Summer Comes to Albarosa

by Iris Danbury

  Brooke’s tone seemed suddenly cold, and Caran wondered why he had made such an issue of so small a point.

  ‘I’ll let you know this important place in due course,’ she said in as cool a tone as his.

  ‘I know where I shall eat mine,’ declared Julie. ‘Wherever Brooke happens to be.’

  The look he gave her seemed to Caran to be compounded of fatuous admiration and a certain objective appraisal of Julie’s willingness to accede to a demand that he had not so far asked of her.

  It was natural that he should accompany Julie to her villa, since it was on the way to his own, but Caran’s imagination accompanied them on that short journey through the dark garden paths and she was angry with herself for harbouring such foolish thoughts. She went out to the kitchen to tackle the washing up.

  ‘Oh, leave it until the morning,’ called Paul. ‘Come and sit with me for a few minutes.’

  Caran obeyed, glad to postpone a mundane task until she felt less tired.

  Paul knocked the ash off his cigar. ‘What do you think about Julie?’ he asked after a moment or two.

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘I mean—do you think she’s really falling for Brooke?’

  ‘You can’t ever tell with Julie,’ replied Caran. ‘She often manages to make it look as though she’s desperately in love with someone, but it soon wears off if someone new appears. Oh, Paul, I don’t want that to sound accusing or unkind,’ she added hastily.

  He smiled. ‘Oh, I realise what I’m up against. The fact is I’ve been thinking that she and I would make a rattling good partnership in every way, business, marriage—all round.’ Caran noticed immediately that he had placed business first before marriage and had not even mentioned love.

  ‘She has marvellous looks,’ continued Paul, ‘and behind that apparent flippancy she has intelligence and a smart brain. If matters here go as I’m planning, there should be plenty of scope for all of us. I’m a bit worried, though, about Eldridge. He used to seem such a crusty sort of bachelor when I was here last year. Now he’s juggling about with all the girls. I’ve an idea that he has Benita on a string, a willing little slave and all that.’

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ observed Caran. ‘Benita goes into the villa to clean for him and dust. I daresay she often brings home some food for him, to save his time in shopping. But about Julie—if I were you, Paul, I’d play it cool. She responds to a touch of indifference now and again.’

  He smiled suddenly at her. ‘The way you play it so cool with Don Ramiro. I have to hand it to you, Caran. Your technique is wonderful. I never imagined that a haughty Mendosa would fall so completely for an English girl like you.’

  Caran laughed. ‘Your imagination is working overtime. I don’t believe the haughty Mendosa has done anything of the sort.’

  ‘Oh, but he has.’ said Paul emphatically. ‘Keep it up, Caran dear. Don’t spoil it for all our sakes. I reckon that if you wanted it you could easily be Senora Caran Mendosa. Think of it! All those estates he owns!’

  ‘A castle in Spain?’ she queried.

  ‘A small palace in Almeria, a villa here in Albarosa and heaven knows what else.’

  ‘An old ruined castle between here and Matana,’ she told him. ‘At least Brooke said it was once a stronghold of the Mendosas.’

  Paul rose and stretched himself. ‘Well, I must go. See you tomorrow. Oh, yes, it’s already Christmas Day. Happy Christmas. Caran.’ He bent towards her and kissed her lips. At the door on his way out, he turned as she accompanied him. ‘It might be a good thing if you accepted Den Ramiro’s invitation for New Year’s Eve.’

  ‘For the grapes?’

  ‘For everything,’ he answered. ‘Good night.’

  Caran shut the outer door and leaned against it. The idea of Paul’s inciting her to try to marry Don Ramiro was ludicrous in the extreme. What did Paul hope to gain from such a marriage of convenience? A business concession, perhaps, but no doubt that could be obtained by astute bargaining without involving Caran in a matchmaking endeavour.

  So in Paul’s calculations she was to be paired off with Don Ramiro, while he captured Julie. Only Brooke was left out of their tidy quartet, but would he submit to that? Supposing it was Julie who appropriated Brooke and he was willing to be thus shackled?

  Caran deliberately swung her thoughts away from this prospect, for she found herself hoping that it would never happen.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  On Christmas morning Caran walked up to the town. The streets were quiet, the bars closed and silent. Albarosa seemed to be wrapped in a sombre mist. The inhabitants were no doubt resting after last night’s feast, then midnight Mass, followed by the clangour and booming of rattles and zambombas. She had seen and heard these archaic instruments when Brooke had taken her to the fiesta in the mountains. Shaped like earthenware flower-pots, they were open at one end while the other was covered with a piece of parchment with a hole into which a reed was inserted. By rubbing a wetted finger up and down the reed, an astonishingly loud rom, rom. rom sound was produced. Last night long after she was in bed she could hear the distant thumping of the zambombas.

  Now she passed the doctor’s house where his balconies, rising in tiers for three storeys, were always a mass of flowers; lilies and geraniums, trails of jasmine and creepers wreathed the ironwork. She knew the plan of the town fairly well by now and in daylight at least could walk anywhere without losing herself.

  She went down a narrow alley on the far side of the town where it sloped inland away from the sea. From a wide double doorway emerged a child clutching a doll. Caran’s attention was first caught by the doll, then she looked intently at the child. Surely one of Gabriela’s small daughters? The little girl glanced up, smiled shyly in half recognition, then ran through the doorway.

  Caran hesitated for a moment or two, then followed. A donkey tethered in one corner stared with patient, incurious eyes. A smaller door stood ajar and Caran found herself in a narrow yard. A wooden shack occupied most of the space. Was this hovel the place that Don Ramiro had found for the family?

  Her unspoken question was answered by Gabriela herself, who came out of the shack with a bucket of dirty water. When she saw Caran she jerked back with shocked surprise and the water slopped over the edge of the pail.

  ‘What do you want here?’ Gabriela whispered, her dark eyes wide with mingled terror and shame.

  Caran smiled. ‘Don’t be angry, Gabriela. I saw one of your little daughters holding the doll—I think it was one I sent, so I came to see where you live.’

  Gabriela bowed her head as she set down the bucket. ‘We have cone what you asked, but it is only for a time. Then we shall have something better.’

  ‘Don Ramiro has promised he will find you a house?’ Gabriela’s head came up sharply. ‘Don Ramiro? Oh, no. The English Senor Brooke. He is good to us.’

  ‘Good!’ Caran’s voice was scornful. Why couldn’t he have let them stay a little longer in the Villa Cristal instead of bringing them to this outhouse behind a stable? Aloud she said gently, ‘Are you comfortable inside there?’ She knew it was a ludicrous question, but she must persuade Gabriela to show her the interior.

  Gabriela’s face responded with a slightly less tense expression. ‘It was kind of you to send the gifts for us, the clothes and the toys. Felipe, too, is most grateful.’

  ‘Let me come in and see the children, Gabriela,’ Caran pleaded. The woman yielded after a moment’s inner struggle against her pride. ‘You understand it is only for a week or two? After that—’ her voice trailed away.

  ‘If Senor Eldridge—Senor Brooke—has promised, then you can rely on him,’ Caran assured her. Although she was angry with Brooke for keeping her in the dark about this move, she knew that any promises by Don Ramiro or Paul would probably have been conveniently unfulfilled once the Ribera family were out of the villa.

  When she saw the inside of this hut she was amazed at the homelike atmosphere Gabriela had achieved. Felipe sat
at a wooden table scrubbed to whiteness and was employed in painting little animals and figures fashioned out of some putty-like substance. When he saw Caran he jumped to his feet, offered her his chair, the only one at present in the hut.

  ‘For the children?’ she asked, pointing to the little toy figures of elephant and donkey and an endearing, long necked giraffe.

  He nodded and explained that he obtained scraps of clay from a builder friend and let the toys dry in the sun.

  One end of the hut was partitioned off with a curtain which Gabriela now lifted to show Caran the part where the children slept, a makeshift bed consisting of two chairs and a hollow wooden box. Inside the base of the box was a small bundle of coverings, so apparently one child slept there, the rest on the floor.

  The wooden walls were scrupulously clean and at the side of the tiny window hung a little statuette of the Virgin Mary.

  ‘Hut you and Felipe?’ asked Caran delicately. ‘You have no place to sleep?’

  Gabriela smiled. ‘Oh, yes. At night we go into the stable. The man who owns the donkey does not mind.’

  Sharing a stable with a donkey, reflected Caran sadly. Yet it occurred to her that this was Christmas Day and possibly it was appropriate to discover that there were still people who would accept with humility a small share of such a lodging when there was no room elsewhere. At the same time she was now determined to make every effort to house this family in better accommodation, even if she paid the rent herself.

  ‘I have not seen you at the restaurant El Catalan,’ she said to Felipe.

  ‘I was ill for some days.’ he answered slowly, ‘and the proprietor did not want me back again when I recovered. It was only a bad cold.’

  No wonder, thought Caran, sleeping in a draughty stable.

  ‘But now I shall not have colds, for Senor Brooke has given me warm clothes,’ he continued happily.

  So Benita had passed on Brooke’s cast-offs. That was something.

  ‘Then you’re not working now?’ she queried gently.

  ‘Oh, yes. In the shop where Benita is. I take in the stores and put them on the shelves and then I deliver some of the orders.’

  Caran was worried. She had seen men pushing handcarts in the streets, delivering goods from one place to another. True, the town was hilly with narrow alleys unsuitable for vans or cars, but pushing a handcart over rough cobbles or unpaved streets was no light task. Nor, as far as Felipe’s frail strength was concerned, was it child’s play to drag boxes and cartons and sometimes barrels into the shop.

  She drank the thimbleful of wine that Gabriela offered, knowing that a refusal would be hurtful, said goodbye to the five children, all neatly dressed, three of them in dresses Caran had bought. Now that she knew the address, she promised to come again soon.

  ‘You will not tell anyone where we live?’ queried Gabriela, haunting fear in her eyes.

  ‘No, of course not. I’ll keep it secret,’ Caran assured her. ‘Senor Brooke and I will do our best to find you a really pleasant place to live.’

  When she returned to Joyosa, Julie came sauntering up the path.

  ‘Where have you been all this time? I called ages ago, but I thought you weren’t up yet after last night’s orgy.’

  ‘I went for a stroll in the town,’ answered Caran.

  ‘Any chance of lunch? Paul says that most restaurants and cafes are closed today.’

  ‘I’ll open a couple of tins of something,’ agreed Caran. ‘A little fasting might do both our waistlines a power of good.’ In Caran’s living room Julie pottered about restlessly, while Caran was busy in the kitchen preparing a simple meal.

  ‘What’s the matter with you, Julie?’ Caran called out. ‘Why don’t you relax?’

  Julie came to the kitchen door. ‘Relax? Impossible for me this morning. Here, take a look at this.’ She fingered a necklace of oval amber-coloured beads, each one linked by delicate silver filigree.

  Caran inspected the necklace lying against Julie’s white throat. ‘Very handsome. Christmas present?’

  Julie nodded. ‘From Brooke.’

  Caran dropped a spoon with a clatter on to the sink top. ‘What did he give your’ Julie asked. ‘Not a replica of this, I hope.’

  Caran had mastered herself after that momentary surprise. ‘Not a replica of anything,’ she answered with a smile.

  ‘Oh!’ Julie’s brown eyes widened. ‘Then that’s why—well, you see, darling, why I simply can’t relax at this moment. If Brooke had also given you a—well, a token, shall we say?—then I’d have known that he treats all the girls alike. But not to give you anything—that was mean. I’m not sure now whether he really wants me to take him seriously.’

  ‘You once advised me never to take any man seriously until he’s actually proposed marriage. Has Brooke?’

  Julie simpered. ‘Not yet. But I know he will. That’s why I really wanted to make sure. You know, Caran, I wouldn’t like you to be hurt over this affair.’

  ‘Is it an affair, Julie?’

  ‘Oh, no, I didn’t mean exactly that,’ Julie answered quickly. ‘I meant—’

  ‘There’s no need to spare my feelings,’ interrupted Caran, stirring onions, tomatoes and ham in a frying pan. ‘I’m not in love with Brooke, if that’s what you mean.’

  Julie gave an enormously exaggerated sigh of apparent relief.

  ‘Then that’s a load off my mind,’ she said.

  As she dished up the lunch Caran asked quietly, ‘When will you tell Paul?’

  ‘Paul? Oh, he’ll know soon enough,’ replied Julie airily. ‘By the way, did Paul give you a Christmas present?’

  ‘Yes. A handsome bottle of perfume called “Illusion”.’ Julie’s laughter tinkled. ‘So safe! Dear Paul.’

  Caran set the plates on the table. ‘Why “Dear Paul”? You’ve no consideration for him. As far as you’re concerned, he can sink or swim.’

  ‘Oh, Caran, don’t let’s quarrel! Not about men! Nor on Christmas Day.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ mumbled Caran. ‘I feel sympathetic about him, that’s all.’

  ‘No need. .Paul’s had a few rebuffs before now. He soon recovers.’

  Caren thought that was probably true. In some ways, he and Julie were two of a kind, attracted like magnets to this girl or that man, then speedily breaking free when a more powerful attraction came along.

  ‘There is one thing, though,’ murmured Julie after a few minutes. ‘Brooke will have to change his job. I shan’t expect him to go about paddling in mud or concrete or whatever it is.’

  ‘He’ll be only too delighted to secure himself a cosy office job with half a dozen desk telephones. He’ll wear well-cut suits and drive a shiny black car.’

  Julie set down her fork and stared at Caran. ‘You really are nettled about this, aren’t you?’

  Caran was angry with herself for letting her tongue run on like that. ‘Not really, but I don’t think women should try to interfere with men’s chosen professions. If you fall in love, you fall in love with the whole man, job and all, not a reformed and tidy version of what you think he ought to be.’

  ‘Dear, dear, what a lecture! Well, I’ve left you a perfectly free choice between two men whose jobs you wouldn’t want to change. Paul will become a most successful property tycoon. As for Don Ramiro, no girl in her senses would want to alter one little bit of his way of life.’

  Caran smiled. ‘I’m not thinking of either of them in terms of husband-material. Nor of Brooke, for that matter,’ she added hastily, seeing that she had left her defences wide open again to Julie’s thrusts.

  When the two girls had finished lunch Caran cleared away but was surprised when Julie offered to dry the dishes. Was there some further discussion or information that Julie wanted to talk about?

  ‘Odd sort of Christmas Day, isn’t it?’ she remarked. ‘Most of the gaiety happens at New Year, so I’m told.’

  ‘Same as in Scotland.’ Caran thought this some prelude to further conversation, but apparent
ly Julie cither changed her mind or had nothing further to add.

  ‘I’ll go along to Brooke’s villa,’ suggested Julie. ‘We can always play snakes and ladders if we’ve nothing else better to do.’

  The implication was not lost on Caran, and Julie’s tone left no doubt that Caran was excluded from this afternoon visit.

  Caran went into her bedroom and sat in front of the dressing-table mirror to appraise herself. Am I really jealous of Julie? Or is it merely pique because Brooke is so adept at dividing his favours? Selfishly, she wished with all her heart that Julie had not come to Albarosa, or if she had, then only for a holiday terminating in a departure date. Julie was now here indefinitely, an open-ended arrangement which left her free of commitment or responsibility. So far she was not on the pay-roll, but no doubt that would come. Paul would see to that and probably offer Julie generous salary terms as an inducement to stay.

  Still, if Julie stayed on to please herself, she could not continue always to occupy the villa next to Brooke’s. Esmeralda would be needed for tourists, along with Turquesa where Paul was staying, so new arrangements would be necessary.

  Caran faced her reflected hazel eyes in the mirror. If Brooke was stupid enough to become ensnared by Julie’s charms, surely he had only himself to blame. Caran asked herself why she should bother her head about yet another of Julie’s conquests, but the answer came sharply. This was different. This was Brooke Eldridge and Caran believed that she knew Julie’s tactics better than he did. Caran was forced to admit to herself that this time she cared about what injury Julie inflicted on a man’s affections.