‘Sí, sí, I live on the beach too,’ the woman said cheerfully, reaching down to the black spaniel, who had been sitting patiently at her feet. She ruffled its ears and unclipped its lead, watching it race off down the beach after a seagull. ‘I’ve lived here all my life. Cádiz has the best people, the best fiestas and, of course, the best food in Spain.’ She let out a sunny, infectious chuckle and patted her ample hips. ‘Though sometimes I wish it didn’t. But it’s a little late for me to be watching my figure, and life is for living, ey?’
Luna grinned. She was instantly taken by this engaging, charismatic woman and thought it would be entertaining to bump into her often if she was close by. ‘Yes, señora, I suppose it is. I’ve already seen a little of Cádiz’s amazing food at the market this morning.’
‘Ah yes, the market is very good. The freshly cooked churros there are almost as good as mine! I see you like to swim, señorita, and there’s nothing of you, so luckily you can eat what you like. My trouble is, I like my own cooking too much, so have to walk my dog Lobo here every day,’ she chattered on happily, her sparkling, dark eyes sweeping the beach. ‘But it’s one of the most beautiful spots in Cádiz, so why should I complain?’
They began to walk up the beach together.
‘May I ask what brought you to Cádiz, señorita?’
‘Someone close to me died recently.’ The answer came out instinctively. Perhaps it was the maternal, easy manner of this woman that prompted Luna’s confession, but for some reason it seemed more appropriate to speak of Angelina than her assignment at the Institute. ‘She lived in Barcelona for a while and truly loved Spain.’
‘Ay Dios, I’m very sorry for your loss, señorita. My husband died not so long ago too and, may the saints be my witness, I know it’s not easy to lose someone you love. The sorrow is always there somewhere, but no hay nublado que dure un año, a clouded sky does not last a year.’ The woman smiled sadly and paused to study her young companion. ‘So you are here to pay your respects?’
‘In a manner of speaking, though she died last year,’ Luna replied without elaborating. Nice as this stranger was, right now she didn’t feel like going into lengthy explanations about her job in Cádiz.
Luna glanced down at her own bare feet sinking into the wet sand as they walked. ‘It was my cousin. We were very close and grew up together in the US. My mother had returned to Spain with my half-sister when my parents divorced, and my father wasn’t around much, so my cousin and I spent quite a bit of time together.’
There came a sympathetic tutting sound from beside her. ‘Madre de Dios! She took your sister and not you? A girl should not be left by her mother.’
Luna shrugged. ‘I’ve done fine on my own.’ Yes, she had, she reminded herself. It’s true, she often wondered what it would have been like had Juliet lived. Would Luna have been persuaded to make the trip to Spain earlier to build a relationship with her older sister? As for her mother, Adalia Ward had clearly been nothing but a selfish, vain socialite and, even if she were still alive, they would not have been close, nor would she have given her daughter the kind of guidance that Luna secretly craved from time to time.
The other woman seemed to read her thoughts. ‘Mmm, perhaps the mind can find its own way alone in the world, but the heart …?’ Her reflection seemed to trail off. ‘So your mother and sister are still in Spain?’
‘No, they both died when I was in high school. But that’s another story.’ She gave a half-smile.
The woman stopped in her tracks and crossed herself. ‘Benditos sean los dulces nombres, Holy be the sweet names!’ She clasped Luna’s face gently between her hands, her dark eyes full of compassion. ‘My poor child! Too much sorrow for one so young.’ Her arms dropped to her sides and her frown softened. ‘One day, you can tell me the story and I will bake you some of my churros. A story like that needs something sweet to help the telling.’ They began to walk again. ‘So I’m thinking your cousin was more like a sister too, no?’
Rather than being disturbed or embarrassed by the woman’s questions, Luna felt perfectly comfortable. ‘Yes, she was, though we were nothing like each other really. She was a complete livewire, always getting into scrapes, whereas I was always the sensible one.’ She looked up and smiled sadly, surprised at her own unreserved response to this stranger.
The woman patted her arm in a comforting gesture. ‘Well, señorita, you’ve come to the right city to smile again. Cádiz is a bewitching place. It will soothe your troubles and its magic will heal your heart.’ She paused, then looked askance at Luna, a twinkle appearing in her eye. ‘Did I also tell you that it has the best men as well?’ Another appealing chortle escaped her lips and Luna found herself joining in.
‘Well, I’ve certainly witnessed the charm of Cádiz in more ways than one,’ she laughed as they reached the dunes separating the house from the beach.
The sun disappeared behind a cloud. Luna shivered.
‘Go in, go in, señorita, don’t let me keep you,’ the woman said apologetically. ‘You’ll catch cold, and I need to walk off the chocolate I ate this afternoon.’ She chuckled again. ‘Though my husband, the angels protect him, never seemed to mind my extra inches. He said that being curvy was nature’s way of saying: “You’re so good, I’ll just make more of you!”’ She smiled a little sheepishly this time. ‘Listen to me, I’m babbling on as usual. If you need anything, I live further down the beach.’ She pointed at the cluster of cottages in the distance. ‘The first casita covered in red bougainvillea on your right. You can ask for Señora Sanchez. Everyone knows me around here.’
‘Gracias, muchas gracias, Señora Sanchez. I’ll bear that in mind.’ Luna smiled at her and before she could offer her own name, her new neighbour was bustling off, calling to her spaniel.
Luna made her way back up to the house. How wonderful to have someone like Señora Sanchez for a neighbour, she thought as she let herself in and headed for the shower. They said that Cádiz was known for its generosity and warmth, and nowhere had the kindness of strangers been more evident than in this ancient, beautiful, laid-back city, she mused. Once again, she felt an affinity with these people. It made something deep within her sigh with relief, like the weary traveller lost in a dark wilderness who finally discovers the light to guide him home.
* * *
The next morning, Luna pulled the car up in front of the gates of El Instituto de Investigación de los Recursos Naturales. The elegant iron barriers opened automatically, and she drove into a narrow parking area.
During the drive to her new job, she found herself wondering if she was going to find this professional deception almost too hard to carry off. Although she had strong views on alternative medicine, Luna had a positive nature, and the idea of pretending to be someone she wasn’t for the sake of her article – even if it was a prestigious assignment – made her all the more nervous now that she had arrived. Still, as she manoeuvred into a space in front of the Institute, she reiterated her resolve that she was doing this for all the right reasons.
She was early. Switching off the engine, she stepped from the car and looked around her. The Institute for the Research of Natural Remedies was a spectacular converted old casa señorial in the north of the Old Town near the port, set back from the road behind a grassy strip of palm trees. Attached to one side of the imposing mansion house stood a couple of long, singlestorey dwellings, perpendicular to each other, which formed an open courtyard, edged with arches of pale stone. It had been constructed in keeping with the style of the main building: a stately combination of whitewashed walls and terracotta stone, with Moorish embellishments.
Luna took in the tall, open windows looking out through the palms to the harbour beyond, their soft marquisette curtains fluttering outwards in the breeze on to the wrought-iron balconies that adorned the façade. What wonderful surroundings to work in, she thought, lingering outside. The overall impression was magical.
Now the sun had risen, as it always did here, with a kind of
burst. It was going to be a hot day. The sky burned an electric blue above the turquoise sea in the harbour. Inside the shady courtyard, jacarandas, flame trees and frangipani spread their fragrance, filling the air with sweetness and invading her senses. Luna glanced at her watch: it was time to go in.
She made her way from the car park, following signs to the reception. Inside the building, she paused to get her bearings. The white interior and giant potted plants lining the short corridor created a calm and pleasant atmosphere. Soothing seascapes hung on the walls. Luna could see the reception desk straight ahead in a large, bright, open space but there was no one manning it. She peered into the first room on her right. It was empty, save for a few comfortable armchairs and a rack of magazines set in one corner.
‘Can I help you?’
Luna swung round to find herself staring at one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. Obviously Spanish from her dark colouring, and a little older than Luna, she was a vision of sophistication and elegance. Striking midnight-black eyes looked down a perfectly proportioned nose at Luna, surveying her sharply. Her eyes travelled up from Luna’s beige, leatherbelted pencil skirt to her practical, short-sleeved white shirt, and lingered momentarily on her blonde hair.
The disdainful goddess arched a perfect brow. ‘I presume you are the new researcher,’ she said haughtily. She reached out a perfectly manicured hand to grip Luna’s. ‘I am Vaina Jiménez Rivera, managing director of the Institute.’ She enunciated every syllable in a patronizing tone, suggesting Luna should neither forget the name nor the status.
Luna’s amber eyes brightened to a burnished gleam, levelling a steady gaze at the Spanish woman.
‘Bull’s-eye!’ she replied. When it became apparent that joviality was totally wasted on the other woman, in a clear voice she parried: ‘Dr Luna Emilia Ward.’ Luna couldn’t help giving a slight emphasis to the word ‘doctor’, while still holding Vaina’s stare. If the woman insisted on being superior, she too could play that game.
From that moment, as their eyes locked, an immediate antipathy settled between them.
Vaina turned on exquisite stilettoed heels and walked with brisk, confident steps towards the reception area at the end of the corridor.
‘Please follow me. I will take you to Señorita Rosario Martínez. She will show you around the premises.’ She spoke without looking at Luna, nose in the air, her tone condescending. ‘As a researcher you will be assigned to one of our practitioners, who you will assist with the various assignments they set for you.’
Luna followed her, admiring the trim figure clad in a classic grey suit, which clung in all the right places, and the elaborate twisting chignon that held her shiny, thick black hair at the nape of her neck. There was something obvious about her groomed, sleek beauty, but there was no denying she was stunning. Stunning, but territorial. Luna knew that Vaina had instantly sized her up. She wondered at the cool – no, downright hostile – welcome and hoped the rest of the staff would not be so unfriendly.
As they approached the end of the corridor, a woman of about thirty emerged from a side room opposite the reception desk.
‘Ah, Rosario, there you are. Just the person I was looking for.’ Vaina turned towards Luna for the first time since they had left the front room. ‘This is Dr Ward, our new researcher with whom you’ll be working. Would you please show her around and give her the usual documents to sign, plus the Institute’s manual so she can familiarize herself with our systems and procedures.’
‘Of course, Doña Vaina. Everything is on Dr Ward’s desk. Dr Rueda de Calderón asked me to allocate her the office next to his, opposite the lab in Casa Vistaria, as they’ll be working together. I have—’
Vaina’s lips tensed. ‘That is most unsuitable,’ she interrupted. Flames flared in her dark eyes as they darted towards Luna before fixing on Rosario. ‘He never mentioned this to me. I had given you different instructions. You will do me the favour of remembering that I’m the one managing this Institute. Dr Rueda de Calderón may be a genius in his field but, like all men, he is most impractical when dealing with administration and management.’
‘But …’
‘Leave it for now. He’s coming in this afternoon and I will deal with the matter myself.’ The arrogant glare was back as she breezed past Luna and marched off, her high heels resounding on the marble floor.
Rosario rolled her eyes. ‘Impossible woman!’ she grunted. ‘One day I’ll tell her just where to get off.’ Turning to Luna, she grinned. ‘Don’t take any notice. Welcome to our turbulent little world.’
Luna smiled back and shrugged. ‘I really don’t mind where my office is. The buildings and the grounds all look so beautiful. Really, Señorita Rosario, if it will keep the peace …’
‘Don’t give it a second thought, and call me Charo – short for Rosario. Everybody here calls me Charo.’
‘And you must call me Luna.’
Charo blinked. ‘Is that normal in America? In Spain, it’s the done thing to call the doctors and researchers by their surname; in the office at least. Though it’s not the same the other way round.’
‘Well, Charo, that hardly seems egalitarian.’ Luna looked at her askance. ‘Why should I respect you less than you respect me? Please, we’ll be working together closely. I insist you call me Luna.’
The woman beamed at her. ‘Well, if you insist – Luna.’ She had a beautiful smile with large, laughing blue eyes that twinkled mischievously. Charo was petite, with chestnut hair that framed her heart-shaped face and strong, expressive eyebrows that seemed to have a mind of their own. Luna warmed to her immediately.
As if encouraged by this unexpected show of informality, Charo gave her a conspiratorial look and lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘I should tell you, Doña Vaina is temperamental, to say the least. Especially where Dr Rueda de Calderón is concerned. Those two have had a stormy on-off relationship for years.’
‘I find it hard to see how any two people can work together under those circumstances,’ Luna observed wryly. ‘Anyhow, I suppose it’s no business of anyone’s but their own.’
Still, Charo wasn’t about to be stopped, and no doubt read the glimmer of curiosity in Luna’s eyes. ‘They’ve been going through a bad patch for a while now. They met when he was doing his medical training. Her father’s a director of one of the biggest hospitals in Barcelona, and she’s been after him ever since. At one time there were rumours that they were going to get engaged. Then suddenly it all went cold. Anyhow, he’s been very busy lately and, what’s more, he hasn’t showed up for almost a week. She’s been going crazy, she hates it when he’s not under her nose.’ She grinned. ‘But he just does his own thing, however much she pouts and complains.’
Luna’s eyebrows went up. Charo was imparting rather a lot of personal information about Dr Rueda de Calderón, though she was admittedly fascinated by the young woman’s endearing indiscretion. If he succeeded in thwarting the supercilious Doña Vaina, she was beginning to like him, despite his playboy reputation.
As if reading her thoughts, Charo gave a sheepish look, accompanied by a giggle. ‘Oh, I’m a terrible gossip, I know, but I can see by your face that you’re totally trustworthy. Life is simply too boring without a bit of spice, don’t you think?’ She waggled her eyebrows comically.
Luna laughed. ‘Oh, quite right. My lips are sealed. Doña Vaina will hear nothing from me.’
‘There, I knew you were a decent sort. Come, I’ll give you a quick tour of the premises and then we can deal with the boring paperwork.’
They walked through the spacious and calm main building, which seemed such a haven of peace. Luna almost had to remind herself that her assignment was to write an article that she imagined would end up denigrating all the things that this beautiful place seemed to hold sacred. Was this haven just an illusion created for the benefit of gullible rich people, or was there more to it, though?
‘I’m looking forward to studying the reports on your successes,’
Luna told Charo in the library. She plucked a large tome from one of the shelves and leafed through it.
‘Oh, our therapists have achieved phenomenal results and the most impressive is Dr Rueda de Calderón’s programme. He’s completely inspirational.’ Charo’s voice was warm with admiration. She nodded at the book in Luna’s hands. ‘Herbalism is a particular interest of his.’
Charo suddenly glanced at her watch. ‘We’d better get going or you’ll collapse with hunger before lunch,’ she said, grinning.
Next, she took Luna to where they would both be working. A whitewashed dwelling covered in purple wisteria, they had to reach it via the sun-filled courtyard Luna had glimpsed from the car park earlier. Here, the intense brightness threw into contrast the shadows cast on to the walls of the building from its slanting, tiled roof. A burbling fountain and a cluster of terracotta planters, brimming with pink and red carnations, lent the space a peaceful tranquillity; and the scent of orange blossom floating in the air, emanating from the small orange trees planted in the borders, was a delight.
Inside, the building was cool. The reception area was large, with chairs neatly lined up against one wall and a small desk with a computer and telephone against another. ‘This is where I sit,’ Charo told her. ‘I prefer working here. At least I’m not interrupted all the time. I’m so lucky I get to do project work with a single researcher. Much better than being one of the secretaries in the main building, who get switched from project to project the whole time.’
She showed Luna the lab, where she could run tests and work on small projects. ‘For more complicated analysis, you would need to use the larger labs in the main building.’ Then they went through to Dr Rueda de Calderón’s office. It was a vast room, stark and sanitary, apart from the beautiful surrealistic paintings that adorned its walls in a wild splash of colour and drama. Other than this almost confrontational decoration, the interior didn’t give away much about its owner: just a plain desk, with a neat row of writing utensils and a pair of reading glasses.
Legacy Page 10
