by Iris Danbury
“We’ll take Nicola to Sitges for Corpus Christi,” suggested Adrienne. “Now that’s something worth seeing, but we will not tell you until you arrive,” she said, turning to Nicola.
Nicola did not disclose that she already knew from coloured postcards how the main streets of Sitges were literally paved with flowers. She was, however, a little apprehensive as to how Sebastian would regard these plans. She gave him a quick look of interrogation and was relieved when he smiled and nodded approval.
Dinner tonight was a more formal affair than the meals at which Nicola had been present. It was served in a rectangular dining room with arched windows leading to a shaded terrace. The furniture was black oak with high-backed chairs upholstered in dark-red brocade. When the candles were lit on the table the shadows advanced from the rest of the room and only the women’s dresses and the white dinner jackets of the two men made illumined contrasts. Two manservants and a maid seemed to appear at one’s elbow by magic to serve the innumerable dishes or refill one’s glasses with wine.
When the long dinner was over at last Nicola felt sleepy not only with the food and wine, but the day had been a full and tiring one. She would willingly have excused herself and left the others to their coffee and liqueurs on the lantern-lit terrace outside the dining room, but she thought it wiser to stay and remain unobtrusive.
Adrienne and Ramon were engaged in some bantering conversation, and it was only now that she noticed Elena and Sebastian had gone away. Nicola stared out at the dark midnight blue sky spangled with stars, the gardens were full of scents and sighing trees. Then she heard Elena’s voice from some adjacent room which evidently opened on to the same terrace. Elena spoke in Spanish and Nicola could not follow, but she distinctly heard her own name mentioned, and the way Elena said “Senorita Brettell” was certainly not friendly.
Sebastian was answering in a low rumbling tone, and Nicola was in a way thankful that she did not understand enough Spanish to be guilty of eavesdropping.
Next morning Adrienne was in a wildly excited state.
“Oh, Nicola, I told you we should surprise Elena,” she began. “Last night she was furious.”
“About what?” queried Nicola, although she guessed the answer.
“About you. Elena has been quite anxious to provide me with a slightly motherly eye—or at least an aunt’s eye—so that she could be more often in this house and with Sebastian. Now that she finds I am provided with a suitable companion, she is very angry indeed.” Adrienne collapsed into a fit of laughter. “She says it was a plot behind her back while she was still away with Ramon,” the girl continued after a pause.
“And wasn’t it?” asked Nicola with a smile.
Adrienne’s frank grey eyes looked into Nicola’s face. “Yes, of course. You understand now why I was so anxious to have the matter settled immediately.”
“And does she think I’m a suitable companion for you?”
Adrienne laughed again. “No, she does not. You’re too young and you’re English, so you don’t understand our Spanish ways. More than that, Sebastian knows nothing about you, except perhaps that you are good at typing and shorthand. Elena does not say so outright, but clearly she thinks you could easily be a very dubious character, glad to stay in Spain out of the way of any crimes you have committed elsewhere.”
Nicola shivered. The assessment was so very near the truth, except that it was Lisa who was involved, not herself.
“So perhaps Dona Elena will keep an eye on us both,” she murmured.
“Not at all!” declared Adrienne hotly. “I have fought her off for a whole year. I am not going to give in to her now. She expects to come here, choose my clothes, select my friends, tell me where I shall go and not go, and I will not tolerate her. Besides, I must save Sebastian from her,” she finished dramatically.
“But supposing he might like to marry her?” Nicola pointed out.
“He has more sense than that!” was Adrienne’s scornful comment.
It was Nicola’s turn to laugh quietly. “When it comes to love and marriage, men don’t usually bother about sense—any more than women do.”
Adrienne stared in some admiration at Nicola. “There! Now I see how right I was to want you for my confidante. You are practical and wise and you have the head wound on well.”
“Screwed on, we say,” Nicola corrected her.
Adrienne beamed. “Oh, I can see that we are going to have enjoyable times together, you and I, provided that Sebastian doesn’t make you work too hard—and I will certainly see that he does not.”
“I must be prepared to do some,” Nicola reminded her. ‘That’s partly why I’m here.”
“That, at least, is something that Elena cannot do,” the younger girl retorted.
“She has probably never had any need. I’ve had to earn a living.”
“True.” After a long pause, Adrienne said, “If Elena has a private talk with you, and I think she will try soon, then you must say as little as possible. Just be polite and no more.”
“Very well,” agreed Nicola. Dona Elena was not a woman to be underrated, she thought. Once or twice during dinner last night, when Elena had removed her concealing dark glasses, Nicola had caught an occasional glance from cold green-brown eyes.
At four o’clock when Dr. Sebastian returned from Barcelona, he came out to the little courtyard at the back of the Villa.
“If I could have your attention, Miss Brettell, for an hour or two? That is, if my niece will kindly give me permission?”
Adrienne gave her uncle a friendly thump on his arm.
Sebastian’s study was book-lined, furnished with a large desk, chairs of embossed leather and a beautiful bronze statue of Apollo. There were long, complicated forms to fill in on her behalf in connection with her work permit, and the doctor completed all he could for her.
“You must attend in person first at your own Embassy, then at the Spanish official place, but I will take you there tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
He handed her what was evidently a chapter of his book. “Could you manage to retype that with all the alterations and so on?”
She studied the corrected pages for a few moments. “Yes, I’m sure I could do that. Now?” She looked around for the typewriter.
“Presently.” He rose and walked about the room while Nicola waited.
“Miss Brettell,” he said at last, “did you go to the village yesterday? With Adrienne?”
“Yes, Dr. Montal.”
“And you visited the fish quay?”
Nicola’s face lit with enthusiasm.
“Oh, yes. I thought it was wonderfully interesting. Those marvellous patterns they make with the fish!”
Sebastian’s face grew more sombre, if that were possible.
“Did Adrienne meet anyone there?” he asked.
“No, I don’t think so,” she replied.
“Not a young fisherlad?” he persisted.
“Oh, yes. I saw her talking to a young boy. I suppose he was a fisherman.”
Sebastian nodded. “Exactly. Now, Miss Brettell, I want you to listen carefully. My niece is apparently forming a great attachment to this young man, Barto. He lives in a cottage farther down the road with his family. Actually, I own the cottage. Adrienne seems to find many excuses to call at his home or see him wherever she can.” When he paused, Nicola waited in silence.
“I want you to do your best to prevent Adrienne from continuing this association and to report to me whenever she meets the young man.”
Nicola’s face flamed. “But, Dr. Montal, you’re asking me to spy on your niece!”
“Certainly. I cannot tuck her under my arm all the time. I am a busy man, but I must do something to stop her from making a fool of herself over Barto.”
“Surely there couldn’t be much harm in a youthful friendship like that?” she protested.
“Allow me to know whether harm might arise or not,” he said coldly. “I’m not concerned only about any
harm to Adrienne. There’s the boy, Bartolomeo, also to be considered. The friendship must stop for his sake as well as hers.”
After a few moments Nicola said, “How am I expected to do that?”
“Adrienne is easily persuaded to a course of action if she likes the person giving the advice. She will probably accept from you what she would resent from me—or—or others.”
She guessed that he had been going to say “Elena.” “Wouldn’t this—this undesirable friendship die of its own accord if no one interfered?” Nicola felt bound to ask. “To forbid her to see him may only result in her rebellion.”
Sebastian smiled, but only with his mouth. There was no warmth in his eyes. “I see that you have common sense, Miss Brettell. That is why I think I can rely on you to carry out my wishes.”
“Supposing I am doing your work here, how am I to prevent Adrienne from doing whatever she chooses or going wherever she fancies?”
“Miss Brettell—may I call you Nicola?—you are evidently extremely logical. Perhaps your business training has given you that. Of course you can’t be in two places at once, but you can influence Adrienne to the extent that she won’t disobey you.”
“I think you’re crediting me, Dr. Montal, with more powers than I possess, but I’ll do my best for Adrienne—and for you.”
“I’m aware of the order in which you’ve placed us, but perhaps Adrienne should come first. It’s really her future that’s my concern. Her father may or may not be dead, but either way I must safeguard Adrienne.”
“How much of this am I to tell your niece?” she queried. “Is she to be told that I am her newly appointed watchdog?”
The doctor placed his hands on the back of a chair and looked down at her. “If you think it wise to do so. I admire your frankness, but Adrienne may like the truth disguised a little.”
The next hour or so was taken up with Nicola’s instruction in how Sebastian wanted his typescript done, but when she left him in his study, she was glad to escape the claustrophobic atmosphere.
She went to her room and looked out over the flower-edged patio. Such lovely surroundings to a gracious house, yet there were discords and cross-currents of opposition. She began to wonder whether she had been wise to sign away her own freedom for a year.
Where was Adrienne now? Down in Orsola chatting to her fisher-boy? Nicola went out of the house to search, hating herself already that she had been forced into the position of a wardress. But Adrienne was chatting to Ramon on the “Mediterranean balcony”, a tall jug of Sangria between them.
When the courtesies of kissing Nicola’s hand had been observed by Ramon and she was invited to sample the deliciously cool Sangria, he said, “We are making plans to go to Sitges for Corpus Christi. You will of course come with us?”
“Thank you, I’d like to,” returned Nicola.
“Elena will come with us,” continued Ramon, “but will Sebastian?”
“I doubt it,” said Adrienne, who seemed rather subdued.
Ramon said he had matters to attend to on board his yacht, and as soon as he had left and was safely out of earshot, Adrienne leaned forward towards Nicola.
“Just imagine!” she said breathlessly. “Elena is home only one day and already makes trouble between me and Sebastian.”
Nicola said “Oh?” in a questioning tone, aware of what she was to be told.
“She spied on me yesterday when we were at the quay and I was talking to Barto. Where she was I don’t know—perhaps on the yacht. But she told Sebastian immediately, and now I am forbidden to see Barto.” Adrienne thrust out her arms. “What could be the harm? But you, Nicola, will be able to help me, I know. I will not allow Dona Elena to rule me.”
Nicola wriggled in her chair. Her conscience was wriggling too, in sympathy. She saw that she was already in the unenviable situation of being between the devil and the deep blue sea, that her allegiance was being stretched in opposite directions. How much simpler it would have been to have returned to England and taken an ordinary job in an ordinary office! But that would have been duller and would not have solved the problem of Lisa’s debts. Nicola had to admit to herself that perhaps she was a little bit keyed up by this intriguing development.
CHAPTER III
When she was taken to Sitges on Corpus Christi day Nicola had her first taste of the way in which her life with the Montals might.be enlivened.
Ramon drove one car with Adrienne and Nicola accompanying him, while Sebastian escorted Dona Elena in his own car driven by Ignacio.
“Sebastian changed his mind at the last minute and decided to come with us,” Adrienne confided to Nicola just before they started. “So he has the pleasure of Dona Elena’s company and she is not inflicted on us.”
Nicola merely smiled and was cautious enough not to make any comment. She realised that where Elena was concerned she must choose her words carefully and at least try to appear neutral.
“Now you must always pray that the weather will keep fine,” Adrienne continued. “One year we started out in bright sunshine, but thunder clouds descended from the mountains. All Sitges was drenched with rain and the flower carpets were spoilt.”
Nicola realised that all the rest of the party must have visited Sitges at Corpus Christi many times, yet Ramon and Adrienne at least were taking the trouble to show her one of the loveliest of their local sights.
The drive itself was exciting, sometimes hair-raising, for Ramon swung at top speed round sinuous bends along the winding coast road, where a slight error of judgment could send the car and its occupants plunging over the edge to the rocks below.
The little town of Sitges was crowded with tourists and inhabitants alike. The narrow pavements served as margins from which to view the roadways completely carpeted with flowers, each street with its own individual pattern. Some designs showed giant cherries, nasturtiums and red and yellow canna lilies on a background of white jasmine. Another took the conventional geometrical motifs and worked them in green, yellow and red, so that the whole appeared like a huge stair-carpet unrolled in the roadway.
“Hours of work it must take,” commented Nicola.
“Many days,” agreed Adrienne. “But everyone helps. The inhabitants regard the ‘Alfombras de flores’—the flower carpets—as a kind of fancy dress for their town for this one day, and they put in their spare time and money making its costume.”
After they had toured the various streets, Ramon suggested lunch at a restaurant in the old part of the town towards the end of the bay where a church on massive ramparts jutted out almost into the sea.
Dr. Montal became more genial during the meal, helping Nicola to understand the various dishes.
“You must try this white wine,” he invited, showing her the label on the bottle, Priorato blanc.
Almost at once Dona Elena claimed his attention, and Nicola found when she looked across the table Ramon’s dark twinkling gaze fixed on her.
“You are enjoying yourself?” he queried.
“Oh, yes,” Nicola agreed easily. “Who wouldn’t on a day like this?”
He nodded approval. “Together we must have many days of showing you places and interesting sights.”
His smile was suddenly extinguished and he bent his head to concentrate on his food. Nicola, aware of the abrupt break, glanced beyond Sebastian who sat next to her to Dona Elena at the head of the table. Indoors, Dona Elena had discarded her usual heavily-smoked glasses and now Nicola caught an expression of ice-cold dislike in those green-brown eyes. Momentarily, Elena maintained her gaze, but Nicola looked away first. She felt that she was caught here in shafts of cross-fire that she did not know how to parry.
After lunch and a long rest for coffee and liqueurs, Sebastian suggested that Nicola might like to visit two very interesting museums close by.
“One was originally a Basque-style house where three painters lived for a few years. One of the three was Picasso.”
Touring the lovely old house with its typical Basque furn
ishings, Nicola stood entranced by those earlier paintings, gentle pictures of harmony.
The other small museum, Sebastian told her when they arrived, had been bought and completely restored by an American millionaire who then gave half to the town and the other half to his son.
“The division is curious,” Sebastian said. “You see the blocked doorway ahead. It happens to be on a bridge across the roadway.”
“Perhaps it was meant to be symbolic,” Nicola observed. “A door between public property and private.”
The doctor gave her a sharp questioning glance, but made no further comment.
When Sebastian and Nicola rejoined the others to walk along the palm-edged promenade, Ramon escorted her, leaving Sebastian to accompany Adrienne and Elena.
“How do you like Sitges?” Ramon asked.
“It’s a charming town. Now I understand the views of a friend of mine at home who declares that when he retires he’s coming to live here.”
As she walked between the double row of palms with tops like green feather dusters, she saw how the regularly recurring shadows were cast on the roadway at the side.
“Look, Senor Ventallo,” she said. “D’you think the people here took their inspiration for the flower carpets from the way the shadows fall? Each one makes a pattern.”
“So it does. But you must not be so formal. Please call me Ramon. And you—may I address you as Nicola?”
