by Mary Lyons
‘Yes. It…it’s not easy.’
When the girl didn’t say any more, merely continuing to push the food around her plate, Joyce said, ‘It’s no good sitting there wreathed in gloom and generally looking like a wet weekend. If your marriage is in trouble, I think you’d better tell me about it. And then we’ll have to see what we can do to try and solve the problem.
‘Come on, Gina,’ she added impatiently. ‘You of all people ought to know that I’m not going to let you off the hook. Not until I’ve got the whole story out of you. From start to finish!’
Gina gave a muffled snort of laughter. Her darling godmother was, as usual, quite right. It was hopeless to try and keep anything from the older woman. She’d always seemed to know when something was wrong in Gina’s life, and had, more often than not, been able to give her extremely good advice.
And so, haltingly at first, Gina explained the basically insoluble problem which lay at the heart of her marriage to Antonio.
‘So, while the sex was and is great—everything else is dust and ashes?’ Joyce murmured, horrified to learn that her beloved goddaughter had been carrying such an unhappy, heavy burden for so many months. ‘Well…I’m very sorry to hear that your Antonio should have turned out to have such feet of clay.’ She frowned. ‘But I must say that it doesn’t seem to quite add up.’
‘What do you mean?’
Joyce Frazer gave a sigh and shrugged her slim, elegant shoulders. ‘Well, let’s face it, darling—he is fairly wealthy in his own right, as well as being quite extraordinarily handsome. So if he’d been solely concerned with obtaining money to prop up his family’s wine-making business, I can assure you that there are hundreds of women on the continent—and in Spain itself, of course—who are far richer than you are ever going to be. And many of them have a family tree as long as your arm.’
‘So?’ Gina muttered dully.
‘So…if gorgeous, handsome and independently wealthy Don Antonio Ramirez could have easily found himself a rich and very well-connected wife in Spain—why didn’t he just get on with it?’
‘I…I don’t understand.’
Joyce sighed. ‘Darling—don’t be so dim! If Antonio wanted a rich wife in a hurry, why go to all the trouble of travelling to Britain? And besides…is it really beyond the bounds of possibility that Antonio could have fallen violently in love with you the first moment he set eyes on you?
‘Believe me, it does happen,’ she added, as Gina gave a snort of derisive laughter.
‘Sorry.’ Gina shrugged. ‘That’s a nice idea, of course. But I don’t think it’s got any relevance to what happened to me,’ she muttered, staring blindly down at the plate in front of her.
‘Well, now you’ve outlined your problem to me, darling, I suppose I’d better try and come up with a solution.’
‘If only it were that easy,’ her goddaughter told her with a tired smile.
‘Well…what we have here,’ Joyce told her reflectively, ‘would seem to be a case of a very strong physical attraction between two people who, in every other respect, appear to be completely at odds with one another. Am I correct so far?’
Gina nodded. ‘Unfortunately, yes—you’re absolutely right.’
‘Which leads me to the inescapable conclusion that in order to resolve matters—and sort out the deep problems between you—it will be necessary to find an opportunity for you and your clearly prickly, difficult husband to sit down and talk things through.’
‘Yes, well…that might have been the sensible answer to the problem a month or two ago. But I’m afraid matters have gone rapidly downhill lately.’
There was a long silence as her godmother carefully considered everything Gina had said. Then she said, ‘I think there is a possibility that you still might be able to save your marriage. It all comes down to one or two very important questions.’
‘And they are…?’
‘Firstly—do you still love Antonio? And I think,’ she said with a smile, ‘that you’ve made it abundantly clear that you do. And the next question has to be: what are you going to do about it?’
Gina gazed at her in astonishment. ‘Are you actually suggesting that I…I should just forget what he did to me?’
‘No, of course not. But I am suggesting that you take a good, hard look at the situation. You appear to truly love this man. And it’s obvious that he also feels very deeply for you. Which isn’t hard to work out, since he doesn’t seem to be able to keep his hands off you!’ she added, giving a light ripple of laughter at the tide of bright crimson flooding over her goddaughter’s face.
‘So, is it merely pride which is preventing you and Antonio from sorting out your problems? From sitting down and having a long, sensible talk to one another? Because, if so, then clearly one of you will have to take the first step. And—I have to be honest—I don’t think your proud Spanish husband could ever bring himself to do it. So it looks as if it will have to be you, doesn’t it?’
‘Oh, no…no, I couldn’t possibly…’
‘Take my word for it,’ Joyce told her firmly. ‘Pride is a wretched, icy cold bedfellow. It’s the root cause of most divorces—where nice, ordinary people can become so embittered and hostile simply because either they can’t admit that they might have been at fault or bring themselves to forgive those who have sinned in some way. Believe me, darling,’ she added sternly, ‘there is absolutely no room for pride in a marriage!
‘But one of you has to take the initiative,’ Joyce continued. ‘And since I think we can agree that it will have to be you, Gina, there’s only one answer: you’re simply going to have to seduce your husband. Both back into your bed and permanently back into your life.’
Gina gave an unhappy huff of laughter. ‘You don’t seem to understand. We’re not talking of a simple case of adultery which I can either forgive or not, as I see fit. And this isn’t just a case of pride. What I’m facing is a fundamentally moral question. Did Antonio use underhand methods to get me to marry him for the sake of my grandfather’s money? And I must say that I believe he did. And that is something that I find indefensible. And no amount of sensible discussion is going to make it any better!’
‘No, darling—of course it’s not!’ Joyce Frazer agreed. ‘But you were telling me earlier about the invitation you’d just received to Roxana’s wedding. I don’t know Bourgos, of course. Or Roxana’s arrangements. But it shouldn’t be beyond the wit of a determined woman to find some way in which to remind her husband exactly why he married his wife in the first place…’
Satisfied to note that her last remark had clearly hit home, and that she’d at least given the younger woman something to think about, Joyce adroitly changed the subject by enquiring as to how Gina was coping with her new responsibilities in the wake of her grandfather’s death.
It was only when the younger girl was preparing to take her leave that her godmother gave her a warm hug, whispering in her ear, ‘Go to Spain and seduce him, darling. Believe me, the mixture of deep, true love and strong sexual attraction is a very powerful weapon!’
It was all very well for her godmother to suggest that her problems could be easily resolved by merely seducing her husband. But, as she’d told Joyce, that simply wasn’t an option she was prepared to consider. Her marriage to Antonio was obviously coming to its close, the gulf between them being simply too wide to be bridged.
In fact, the more she thought about it during the next few days, the more Gina realised that any idea of attending Roxana’s wedding was simply not acceptable.
For one thing she would have to meet all the Ramirez family relations, and that could prove to be extremely embarrassing for them all. Even if Antonio had managed not to talk about his disintegrating marriage, surely some of the family must have a very good idea that all was not well between himself and Gina?
And then there was the question of Antonio himself. He would almost certainly not be pleased to see her. And there seemed no point in putting her own still-fragile emotions th
rough such a maelstrom.
Which was why she’d made up her mind to politely but firmly refuse the wedding invitation when she received a telephone call from the bride herself.
‘But of course you must come to my wedding!’ Roxana cried. ‘It won’t be the same without you, Gina. Not at all.’
‘Look, it’s not that I don’t want to come,’ Gina explained. ‘But when I had a look at the map of Spain, it seemed as though Bourgos was absolutely miles from anywhere. Certainly quite a long haul from the nearest airport, which appears to be Bilbao. So, I’m afraid that…’
‘No! I’m not going to allow you to try to wriggle out of this,’ Roxana told her firmly, before adding with a slight laugh, ‘I know you too well—you’re just suffering from cold feet about this situation. Yes?’
I couldn’t have put it better myself, Gina thought, desperately trying to think of some other valid excuse for avoiding the confrontation which lay ahead.
‘Really, you have no need to worry. For one thing, I will not tell my brother that you are coming to my wedding,’ Roxana continued, clearly determined not to let her old friend off the hook. ‘Besides, we are sisters now. Sí? So you can trust me in this.’
Gina gave a heavy sigh. ‘But if you don’t tell Antonio that I’m coming it’s more than likely that he’ll be very angry. Especially if the first he knows about it is when he sees me there, in the church. In fact, he’s going to go bananas—and well you know it, Roxana!’
‘Ah, Gina…’
‘And…and besides—where would I stay?’
‘Oh, please…I must have my oldest friend at my wedding,’ Roxana wailed. ‘I must!’
‘Well, you know that I really don’t want to let you down, but…’
‘You can leave everything to me,’ her old schoolfriend said quickly, clearly sensing that Gina was weakening. ‘I will make all the arrangements. There will be a limousine to meet you at Bilbao Airport, and I will book you into the largest and most exclusive hotel.’
‘That sounds very grand!’
‘It is,’ Roxana assured her, explaining that the hotel lay just outside Bourgos, on the road to Madrid. It was also a member of the prestigious Relais et Châteaux group, so Gina could be assured of luxurious surroundings. And if there should be any problems, at least she’d be miserable in comfort.
‘Thanks a bunch!’
‘Believe me, I have your best interests at heart,’ her friend told her, adding in a more serious voice, ‘I ask you to trust me, Gina. And, you know, it really is very important to me that I have my oldest and dearest friend at my wedding. So, please come. Yes?’
How could she resist such a plea? Gina asked herself with a heavy sigh.
And so, despite knowing that she was going to live to severely regret her decision, she reluctantly agreed, not only to attend the wedding, but also to gratefully accept the arrangements Roxana was making on her behalf.
CHAPTER EIGHT
IT HADN’T been exactly the easiest of journeys, Gina told herself, waiting patiently with the other passengers for the luggage carousel to begin revolving in front of her at Bilbao Airport.
It was far too late for regrets now, of course. But why she’d allowed her arm to be twisted by Roxana and be persuaded to attend her old school friend’s wedding, she had absolutely no idea. Quite frankly, Gina thought nervously, she was becoming more and more certain that in accepting the invitation she was making a very grave and serious mistake.
Quite apart from anything else, the weeks before Christmas were the busiest time of year in the wine trade. As a main importer of fine wines, sherries and liquors, her firm was in the midst of taking last-minute orders and delivering urgently needed supplies to wine merchants and supermarkets throughout the United Kingdom. And she needed to spend time away from her desk like she needed a hole in the head!
Which was why she’d left her packing to the last minute, still throwing things into her suitcase early this morning, before leaving for the airport.
‘Hurry up, madam—the chauffeur is waiting for you,’ Harold had called out, carrying her suitcase out to the car as she’d hurried down the stairs, giving his wife, Anna, a quick kiss and grabbing that morning’s post from the hall table before tumbling into the back of the large black limousine.
Sinking back on the soft leather seat as the vehicle had drawn smoothly out into the traffic around St James’s Palace, Gina had been forced to admit that, once again, her husband was quite correct.
‘This way you have of travelling around London in taxis is plainly ridiculous,’ he’d informed her firmly on his last visit. ‘Half the time you can’t get hold of one—especially when it’s raining—and for the last three days Margaret has confirmed that you’ve been late for important appointments simply because you had to wait for a taxi.’
‘Leave Margaret alone!’ Gina had snapped, fed up to the back teeth with the way practically everyone in the company, regarded Antonio with starry-eyed awe and reverence. The way they kowtowed to him anyone would think he owned Brandon’s, she’d told herself grimly.
‘You’ve charmed the socks off most of my employees. But Margaret is my secretary, and she reports only to me,’ Gina had added, despite knowing that she was being extremely childish.
But for once Antonio hadn’t given her one of his cold, chilly set-downs. In fact, he’d merely grinned with amusement before informing her that he had already arranged for the company to lease a large limousine for her, and engaged a chauffeur to drive it.
‘Oh, great!’ she’d ground out tersely. ‘Another employee on the payroll. Just what I need when I’m trying to keep costs down!’
But over the past few weeks the chauffeur, Marvin, had almost become one of the family. Harold was, of course, still reserving judgement—mostly because, like Gina, he considered that he should have been consulted about the appointment. But since his wife, Anna, was already feeding Marvin delicious tidbits in the kitchen, it was clearly only a matter of time before Harold and he became the best of friends.
It was, without doubt, a great boon to know that whenever she wanted to go anywhere—morning, noon or night—Gina never had to worry about transport. And it was clearly just her bad luck that Antonio—God rot him—had been proved right, yet again.
Jerked out of her reverie by a loud, clattering sound, Gina saw that the luggage carousel was beginning to revolve, with various pieces of passengers’ luggage appearing on the conveyor belt. After collecting her suitcase, she was greatly relieved to find that Roxana’s arrangements appeared to be working smoothly, as she was greeted by a uniformed chauffeur in the main concourse of the busy airport.
As the long black limousine left Bilbao’s Sondika Airport, Gina settled back against the luxurious leather upholstery, beginning to feel slightly more reassured about the ordeal which lay in front of her.
Everything could still go pear-shaped, of course. And with her luck, undoubtedly would do so. But so far—so good. And, since the driver clearly had no English—and her Spanish was still woefully inadequate to carry on more than the very simplest of conversations—she settled back against the seat, closing her eyes and letting her mind drift over the likely problems which lay ahead.
It was a long journey, and Gina realised that she must have fallen asleep when she found herself being woken by the chauffeur’s discreet cough as he drew up outside what appeared to be a very large mediaeval castle.
By the time she had checked in and was being shown to her extraordinarily luxurious room, Gina was actually beginning to relax.
After tipping the porter who’d carried her luggage up to the room, Gina walked over to the elegant writing desk by the window and picked up the phone to call Roxana.
‘So—you’ve arrived!’ the bride-to-be sang out happily.
‘Yes, I’m here. And I must thank you so much for the wonderfully smooth arrangements you’ve made for me so far. Incidentally—’ she laughed ‘—this is an utterly amazing hotel! Absolutely wall-to-wall grandeu
r.’
‘I thought you’d like it!’
‘And how are all your arrangements going? You sound remarkably calm and serene for someone who’s getting married tomorrow.’
‘No problema!’ Roxana told her, sounding totally relaxed and free of any worries. ‘As it happens, I have a wonderfully efficient mother-in-law, whom I love dearly and who has insisted on taking care of all the really boring but essential details concerned with a wedding. So, lucky old me! All I have to do is to get dressed tomorrow and walk down the aisle with my dear brother Antonio. Simple, no?’
‘Talking about your dear brother Antonio…’ Gina hesitated for a moment. ‘Where…er…where exactly is he staying? With you and your in-laws?’
‘No. Unfortunately this house, while large, has not so many bedrooms. And it was felt that Isabella, Jaime and their children would be more comfortable here, rather than in a hotel. So…I’m not really exactly sure where Antonio is staying tonight. However,’ Roxana added casually, ‘I can, of course, find out for you, if you like?’
‘No, thank you,’ Gina said quickly. ‘I’m feeling rather tired after the journey. And we will, of course, be seeing each other tomorrow, at your wedding,’ she added, before wishing her old friend the best of luck and much happiness and putting down the phone.
If there was one thing about which she was quite certain, Gina told herself firmly, it was that she really didn’t want to see Antonio tonight.
Principally, of course, because she had a good idea that he wasn’t going to be at all pleased about her arrival in Spain. And that was putting it mildly! Antonio was going to be extremely annoyed at being kept in the dark. So when they did eventually come face-to-face, Gina was going to feel a good deal happier if the meeting took place amidst a large collection of guests at the wedding.
Deciding that she really couldn’t face dining downstairs in the glamorous restaurant all on her own, Gina ordered a light meal from Room Service before deciding to have a long, hot bath.
