by Betty Neels
‘A bodega,’ he explained. ‘You can’t go back to England without seeing round at least one.’
He opened a little door in the gate and ushered her through into a different world. There was a lodge on one side of them, and a large low building on the other side and ahead a meticulously kept path between grass, strange coarse grass, but still grass, and everywhere there were trees and shrubs and flowers. The sun was hot now and Euphemia had forgotten to buy another hat, so that she was glad to go into the lodge with the doctor who, after a few minutes’ chat with the man inside, took her outside again. ‘This was founded by an Englishman, although the Spanish have taken it over now. I know the manager; we can take a look round—there are some rather splendid horses…’
‘Whatever have horses got to do with it?’
‘In September there is a wine festival, all the bodegas join in a procession and the wagons and carts and carriages are drawn by these horses. Let’s go there first.’
They were lovely animals, with glossy coats and combed manes and tails, submitting to her pats and strokes with a lordly dignity until the doctor suggested that they might go and see where the sherry was bottled.
They climbed a staircase for this and hung over the balcony at its top the better to watch the endless chain of bottles, and presently they were joined by a young man who explained it all to them and then took them down the stairs again into a hall where he invited them to sample the sherry and delighted Euphemia by presenting her with a small bottle in a sack—to take home with her, she was told. He brought two normal sized bottles for the doctor, who tucked them under his arm with the remark that her aunt might like them.
‘Aunt Thea? Well, yes, I’m sure she would—I was going to get her something…’
‘Then allow me to give her these and you can find something else.’ His blue eyes twinkled. ‘Have another glass of sherry?’
She said yes promptly, at the same time voicing the opinion that it was a little early in the day. ‘But it’s so very nice,’ she conceded, and allowed her glass to be filled.
They made their goodbyes presently and went out into the sun-filled street again to find a taxi. ‘A pity we couldn’t have stayed longer,’ observed the doctor. ‘The enormous sheds where they keep the vats are really something.’
‘Yes—but I’ve seen a lot, haven’t I? A little bit of Spain…’
He hailed a taxi and they got in, and when they reached the gates he told the driver not to go any further. ‘The walk up the drive will clear your head,’ he pointed out.
‘Oh, my goodness, am I muzzy?’ asked Euphemia in a panic.
He laughed. ‘Of course not, but it’s shady here and there’s no hurry.’
She wasn’t so sure about that. ‘Diana will be wondering where you are.’ She stopped to look at him. She said in a rush, engendered by the sherry: ‘Why don’t you get married? You must be earning enough to support a wife, I can’t think why you don’t…?’
He was staring down at her, his blue eyes hooded, ‘And have you given it much thought, Euphemia?’
She went on recklessly: ‘Oh, yes—you’ve been engaged for ages, haven’t you? And it isn’t as if you have to save to buy the furniture or anything like that. Surely if you fall in love with someone you know if you want to marry them…’ She stopped, struck by the thought that she had fallen in love with someone, and wanted to marry him very much, only she had just discovered it, a bit late in the day, too-too late.
‘Did I ever tell you that you are an abominable girl, Euphemia?’
She came back to earth with a crash. ‘Oh, my goodness, yes!’
She started off again at a great rate, and neither of them spoke again.
CHAPTER SIX
EUPHEMIA WOULD have liked to have dashed straight to her room once they reached the house; the doctor hadn’t spoken and she could think of nothing to say. She thought miserably that a brighter girl would have passed the whole thing off as a joke, but she wasn’t feeling bright; she felt as though she had gone down a very long way in a lift unexpectedly and ended up with an almighty bump. An unpleasant bump too. Only a fool would fall in love with a man who was on the point of marrying someone else, and that someone a frightful mistake.
But luck wasn’t with her. Diana called to her and she had to go to the drawing-room with her purchases and give chapter and verse for every one of them. The doctor went with her, but she avoided his eye and escaped as soon as she could, to sit in her room and wish herself anywhere but where she was. He wasn’t going until the next day, somehow she must keep out of his way until then. Supposing he guessed… She rushed over to the mirror and studied her face. It looked precisely the same as usual and she sighed with relief. If she could keep it like that no one would guess that she was in love; they had no reason to suspect it even, and certainly not he. She did her face with care, tidied her hair and changed into another dress, then went back to the drawing-room. Diana and Mrs Kellard didn’t look up as she went in, but the doctor did. He got up and crossed over to the drinks table, glancing at his hostess as he went. She nodded graciously and murmured: ‘Oh, by all means, Tane—you’re seeing to the drinks.’
He looked at Euphemia with a faint smile. ‘You look as though you need something strong,’ he observed blandly. ‘Perhaps you overreached yourself his morning. A glass of Dry Sack, perhaps?’
‘Thank you.’ She was glad that her voice sounded coolly pleasant and nothing more. ‘It was certainly very warm.’
Diana looked up from the embroidery she was doing. ‘Well, I hope it hasn’t made you tired. I was far too exhausted to wash my hair, you’ll have to do it for me after lunch.’ Her voice changed to a softly cajoling note. ‘Tane darling, I’d love to go out to dinner this evening. Is there anywhere decent in Jerez?’
He went and sat down near her and fell to discussing where they should go, while Euphemia sat down near the window and picked up a magazine, the picture of cool calm detachment.
Diana kept her busy for an hour after lunch and when she was free she went along to her room and lay down on the bed. The room, although cool enough, seemed stuffy after the garden, but she was afraid of meeting the doctor. She thought about him instead, remembering every line and angle of his face, the way he talked and walked, and thought wonderingly that she had once disliked him, treated him in a lighthearted fashion as a tiresome person she had nothing in common with—only Myrtle House. They had that in common, and as long as he was her tenant they were bound to meet on occasion, and that wasn’t to be borne if Diana was living there too as his wife.
She got up and went to hang over the little balcony, remembering that she had half planned to rescue him from Diana. She still wanted to do that but she didn’t see how she could now because even to herself she would have to admit that she might stand to gain by it, and even though all was supposed to be fair in love and war she wasn’t all that mean. Besides he must want to marry Diana, probably because she was such a cold fish. He might be a man who disliked demonstrative women who might interfere with his busy life, in which case Diana was just right for him.
Euphemia told herself firmly to stop thinking about the doctor. He would be gone in a few hours now and in another week she would be on the way home. She had quite forgotten what he had said about going to his own home first.
Bereft of Diana and Tane’s company, Mrs Kellard decided to have dinner on a tray in her room, which left Euphemia sitting at the big table by herself. She had spent an hour or more helping Diana to achieve perfection for her evening out and then prudently slipped back to her room until she heard the Cadillac purring away from the door, and now she was enjoying her dinner. The servants, without Mrs Kellard to see what they were doing, were doing her proud; soup, cold watercress soup and delicious, calamares fritos, a great dish of mixed vegetables, potatoes cooked in their skins and mojo picon to make them piquant, followed by little tarts filled with miel de Palma. All very fattening and it looked gorgeous even if the main dish was squid, s
omething she wouldn’t have dreamed of eating at home. And Maria had put a bottle of dry white wine on the table and kept her glass filled. Euphemia drank three glasses and got up from the table feeling pleasantly muzzy. A little fresh air, she decided, and went outside into the warm evening to lie back on a garden chair and fell instantly asleep.
It was almost dark when she woke and there was a faint smell of a cigar tickling her nose. She jumped to her feet so quickly that she nearly fell over, and the cigar became overwhelming as the doctor took a step forward and caught her.
‘My goodness!’ exclaimed Euphemia in a panic. ‘Whatever is the time? I fell asleep. What will Diana…I should have…’
He had made no attempt to take his arm away. ‘It’s almost eleven o’clock. Diana thought you had gone to bed and decided that she could manage for herself for once.’ He bent his head and wrinkled his handsome nose. ‘My dear girl, you’ve been drinking?’
‘I haven’t!’ She was indignant. ‘At least, Maria gave me some wine with my dinner—I had three glasses. It was a lovely meal, squid and that tangy sauce with the potatoes, and honey tarts for pudding.’
‘It sounds better than our meal. Why did you dine alone?’
‘Mrs Kellard had hers in bed.’ She realised suddenly that he still had an arm round her and it must be because it was almost dark that she felt so relaxed. She added: ‘I didn’t mind a bit.’
He gave a little laugh. ‘I don’t imagine you would.’ He turned her round to face him and stood staring down at her. ‘Dear little Phemie,’ he said softly, and kissed her surprised mouth.
She pulled away from him and he let her go at once. ‘Oh, no!’ she whispered, and rushed soundlessly into the house. She had almost reached her room when Diana’s door opened.
‘I thought you were in bed hours ago!’ Diana sounded angry.
‘It was too warm.’ Euphemia added a quick goodnight and closed her own door. She sat down on the bed and discovered that she was trembling, not because Diana had seen her and was probably even now having suspicious thoughts, but because Tane had kissed her. She had been kissed before on many occasions, but it had never been like that, but then he was what she supposed one would call a man of the world and was a bit of an expert. She got up and undressed and lay a long while in the bath, her head full of nonsensical thoughts which seemed to have taken over from common sense. Reality didn’t seem real any more; perhaps it would be in the morning.
She woke early and indeed, in the early morning light, last night’s happenings became impossible daydreams, as they really were. Euphemia went down to her breakfast and found the doctor sitting at the small table Maria always laid for her on the loggia and all the daydreams came rushing back again. Nonetheless, she wished him good morning with cool friendliness, passed the time of day with Maria and offered to pour his coffee.
‘You don’t mind me joining you, do you?’ he wanted to know. ‘Diana doesn’t feel like coming down to breakfast and we’d look rather silly sitting at separate tables.’
‘Of course I don’t mind.’ She was proud of her casual manner. Just right, she considered; friendly but cool. Rather pleased with herself, she embarked upon a one-sided conversation about the weather. There wasn’t all that much to say about it, because the days were all exactly alike, unlike the weather at home, but it got her through rolls and coffee and if she got up with rather more alacrity than was polite, the doctor didn’t appear to notice. She went along to see how Diana was and found her already up and dressing. Her ‘good morning’ was sour and she declared that she had eaten something which had disagreed with her at dinner the night before. ‘That’s why we came back early,’ she added, giving Euphemia a sly look. ‘We’re going to Cadiz this morning—you’ll come too, of course.’
‘Me? But surely…the doctor goes this evening, doesn’t he? You’ll want to be on your own… I’ve that dress to see to—you wanted it mended as soon as possible.’
‘Well, I’ve changed my mind—you’re coming with us. Tane can drive the Cadillac and we can lunch out.’
Euphemia opened her mouth to protest again and then decided not to. If Diana was in a bad temper, it would spoil the trip for Tane. She had no idea why she was suddenly in such demand, but doubtless she would find out quickly enough.
Which she did. Sitting in the back, she was treated to a display of charm and allure the like of which she hadn’t seen before. Diana, her face wreathed in smiles, cuddled up to the doctor, whispered to him, draped a skinny arm around as much of his shoulder as she could reach, and generally made an exhibition of herself. Euphemia, looking out of the window without really seeing anything, knew what it was all about. Diana must have known about last night, not all of it perhaps, but she must have guessed that Tane had met her on the patio and now she was making it very clear to Euphemia that he was hers and no mistake about it.
She wondered what the doctor thought about it, but there was no way of knowing. He drove steadily on, answering Diana’s whispers in a normal voice and mostly in monosyllables. It was a pity she couldn’t see his face. It had shown nothing when Diana, dragging Euphemia with her, had joined him on the patio and declared that the three of them would go. She couldn’t know of his thoughts as he saw her beside Diana, her face devoid of make-up, her hair tied back, her sleeveless cotton dress showing off her brown arms and legs, but she had been very aware of her own, that she had been falling in love with him ever since they had first met, and hadn’t known it. But now she did know, and she had no idea what to do about it, although how she could have been so foolish as to fall in love with such a cold, reserved man, she had no idea.
And when Diana had suddenly left them to get another sun-hat Euphemia had said hurriedly: ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t want to come, but Diana insisted. I only hope it won’t be too hot for her…’
He had made an impatient sound. ‘Diana is recovered, although she is still far too thin.’
‘Well, I’ve done my best,’ Euphemia had said reasonably, ‘but it’s natural that she should want to stay slim.’
‘Why?’ he had barked at her.
‘Well, she always has been…’
‘Not slim—skinny.’ He had allowed his gaze to dwell on her own curvy person and she had gone red and snapped:
‘Well, don’t look at me, I’m plump.’
‘Indeed? My eyes must be playing me false.’
Diana had joined them then, and a good thing too.
Euphemia tried to concentrate on the countryside now, although it was difficult enough with Diana carrying on the way she was. She had wanted to see Cadiz and the country around the city and she had her chance. Vine-covered plains stretched to the horizon, dotted with small whitewashed houses and almost no trees, and these small umbrella shapes—a little disappointing. And the other side, with the sea in the distance, was disappointing too—salt flats and narrow waterways and here and there a small copse of the same small trees. Euphemia could see the outskirts of Cadiz ahead now, all the paraphernalia of docks; cranes and ships and large sheds which housed she knew not what. They could have been anywhere in the world.
The doctor spoke to her over his shoulder. ‘Disappointed, Euphemia? This is the wrong end—the docks and port. We’re going into the city in a few moments now.’
He drove through an ancient gateway piercing the great walls of the old city and slowed the car, so that she had time to peer down the narrow crowded streets on either side of them. She would have liked to have got out and walked, but he swept on, through another gate and into a boulevard with the sea on one side, bordered by beautifully kept gardens and, on the other, great mansions, cheek by jowl with blocks of modern flats. Everything was clean and splendid and colourful, contrasting strongly with the narrow streets they had just left. Euphemia would have liked to have talked about it, but Diana was saying that she simply had to have coffee and did Tane know of a decent café?
He parked presently before a large modern restaurant and they had their coffee sitting on t
he pavement outside, but there was no chance to ask questions then, either, because Diana kept up a careless flow of talk which gave no one else a chance to say anything. It was clever talk, amusing and witty and delivered in an artless manner which Euphemia had to admire. Whether the doctor admired it or not was difficult to tell. He sat almost silent, looking bland and smiling faintly from time to time.
Diana finished her coffee first. ‘Well, if this is Cadiz, I don’t think I want to see any more of it, unless there are some decent shops.’
‘Several—there are some splendid churches and several magnificent buildings. It’s one of the oldest cities in Europe and built by the Phoenicians about 1100 BC. It’s a fortress town…’
Diana hunched a shoulder. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Tane, who wants to know all that old rubbish!’ She put a hand on his arm and smiled up at him. ‘Couldn’t we just take a quick peep at the shops—you haven’t bought me a present for ages.’
He was sitting back with his eyes half closed. ‘And what do you wish me to buy you, Diana?’
She pouted prettily. ‘I haven’t a decent rag to my back, a new dress would be fun.’ And when he got up with a cheerful, ‘Let’s go, then,’ she shot Euphemia a look of triumph.
‘There’s a boutique Aunt was telling me about, it’s near some church or other.’
The doctor knew where it was. He parked the car outside the elegant little shop, leaned across Diana to open her door and then got out himself, but when he went to open the door for Euphemia Diana said sharply: ‘Oh, Euphemia won’t want to come inside—clothes don’t seem to interest her, she can stay in the car.’ And when the doctor didn’t move, ‘Tane, you must come in with me, I can’t speak a word of Spanish.’
He went inside with her and Euphemia sat and looked out of the window at the busy street, full of expensive shops and cafés and mostly modern. If only they had let her go off on her own; she wasn’t having much luck with her sightseeing. She sat back and closed her eyes and two tears trickled forlornly down her cheeks.
