The girls rushed into the sitting room to tell their mother and Helena while Sam stalked up the stairs shouting for Bea, the children’s nanny, who was in the nursery supervising Lucien, Joey and Hal. When she saw the sobbing child in Sam’s arms she gasped in horror and led them into Molly’s bedroom. ‘What happened?’ she cried as Sam put the child down.
‘Molly again. Stupid girl!’ he exclaimed hotly. ‘That child could have died. Get her out of those clothes at once before she catches pneumonia,’ he instructed before leaving the room. Helena and Ingrid rushed up the stairs and into the bedroom where Federica, naked and shivering, fell into her mother's arms and sobbed all over again.
‘Did you think you were going to die?’ said Molly later, when Federica was warming up in front of the sitting room fire, dressed in Hester’s clothes, toasting marshmallows in the hot flames for tea.
‘Yes, I really did.’
‘You were so brave, crawling over the ice like that,’ said Hester in admiration. ‘Was that the first time you had been ice skating?’
‘Yes. I don’t think I’ll be going again for some time,’ she replied and laughed.
Molly handed her another marshmallow. ‘These are good, aren’t they? You really deserve them. I’m so sorry,’ she said and smiled sheepishly, curling her auburn hair behind her ear.
‘That’s okay. You couldn’t have known that the ice would break,’ said Federica kindly.
‘So lucky that Sam was there,’ said Hester.
‘Big brothers have some uses,’ Molly laughed. ‘He is a bit of a hero though,’ she conceded.
‘He was very brave. He saved my life,’ said Federica, chewing on her sticky marshmallow and feeling light in the head with the thought of Sam carrying her into the house. ‘How old is he?’
‘Fifteen,’ said Molly. ‘I’m nine and Hester’s seven like you. Mummy had two miscarriages in between Sam and me otherwise we’d be seven.’
‘I’d like to be seven,’ said Hester.
‘Well, we’re six now,’ said Molly, grinning at Federica.
‘Oh, yes, so we are,’ Foster agreed happily. ‘Better show you around the house then,’ she added, looking at her sister for approval.
Molly nodded. ‘Grab a piece of cake and I’ll introduce you to Marmaduke,’ she said.
‘Who’s Marmaduke?’
‘The skunk Mummy rescued last week, he lives in the cupboard in the attic because sometimes he makes such a smell he has to have the whole floor to himself.’
Helena watched the girls disappear through the sitting room door and felt a tremendous wave of gratitude, not only towards Sam who had saved Federica’s life, but to the girls for liking her and embracing her so readily. ‘Your girls are very kind,’ she said to Ingrid who sat smoking out of an elegant lilac cigarette holder and wearing the most extraordinary patchwork coat that looked like a quilt. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders in wild, auburn curls and around her neck hung a large gold monocle that she put to her eye every now and then to see better. Helena had never noticed before but one eye was blue and the
other green.
‘Molly’s rather like Sam, they both think they’re better than everyone else, because they’re clever,’ said Ingrid. ‘Hester’s sweet and not very bright. She’s a good painter like me.’
‘I owe Sam a huge debt of gratitude. If he hadn’t been there I dread to think what might have happened.’
‘Oh, she would have died, for sure,’ said Ingrid, flicking the lighter to light Helena’s cigarette. ‘Molly always has to go one step too far.’ She sighed. ‘I’m sorry about Ramon.’
‘So am I,’ said Helena, inhaling the nicotine with an unsteady hand.
‘It’ll take a while, but you will recover,’ said Ingrid, noticing the cigarette shaking in Helena’s hand. ‘You know, I remember when you ran off with Ramon. You were so young. I must be a good ten years older than you. I remember thinking how incredibly romantic it was. He was dark and foreign and you were pale and English. There was something wonderfully exotic about it. Mind you, I did worry for you, out there the other side of the world. It’s not like going to live in Leicester, is it?’ She laughed, revealing crooked white teeth. When Inigo had courted her all those years ago he had told her she resembled a beautiful portrait hung crooked on the wall. She liked things to be imperfect, there was nothing duller than perfection.
‘Well, it was exotic and wonderful at the time. It just went sour. Sad for the children, but I have to admit I feel different already,’ said Helena.
‘Children need stability - one parent can give them that. Really, two is an extravagance,’ Ingrid replied, playing with one of the fat curls that bounced around her neck. ‘I’ve brought the children up single handed, almost. Inigo’s children are his books. I only wish people would buy them. They’re frightfully dull though. I can’t get beyond the first page. Philosophy has never been an interest of mine. I prefer things one can touch.’
‘Like animals?’ Helena suggested.
‘Quite.’
At that moment old Nuno shuffled in on the balls of his feet.
‘Ah, two delightful virgins to greet,’ he said in a heavy Italian accent and bowed theatrically.
‘Pa, you remember Helena Trebeka, don’t you?’ said Ingrid.
‘Why, of course, Helen of Troy was not more fair. “Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss!” It is a pleasure to see you,’ he said, bowing again. Ingrid
frowned. ‘Marlowe,’ he added, raising his feathery eyebrow at her in disapproval. ‘Young Samuel would know that one.’
‘Helena’s left Chile to live here again,’ said Ingrid, ignoring him.
‘Far too chilly in Chile I should imagine.’
‘Where the heart is concerned, at least,’ Ingrid laughed. ‘Would you like some tea, Pa?’
‘I’d like something much stronger than tea, cam. Ignore me, I’m not really here,’ he said, shuffling behind the sofa towards the drinks cabinet.
‘You’re not easy to ignore, Pa.'
‘I hear young Samuel is to be knighted for bravery. He is now Sir Samuel Appleby and I shall bestow on him the Order of the Skate to remind us all of his coraggio.'
‘I’m so grateful to him,’ said Helena, wishing Toby were there to laugh with her at the Polperro eccentric.
‘I think he has won the fair maiden’s heart, like in tales of yore,’ said Nuno, raising his bushy eyebrows suggestively.
‘Well, that wouldn’t surprise me,’ said Helena. ‘I’m in love with him too.’
‘Hearts have been won by lesser feats that that,’ he said, picking up his glass and wandering out of the room.
‘He came, he drank, he commented, he left,’ Ingrid sighed, flicking her ash into a Herend dish.
‘And he’s married off my daughter, I’d say that’s a good day’s work done, wouldn’t you?’ They both laughed and poured more tea.
When the time came for Federica to leave with her mother and Hal, she wished she could stay for ever. Molly and Hester had introduced her to Marmaduke who gave off such a vicious smell it sent the three of them running down the corridor holding their noses, giggling profusely. She had met the fox cub who lived in the airing cupboard and the jackdaw who perched on Ingrid’s kitchen chair and drank tea like the rest of the family. A strange pig, which Federica thought looked more like a miniature brown cow, snuffled about the house as if he were the family dog and answered to the name of Pebbles. He even ate from a dog bowl in the scullery along with Pushkin, the Bernese mountain dog, who managed to clear a whole tabletop with one swish of his white-tipped tail. Federica was enchanted.
But at six years of age Federica was now in love with the gallant hero who
had saved her from an icy grave at the bottom of the lake. When he appeared in the hallway to find out whether she was okay she was suddenly overcome with shyness and her words came out as mere husks with no substance. ‘You look better,’ he smirked, running his eyes over the awkward child who blushed up at
him gratefully. ‘Your lips were blue. Mine go blue sometimes because I put the wrong end of my fountain pen in my mouth.’ He laughed.
‘I cannot thank you enough, Sam,’ said Helena. Sam was tall, almost six foot, and looked down his nose at her loftily.
‘My pleasure, I would say any time, but to be honest it was a bit cold, so I’d rather not plunge in again, at least not for a while,’ he replied and laughed again.
Helena ushered Federica and Hal to the car. Federica climbed into the back seat and watched as Sam waved goodbye on the steps with his sisters who broke into a run and chased the car down the drive.
‘Charming people, aren’t they?’ said Helena.
‘I really like them,’ Federica agreed. ‘Can we come back soon?’
‘You’ll be going to school with the girls, Fede, so you’ll see them all the time.’
‘Good.' she replied and gazed dreamily out of the window.
Chapter 12
Cachagua
It had been four months, four days and four hours since Estella had last kissed Ramon Campione in her small, breezy room in Cachagua. She had waited for him to return as he had promised, but she hadn’t heard anything, she hadn’t even received a letter. Yet she waited as he had asked her to, as she had reassured him she would. She now sat on the beach, the soft autumn light receding into evening, flooding the horizon with an amber luminosity that poured melancholy into her heart. She placed her hand on her belly and felt the growing child within: Ramon’s child. She smiled sadly to herself as she remembered those tender moments when they had been one, free from the social distinctions that separated them. Love has no boundaries, she thought optimistically, then wondered whether he had changed his mind. Whether he had realized their affair had been nothing more than a summer romance by the sea, as unreal as the fantasies he wrote about. She had found his books in his parents’ bookshelves and taken them to her room where she had read every one. They were magical, surreal and compelling. Poetic stories of love, friendship and adventure set against the exotic landscapes of countries she had never even heard of. She had recognized his voice in each word as if he were some place near, whispering to her, loving her. She longed for him to come back. She longed to tell him about the life they had created together. God had given them a child and God didn’t make mistakes.
Estella’s future was uncertain. For the last few months she had been able to hide her secret. She had even managed to hide the sickness that had awoken her every morning and sent her running to the bathroom with the bile rising in her throat. Yet she hadn’t minded, she had taken pleasure from it because everything from Ramon was a gift, so she cherished it. However, now her belly was beginning to swell and she found she tired easily which made her slow to complete her tasks. Señora Mariana watched her with narrowed eyes, in fact, Estella suspected she probably already knew. Señora Mariana had a sharp intuition about such things. If she could just get through the next few weeks, then Don Ignacio and Señora Mariana would return to their home in Santiago until the following summer. At least the next six months would be secure. If they discovered her condition before they left she feared she would have to leave her job and return in disgrace to her parents in Zapallar. They would be
mortified because no man would want to marry her in that condition. What man could want another man’s child? Her mother had always told her that any man worth his salt would want to marry a virgin. She was lost for sure. But as bleak as her future appeared she still believed that Ramon would return. He had not only promised, he had fervently promised as if he couldn’t live without her, and she had agreed to wait because she loved him and believed he loved and needed her too. Yes, she thought, I know he’ll come to find me.
She wandered back up the beach towards the house and remembered that time she had watched him from the shadows as he walked naked towards her. She had desired him then and she desired him now. Yet she didn’t dream about making love to him but about lying next to him with his protective arms around her, his proud hand on her belly. She dreamed about him as the father of her child. When she entered the house Señora Mariana was waiting for her in the hallway.
‘We need to have a talk, Estella,’ she said, leading her into the sitting room. Estella knew she had been discovered and the beads of sweat collected on her brow. It was all over, for sure, she thought, and her chest constricted with panic.
‘I have taken the opportunity to talk to you tonight as my husband is not here. Woman to woman,’ said Mariana, smiling kindly at the trembling girl who perched on the edge of the sofa in discomfort.
‘Sí, Señora Mariana,’ she replied obediently.
‘You are pregnant, are you not?’ she asked, her grey eyes resting on Estella’s swollen stomach. She noticed the girl lower her eyes in shame and a large tear roll down her beautiful face. ‘I’m not angry with you, Estella.’ Estella shook her head in despair. ‘Surely this young man you’ve been seeing will marry you?’
‘I don’t know, Señora Mariana, he has gone,’ she stammered.
‘Wherever has he gone to?’
‘I don’t know, Señora Mariana. He’s just gone.’
‘Might he come back?’ she asked gently, observing the girl's obvious distress and feeling her heart sag with pity.
‘He promised he would. I believe him.’
‘Well, that’s all we can do, can't we? If you believe him then so do I,’ she said and smiled sympathetically. ‘We must find someone to replace you while you have your baby. Don Ignacio and I will be leaving for Santiago in a few days and won’t be returning until October. That will be near the time when you
have your child, I imagine. Please don’t cry, dear, we'll muddle through. If he promised to come back I’m sure he will. You’re too beautiful to leave in this condition,’ she said, patting Estella’s shaking hand.
‘You were right, Nacho, she’s pregnant,’ said Mariana later when her husband returned for dinner.
Ignacio rolled his eyes and nodded. ‘So I was right,’ he said.
‘Sadly, yes,’ she replied and sighed heavily. ‘What should we do?’
‘Who’s the father?’
‘She didn’t say.’
‘Did you ask?’
‘Well,’ she shrugged, ‘I tried to.’
‘The point is will he marry her?’
‘Of course not, he’s scarpered, hasn’t he?’ she said crossly, folding her arms in front of her. ‘It’s really not fair.’
‘It’s the way it works in their world,’ he said, dismissing her class as a group of uncultivated savages.
‘It shouldn’t be. She’s so beautiful and charming, what sort of a man would do that to her then run off?’
‘It happens all the time in their world. There’s no honour among thieves.’
‘Really, Nacho, they’re not all like that.’
‘No?’ he challenged. ‘I’ll bet you they are. In their world women are victims. That’s the way it is. She’s no different. She’ll have her baby, go back to her family in Zapallar and eke out a living somehow.’
‘Nacho!’ Mariana exclaimed in horror. ‘You’re not going to fire her?’
‘What do you want me to do?’ He shrugged.
‘She can work for us and look after her baby,’ she suggested calmly.
‘We’re not running a charitable organization here,’ he retorted firmly. Mariana noticed his ears go red, usually a sign that he was on the verge of losing his temper.
‘I can’t bear her to lose her livelihood as well as her fiance. We can’t be so heartless, Nacho. Mi amor, let’s not talk about it any more, we have five or six months to think about it.’
He nodded gruffly and watched her walk out onto the terrace. The problem with people, he thought to himself, is that they take no responsibility for their actions. Ramon is just as bad as Estella’s lover, he concluded, he brings
Ramon had slept with several women since he had left Chile and yet he still couldn’t erase the sweet memory of Estella th
at dogged his mind and refused to give him any peace. On top of that he felt guilty. He had told her to wait for him. He knew she would. The right thing would be to write and put her out of her misery and yet he couldn’t. He didn’t want to lose her. He wanted to keep the door open in case he woke up one of these mornings with the urge to go back to her. Sometimes he woke with a gnawing longing that racked his loins as well as his conscience and yet he managed, every time, to persuade himself that he couldn’t love her the way she wanted to be loved, the way all women wanted to be loved. Just like Helena. He couldn’t be there for her. He couldn’t be there for anyone.
Ramon sat on the old rickety train that cut through the arid western Indian desert on its way to Bikaner. The sun blazed down upon the roof of the train, cooking up a sweltering heat inside that smelt of sweat and the intoxicating aroma of spices that clung to his nostrils and made his throat dry. The compartment was crowded with the dusky brown faces of men in turbans of saffron and fuchsia, their dark-eyed children watching him with innocent curiosity and giggling behind grubby hands. They knew he was a foreigner in spite of his homespun kurta pyjamas and chappals. When he had entered at Jodhpur he noticed the women arrange their veils in front of their aquiline faces with an almost ethereal movement of their long bejewelled fingers to ensure their modesty. Their timid eyes were at once lowered behind their veils like exotic birds in mist. After a while they forgot he was there, watching them with the scrupulous gaze of a voracious storyteller and they chattered away among themselves in a language he didn’t understand. He loved Indian women. He was enchanted by their delicate femininity and their virtue, the graceful way they moved behind their glittering saris, bright flowers against so dry a desert. He didn’t prey on these women, they were paragons of virtue, but he found the mysterious theatre of their world too compelling a spectacle to tear his eyes away from them. He felt that if he made too abrupt a movement they would fly off to settle in the green leaves of one of those banyan trees that miraculously survived in such barren terrain.
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