Helena was too embarrassed to look at him and covered her steaming body with the bedspread in shame. A ridiculous action after he had tasted it so intimately. She fumbled in the bedside table drawer for a cigarette. Finding one she lit it with a trembling hand and inhaled impatiently. How strange it is, she thought, that we can be as close as two people possibly can be then suddenly,
in the space of a second, lie here side by side but thousands of miles apart. She looked over at him and he turned to face her.
That was nice,’ he said.
‘Yes, it was,’ she replied tightly.
‘Don’t regret it, Helena. It’s okay to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh, even if you feel nothing but physical desire.’
She inhaled again. ‘I don’t regret it,’ she said. She didn’t know whether she did or didn’t. Had she really made love without love? She waved the thought away with the smoke. It no longer mattered. She was going home.
Chapter 4
Ramon watched his wife dress in the dim light of the bedroom. Neither spoke. The smell of cigarettes masked the lavender Federica had pressed into the linen and the garden flowers she had so lovingly picked and placed on his bedside table in the shiny blue vase. The messy bed was all that was left of their passion. He wondered if there was anything left of their love. Then he heard Federica’s soft voice singing in the garden and he realized that his children were the physical expressions of a love they had once happily given to each other, and he shuddered at the thought of being without them.
Helena’s body was still firm and slim with that translucent pallor that had first attracted him to her twelve years before. She was now thirty years old, too young to be on her own without the attentions of a loving man to nurture her. When he had found her on those cold Cornish beaches she had been young and ready to sacrifice everything just so that she could be near him. They had travelled the world together, united by his thirst for adventure and her desire to be loved. It had worked until domesticity drove them apart. He watched her brush her long blonde hair and pin it onto the top of her head. He preferred it
when she wore it down her back. Once it had reached her waist. Once he had threaded it with jasmine. She had been beautiful then. Now she looked tired and her disenchantment drained her face of colour so that her pallor, once so alluring, no longer glowed but lay stagnant like a diminishing waterhole in the dry season. If he didn’t let her go there’d be nothing of her left.
She caught him watching her in the mirror but she didn’t smile like she once would have done.
‘When do you want to go to Cachagua?’ she asked.
Tomorrow. I’ll call my parents, tell them we’re coming.’
‘What will you tell them?’
‘About us?’
‘Yes.’
He sighed and sat up. ‘I don’t know yet.’
‘They’ll think I’m heartless. They’ll blame me,’ she said and her voice quivered.
‘No they won’t. They know me better than you think.’
‘I feel guilty,’ she said and stared at her reflection.
‘You’ve made your decision,’ he said impassively and got to his feet.
Helena wanted him to beg her to stay. She had hoped he would fall to his knees and promise to change like other men would. But Ramon wasn’t like other men. He was unique. It had been his uniqueness that she had fallen in love with. He was so self-sufficient he didn’t need anyone. He just needed the air to breathe, his sight to take in all the wondrous places he travelled to and a pen to write it all down. He hadn’t needed her love but she had given it to him, desiring nothing in return except his acceptance. But it is human nature to always want more than one has. Once she had won his love she wanted his freedom too. But he had been unwilling to relinquish it. He still was. He had been as difficult as a cloud to pin down, she should have known he would never change, that there would come a time when she would be alone, for the world possessed his soul and she hadn’t the strength to fight for it any more. But she still wanted him to fight for her. How could he still love her but refuse to fight for her? He made her feel worthless.
Helena stepped out into the garden, squinting in the white glare of the sunshine, to find Hal asleep in the shade of an orange tree while Federica sang to herself on the swing. She knew Federica would be broken-hearted leaving Viña, but her parents’ separation would hurt her so much more. Helena watched her
swinging in the sun, ignorant of the dark undercurrent that swelled beneath her perfect day. When she saw her mother standing in the doorway she leapt off the swing, picked up her magic box from the grass and ran towards her.
‘Have you finished talking to Papa now?’ she asked.
‘Yes, I have, sweetie. We’re going to Cachagua tomorrow,’ she replied, knowing how happy that would make her.
Federica grinned. ‘I told Hal the story of the Inca princess. He’s asleep now.’ She laughed. Hal lay on his back, his arms and legs spread in blissful abandon, his chest gently rising and falling in the afternoon heat.
‘Well, let’s not wake him,’ Helena said, watching her child with tenderness. Hal was so like his father. He had Ramon’s dark hair and conker eyes without that maddening glint of self-sufficiency. Federica was happier on her own but Hal needed constant attention. He was the part of Ramon she had loved and been allowed to hold on to. Hal needed her and loved her unconditionally.
Federica skipped into the house to find her father in the sitting room, talking on the telephone in Spanish. She walked up to him with her box and perched on the armrest, waiting for him to finish so that she could talk to him. She listened to the conversation and realized he was talking to her grandmother. Tell
Abuelita about my box,’ she said excitedly.
‘No, you tell her,’ he said, handing her the receiver.
‘Abuelita, Papa’s bought me a box that once belonged to an Inca princess . .
. yes, a real princess ... I will, I’ll tell you tomorrow ... so am I ... a big kiss to you, yo tambln te quiero,1 she said and blew a kiss down the telephone, which made her father chuckle as he took back the receiver.
‘We’ll see you in time for lunch, then,’ he said, before hanging up. ‘Right, Fede, what shall we do now?’
‘I don’t know,’ she replied and grinned, for she knew her father always had something planned.
‘Let’s go into town and buy your grandmother a present, shall we?’
‘And buy a juice,’ she added.
‘A juice and a palta sandwich,’ he said, getting up. ‘Go and tell your mother we’ll be back in time for tea.’
Mariana Campione put down the receiver and shouted to her husband Ignacio who was lying in the hammock on the terrace reading, round glasses perched on the bridge of his aquiline nose and his panama hat pulled down over his
bushy eyebrows - an indication that he did not wish to be disturbed.
‘Nacho, Ramon’s back and he’s coming to visit with the family tomorrow,’ she said in delight. Ignacio did not move, except to turn the page. Mariana, a full-bodied, large-boned woman with silver-grey hair and a kind open face, walked out through the French doors to where her husband was lying in the shade of an acacia tree. ‘Mi amor, did you hear me? Ramon’s home. They’re coming to visit tomorrow,’ she repeated, her cheeks stung with joy.
‘I heard you, woman,’ he said without looking up from his book.
‘Nacho, you don’t deserve to have grandchildren,’ she said, but she smiled and shook her head.
‘He disappears for months without so much as a letter, what sort of a man does that to his family? I’ve told you before, Helena will lose patience with him eventually. I lost my patience with him years ago and I’m not married to him,’ he said firmly, then glanced at his wife over his book to see her reaction.
‘Don’t be silly,’ she chided gently, ‘Helena is a good wife and mother. She’s loyal to Ramon. I’m not saying he’s right to desert her like that all the time, but she’s an old-fa
shioned woman. She understands him. I’m thrilled they’re coming to stay.’ Her large face creased into a tender smile.
‘How long are they staying for?’ he asked, still looking at her.
‘I don’t know. He didn’t say.’
‘Still, I suppose we should be grateful,’ he said sarcastically. ‘Out of our eight children Ramon’s the one we see the least so when he shows up it’s more of an event.’
‘Now you’re being petulant.’
‘For the love of God, Mariana, he’s a forty-year-old man, or thereabouts, it’s high time he grew up and took some responsibility before he loses everything. If that long-suffering wife of his leaves him he’ll only have himself to blame, and I’ll be on her side one hundred per cent.’
Mariana laughed and retreated into the cool interior of the house. She had listened to his argument enough times to know it by heart. Ramon was just a free spirit, she understood him like Helena did, she thought, wandering into the kitchen to inform their young maid, Estella, about the change in numbers. He was so talented it would be very wrong to tie him down and stifle such precious creativity. She read and re-read all his books and articles and felt immense pride when people told her how much they too enjoyed his writing. He was celebrated in Chile and he had earned every bit of the respect he was
given. ‘I know I’m his mother,’ she said to her husband, ‘but he really does write most beautifully.’
Estella had awoken from her siesta and was already chopping the vegetables for dinner when Mariana entered the kitchen. As in most Chilean households of the well-to-do, the kitchen was part of the maid’s quarters, along with her bedroom and bathroom, which were situated at the back of the house, hidden behind thick perennial bushes and bougainvillea trees. Estella was new. After Consuelo, their maid for twenty years, had died the previous summer they had been very fortunate to have found Estella, through friends who had a summer house in Zapallar, the neighbouring village. Mariana had liked her immediately. Whereas Consuelo had become too old to clean properly and too sour to cook with any enthusiasm, Estella had set to work immediately, polishing, sweeping, scrubbing and airing with an energy bestowed on her by her youth and with a smile that bubbled up from her sweet nature and desire to please. She was courteous, discreet and a quick learner, which was vital, for Ignacio was impatient and pedantic.
‘Estella, my son Ramon is arriving tomorrow at lunchtime with his wife and two small children, please make sure that the blue spare room is made up for them and the room next door, I know how my son likes his space. The children can share, it’s more fun that way.’
‘Sí, Señora Mariana,’ she replied obediently, trying to conceal her excitement. She had heard an enormous amount about Ramon Campione, seen his picture in the papers many times and even read a few of his articles. The poetry of his descriptions had stirred her heart and she had longed to meet him from the moment she had realized who her new employers were. She enjoyed wandering about the house, gazing at the photographs scattered over tables and mantelpieces. He was so handsome and romantic-looking, with his long black hair, acute brown eyes and generous mouth that seemed too large for his face but at the same time utterly captivating. She had spent long moments polishing the glass that protected his face from the dust. Now she was going to meet him, she could barely contain herself.
‘Scent the linen with lavender and I want fresh flowers in all three bedrooms. Don’t forget the flowers. Federica appreciates nature. She’s a sweet girl. Clean towels, fresh drinking water and fruit,’ said Mariana, not forgetting a single detail.
‘How long will they be staying, Señora Mariana?’ Estella asked, trying to
control the tremor in her voice lest it betray her.
Mariana shrugged. ‘I don’t know, Estella. Ten days, maybe more. I’m going to try to persuade them to stay for New Year, although it’ll be hard pinning my son down. Ramon takes every day as it comes, he never makes plans,’ she said proudly. ‘One minute he’s here and you think he’s here to stay then suddenly he’ll get up and leave, just like that. Then we don’t see or hear from him for months. That’s the way God made him so I don’t complain.’ ‘Si, Señora Mariana,’ said Estella.
‘My grandchildren love manjar bianco, please make sure there is enough in the house, I’d hate to disappoint them,’ she added before leaving the room.
Estella sighed with pleasure. She set about preparing the rooms at once. She swept through the children’s room like a tornado, making up the beds with real Irish linen sheets, sweeping the wooden floorboards and dusting the surfaces. The marital room she arranged with more care, scenting the linen with lavender and opening the shutters to the fresh sea air and sound of chattering birds hopping about in the eucalyptus trees. When she opened the door to Ramon’s room she breathed in deeply before making the bed slowly and tenderly, smoothing her elegant brown fingers over the pillow to flatten any wrinkles.
She imagined him lying there, gazing up at her, beckoning her to join him. Then she lay on the bed and closed her eyes, breathing in the heady scent of tuberose she had set in a vase on the dresser. She smiled as she thought that perhaps tomorrow his head would lie where hers was lying now and he would never know how close they’d been.
She hoped he’d stay for a long time.
Ignacio put down his book and rolled out of the hammock. He felt sleepy and lethargic. The evening was cool, the shadows lengthening, the tide edging its way up the shore like a nightly predator. He stood on the terrace, leaning against the railings, looking out over the smooth surface of the sea that sighed hypnotically. He felt uneasy. His weathered face crinkled anxiously as he tried to discover the root of his ill-ease. The light had ripened to a warm orange as the sun hovered behind the horizon about to dawn on another shore. Perhaps it was the natural melancholia of sunset that had brought on this feeling, he thought hopefully. But he knew it had more to do with his son than with nature. He sensed things weren’t as they should be.
Mariana wandered out to join him with his nightly glass of whisky and water.
‘Here,’ she said, handing it to him. ‘You’re very quiet this evening,’ she added, smiling at him.
‘I’m sleepy,’ he replied, sipping from the glass.
‘You’ve been reading too much.’
‘Yes.’
‘It can make one subdued, all that reading,’ she said kindly, patting him on his weather-beaten brown arm.
‘Yes,’ he repeated.
‘Still, you’ll have Ramon and Helena to entertain you tomorrow, and those adorable children.’
‘I know,’ he agreed, nodding solemnly.
‘He’s given Fede a box that once belonged to an Inca princess, or so she tells me,’ she said, watching the sun flood the sea with liquid gold.
‘That sounds like one of Ramon’s stories.’
‘Yes, it does, doesn’t it?’ she chuckled. ‘Typical Ramon, his imagination never ceases to amaze me.’
‘An Inca princess, indeed.’
‘Fede believes it.’
‘Of course she does, Mariana, she worships her father,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘She worships him and he just abandons her. It’s too bad.’
‘Oh, Nacho, really. Is this what your silence is about? Ramon’s lifestyle? It’s really none of our business. If it works for them it shouldn’t concern you or me.’
‘But does it work for them?’ he said, looking at her steadily. ‘I don’t know that it does. I feel something in my bones.’
‘They’re old bones, Nacho, I’m surprised they still feel anything at all.’ She smiled.
‘They’re old bones, woman, but they’re as sensitive as they always have been. Will you walk with me up the beach?’ he asked suddenly, draining his glass.
Mariana looked surprised. ‘Now?’
‘Of course. We old people have to strike while we’re still able to. Tomorrow may be our last.’
‘What nonsense, mi amor, you really are very miserable to be with sometimes. But
, yes, I’ll walk with you up the beach. We can take our shoes off and get our feet wet, hold hands like we used to.’
‘I’d like that very much.' he said, removing his panama hat and kissing her soft cheek.
‘You old romantic.' she said and laughed at their foolishness. They were too old to play these games.
Ramon tucked Federica into bed. He noticed the box was on the table beside her.
‘I’m frightened the box might not be here when I wake up.' she said suddenly, her smooth face creasing with anxiety.
‘Don’t worry, Fede, it will be here when you wake up. No one’s going to take it while you’re asleep, I promise.’
‘It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever had, I don’t want to be without it, ever.’
‘You won’t be.' he reassured her, kissing her forehead. ‘Have you noticed Señora Baraca’s dog isn’t barking tonight?’
‘He’s happy and tired, like me,’ she said, smiling up at her father.
‘He’s exhausted.’
‘What about tomorrow, can we take him out before we go to Cachagua?’
‘Of course we can,’ he said, touching her cheek with the tips of his fingers. ‘We can take him up the beach again.’
‘I feel sorry for Señora Baraca,’ she said.
‘Why?’
‘Because she’s so sad.’
‘She chooses to be sad, Fede.’
‘Does she?’
‘Yes. Everyone has a choice, they can either be happy or sad.’
‘But Mama told me her husband died,’ she protested.
‘Mama’s right. But her husband died over ten years ago, before you were born. Now that’s a long time ago.’
‘But Wachuko was sad for his whole life.’
‘Yes he was. But he didn’t have to be. Sometimes it’s better to move on rather than dwell on the past,’ he said. ‘One should learn things from the past and then let them go.’
The Butterfly Box Page 5
