by Iris Danbury
All the villas were in darkness, so either Paul and Julie had both returned and gone to bed or they were still enjoying themselves in the town.
At Caran’s door, Brooke pressed her hand, brushed his lips against hers and murmured ‘Adios!’ He muttered another word and it seemed to her fanciful hearing that he had said ‘amada.
A breeze rustled faintly among the magnolias and oleanders, and Caran wished desperately that scientists who assert that sound waves persist could invent some method of catching the echoes.
As she entered the villa she asked herself what difference did it make if he had called her ‘darling’? A casual term of endearment lightly bestowed. She would be a fool, ten times a fool, if because of one intimate evening and a handsome gift, she took his attentions seriously.
Not, of course, that she wanted to, for she was certainly not in love with him and counted herself fortunate that she could say so. Yet already the coming year seemed a trifle dimmed if Brooke left the Villa Zafiro.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Caran did not mention Brooke’s probable departure to anyone, but Paul came in one morning with the news that Brooke was leaving his villa at the end of the month.
‘I’m pleased as punch about that,’ he said enthusiastically. ‘He’s been a pain in the neck for a long time.’
‘I don’t know what progress he’s made with painting the interior,’ remarked Caran, ‘but he did the outside.’
‘Oh, as soon as he’s out, we’ll go to work on the villa.’ Paul was busy with jotting down notes of work to be done.
Julie’s reaction was more surprising. At first she feigned prior knowledge. ‘Oh, yes, he did mention something about leaving,’ she said indifferently. A few days later she was giggling about Brooke’s attitude to women.
‘Sisters in adversity, that’s what we are,’ she declared to Caran one morning.
‘Why? What is our shared sorrow?’
‘Be yourself, Caran. You know quite well that the subject of our joint heartache is Brooke.’
‘My heart isn’t aching over him,’ Caran asserted stoutly. ‘Is yours?’
Julie laughed joyously and this time without any derisive note. ‘Of course. So is yours, if you’d only tell the truth. Girls like us are doomed to be left in the lurch by men who roam about Spain or any other country. Confess, pet, that you fell for him a little.’
Caran opened her mouth to utter a firm denial. Then she, too, laughed. ‘All right, yes. Let’s say I began to like him, but I didn’t fall very far.’
‘He isn’t really good husband-material,’ was Julie’s sage verdict. She perched on the arm of a chair. ‘Now that I’ve decided to stay here quite a long time, I shall see what I can do for myself in the shape of a long-pursed tourist, American for preference.’
‘Oh, Julie, you’re incorrigible!’ Caran laughed happily. She was glad that relations between herself and Julie had returned to a more amicable footing. ‘If there’s any class of people overburdened with the love-’em-and-leave-’em complex, it’s tourists, American or otherwise. How many times have you warned me against the snares of soft music, moonlight and a dreamy garden full of sweet perfumes?’
‘Well, it has been known for people to marry partners they discovered on holiday,’ Julie retorted. ‘So wait and see.’
‘And in the meantime, what about Paul?’ queried Caran.
‘He understands the position only too well. He’s not in love with me and, for his part, he might also meet some luscious beauty who comes here for a fortnight and stays a lifetime.’
Caran saw Brooke only a couple of times during the next three weeks, then only for a brief moment in the gardens or on the way to his car. She wondered if he had visited any further festivals in the neighbourhood and was actually a trifle piqued that he had not asked her to accompany him to any of the Epiphany fiestas. She knew that many towns and villages celebrated the Three Kings with all kinds of merrymaking.
On the other hand, he might have been compelled to spend all his time at the irrigation site supervising the repairs to the damaged roadway.
One day, however, she came upon him as he and Felipe were packing boxes and bundles of papers into a hand-cart, similar to the one that Felipe used for deliveries of groceries.
‘Moving day?’ she enquired of the two men.
‘Not quite,’ replied Brooke. ‘I have to clear out all these stacks of documents and papers and get them to my next place of toil.’
‘I hope it’s not too far for you both,’ she commented slyly. ‘Hard work trundling Felipe’s hand-cart over the sierras.’
‘Numbskull!’ he retorted. ‘Hang around long enough and all will be clear to you! The truck is to save our legs up and down the path.’
She followed the two men as they trundled the cart to the car park to load the contents into a lorry and then she noticed that Felipe had a new vehicle, a large bright yellow box on wheels with a tricycle attached.
‘Oh, this is an improvement,’ she said warmly to Felipe.
‘I thank the senor for it.’ Felipe indicated Brooke.
‘I made a deal with Felipe’s employer,’ explained Brooke in a brusque tone. ‘A carpenter friend of mine would make the delivery box free of charge, but the grocery proprietor must pay to have his name painted on in handsome black letters. Then Felipe could whistle round the town in half the time, and think of the advertisement!’
‘I’m glad Felipe can ride instead of pushing that thing,’ she commented. She wanted to ask Felipe if he and his family were now reasonably housed, but she did not dare mention the subject in front of Brooke. She would have to find out when Brooke had gone.
When Brooke had gone! The thought was like a knell, but she pushed the unwelcome reflection aside and returned to her own tasks.
‘We ought to give Brooke some sort of send-off,’ suggested Julie towards the end of January. ‘What about the four of us going to dinner at the Marroqui? Or, better still, a cosy little dinner here in your place. It needn’t be an elaborate meal.’
Caran was dubious. It was always a prickly sort of foursome, with the two men often needling each other and Julie devoting her charm to whichever man she judged would enjoy the chance of making the other one jealous.
‘I suppose we could,’ she agreed at last. ‘I’d better make sure exactly when he’s going, before I start planning the menu.’
As it happened, the next two days were crowded with urgent tasks, including a trip to Almeria with Paul to choose curtain fabrics for the new villas and for refurbishing some of the old.
When eventually she went along to Brooke’s villa, she was surprised to find Benita there sweeping and cleaning the empty rooms.
‘Senor Brooke has gone?’ she asked the girl.
Benita smiled. ‘Si, senorita. Yesterday.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Caran was dismayed.
‘He said I was to give you this letter,’ Benita continued.
Caran restrained her eagerness, for she wanted to snatch the envelope from the other girl’s hand. A single sheet gave the address of Gabriela and Felipe Ribera. There was nothing else, not even an Adios.
She mustered a smile for Benita’s benefit. ‘I’m very glad about your sister. Is she comfortable? I must go and see her soon.’ Caran was babbling words that held little meaning.
She scarcely heard Benita’s replies. Then she asked with studied casualness, ‘Do you know where the senor has gone?’
Benita nodded. ‘In the mountains. Many miles from Zaragoza.’
‘Thank you,’ murmured Caran. Zaragoza and beyond! Her spirits sank. Was it mere chance or a definite plan that had led him from one end of Spain almost to the other?
Julie’s reaction was flippant. ‘So he’s done a moonlight flit on both of us. Well, he certainly knows how to take his leave with a minimum of ceremony.’
Caran secretly wondered whether Julie would have dubbed as with ‘a minimum of ceremony’ that incident on New Year’s night when she and Brooke had c
limbed to the summit of Albarosa and in the darkness he had kissed her with more feeling than she expected of a goodbye gesture. No doubt Julie would have looked for something more emotional.
Paul was patently glad of Brooke’s departure and made no bones about it. ‘A thorn in my flesh, that’s what he was,’ he declared emphatically. ‘Every time I saw him I wanted to punch his jaw,’
Caran laughed at that. ‘Are you handy with fisticuffs?’
‘Enough to have wiped the smile off his face. Anyway, I’m glad to have the villa released. Otherwise I’d have given him notice soon and thrown him out. He could have found somewhere else in the town if he’d still be working in the district.’
‘I suppose you’ll want me to stay in Joyosa when the tenants come?’ she queried.
‘Oh, definitely. Julie and I will move out. I can stay at El Catalan. They have a few rooms there. Julie—well—’
‘She can always come back here,’ offered Caran. ‘There really is room for two. We shared a flat in London and we’re accustomed to each other’s ways.’
Paul seemed to be chewing over this suggestion. Finally he said, ‘Well, we need not make definite arrangements yet.’
A series of handsome brochures and leaflets was being prepared to advertise the villas. Julie had posed for most of the photographs, but Caran appeared in a few with Paul. He had also made friends with an English couple living in Almeria and persuaded them to be photographed apparently enjoying the comfort of a month’s holiday at a delightful villa in Albarosa.
By the end of February the two new villas were completed and ready for inspection by representatives of the tourist and letting companies. The five existing villas had already been inspected and approved, but so far no bookings had been made.
Paul was gloomy. He returned one morning from the post office and threw down on Caran’s desk a bundle of mail.
‘As far as I can see, not a single booking among the lot,’ he complained. ‘I shall have to go to London and see what I can rustle up with the tourist people.’
Caran was opening the letters and rapidly glancing at the contents. ‘Here’s one,’ she said. ‘Family of five want to book for first two weeks in April.’
‘Direct or through an agency?’ he queried.
‘Agency.’
‘Well, that’s something, although it means that so far all our expensive direct advertising hasn’t brought in a single booking.’
‘It’s early yet,’ she assured him.
‘Not for this part of Spain. If only there hadn’t been so much delay one way and another, we’d have had the whole lot filled by now. People have discovered the benefit of winter holidays. Not everyone wants to go skiing or winter-sporting in Switzerland or Norway. Two or three weeks in the sun makes a perfect break in the middle of an English winter.’
Caran began to laugh. ‘Paul! You’re quoting the write-up in your catalogue.’
He laughed, too. ‘Am I? Well, I’ve lived with the blessed thing so long that I’m surprised not to be saying it over and over in my sleep.’
‘One suggestion I could make. If there are any more inspections, we ought to mock up the supplies. It looks dreary to open an empty refrigerator. We could easily put in empty packets and bottles. We could stock up the bar with empty wine bottles and so on, as well as cigarette boxes. I don’t think those representatives really understood how well our villas would be stocked with provisions to start off the holiday.’
Paul nodded. ‘Not a bad idea, Caran.’ Then he laughed. ‘You better be careful, though, to take out the dummies and replace with real goods before any visitors come in. Or there’ll be the devil to pay if people come in and find nothing but empties.’
‘I’ll take care of that,’ Caran assured him. ‘The show is not for the visitors, but the critical tourist people.’
‘They have a right to be critical,’ conceded Paul. ‘The y risk their own reputations for reliability and visitors who are disappointed one year never come again and make sure that their friends don’t come either. We suffered for that last year. That’s why I want to make this year a rattling success.’ Caran was fired with the enthusiasm of her idea and began to think of additional elaborations. A chicken in the fridge. How could that be contrived? Then she thought of Felipe and the small animals he had been making for his children. Could he make mock chickens?
She called on him the next evening. He and Gabriela had made a comfortable home out of the three rooms which Brooke had found for them over a shop which sold leather goods and crockery, men’s hats and ironmongery. Caran had visited the family several times since Brooke had given her the address and been warmly welcomed. Discreetly she had been able to provide curtain material, a rug or two and some blankets for the children’s beds.
Felipe listened carefully to Caran’s explanations of what she wanted. Then both he and Gabriela entered into the spirit of the idea.
‘I can wash eggshells,’ suggested Gabriela, ‘when they are in half and you can arrange them in a rack.’
‘I can make tomatoes and onions and pimentos,’ added Felipe.
In the end, the three were on the way to stuffing a whole villa with dummy representations of everything needed.
Caran noticed with pleasure how much happier this couple appeared now that they had a reasonably decent home and fewer worries. Gabriela was taking more pride in her appearance and looked quite smart in one of the dresses Caran had given her. Felipe, too, was less haggard and his eyes had lost their haunted look.
A week later Felipe came spinning down the road to the villas with his bright yellow delivery box tricycle. First he unloaded the assorted groceries ordered from the shop where he and Benita worked. Then he took out a large cardboard box and set it in the porch of Caran’s villa.
‘Imitados!’ he said, laughing, then added that she had better not mix them up with the real chickens and biscuits.
He waited a few minutes while she unwrapped the packages inside. A marvellously browned chicken, half eggshells stuck firmly into a rack, carrots and onions, Felipe and Gabriela had fashioned them all.
‘They’re splendid!’ she told him, paid him generously and ordered another couple of sets. Later in the day she found time to take the assorted items to one of the new villas and stow them in the fridge. She viewed the collection and laughed quietly. All that was needed now was a luscious-looking round of beef such as electricity showrooms use to fill up their refrigerators on show. Oh, well, she might even get Felipe on that, too.
Footsteps sounded in the living room or porch and she came out of the kitchen, imagining that one of the gardeners had seen her and wanted some instructions. Instead, Don Ramiro stood between the porch and the living room.
She gave him a greeting in a normal tone. Since Christmas he had paid a number of visits to the villas, often for long discussions with Paul, sometimes staying to a simple meal. His attitude towards Caran had not varied and now she began to believe that on that day at his house in Almeria, she must have mistaken his intentions. It was true that his dark eyes often held an amorous glint, but she attributed that to his Iberian race.
‘You are busy here today?’ he asked now.
‘No, just finished. Come and see.’ She held open the door of the fridge and he prodded the mock chicken, so brown and shining, touched the cellophane-wrapped carrots.
‘They are very real,’ he commented.
She locked the outer door when they left and waited for him to explain why he had followed her here.
‘Arc the lettings going well?’ he asked.
Caran was cautious. She did not know how far she could trust Don Ramiro in business matters. ‘As well as one can expect, considering how many delays we’ve had.’
They strolled down the sloping spit of land on which the two new villas were built. Already spring had definitely arrived here with masses of flowers, blue, yellow, mauve; the opposite shore across the narrow hay was clothed with brighter, sharper greens as the bushes sprang into leaf
and the smooth sea below was emerald glass shading to smoke blue towards the horizon.
‘Much could be done with this piece of land,’ Don Ramiro commented.
‘A large and showy hotel, a swimming pool and so on?’ she queried amiably.
‘More than that. A small pier or jetty, I think you call it in English, running out just there’—he pointed over the bay—’then you could have pleasure boats from Matana or the opposite way along the coast. It would be very profitable and not make the place ugly.’
‘A jetty,’ she murmured, seeing distinct possibilities in the idea. Visitors always wanted to go in small boats from one place to another, especially the peripatetic English who were never satisfied to be fastened down in one place. ‘I must mention it to Paul.’
‘He has already heard about it. The owner of the land is the difficulty.’
‘I see. Probably in due course it can all be arranged,’ she suggested confidently.
‘At a high price, perhaps. If someone desires a piece of land, or even other possessions, and the seller knows that, the cost goes up accordingly.’
‘Naturally,’ she agreed. ‘That’s known as merely business principle.’
‘Come, we will not waste our time discussing business transactions.’ He took her hand to guide her down the rough, stony path leading to the shore and on the little headland a patch of coarse grass was inviting enough to sit on.
‘I’m re-opening my villa here this week,’ he told her, his face in profile as he stared out of the bay to the open sea. ‘Will you come one day and see it?’
