by Iris Danbury
A few moments later Julie was sitting at a place between Caran and Brooke. ‘What an unexpected meeting!’ she exclaimed, glancing from one to the other.
From then on, Julie took charge of the conversation, talking almost exclusively to Brooke, with an occasional ‘Don’t you think so, Caran?’ flung in the latter’s direction.
For some unexplained reason Caran was irritated. She was accustomed to Julie’s habit of annexing any male acquaintance whom Caran found amiable, and to inserting herself into a twosome and turning it not into a pleasant trio, but a new twosome that excluded Caran.
Now Caran recalled that hasty half-sentence of Brooke’s—‘No, don’t do that—’ broken off abruptly. Did that mean that he had preferred Caran’s company alone to sharing the lunch with a third person, even when that third party was Julie?
Caran smiled gently. At this moment such an idea seemed hardly likely, for he was leaning forward listening intently to Julie’s vivacious chatter.
It was inevitable that when the lunch was over Brooke drove the two girls back to the villas. Julie wanted to follow up her new opportunity by accompanying Brooke to his villa, but Caran said brusquely, ‘Brooke wants to get some sleep. He’s been up for most of two nights at the irrigation place.’ She was astounded to hear how harshly she had spoken.
Brooke passed a hand across his eyes. ‘Yes, I could really do with a few hours’ sleep. I have to be up there again early tomorrow morning.’
In the living room of the Villa Joyosa, Julie tossed her handbag on the table and flung herself into an armchair.
‘That was rather a chopper coming down, wasn’t it, darling?’ She gave Caran an oblique, upward glance. ‘What are you afraid of? Thar I might oust you with Brooke?’
‘I’ve no fear of that,’ replied Caran calmly. ‘I was merely thinking of Brooke—’
‘Obviously,’ cut in Julie.
Caran sighed. ‘Let me finish. There was a disastrous accident at the dam. He’s been up there for several days and had no sleep or very little. He needs some rest before he goes to the site again.’
‘In that case, I’m surprised he took you to lunch in the town.’
Caran laughed. ‘He said he couldn’t sleep until he’d eaten a proper meal.’ She turned towards Julie. ‘Besides, if he hadn’t taken me to El Catalan, you wouldn’t have had the chance of meeting him there, would you?’
Julie pouted. ‘Not exactly the only chance, though, elusive though he may be.’
Caran took the cover off her typewriter. ‘Will it disturb you if I type? I’ve some, lists to do for Paul.’
‘Don’t bother about me. I shall probably go for a walk somewhere.’
‘How did you get on about engaging the maids for the villas?’ asked Caran.
Julie was on her way to the bedroom. ‘Oh, that! I haven’t got very far, but we’ve plenty of time to sort that out.’
Caran made no reply. She guessed that Julie had not bothered much about the addresses, but spent most of her time looking in the shops until it was time for lunch at El Catalan.
Caran was busy with her typing when Julie emerged again wearing a short fur jacket striped in black and cream.
‘Like it?’ she queried, pirouetting for Caran’s benefit. ‘M’m, very fetching. No one but you would dare to wear horizontal stripes. Did you buy it here?’
Julie’s brown eyes sparkled. ‘Too pricey for me to buy. It’s an advance Christmas present.’
‘From Paul?’
‘How clever of you to guess! There are times when I really think he’s a pet.’
Caran laughed gently. ‘The other day you were complaining about him,’ she pointed out.
‘The other day is now history. Time marches on and I’m always flexible enough to take what opportunities are offered to me.’
With that cryptic remark Julie sauntered out of the villa, leaving Caran to ponder over the astonishing ups and downs of Paul’s relationship with Julie. Sometimes he appeared to be completely infatuated with Julie; at others he seemed bored or indifferent. Perhaps, thought Caran, the situation was quite simple; Paul and Julie understood each other in a sophisticated way that allowed for a certain freedom. In the past Julie had not hesitated to go out with other men while vowing that the particular man of the moment was really ‘the one’.
When Julie had not returned by about nine o’clock, Caran was slightly alarmed. She had prepared dinner for the two of them and now decided that probably Julie was dining at one of the restaurants in the town. Caran ate her own meal and cleared away.
It was nearly eleven o’clock when Caran heard voices outside the villa and she hurried to the porch, switching on the inside lights.
Julie and Brooke stood there. ‘Coming in for a drink?’ asked Julie, but Brooke shook his head.
Julie turned towards Caran. ‘Hope you weren’t anxious about me, Caran. I know what you are for worrying. I’ve been in Brooke’s villa and the time went by like a flash.’
‘Sure you won’t come in, Brooke?’ Caran asked him.
‘I’ve a spot of work to do. Just thought I’d see Julie back here.’ To Caran he seemed to be smiling inanely at Julie. ‘Those paths are rather dark.’
Julie giggled. ‘Frightfully dark. Maybe it’s intentional not to light them.’
When he had gone, Caran asked, ‘Are you hungry, Julie? I could get you something.’
Julie stood pensively by the table. ‘No, thanks. Brooke and I had a sort of picnic meal. He’s so fascinating that I forgot all about dinner. He’s quite a cook, too. Knocked up some concoction with tomatoes and onions and red peppers.’
‘What time did you call on him then?’ asked Caran.
‘Oh, I haven’t the faintest idea. I walked along the shore for a while, but it was dreary, so I came back and I was passing Brooke’s villa when he stepped out. Oh, I know what you’re thinking. That I barged in, banging on his door and disturbing his precious nap. It was all quite by chance. Naturally he invited me in.’
Caran smiled. ‘I suppose his place is untidy as ever.’
‘Not really. Lots of books and papers about, of course, but apparently Benita, that dancing girl, goes in every afternoon to clean and tidy the villa.’
This was news to Caran. So Brooke succeeded in obtaining maid service quite independently of the management! Was this one more pointer to Brooke’s involvement with the Spanish girl?
Julie moved restlessly about the room, then sat in an armchair, her fur Jacket tossed on to another chair. ‘I’ve been thinking about our position,’ she began. ‘I’d like to move into one of the other villas. The one called Esmeralda for preference. That’s been redecorated, so there’s no problem there.’ Caran was astounded. ‘But you can’t occupy a whole villa, especially Esmeralda. That’s the largest of all.’
‘Well, there are only two vacant at the moment, and the other one—which that Spanish family occupied—that has to be painted and so on.’
‘But why do you want to move at all?’ demanded Caran. Julie shrugged. ‘I’m cramped here. Sharing a bedroom is not ideal, you must admit.’
‘But Esmeralda has four bedrooms. Paul hopes to let several villas for late February. The new ones will be finished by then, we hope.’
‘I’m not stopping him letting them now, am I?’ Julie spoke sharply. ‘When he wants other people in them, I daresay some new arrangement can be found for me.’
‘You’ll probably have to return to this one. Obviously, I’ve been given the smallest of the lot, because I need to be on the spot without taking up too much accommodation. Have you told Paul that you want to change?’
‘Oh, yes. He agrees entirely. He suggested Cristal, but I prefer Esmeralda.’
Caran made no further attempt to argue. Whatever Paul settled she would accept, but in the darkness of the bedroom when Julie slept, while Caran’s eyelids would not close, she was aware that the Villa Esmeralda was next door to Zafiro, Brooke’s villa. Julie was evidently all set for a determined attack
on Brooke’s susceptibilities. Caran would be interested to see how far Julie would succeed, for Brooke was a tougher proposition than the more usual type of man who was instantly drawn to a glamorous personality. The needling thought penetrated Caran’s mind that she did not want Julie’s victory to happen too soon. She told herself that a little opposition would do Julie good, even though she knew in her heart that conflict would merely spur Julie on to fresh efforts. Anyway. Caran was on the sidelines and not at all involved in that argument. For once, she wanted to see Julie defeated. Why? Because of Brooke? He had never treated her as anything but a useful companion and a verbal sparring partner. Why should she fret if he became one more captive to Julie’s adroit technique with men? The question remained unanswered, for at last Caran had fallen asleep.
CHAPTER SIX
Paul surprised the two girls next morning by saying that he had arranged to rake them to lunch with Don Ramiro in Almeria the following day.
‘I thought I’d better give you a day’s notice and not spring it on you both,’ he said. ‘Dress yourselves up to the eyebrows, for this is a special occasion.’
‘I’m told he has a very fine house, a small palace, in fact,’ observed Caran.
‘Yes, very stylish,’ agreed Paul.
‘I suppose we must go tomorrow?’ queried Julie. ‘Why not one day next week?’
Paul looked shocked. ‘My dearest Julie, this is almost a royal command! You don’t quibble about dates when Don Ramiro invites you to his mansion.’
‘Oh, I see. A business lunch and you’re raking us along to stop it all getting too boring. All right, I’ll dig out something not too dowdy, although I’d have preferred an opportunity to buy something special—if that’s possible in this part of Spain.’
Julie was evidently irritated by Paul’s suggestion, and Caran wondered if the other girl had been intending to try to consolidate her newly-won friendship with Brooke in the scant time he might spare from his work.
When the three set out next morning for Almeria. Julie looked enchanting in a glowing violet wool dress, which made a dashing contrast to her red-gold hair. The black and cream fur jacket and a small cream fur hat, with black hag and gloves, completed her outfit. Beside her, Caran in a gentian blue dress topped by a plain cream coat knew her appearance to be humdrum. She felt like the humble companion to an exotic film or television star.
Paul, however, eyed his two associates with approval and as he drove to Almeria chatted about a dozen topics. Julie sat in the back seat, explaining that she did not want to crease her skirt unduly. Caran, left to sit next to Paul, gathered that Julie’s skirt was not of such prime importance as the fact that she wanted to keep a little distance between herself and Paul.
The house of the Mendosa family was situated in a main street leading out of the town and some short distance from the sea and harbour. Paul drove through a white stone gateway with handsome black iron gates into a courtyard with Moorish arches, then through a central arch into a patio where small fountains played. Even though this was December, roses and geraniums flourished in tubs or small raised beds. Along the balconies of each of the two storeys trailed vines and creepers, bougainvillea and sprays of creamy flowers.
Don Ramiro came out to greet his guests. He wore an immaculate light grey suit with a paler grey shirt; his dark hair was smoothed so that it resembled a shining cap. Caran was unexpectedly reminded of Brooke’s usual contrasting untidiness.
Don Ramiro now smiled graciously as he kissed Caran’s hand, greeted Paul, who introduced Julie. Then he led the way into his imposing, ancient house.
The initial effect was almost overpowering, thought Caran. The high vaulted roof of the hall was surprising, towering up to a dark-beamed ceiling hung with bronze and crystal lanterns that shed a soft, mellow light on to stone walls. A huge table of almost black wood, some ornately carved high-back chairs, a painted shield above the fireplace—these details Caran noticed as Don Ramiro ushered his guests into another adjoining room. This was evidently the family dining-room with panelled walls richly carved and tall french windows opening on to yet another patio.
A long table was laid with more than half a dozen places and Caran wondered who the other guests would be. She was almost immediately answered by the entrance of a small, but imperious-looking woman in black silk, whom Don Ramiro introduced as his mother, Senora Juanita Eulalia Joaquina de Colomer y del Coso y Mendosa. Caran, lost among this string of names, smiled and waited for the older woman to extend a dainty hand so frail that Caran merely touched it with the utmost gentleness.
In a few moments three more women entered the room, obviously Spanish and of different ages. Don Ramiro introduced them as his cousins Mirella, Fernanda and Inez. They, too, had long strings of names for formal occasions, no doubt. Mirella was the youngest and prettiest of the trio, with a serenely beautiful face, a pale skin, luminous dark eyes and masses of long black hair. Caran guessed she might be about nineteen or twenty. The other two were in their thirties, probably, and members of Don Ramiro’s household.
His mother now sat at the head of the oblong table and the long luncheon began. ‘Luncheon’ was a word that Caran usually disdained to use for a midday meal, however grand, but today’s event really deserved the name. So many delicious little dishes, fish cooked in wine, small pieces of meat wrapped in thin pastry, red and green peppers served with a rangy sauce, to the final stages of frosted grapes and other fruit anti a dozen varieties of cheese.
Senora Mendosa spoke little English, hut was voluble in her own language and seemed gratified that Caran could follow her with reasonable ease, although Caran found her pronunciation deserting her at crucial moments. At the same time, Don Ramiro was aware of Julie’s lack of Spanish and Paul’s incomplete grasp of the language, and the result was a hotch-potch of Anglo-Spanish back and forth across the table and the two older cousins joining in with an occasional ‘Er medad?’—if they doubted the truth of what was said.
After lunch, Senora Mendosa and the three cousins retired, hut Don Ramiro conducted his three guests to part of the patio where they could sit among orange and lemon trees and enjoy their coffee and liqueurs.
To Caran’s surprise, Paul spoke very little of his business projects. She had imagined that perhaps he required Don Ramiro’s help, although in what way she had no idea. All the same, it was Don Ramiro who had both influence and wealth and could probably make or break any intending speculator on the whole coast from Almeria to Alicante.
‘Perhaps you would like to stroll around our gardens?’
Don Ramiro suggested after some time, and Caran was a little astonished to find herself tucking her hand into his proffered elbow like some courtly lady at Versailles.
At some point or other in this magnificent garden of flowering bushes, spiky cacti and oleanders, Paul and Julie seemed to have fallen behind and new Caran and Don Ramiro were alone. This was the opportunity she had been waiting for.
‘I must thank you very much indeed for finding a house for the family who had to take refuge in one of our villas,’ she said.
‘The family?’ After a moment’s thought, his frown cleared. ‘Ah, yes, I remember. They occupied one of your villas.’
‘Gabriela and her family have gone.’ She glanced up at him. ‘I’m sure you must have spoken for them and I’m glad. But I can’t find out their new address Do you know?’
He paused in their sedate pacing. ‘Perhaps it is better not to know,’ he told her, his dark eyes dancing with amusement. ‘If you credit me with a good action, then I am afraid you might be disappointed if you know too much of the truth.’
‘Well, as long as they are comfortably settled,’ said Caran, as they resumed their strolling.
Don Ramiro plied her with questions about her work at the villas. She answered some quite candidly, but when he touched on the subject of development, she gave cautious replies. For all she knew, Paul did not want his secrets disclosed.
‘Personally, I think it a p
ity to spoil such a lovely place as Albarosa with the usual tourist paraphernalia of towering hotels and beach umbrellas and swimming pools,’ she said.
‘Spain must look forward as well as backward to its history,’ he murmured as though his thoughts were on something else. Then he asked, ‘Why don’t you like our excellent seaside resorts?’
‘I didn’t say that. I’m all in favour of many such places being developed. I just don’t want them all to look alike. But of course, you have much influence in Albarosa, I understand. You wouldn’t allow anything unsightly to be built there.’
‘I assure you, Senorita Caran, that nothing shall ever he built on my land that you might consider unsightly, nor shall I allow others to do so. There! You have extracted from me a promise which I would not like to break.’
They were now close to the stables and an occasional whinny or thump of hoof broke the afternoon silence.
Suddenly Don Ramiro took both of Caran’s hands in his own.
‘I have given you much thought since I saw you last,’ he said, his voice vibrant and low. ‘We have not met often enough and I would like to know you better. You English girls have so much more freedom than ours, even though we do not keep them chained up in convents or surround them with so many restrictions as formerly. But you have more understanding of men because you are more free.’
Caran felt herself colouring. ‘Our freedom is something that nowadays we take for granted, but I don’t know if it gives us more understanding of men.’
‘Oh, but yes.’ His dark eyes drew her like a magnet, yet there was something in their depths that alarmed her. ‘There is a quality you have that I have not met before. Since the night I first saw you at the airport I have tried to analyse it, but I have failed.’
