled.

  ‘And so you shall. Give me half an hour or so to bathe and shave and change out of these horrible clothes and we’ll go and lunch together at El Catalan in the town. I could do with a good solid meal—no offence to your cooking, I hope.’

  ‘None,’ she agreed, with a laugh. ‘Rut aren’t you tired?’

  ‘Too tired to sleep until I’ve eaten.’

  ‘All right. I’ll be ready.’ She watched him go towards his Villa Zafiro, saw’ how his shoulders drooped and his feet dragged along the path. She should probably have fried to insist on his going to bed at once after he had washed, but that would have been useless. If he was determined to lunch in the town she could at least see that he came home again promptly and took a long rest in the afternoon.

  At the same time if ‘hey went to El Catalan, she might have a chance to ask Felipe where he was living now. She had not had an opportunity of telling Brooke about Gabriela’s move, bur in his rackety old estate car on the way up to the town, she told him of her surprise and the fact that she couldn’t get any further news from Benita.

  ‘So at last your friend Don Ramiro has done something for them. Or was it Paul?’

  ‘It certainly wasn’t Paul,’ she answered. ‘He was as surprised as the rest of us.’

  ‘But darned glad that someone else had done the dirty work for him?’

  ‘For a man who’s nearly falling asleep over the wheel, you’re surprisingly smart, hut we’ll let that pass. Paul was glad that he hadn’t to undertake such an unpleasant task.’

  ‘Rubbish! He’d have relished it. The wonder is that he didn’t bundle the family out neck and crop long before this. Was that your doing, Caran?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. He knew I was sympathetic to them, of course. Where have they gone?’

  ‘How should I know? Maybe Don Ramiro has found them an excellent apartment at a nominal rent.’

  Was Brooke stalling or was he really as ignorant as he pretended?

  ‘By the way, on my way down this morning I passed your glamorous friend—what’s her name—Julie. I’d have given her a lift but for the fact that she was going in the opposite direction. I didn’t realise she was the kind of girl who would walk anywhere.’

  ‘She prefers to ride, certainly, but she was going into Albarosa to try to find some maids for us. Benita won’t work for the villas, I understand.’

  ‘Too true. Not while Don Juan is knocking around. If he wants to keep maids, he should learn to keep his hands in his pockets.’

  Caran did not choose to continue this conversation. While she and Julie might compare notes about Paul, it was not discreet that she should discuss her employer’s nephew with a man like Brooke.

  At El Catalan there was no sign of Felipe. ‘Doesn’t he work here now?’ asked Caran when Brooke had given the order.

  ‘Don’t know. He may have taken the day off. Oh, yes, I’ve sorted out a couple of garments for him. You said he needed something warm.’

  ‘Why, yes. Thank you, Brooke. But how shall I be able to give them to him?’

  ‘Benita will pass them on.’

  Benita. How fond was Brooke of that pretty Spanish dancer? Not that it mattered to Caran, of course. She supposed that many men in Brooke’s position, working in a foreign country apart from all their own friends and acquaintances, might indulge in an affair or two with a girl on the spot. Leaving out Benita, there had been that girl at the mountain inn, Angelina, who had blushed at the sight of Brooke. Was she another to whom he had made transient love and who now took refuge in telling him that she was betrothed? Her engagement might be quite true, but the girl also had her pride and probably would not allow Brooke to believe that she was desolate on his account.

  No doubt a number of English girls had stayed at the villas, but, if Brooke had made their acquaintance, a holiday fortnight or three weeks was insufficient for anything more than an ephemeral episode.

  ‘You’re remarkably si
lent,’ Brooke observed now across the table. ‘Is it a very knotty problem?’

  ‘Sorry,’ she apologised hastily. ‘No, not a problem at ah. I was only day-dreaming.’

  ‘I could see that,’ he answered crisply. ‘You were frowning horribly. A few night-dreams in addition will put paid to any of your pretensions to good looks and a smooth countenance.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she replied acidly. ‘I don’t know that I’ve ever tried to claim that I was very good-looking.’

  He leaned his elbows on the table and supported his chin on doubled fists. ‘No? Well, you’re no ugly duckling, true, although you don’t come up to the level of Jaunty Julie. She’s a stunner.’

  ‘No one disputes that.’

  ‘Still, you’re not bad. Straight nose, even if it does turn up just that fraction. Your eyes—well, I can’t see them if you don’t look at me,’ he complained.

  ‘Why should I stare at you if I find something more worth while?’ she demanded, giving him a childish, wide-eyed goggle, then turning her head to gaze around the restaurant.

  ‘Hazel, I suppose you’d call them,’ Brooke was saying. ‘Like a stream running over greenish-brown stones. Your hair is pretty. Does it curl up at the ends by itself or do you twiddle it up at nights in curling pins?’

  But Caran was scarcely listening to his left-handed compliments. On the far side of the room Julie sat alone at a table and as a waiter moved away from serving her, she glanced up and caught Caran’s gaze.

  ‘Julie’s over the other side,’ Caran told Brooke. ‘I’d better ask her to join us.’

  ‘No, don’t do that—’ Brooke began sharply, then he nodded. ‘Yes, I’ll ask the waiter.’