‘Eduardo,’ she gently rubbed his back, ‘you need to see a professional. I can only help you so much. People are going to notice soon enough.’
‘No, they won’t.’
‘They will, and you know it. It’s not a failing. It’s life. It’s horrible and cruel and unfair that dementia has hit you but we have to come to terms with this. You need professionals to help you.’
‘I will not do it. You’re all I need.’
‘I’ll assist as much as possible, but I can’t do it alone. Maybe if Roberto knew—’
‘No!’ He hit the wall with his fist.
‘But—’
‘No! No one but you will ever know.’ Taking a deep breath, he said, ‘I’m aware this is a burden and it’s unfair of me to expect you to take this on but I trust you more than anyone.’ He lowered his voice and drew his bushy eyebrows together. ‘Maybe you should leave. It’s not like we’re in love, is it? I’m asking you to do wifely duties yet we’re not ….’
Louisa shook her head, having lost count of how many times they’d had this conversation. ‘I won’t go. I’ll never forgive my grandmother for what she did to my grandfather. The nursing home killed him, not the dementia. He should have been with family; we could have given him a much better life.’
‘You were only a child. You couldn’t have done a thing.’
‘But I can help you, although I can’t do it alone. Please, Eduardo, at least go and see a doctor. Maybe there’s a treatment—’
‘We will see, all right?’
She nodded, aware he had no intention of doing as she suggested. Eduardo squeezed her hand and ambled to the music room, slamming the door behind him. She hovered in the hall, waiting to hear him take his frustration out on Roberto but nothing eventuated. Thankful Eduardo had his emotions under control again, she padded down the passage, glancing at the gilded frames that contained photos of her and Eduardo with Argentina’s elite: film director Lucas Demare, tango musician Astor Piazzolla, and myriad football legends. Each and every one of those people adored Eduardo Canziani and he and Louisa were always the first to be invited to social functions and intimate dinner parties. People revelled in his jovial manner, oblivious that his private world was crashing in on him. He couldn’t pretend forever, but for as long as he wanted to try, she’d support him. She owed him that much.
Louisa entered the kitchen and set about preparing Eduardo’s supper. How different her life was from when she was in Britain, but World War Two had changed many lives, including hers. She could never have imagined that her parents would need to send her to a home for children in Wales to escape the London Blitz, and she certainly never thought her parents would die in those bombings, leaving her an orphan at age thirteen. As soon as the war finished four years later, she’d taken the money her parents had hidden and fled to Argentina, determined to find her only living relatives, rumoured to be in Gaiman, on the Atlantic coast. After months of searching, she’d returned to Buenos Aires, destitute, lonely and with an uncertain future. Louisa could never have predicted meeting Eduardo in a bar or that the moment would alter her life forever. She’d welcomed his friendship and had made it clear that was all he’d ever have, yet she still couldn’t understand why he’d chosen to pluck her from the slums of La Boca when other women in the bar had been prettier, funnier or more intelligent. Maybe Eduardo had focused on Louisa because she was so young and innocent—a lost lamb who could barely speak Spanish. It didn’t take long for him to become her family and since then, she’d never forgotten his kindness.
Breaking the crusty bread and arranging it on a wooden platter, she sliced a lemon and dropped it into a jug of iced water. Her mind whirred from past to present, still in awe of Eduardo and his ability to hide his illness. Everyone thought his forgetfulness was due to his creative genius and they had been right, until recently. So far Eduardo had been able to mask the symptoms with Louisa’s help. It broke her heart that this disease had hit him early and, instead of looking forward to twenty or thirty years of creating more brilliance, his life would diminish and the world would lose the greatest tango composer in history.
Tears fell in glossy drops onto the kitchen bench and she wiped them away with a cloth.
‘You and me, we put up with a lot.’ Roberto’s silky voice made her stop and turn around. He leant against the doorframe, one leg crossed over the other, a lazy smile gracing his lips.
‘We each have our reasons.’
He stepped forwards and took the cloth from her. His fingers grazed hers and she had to steady herself as her pulse raced and goose bumps broke out on her fair skin.
‘Let me help.’ His deep voice reverberated through her body.
‘I’m fine, really, I am.’ She took the cloth and scrubbed at an invisible spot.
‘You are a strong woman. More capable than most.’
‘No, I’m not.’ She didn’t look at him for fear the dam of tears would explode. They fell into silence, the air thick with unspoken affection.
Roberto spoke first. ‘Why don’t you deliver his supper and we go for a walk?’ He ran a finger under her chin. ‘You look like you could do with fresh air.’
She should have flinched at his touch, but instead enjoyed every delicious second. His warm fingers exuded a deep caring on a level she’d never thought she’d experience.
‘I’ll meet you in fifteen minutes but I can’t stay long,’ she said and loaded the tray.
‘It’s never long enough.’ He reached into a jar on the bench then pulled out his hand. ‘Where are the cashew nuts?’
‘Eduardo finished them this afternoon.’
‘He always gets what he wants,’ Roberto mumbled as he left the kitchen, picked up his bandoneón case and slipped out the back door. Louisa stood for a moment, basking in his sandalwood cologne.
A small sigh escaped her lips before she returned to the music room. Eduardo glanced over his glasses then returned to studying the mountain of paperwork.
‘Please, eat.’ She placed the tray on his papers but he shook his head and pushed it aside. ‘Eduardo, don’t make me supervise you like a naughty two-year-old.’
‘Fine.’ He threw the pencil down then slapped meat on the bread, and took a large bite. Half the sandwich hung out one side of his mouth. ‘I am eating, all right?’
She nodded and quickly departed, his mood swings weighing heavily on her shoulders. He needed help and it was up to her to make sure he got it.
* * *
Wrapping the navy blue coat around her shivering body, Louisa dashed down the marble steps of the mansion and onto the street. The lamps barely lit the wide paths as she hurried along, pulling the fur collar around her ears. She rounded the corner and Roberto stepped out from the shadows, bandoneón case tucked under his arm. Louisa broke into a wide smile and slipped her arm through his as they headed straight for the local park.
Stones crunched under their shoes as they strolled over to their favourite bench, overlooking the bandstand. They sat and she nestled into him.
‘I hate having to sneak around.’
‘There are other choices, Louisa.’
‘No. We can’t.’ Her voice relayed the sadness that plagued her every waking moment.
‘Don’t worry, we’ll find a way. We always do.’ He draped an arm casually over her shoulders and she snuggled closer, inhaling the eucalyptus from the branches rustling overhead. ‘His temper is getting worse. I worry about you, Louisa.’
‘I’m all right, I can look after myself.’ It hurt not sharing the reasons for Eduardo’s outbursts but her father, before he had sent her to Wales, had made her promise never to go back on her word or betray someone’s confidence.
Roberto shifted to face her, the light of the full moon glinting in his eyes. ‘I know I’m there most times, but I fret when I’m not. You two are alone in the house at night and I grow more afraid for your safety every day.’
‘He’s not feeling well at the moment, soon he’ll be fine.’
‘But will you be fine? Please, Louisa, let me help you.’
‘You can’t.’ She shifted on the bench. ‘No one can. Let it be. Please.’
‘You are stubborn. I like this.’ His smile reached his eyes and she relaxed again. A moment later she felt his body tense. ‘He refused me again today when I asked to perform at his next concert. I don’t understand. Why take me on as his protégé but not let me play in public?’
‘I don’t know.’ And she truly didn’t. Eduardo had never been one for logic, even before his affliction had surfaced.
‘He missed a couple of notes at the concert last week. The audience didn’t notice, but I saw the look on the musicians’ faces. They’re too afraid and loyal to say anything but one day, someone’s going to mention his slips to the wrong person. Or the audience will notice he’s losing his edge, then what will happen? Although they’d just about forgive him anything—including his treatment of you and me.’
‘You haven’t told anyone how he’s behaving, have you?’ she asked, thankful no one other than her knew the truth.
‘Only Héctor.’
‘But he hates Eduardo. Who’s to say he wouldn’t tell someone? It would be to his advantage, you know.’
‘Yes, it would, but Héctor isn’t the type to go behind people’s backs.’
‘True. It’s not like he’s afraid of face-to-face confrontation.’ The last time Héctor and Eduardo had seen each other it had ended in a punch-up that was splashed across the front page of every newspaper in South America. Neither man had explained the reason for their fight. Not even Louisa knew why.
Roberto fixed a steady gaze on her. ‘Why do you always defend Eduardo?’
‘I don’t.’
Entwining his cold fingers with hers, he said, ‘One day, I’ll have enough money to whisk you far away from here. From him. I’ll treat you like a princess and you’ll never want for a thing.’
‘Your sentiment is lovely, but I don’t want to be a princess. Fairy tales are for children. All I want is for us to be together, but we need to wait some more.’ She breathed deeply and exhaled, watching the air fog in front of her. ‘Neither of us have money, and living in the slums is the fastest way for a romance to die, no matter how strong the bond. Only rats and parasites survive in those hell holes.’
‘If I could make a name for myself, earn a reputation and money, we could get a small apartment in Palermo and be rid of Eduardo forever.’
‘It’s not that easy.’
‘Why not? You love me, yes?’ His wide, expectant eyes begged for her answer.
‘Of course I do. I love you with my entire being.’
‘Then come away with me. We’ll make it work.’ He squeezed her hand tight, like he was afraid to let go and lose her forever.
‘I want to ... I ...’ She pulled away and held her head in her hands. Roberto rubbed her back as she fought to get the words right. ‘I desperately want to be with you but I can’t turn my back on the man who saved me from poverty.’
‘He relies on you too much.’ He stared into the darkness, jaw set hard. ‘I hate it when people think you’re his lover.’
‘I’m not.’ Her words came out fast.
‘Everyone else thinks he has sex with you to keep his creative juices flowing. It disgusts me to think he could touch you ...’ He let the sentence fall away and shook his head, as though trying to dispel a repugnant image.
‘The only man I have ever wanted is you. One day we’ll have the chance to be together the way we want.’ She closed her mouth before her internal sob became audible. Through blurry eyes, she checked her watch. ‘I have to go.’
‘So soon?’
‘Yes. I’m sorry. I can’t risk him finding out about us.’
‘Nothing ever happens that he should be worried about.’ His words had an edge.
‘He wouldn’t see it this way. He would feel betrayed by the two people he trusts most. He’d think you were trying to take me away from him.’
‘I am.’ Roberto flashed a grin before his expression turned serious once more. ‘He’s not rational.’
‘What artist is?’ She smiled, hoping to defuse Roberto’s rising anger.
‘We should leave. We could live on a beach surrounded by jungles. Or own a cashew plantation. Then no one can steal them. Or my Louisa.’
She allowed a small smile. Although she didn’t encourage his jealousy, every so often she didn’t mind. ‘Where are you talking about? Belize? Guatemala? Colombia?’
‘Brazil,’ he said with confidence, as if he’d given this great thought.
‘Brazil.’ She let the word hang in the air, surrounded by hope. Shame quickly fell upon her—she shouldn’t entertain such ideas, no matter how unrealistic.
‘Yes. That way I wouldn’t have to worry about running out of cashew nuts ever again.’
Despite her serious mood, a small laugh left her lips. Roberto ran his fingers through her hair and she closed her eyes briefly, allowing his love to caress her. If only she could tell him his chance to continue Eduardo’s legacy would come sooner than expected. For now, she was stuck in the middle, unable to breathe a single word and with no idea which way to turn.
‘I would be fine without him,’ Roberto said with the cockiness. ‘Well, maybe not. He is an excellent teacher and at times quite engaging in conversation.’ Kicking out his legs and resting his feet on the gravel, he said, ‘I know when he finally lets me play in public the doors will be thrown wide open.’
‘Patience is all we need.’ The skin on her face felt cooler, as if the temperature had dropped a few degrees. She leant over and rested her cold lips against his warm cheek. ‘I love you, Roberto Vega.’
‘And I you.’
The words floated across the night chill and wrapped warmly around her heart. She stood then hurried through the darkness, refusing to look at the man who was the one bright light in her gloomy existence. If her eyes met his, she’d run into his arms and never let go.
CHAPTER
4
The city lights cut through the dark night, casting a Las Vegas glow on the bricked pavement as Carlos ushered Dani down the pedestrian mall, Calle Florida. Abandoned flyers littered the ground and made the going slippery as they weaved between young families heading out to dine, even though it was close to midnight. Dani’s stomach growled and she wrapped her arms around her torso.
Visions of the woman in the photo played in her head. She desperately wanted to ask more questions but Carlos had spent the last half-hour scowling, muttering and refusing to make eye contact. She’d apologised so much she’d started to sound insincere before giving up, figuring he couldn’t be that peeved if he was still taking her to a práctica. Although it did cross her mind he might be planning to humiliate her in a public dance hall. Good luck, sunshine.
Even though he used a cane, Carlos set a cracking pace. She took two steps to his one but her mind travelled faster than her legs.
‘You are slow. Hurry.’
‘I’m doing my best.’ She switched gears and lengthened her stride.
They arrived at Avenida 9 de Julio, the world’s widest avenue where cars sped along with no regard for anyone’s safety, including their own. Pollution pooled in Dani’s lungs and she broke into a coughing fit, grabbing Carlos’s shoulder to steady herself, but the moment her fingers touched him, his body stiffened. After catching breath, she straightened and took away her hand, his dark eyes studied hers and his expression softened. Caught in the moment, Dani smiled then the spell broke.
‘We take a taxi.’ He stepped off the gutter and entered the mayhem. Lifting his hand, he whistled loudly and a black and yellow cab slammed on its brakes. This New York-style action stirred nostalgia within Dani, and homesickness for the city she’d adopted three years ago overwhelmed her. Carlos opened the door and she climbed in, settling on a cracked leather seat. A halo of cigarette smoke hung above them as Carlos slammed the door and barked an address at the driver, who sped off so fast she slid
along the seat and crashed into her companion.
‘Sorry,’ she mumbled, shuffling back to the far side of the car.
Once again, Carlos looked everywhere but at her. Normally, she’d be annoyed at someone behaving like this but instead, she found his shifting demeanour intriguing. Life had taught her everyone has a story and their behaviour was a result of underlying events—past and present. Carlos didn’t appear to be naturally cantankerous and his current state may be a result of the dodgy leg from the motorbike accident. With the furore he was subjected to after the event, no wonder he was cranky.
They wound through narrow streets and zipped between blocks of ramshackle houses into suburbs with natural arches of trees over wide streets and row upon row of ostentatious mansions decorated with elaborate stone carvings.
In all the surprise and haste of this unplanned trip to the práctica, Dani had forgotten about being scared of running into her mother. Now fear crashed into her like a rogue wave. Thankfully, Dani’s chances of bumping into Iris were slim, as she’d recently escaped the tango world and become a recluse, rumoured to be living in a remote region of Argentina. If the story was true, and she hoped it was, then Dani would be fine.
Carlos stared out the window, showing no sign of wanting to engage in conversation. Guilt pricked her conscience at the thought of having wangled her way into his sphere of trust by convincing him all she wanted was his help in writing the articles. Sure, she needed his assistance, but the hidden motive of surreptitiously gaining information on Iris made her uneasy. Especially since he’d already given her an extra chance after he’d caught her snooping. And even if she did explain her situation, she doubted Carlos—or anyone for that matter—could fully understand her overwhelming desire to learn about Iris but not want to see her. Dani was petrified that, should Iris discover her daughter was in Argentina, she would be coerced into playing happy families. That was the last thing she wanted. So whether she felt guilty or not, she had to keep this secret to herself and find a way to get the information she wanted without upsetting anyone. Good luck, McKenna.
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