Summer Comes to Albarosa

by Iris Danbury

  Caran laughed softly. ‘That will make a nice change to inspect someone else’s villa instead of the critics coming to us. But I don’t really mean “inspect”. I meant I shall enjoy looking at it.’

  He turned swiftly to face her. ‘Are you planning to stay in Spain a long time or is this a job you’ve taken for a year?’ She was surprised by his question. ‘I’ve no definite plans either for staying or going home,’ she said slowly. ‘But, apart from perhaps a short visit to my parents in England, I hope to stay here quite a long time.’ Now that Brooke had gone to the other end of Spain, she could view with more tranquillity the prospect of staying at Albarosa indefinitely, as long as her job and conditions were mutually satisfactory.

  ‘Managing the villas?’ he queried.

  She nodded. ‘I suppose so. Paul has certain plans for development and expansion, so there should be something here that I can do.’

  He gave her a slow smile and his dark eyes gleamed. ‘I think it is not the kind of post for you. You are wasted on trivialities—like stocking up refrigerators.’

  ‘That was only window-dressing.’ She rose to her feet. ‘That reminds me that I have work to do.’

  ‘As you wish, although I think your tasks are not important. I was about to suggest that we might go into the town for lunch. Then you can busy yourself this afternoon with your typing and so on.’

  Caran hesitated. A brusque refusal would not cost her more than an expensive lunch, but Paul’s delicate business arrangements might possibly surfer a setback.

  She was really in the dark as to the business understanding between him and Don Ramiro, uncertain whether it was a matter of rivalry or collaboration. Yet it was difficult to imagine Don Ramiro being concerned in commercial development schemes. He was reputedly rich enough already.

  She decided to accept his invitation now. ‘But I mustn’t have too prolonged a lunch hour.’ she warned him.

  On the way to his car parked behind the villas, Caran met Benita, who gave her a smiling ‘Buenos dias!’

  ‘So I was wrong about your helping that girl’s family to better housing,’ she said.

  ‘What family was that?’ he asked vaguely.

  With a measure of impatience she related the happenings concerning Gabriela and Felipe, stressing that Brooke Eldridge had been entirely responsible for helping them.

  Don Ramiro shrugged. ‘If I had known how near to your heart such a plan was, I would have done all I could to find them a dwelling.’

  As she entered his car she gave him an oblique glance which he could interpret how he liked. For her part, she was not taken in by his flowery phrases.

  After the leisurely lunch she was surprised when instead of driving her back to the villas he took the serpentine road that led out of the town towards Almeria.

  ‘You can spare time for a brief visit to my villa?’

  Short of flinging herself out of the car on to the precipitous track and rolling down the hillside, she could scarcely refuse. Fortunately the distance was not far and he soon arrived at a pair of white gates opened after a few minutes by an old man evidently summoned by a horn, after Don Ramiro had ineffectually jangled a large bell.

  The Villa Mendosa was actually a large country house with Moorish arches, several courtyards and patios, many already filled with tubs and vast pots of flowers.

  The balconies, supported by black twisted pillars or winged horses, were almost obscured by masses of wistaria.

  Little ornamental fountains remained silent over their half-empty pools, but indicated where, later on, they would murmur softly in drops of sparkling light.

  Inside the house the entrance hall seemed dark by contrast with the sunlight outside, but Don Ramiro led Caran through various rooms into a magnificent drawing room with tall double windows all along one side.

  ‘This is particularly what I wished to show you.’

  She followed him to the windows. Over a sloping garden was a view of the sea, almost dark purple today, a rocky headland and, beyond, the wide sweeping curve of Albarosa’s shore line.

  ‘It will amuse you, perhaps,’ he said, ‘to find that before the cult of sea and sun, our predecessors built their houses with their backs to the sea. In fact, some of our neighbours were slightly ashamed of having the sea in view at all.’

  ‘Different now,’ commented Caran. ‘Anyone will pay a high price for sea views.’

  ‘My father had this room constructed out of what were servants’ quarters, store-rooms and such. We have made them a new wing at the side.’

  ‘A handsome room,’ Caran agreed, noting the carved cornices above the arched windows, the turquoise brocade walls and the soft blend of grey and rose in the carpet.

  ‘But of course it is a woman’s room, you understand,’ said Don Ramiro, glancing at her.

  ‘A woman’s room?’ she echoed.

  ‘It is very feminine. Indeed, my father really had it arranged for my mother and her friends.’

  She smiled at him. ‘You mean that Spanish men prefer the austerity of dark wood furniture and leather walls?’

  ‘Perhaps so. Our family casa in Almeria is like that, although there are pleasant little rooms for the women.’

  She wondered why he was telling her all this.

  ‘But come with me and I will show you the rest of the villa.’

  He conducted her on a tour of several rooms on the ground floor, some of them with the furniture still dust-sheeted.

  ‘The servants have only just begun to put the place in order for me,’ he explained. ‘In a week or so, everything will be comfortable and arranged properly—even with flowers in the vases.’ He gave her a warm smile at the last words.

  Upstairs there were bedrooms, some with dark rosewood furniture and massive wardrobes with intricate carvings, others in pale woods or white painted suites.

  Caran suppressed the desire to liken Don Ramiro to a house agent showing a property to a prospective customer. She was complimentary about everything, because she imagined that was what he expected.

  Then he returned to the elegant drawing room and when she approached the windows for another glance at the view, he took her hands in his own.

  ‘All this—and everything else that I own—all can be yours, Caran,’ he said quietly.

  For the moment she was stunned.

  ‘I wish to marry you,’ he said almost without emotion.

  ‘But—I’m English—’ she stammered.

  ‘Does that matter? Does it matter to you that I am Spanish?’

  ‘But your family? They’ll expect you to marry someone of your own nationality.’

  ‘My father is dead and I am now head of the family. My mother wishes only to see me happy. She does not yet know you, but she approves that you might be a good choice.’

  ‘But, Don Ramiro, you, too, know very little of me. In England my parents are simple folk, not at all rich nor aristocratic.’

  ‘That is not important. I am wealthy enough not to worry about money.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘As for aristocratic birth, my great-grandfather married a peasant girl from Murcia. She could neither read nor write, she walked barefoot until he bought shoes for her, and with his help she became an illustrious member of our house.’

  At least, thought Caran, Don Ramiro wouldn’t have to teach her to read or write, and she was in the habit of wearing shoes!

  She shook her head slowly. ‘No, Don Ramiro, it would not be for the happiness of either of us, but I appreciate the honour you have done me.’

  ‘Is there someone else? You have a fiancé in England? Or—’

  ‘No, I’ve no one in England,’ she assured him.

  ‘Or the Englishman here? He who works on the irrigation? Tell me that you are not bound to him!’

  ‘Oh, no, indeed.’ Caran could truthfully answer that. Brooke had left her free as the air. ‘He has gone to Zaragoza, I believe, or somewhere in that direction.’

  ‘Then there is no obstacle,’ he said confidently. ‘Now I
will take you back to your villa and you will consider my offer. I am aware that all girls like to hesitate a little first before committing themselves. It would not look right for them if they said “Yes” immediately.’

  Caran had the impression that although the villa seemed deserted and only in the process of being opened up for the summer, servants lurked behind doors or scurried along passages at Don Ramiro’s approach.

  As she left the main door she noticed the shield of the Mendosas worked in coloured mosaics on the floor, two winged horses with lances and at their feet a ship, a globe and an open book.

  On the way back to her villa he was not talkative, and she was glad. To maintain a steady flow of chatter would have been out of tune with her mood and probably his.

  Only when he reached the car park behind the villas did he refer to other visits. ‘Paul is going to London in a day or two, so I hear. Is that so?’

  ‘Yes. He’s arranged to leave tomorrow.’

  ‘Then perhaps you will allow me to bring you again to the villa, with your friend Julie. We shall have all the rooms straightened and all in order.’

  ‘Could I let you know about that?’ she asked. ‘I shall have quite a lot of work to do in Paul’s absence.’

  His eyes momentarily flickered with annoyance and she realised that Don Ramiro was accustomed to his invitations being in the nature of a command, as Paul had once pointed out.

  He recovered his smooth manner, smiled and raised her hand to his lips in the most courteous gesture.

  Caran went through to her bedroom and flung herself on the bed. Well, of all things to happen! Senora Caran Mendosa and all that string of names to adopt. How much pushing had Paul done in this? Caran was acutely aware that in all the conversation today with Don Ramiro there had not been one word of love. He had not even said that he was fond of her. What sort of marriage would it be with a man like that?

  Then, as though the room was intent on giving her back the echo, she recalled Brooke’s words on New Year’s night when he had taken her to the summit of Albarosa. ‘He has a great deal to offer ... some marriages can become merely mergers ... one partner completely subordinated ...’

  Marriage with Don Ramiro was very remote from Caran’s aspirations and she had treated as a joke all those little half sentences from Paul or Brooke or Julie indicating their view that if she set out to capture Don Ramiro success would crown her efforts. Perhaps her colleagues had seen matters in a clearer, sharper light than she had realised.

  Don Ramiro had graciously allowed her time for consideration of his offer, rime she did not need, for even if she had never met Brooke, she knew she could not contemplate marrying this handsome Spaniard whom she had encountered on first coming to Albarosa.

  At the same time she was aware that his proposal had altered her circumstances here. With Brooke far away and the prospect of never seeing him again, she would not be able to stay indefinitely at the villas. She would certainly stay as long as she could and had committed herself to the approaching summer season. After that she would have to make new plans to suit whatever conditions were present then.

  For the first time she now admitted to herself that she would have felt very differently this afternoon if it had been Brooke asking her to marry him. She would not have hesitated before saying ‘Yes’, even if by Spanish standards that was an unseemly thing to do.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Caran was undecided whether to tell Julie of Don Ramiro’s offer. Then it occurred to her that Don Ramiro might easily call or telephone and in Caran’s absence Julie might accept invitations to the Villa Mendosa for both of them.

  Julie’s reaction was surprised satisfaction. ‘What a success story!’ She hugged Caran and kissed her. ‘Actually, I never thought you’d pull it off.’

  ‘Wait a minute and listen. I haven’t accepted him.’

  ‘What! But you can’t turn down an offer from an aristocrat like that. You’re out of your mind.’

  ‘Not in the least,’ retorted Caran. ‘I’m not going to change my mind, either. It’s “No” and it’s going to stay “No”. It would be all wrong. I’d be swamped with tradition and ceremony. I’d be a stranger in the house, all his houses.’

  ‘You’re thinking of all his delightful womenfolk, his mother and those cousins—especially that charming Mirella. But you’ve enough spirit to stand up to them, surely.’

  ‘I’m not sure that I have,’ admitted Caran. ‘If you’re so cocksure about it all, why don’t you marry him instead?’

  Julie laughed delightedly. ‘You haven’t forgotten that you’re the one he’s asked, not me?’

  ‘If you set out to win him, you’d succeed. You always do.’

  Julie was silent for a moment or two. Then she said more seriously, ‘You’re not letting ideas about Brooke stand in your way, are you?’

  ‘Brooke? Of course not.’ Caran’s denial was too swift and she knew it, for her cheeks flushed. She turned her face away so that Julie should not see that tell-tale sign. ‘Brooke goes where the job goes and picks up his girls as though they were dolls in a shop. Just as easy to put down again.’ She tried to keep out the slightly bitter edge to her voice.

  ‘Well, I won’t let you in for further visits, at least while Paul’s away,’ Julie promised. ‘I really don’t fancy myself in the role of duenna. Do you think he has one of those three seater affairs shaped like a shamrock? I don’t know the proper name, but the lovers sit adjacent in their separate seats and the chaperone in the third. Very useful to put out a restraining hand when the embraces become too close.’

  Caran laughed. ‘I’m not going to ask Don Ramiro for your special benefit.’

  ‘How old do you think he is?’ asked Julie.

  ‘Don Ramiro? Oh, about thirty or so, I should think. He hasn’t told me,’ Caran giggled.

  ‘He’s nearer thirty-five, I should guess. Why hasn’t he married before now, I wonder?’

  ‘Been turned down by a succession of heartless English and other foreign girls, perhaps,’ suggested Caran.

  ‘Callous, that’s what you are, pet,’ was Julie’s equally unfeeling comment.

  Paul was away for just over a week and brought his aunt, Mrs. Parmenter, back with him. He had arranged before his departure that she was to have the Villa Crista I, where Gabriela had once lived. ‘Then we shall really find out if the place has been left in good order everywhere,’ he said.

  Caran was unimpressed with this pseudo-logic, for the whole villa had been thoroughly overhauled and redecorated since Gabriela and Felipe hail left.

  She was glad to welcome the woman who was actually her employer, and keen to show all the improvements that had been made.

  ‘You’ve done very well indeed,’ Mrs. Parmenter complimented her.

  ‘Not alone, though,’ objected Caran. ‘Paul has done a great deal himself.’

  ‘Pm sure we shall have a good season. Paul called on various travel agencies in London and we have a number of provisional bookings and some firm ones.’

  ‘Good. I don’t really feel that I’ve justified my job as manager until we have all the villas occupied.’

  Mrs. Parmenter gave Caran a strange look, but smiled the next moment. ‘I knew you would be very conscientious.’

  For several evenings Paul accompanied his aunt and the two girls to dinner at El Catalan or the Marroqui, and Caran was glad to be relieved of the necessity of cooking meals in her villa. One evening Julie had driven to Almeria earlier to check on some printing of leaflets that was being done there and Paul said, ‘No use waiting for Julie. She won’t be back until fairly late.’

  At the Marroqui Caran was trying to enjoy the present moment and not remember the other occasions when she had been here with Don Ramiro or Brooke.

  ‘A lot of credit is due to Caran,’ Paul was saying. ‘We might not have pulled it off if she hadn’t worked so hard.’ Caran turned towards the other two. ‘What hard work have I done?’ she asked.

  Paul did not rep
ly, for he was ordering champagne from the waiter, but Mrs. Parmenter said eagerly, ‘You’ve enabled us to sell the villas at a handsome profit.’

  ‘Sell? But—I don’t understand—’

  ‘We’ve brought off a marvellous deal with Don Ramiro,’ explained Paul. ‘You remember I showed you some plans for development of the neck of land by the shore?’

  She nodded, for she had no adequate words.

  ‘Well, the trouble was that Don Ramiro also wanted to come in on developing Albarosa into a first-class resort. A year ago he bought the piece of land on which our villas stand. He owns all the rest on either side, but that little plot belonged to someone else.’

  ‘Then it was only a change of ownership. You told me you only rented the land,’ Caran pointed out. She seemed to be lost in a fog.

  ‘Yes, but Don Ramiro wants to develop the whole place as a complete village—hotels, shops, a jetty for boats, the lot.’ Caran remembered that reference to a small pier.

  ‘And our villas are in the way,’ added Mrs. Parmenter happily.

  ‘So we’ve extracted really handsome compensation for them,’ continued Paul. ‘Now you see why I wanted everything to be in first-class condition. Also, I wanted compensation for the loss of lettings, next year and several years after that. Aunt Alison deserves to be properly reimbursed net only for the money she’s spent on the places, but also for the loss of income in the future.’

  Caran felt choked. ‘Do you mean that the villas are to be pulled down, swept away to make room for something else?’ she asked in a painfully constricted voice.