Masquerade

by Hannah Fielding

  The smile on the torero’s face faded rapidly and he immediately drew away, taking a couple of steps backwards. ‘The tigress has claws,’ he sneered.

  Luz moved quickly towards the little group where Andrés was standing, trying to place as much distance as possible between herself and Lorenzo. When she was a few feet away Andrés noticed her and excused himself from his guests.

  ‘Luz,’ he whispered as he reached her. ‘Luz,’ he repeated, ‘it’s wonderful to see you.’ He bent over and brushed his lips to one cheek and then to the other. She saw that his face was pale and drawn as his gaze settled intently on her. The usually glittering black eyes were dull and reddened as if he had known sleepless nights. He had lost weight, too.

  ‘Happy birthday, Andrés,’ she said, her brows coming together, concern for the man she loved replacing any previous misgivings. ‘What have you been up to? You don’t look at all well.’

  But he had no time to answer her before Adalia walked over to join them. The socialite shot a silent look of condescending appraisal at Luz before pouting prettily at Andrés.

  ‘You really mustn’t neglect your other guests, querido, especially Señor Luis Alvarez and his wife. They’ve just arrived, all the way from Toledo. Remember, we need him to sign that contract.’ Without waiting for a reply, she slung an arm around Andrés’ waist, all the while gazing up at him adoringly. As she proceeded to steer him away she managed to turn her back on Luz entirely, completely shunning her. Andrés at least had the good grace to look uncomfortable, but it didn’t prevent Luz’s cheeks from flaming red.

  ‘Yes, yes, you’re right, of course,’ he muttered distractedly. His voice was hoarse, his expression almost dazed. For a moment he managed to extricate himself from Adalia’s clutches and then turned to Luz, his eyes full of a confusing mixture of emotions that she found undecipherable.

  ‘I’ll see you later,’ he murmured. ‘Duty calls.’ He smiled at her lamely, a wretched shadow of a smile, before following Adalia back into the crowd.

  Would he see her later? When would he explain himself? She knew it was ridiculous, but she could feel the tears stinging the back of her eyes as she watched the pair move off, Adalia’s long elegant silhouette fitting perfectly against his lean masculine frame. Once more, it baffled her that Andrés seemed prepared to collude with Adalia’s territorial antics, which were hardly subtle. Luz swallowed hard and gritted her teeth, blinking as her vision blurred. She must not cry, not now, not here.

  I won’t give that woman the satisfaction, she told herself through gritted teeth.

  ‘I told you he is already spoken for,’ she heard the loathsome voice snigger behind her.

  A tide of pink rushed to her face. ‘And I told you to leave me alone!’ she hissed without turning. ‘You’re harassing me and, if you don’t want me to make a scene in public, you’d better get off my back.’ Luz was so beside herself with anger she could hardly control the urge to turn round and knock the Cheshire cat grin off Lorenzo’s face with the flat of her hand.

  He came closer; she could feel the heat radiating from his body as he brushed against her bare back, but this time he did not touch her. ‘Why the venom, señorita? I’m only trying to stop you from wasting your time and making a fool of yourself, of course. You haven’t a chance against Adalia,’ he persisted scathingly.

  At this, Luz broke into a run until she reached the house. This must be how a hunted creature feels, she thought as she leant, sagging a little, against a wall opposite the staircase. She was trembling and panting now, her lips parched, her hands clammy. The room was spinning a little, too.

  The major-domo, who had shown her in and was still standing by the front door, came up to her. ‘Is everything all right, señorita? Can I get you a glass of water?’ he enquired.

  ‘Yes, please,’ she replied with a grateful smile. ‘That would be very nice, thank you.’

  She relaxed, feeling a little better now. The portrait of the lady at the top of the stairs gazed down at her enigmatically. She was very beautiful. Actually, she looked very much like Andrés but a much fairer version, with golden hair and expressively coloured eyes that smiled mischievously at her. Andrés has inherited his mother’s magnetism, she thought. She moved closer to the painting, fascinated.

  ‘Doña Eleadora, Don Eduardo’s sister,’ the major-domo volunteered as he handed her a glass of water.

  Luz thanked him. She thought back to the sunken elderly woman she had seen at the Yacht Club ball. How very different Doña Eleadora had been when this picture was painted, so much more alive than in the flesh today.

  ‘She’s beautiful. Don Andrés looks very much like his mother,’ she noted.

  The major-domo smiled a polite inscrutable smile then silently moved back to his place at the front door.

  Luz was in two minds whether to go home or return to the party. Many of the older guests were undoubtedly acquaintances of her parents – she knew a few of them – but she had been away for so many years, on and off, and had only a small number of friends among the younger generation. Still, having taken such care with her appearance, it seemed a waste to leave the gathering so early. Besides, it was rude; she couldn’t do that to Andrés, though she wondered if he would even notice her absence. The distant look that enveloped him was like nothing she’d seen before; he looked almost wraithlike. Perhaps it was guilt eating away at him at the prospect of having to extricate himself from his relationship with her and the conversation he would have to have with her later.

  Once again she stared up at the painting of Doña Eleadora, whose smile now seemed more mysterious than ever. She shook her head at her own mounting paranoia. There must be another explanation – she had to believe that for her own sanity. Whatever the reason, no doubt Adalia was capitalizing on Andrés’ distracted state, clamping herself to him like a limpet at every opportunity. She took a deep breath, braced herself and went back into the garden in a new mood of resolution.

  Luz circulated stiffly among the guests, stopping from time to time to shake hands or answer a question about her parents’ health and whereabouts. She was hoping to find her good friends Alba and Carlos but they were probably away on holiday at this time of year. Her face ached from the artificial smile she had plastered on it and her throat was dry from the empty platitudes she forced from it in an attempt at conversation. Luz was unaware that Andrés’ eyes were on her continually; that wherever she went, he manoeuvred himself so that he was only a few yards away, never taking his eyes off her. She was just about to lose all hope of meeting anybody she knew when she ran into Romero de Cabrera.

  ‘Luz, how lovely to see you again,’ he said, his eyes crinkling in that open smile that had immediately made her feel at ease when they first met at the Yacht Club. ‘Where have you been? I noticed you earlier this evening and then I lost sight of you among the crowd. There are quite a lot of people tonight. It’s all rather impressive, don’t you think?’

  ‘I’m so glad to see you, Romero,’ she told him, smiling properly for the first time that evening. He’d be surprised if he knew how much of a relief it was to bump into him, she thought wryly. After all, she hardly knew him. But it felt like she had never before felt such an acute need for a friendly face, someone she was sure liked her; someone who was on her side.

  ‘It was a superb evening I had at the Yacht Club ball that night and you’re such a wonderful dancer.’ His honey-coloured eyes twinkled with fun as he leaned his head conspiratorially towards her. ‘I’m looking forward to showing off our skills again tonight on the dancefloor.’ His tone was rather more intimate than the occasion warranted, but Luz liked the young man’s blithe spirit and what she recognized as a perfectly healthy bit of playfulness.

  ‘I’m game if you are,’ she said cheerfully, her self-confidence growing by the second. It occurred to her that it would do no harm to try and forget her complicated situation with Andrés for the moment and she had to admit that an insecure part of her also needed him to see that
he was not the only man interested in her.

  Together they strolled around, talking and laughing lightly. Luz could feel herself gradually starting to thaw. She had forgotten what a pleasant companion Romero was. Maybe, after all, she would be able to enjoy herself tonight. From time to time she caught sight of Andrés and Adalia. Although he seemed hardly aware of the socialite possessively hanging on to his arm at every opportunity, still seemingly distracted, brow furrowed, the sight of them nevertheless managed to make Luz’s heart bleed.

  Thank heavens for Romero, she told herself. With him by her side she could make a decent stab at ignoring them and concentrating on the moment.

  The guests were now being directed to a marquee where buffet tables had been set with food and drink to delight the appreciative eye of an artist, as well as please the knowledgeable taste buds of a gourmet. Giant iced bowls overflowed with striking displays of shellfish, surrounded by plated intricate morsels of every colour and variety, and tiers of sumptuous desserts. The sound of clinking cutlery mingled with loud conversation and laughter as the assembled throng tucked into the delectable feast with enthusiasm.

  After dinner Luz and Romero strolled down towards the parapet at the edge of the garden separating the property from the sea. On either side of them, orange blossom bloomed among dark green foliage, interspersed with huge palm trees and sweet-smelling jasmine in flower. A light wind had started up and the sea looked rather choppy, Luz thought, as she peered over the edge into the deep, dark waters. Huge slabs of broken rock, piled one on the other in some sort of ruthless confusion with the turbulent waves smashing relentlessly against them, were somewhat suggestive of how she felt each time she caught a glimpse of Andrés and Adalia.

  She and Romero talked of many things, Luz standing with her back to the sea, her companion facing her. Once or twice he tried to slant the conversation towards love and Luz ignored him, but he did not seem to mind. They flirted happily, gently laughing and teasing. Every now and again she sensed him picking up on her slight air of unease and each time he gently tried to coax her out of it. He was quick-witted, his repartee sharp and always humorous. Once more she thanked Romero inwardly, and a little ruefully, for being there. Not only was he good company but he was a gentleman, too.

  Suddenly Luz stiffened. She could see a man and woman standing near the top of the lawn by the gazebo: Andrés and Adalia. Though she could not hear what they were saying, by their stance she could tell they were having a heated exchange. For once the cool blonde socialite seemed agitated, gesticulating wildly as she spoke. Andrés, Luz could see, appeared calm and unruffled.

  She was now only half listening to Romero’s anecdotes, completely captive to the scene she was witnessing. He gave her a wry smile. ‘Doña Luz, I believe you’re not listening to a word I say,’ he said cheerfully. ‘What’s happening behind my back that’s so intensely interesting?’ He turned just in time to witness the slap Adalia dealt Andrés before running off towards the house.

  Luz’s heart leapt with joy. From where she stood, she could not see Andrés’ face and dearly wished he would turn around. Instead he just stood there for a few moments, legs slightly apart. His hands were deep in his pockets, his gaze turned towards the ground. Then he slowly walked off to join a small group of guests who were laughing noisily in the middle of the lawn.

  Romero let out a small whistle. ‘Trouble in the nest, I think, don’t you?’ He raised a wicked eyebrow at Luz. ‘Their relationship has been a game of chase for years,’ he added in a theatrical whisper. ‘I wonder which one will end up winning. Adalia Herrera has been trying to get her claws into him for I don’t know how long and it seems that Don Andrés is having nothing of it. Still, there’s a French saying that goes: ce que femme veut Dieu veut, what women want, God wants. So I would imagine the jury’s still out.’ He paused reflectively. ‘Though some say he will never marry, you know. He’s an odd one, Don Andrés. A very dark horse.’

  ‘Have you known him long?’ Luz asked casually, trying not to sound overly interested.

  ‘Yes, didn’t I tell you? We went to the same university, though we attended different classes. Since then we’ve met socially but I can’t really say I know him well. Of course, there’s been a lot of gossip f loating around about him. You know how fast drawing room tittle-tattle travels. His uncle was even more of a centre of gossip. In his day, a vast amount of ink was expended speculating uselessly about his personal life.’

  Slowly they walked back to the house. Luz was dying to ask more questions about Andrés but she was afraid her interest would be too conspicuous; she really did not wish to be an item in Cádiz society’s rumour mill and, though she knew Romero to be a kind man, she could tell he would never be able to resist dining out on a good story. She felt a little heartened, however, that he clearly had no idea about her relationship with Andrés despite Adalia having intimated that the whole of Cádiz was talking about it.

  She glanced at her watch. ‘I think I should be getting home. It’s late.’

  ‘But we haven’t had that dance you promised me,’ he said, a little crestfallen.

  ‘Maybe some other time,’ she told him with a hurried smile.

  Suddenly, she wanted to get away. The evening had had its highs and its lows and, after her brief conversation with Romero, she felt she was back to square one: as unclear as she ever was about the relationship that bound Andrés and Adalia. The scene she had witnessed earlier might be interpreted in more ways than one; it could have been just a tiff between lovers. After all, Andrés had spent most of his time at the party with Adalia and hadn’t been exactly attentive to Luz. Wasn’t that tantamount to signalling he didn’t care? Still, she tried desperately to reassure herself, during the few moments they had been together, albeit with Adalia hanging on his arm, he had seemed glad to see her. Maybe he had missed her even. Luz gave a shaky sigh. There was something impalpable about the whole evening, like the heaviness of the atmosphere before a storm.

  ‘Perhaps I’ll see you again soon,’ said Romero, cutting into her thoughts.

  ‘Yes, perhaps,’ replied Luz.

  The young architect paused, looking at her thoughtfully, and then his mouth curved in a charming smile, almost in resignation. He inclined his head. ‘So until we meet again, Doña Luz. It’s good to have a new friend in Cádiz.’

  She returned his smile warmly, her eyes silently communicating her relief and thanks that he understood the way things truly were between them. ‘Yes, indeed. Goodnight, Romero.’

  After she took her leave of Romero, Luz went looking for Andrés to say goodbye. The party was still in full flow. He was nowhere to be seen outside so she went into the house. The major-domo had abandoned his post at the door so now the hall was empty, except for the mute portrait of Doña Eleadora presiding over the place, an enigmatic smile behind her magnificent eyes. Luz looked up at her: ‘Where is your son? Where is Andrés?’ she murmured and her voice echoed in the empty space.

  ‘Just behind you, querida.’

  Luz’s heart missed a beat; she turned sharply. ‘Andrés, Andrés, where have you been?’ she cried out, her tone slightly reproachful but her gaze brimming with love.

  He came towards her, eyes shuttered, and took her in his arms. ‘Shush, querida. Tomorrow we’ll go to our secret place and everything will be all right.’ He kissed her tenderly on the lips first and then on the forehead. ‘The nightmare is nearly over,’ he whispered, so low she barely heard him. She wondered what he meant by that; he was acting so strangely tonight. He cupped her face in his hands.

  ‘Go home now, I’ll call you in the morning,’ he told her.

  She gave him an uncertain look. ‘You will ring, won’t you?’

  He sighed and nodded. ‘Si, si querida, don’t worry. I promise I’ll call you then.’ He stroked her face and brushed her lips again with the tenderest of kisses.

  Andrés escorted her to her car, where he hugged her tightly before drawing apart to kiss her again. He seemed
so very sad. There was something desperate in his whole manner tonight that she could not fathom, a bittersweet note to his embraces. Luz hesitated with her hand on the door of the two-seater, looking up at him with questioning eyes, but he simply shook his head and pushed her gently inside.

  She drove off slowly, her heart a little heavy. As she turned towards the gates, she glanced up. Andrés stood under the dusky luminous moon and the stars, a bleak, lonely figure. She could still see him in her mirror, unmoving, as she disappeared into the night.

  CHAPTER 13

  They met on the beach, as they had often done in the past. The sun shone brilliantly on the mirror of the sea and there was a crystalline, razor-edged beauty to the day.

  Luz walked through the dunes towards Andrés. In the strong sunlight, he appeared stark against a backdrop of deep-blue sky and roaring ocean in his white T-shirt and shorts, his chestnut hair tied back as usual. His shoulders seemed more hunched than normal, she thought as she drew nearer. His mouth was a thin, unreadable line and she wondered what expression lay behind his opaque sunglasses as he watched her approach. A new surge of foreboding flooded her heart and her eyes clouded at the thought of losing him.

  She was standing very close to him now. He dipped his head and kissed her lightly on the lips but he did not take her in his arms as he had invariably done in the past. Luz gave him an uncertain look, trying to decipher his feelings, conscious that he was hurting. He looked gaunt, his cheeks hollowed. With every nerve in her body she wanted to comfort him. Silently she put her arms around him, drawing him to her, hugging him with all the love of which she was capable. She felt a quiver run through his frame but he eased apart, the strain gathering in his face.

  ‘Let’s go, querida,’ he whispered, stretching out his hand to take hers and lead her to the boat.

  ‘What’s wrong, Andrés?’ she murmured, looking up at him. Her deep-sapphire eyes reflected the desperate confusion and longing that overwhelmed her. ‘I love you.’