‘No, Arthur...’ she protested.
‘You want me to, but you’re afraid. You’ve slept with men since your husband but none of them managed to satisfy you. You’re afraid I will disappoint you. I can assure you I won’t,’ he said. So Helena reluctantly closed her eyes and hoped the wine would dull her senses. She felt his mouth brush hers, but it could have been the warmth of the flames that flickered in the fireplace. A moment later she felt it again, followed by that familiar tingle in her belly,
stirring with the memory of Ramon’s touch. She wanted to open her eyes but she kept them firmly shut for fear of seeing Arthur’s earnest face close to hers and losing her nerve. Then she felt his lips sink onto her anxious mouth. Surprisingly it felt quite nice. Then his hand was in the small of her back. A firm, supporting hand confidently pulling her towards him as his lips opened and he kissed her with tenderness. In spite of her fears, her senses rebelled against her reasoning and she became aware only of the screaming of her nerves as they cried out for him to caress her and love her.
Arthur took her by the hand upstairs to the bedroom. Then he proceeded to make love to every inch of her body with the enthusiasm and attentiveness of a man whose only purpose is to give pleasure because in so doing does he derive his own pleasure. Helena abandoned herself to his devotion without feeling guilty or undeserving. Then once she was convinced of his prowess he made love to her again with humour until they both rolled about on the bed laughing uncontrollably.
There was no comparing him with Ramon because he was so entirely different. Arthur’s sexual proficiency was his trump card. It was so totally unexpected. Once Helena had discovered it, she could not get enough of it. With
Arthur she felt feminine again and very much alive. She was no longer getting ready to live but living, and Ramon’s sour-tasting memory sweetened into the recesses of her mind until it no longer plagued her or hounded her. Arthur occupied her present and there simply wasn’t time to look back on the past.
Until Arthur asked her to marry him and suddenly Ramon reappeared in her thoughts.
She told him that she would think about it. But she had to consider the feelings of her children. She knew Federica didn’t like Arthur, in spite of his persistent attempts to befriend her. She answered his questions in monosyllables with a long, scowling face. But the worst was the sad, dejected look in her eyes which Helena was unable to ignore. Hal liked Arthur. But he wanted his mother to himself. As long as she gave Hal enough of her time and attention he would accept Arthur without complaint. If she considered her own happiness she knew that she couldn’t do without Arthur. But she was still married to Ramon and something inside her remained reluctant to give him up.
When Federica slipped into her mother’s bedroom after having returned from Pickthistle Manor, Helena was getting changed. Arthur was coming for dinner. Federica lay on the bed and watched her mother dry her hair in front of
the mirror. She recalled those days in Chile when she didn’t bother with her hair and scrunched it up onto the top of her head. Now she spent hours in front of the glass gelling it, teasing it with brushes and combs. She looked radiant again. She looked happy. Federica knew she should be happy too, but she couldn’t be. Arthur had made her mother no less selfish, in fact he indulged her on every level allowing her to be the centre of his world. She rarely asked him about himself. She noticed it more when her mother was on the telephone. Me me me, thought Federica gloomily.
‘How do I look?’ Helena asked, pinching her cheeks.
‘Beautiful, Mama,’ Federica replied truthfully.
‘Try to be nice to Arthur, Fede. He’s doing his best to become your friend.’
‘He can be my friend,’ said Federica, her heart beating with adrenaline in preparation of the next sentence, ‘but not my father.’ She blinked in surprise at her own courage.
Helena turned around slowly and stared at her daughter, her smile falling off her face, leaving a serious line in the place of her mouth. ‘Did you overhear us this afternoon?’ she asked.
Federica nodded. She remembered what Sam had told her and tried not to
feel guilty.
‘You had no right to listen to my conversation,’ she said crossly, reaching for the packet of cigarettes.
‘I couldn’t help it. You were both talking so loudly, I hadn’t meant to hear,’ Federica explained. Helena placed a cigarette between her pink lips and lit it. Federica winced as she blew the smoke into the room. The smell made her nauseous.
‘I hardly need explain to you then what he said,’ she snapped sarcastically.
‘He asked you to marry him,’ said Federica, but her voice was more of a croak.
Helena softened. ‘Look, sweetie. He’ll never be your father. He doesn’t want to be. He has three children of his own already. He just wants to be your friend.’
‘He wants to be your husband. But you’re still married to Papa.’
‘Only in name. A divorce can be arranged very easily,’ she said carelessly, for Federica’s eyes dimmed with unhappiness. As long as her parents were still married there was hope. ‘Your father and I haven’t been together now for a long, long time. You can’t possibly be hoping for a reconciliation, can you,
Fede?’
Federica’s lower lip trembled. She shook her head, but in her heart she wanted nothing more than a reconciliation. ‘Are you going to say yes?’ she asked hoarsely.
‘I’m thinking about it.’ Helena turned back to the mirror.
‘What does Hal think?’
‘He wants me to be happy,’ she replied in an almost accusing tone as if she were about to add ‘unlike you’.
‘I want you to be happy too,' said Federica, feeling guilty.
‘Then let me do what’s best for me. I’ve sacrificed everything for you children. You’re almost thirteen now. Soon you’ll be a woman. Aren’t I allowed some happiness too?’
Federica nodded her head. ‘If you marry him, will we have to leave Polperro?’ she asked.
‘We might have to,’ Helena said, stubbing out her cigarette. ‘Arthur’s job is in town.’
‘Then I don’t want you to marry him,’ she cried, suddenly overwhelmed by the force of her emotions and unable to control them.
‘Now, Fede—’ began Helena impatiently.
‘No. I won’t go. I won’t!’ she snapped, quite uncharacteristically.
‘We won’t go far. You can still see the Applebys as much as you want to.’
‘I want to stay here with Granny and Grandpa,’ she sobbed.
‘We’ll talk about this later when you’re calm,’ Helena said, pinching her lips together with forced patience.
‘I won’t go. I won’t go,’ she repeated.
Helena was confused by her daughter’s outburst. She was usually so quiet and accommodating. ‘All right, calm down, sweetie,’ she said wearily, sitting down next to her and putting an arm around her. ‘I haven’t agreed to marry Arthur, and I am still married to your father, so let’s not get too overexcited about all of this. Dry your tears and come downstairs, Arthur will be here in a minute and I don’t want him to see you upset. He’d be mortified and he’s such a kind man.’
Polly and Jake liked Arthur very much because he had lifted their daughter out of her dark pit and made her smile again. They noticed Federica’s tear-stained face at the dinner table and the short replies she mumbled to him when he
tried to talk to her. They understood her but hoped she would grow to like Arthur because Helena’s happiness was their main concern. Federica felt as if she was being swallowed up into a big grey cloud where no one could see her or hear her cries for help.
That night she wrote an urgent letter to her father telling him that her mother wanted to marry a ‘horrid, ugly man called Arthur’ who was going to take them all away from Polperro to some nasty town. She added that if she was taken away from all she loved she would kill herself. When she sealed the letter she was sure that he would come as quickly as h
e could to rescue her from the impending doom. Then she lay in bed, the room illuminated by the clear spring moon, and opened the butterfly box. She listened to the clatter of bells and watched the butterfly flutter her wings in the phosphorescent light, giving her a strange, unearthly beauty. She thought of her father and wondered what he was doing and whether he ever thought of her. Falling into the spell of the box she closed her eyes and once more joined him on the familiar beaches of Chile, where the sun was warm and the sand like Lidia’s flour between their toes. She concentrated on his stories as if her very life depended on it and slowly she retreated into the secret halls of her mind where no one but her
The following day Helena left Federica alone in the house while she went to church with her mother and the eleven-year-old Hal. ‘She needs some time on her own,’ she explained to her mother as they wandered up the lane.
‘She’s having trouble accepting Arthur, isn’t she?’ said Polly, patting Hal on the head. ‘Not like this little monkey.’
Hal looked up at her and grinned smugly. If he had had a tail he would have wagged it.
‘I suppose it’s understandable, but Ramon and I haven’t been together for years, you would have thought she’d be used to it by now,’ Helena sighed.
‘Well, every child is different and she always had a very close relationship with her father.’
‘She’s just got to get over it and move on. I had to, Hal had to. I love Arthur and I won’t give him up. Not for anyone,’ insisted Helena melodramatically.
‘I like Arthur,’ Hal said, knowing that would make his mother happy.
‘I know you do, and Arthur likes you,’ said Helena happily.
‘Doesn’t Arthur like Fede?’ he asked.
‘He does like her and he’s trying very hard to make her like him. But Fede’s being very stubborn. Poor Arthur.’
‘Poor Arthur,’ Hal agreed. ‘I hope we see a lot of him. He makes you happy, Mama, and that’s all that I care about.’
Helena was touched. ‘You’re so sweet, Hal. What would I have done without you?’ she said.
‘Not a lot,’ Hal laughed, pushing his thick black hair out of his eyes. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, Papa’s a real moron to have given you up and Arthur’s a very lucky man.’
Helena sat through the entire service thinking about Arthur and debating his proposal. She hadn’t told her mother about it as she wanted to have time to think about it first before everyone else had their say. She felt cherished and protected with Arthur. He carried all her worries and fears. Ramon had thought only of himself, her needs had always been second to his. With Arthur she came first, in everything. His life now revolved around her happiness and he did whatever was necessary in order to see her content. When the Reverend Boyble spoke about the virtue of unselfishness and putting others before
oneself Helena thought of Arthur and smiled with satisfaction, as if she deserved praise for his good qualities. She tried not to think of Ramon. There was no point, he had gone and he wasn’t coming back. She had made her choice. He had made his. He didn’t want her back. She pictured Arthur’s gentle face and persuaded herself that she didn’t want Ramon back. But still she doubted and by the end of the service her mind was no clearer than it had been before. She didn’t know what to do. Divorce was so final.
Federica met Hester in their cave hidden within the cliffs, where seagulls swooped down and built their nests and where the tide swept in every night to wash away their secrets. They sat in the cool shade of the rock and Federica told her all about Arthur. ‘If I have to leave Polperro, I’ll die,’ Federica said firmly-
‘You can’t leave Polperro! Does that mean you’ll go to a different school?’ Hester asked anxiously.
‘Everything,’ Federica sighed miserably. ‘Everything will change. I just don’t know what to do.’
‘You have to refuse to go. She can’t make you. How can she?’ suggested
Hester naively. ‘Just dig in your heels and refuse.’
‘I don’t want to live in a town.’
‘I’d hate to live in a town.’
‘I don’t want to live with Arthur, he’s dull. He’s fat, sweaty and dull, I can’t see what Mama sees in him. Papa’s so handsome.’
‘Your father is the most handsome man I have ever met. Mummy quite fancied him, you know,’ Hester giggled.
‘Did she?’
‘Yes, so did Molly and I.’
‘You all have extremely good taste,’ said Federica proudly. ‘You know, I wrote to him.’
‘Did you?’
‘Yes, I told him about Arthur and that Mama wants to marry him. I also said that if they marry and take me away from Polperro, I’ll kill myself.’
Hester gasped. ‘Oh my God! He’ll come over for sure.’
‘I think so too. He’ll get us all out of this mess, you’ll see. He’ll never let this happen.’
Federica returned home at lunchtime to find Arthur’s car parked outside on the gravel. She rolled her eyes and pinched her mouth into a thin line of resolve before walking into the hall to face him. He was sitting on the sofa in the living room talking to Hal and Jake while Polly prepared the lunch in the kitchen with Helena.
‘Ah, Federica,’ said Arthur as she walked into the room. ‘Just the person. I’ve got something for you.’ He chuckled amiably, pushing himself onto his feet. Federica noticed the sweat collect on his brow and begin to drip down the side of his face. She watched him disappear into the little room that Jake reserved for the drinks cupboard. She looked at her grandfather and raised an eyebrow quizzically, but he just grinned back at her. Arthur then reappeared carrying a large cardboard box, which looked quite heavy for he struggled with it, but he managed to smile as he carefully placed the box on the floor in front of Federica.
‘What on earth is it?’ she asked, staring at it.
‘Open it,’ said Arthur.
‘Go on, Fede,’ said Hal. ‘I know what it is,’ he added, ‘and I know you’ll like it.’
Federica opened the box. To her delight and amazement she saw two shiny eyes staring up at her forlornly.
‘A dog!’ she cried. A real dog!’ She threw her hands into the box and gathered the fat little puppy into her arms where she covered his white fur with affectionate kisses.
‘You have to read the collar,’ said Hal, joining her on the sofa and cuddling the puppy too.
‘Rasta,’ read Federica, holding the silver disc in her fingers. She suddenly felt a rushing sensation in her head as she remembered Señora Baraca’s dog and the promise her mother had made her in Cachagua. ‘Thank you,’ she said sheepishly, feeling slightly guilty that she had been so unkind to Arthur. ‘Is he really mine?’ she asked.
‘He’s really yours,’ said Arthur, smiling with relief. He caught Jake’s eye and nodded. They had all been right, a puppy would do the trick. Rasta wagged his little tail with such excitement he almost took off like a helicopter. But Federica kept him firmly in her arms, letting him lick her face and sniff her skin. She thought of Trotsky and looked forward to introducing them. They were sure to become firm friends. Ingrid would love him too and so would Sam. She
decided to take him up to Pickthistle Manor straight after lunch to show him off.
Helena and Polly heard the squeals of delight and rushed into the room to find both Hal and Federica lying on the floor with the dog. ‘Ah, he’s very sweet,’ said Polly, winking at Arthur. ‘Aren’t you a lucky girl, Fede.’
‘He’s half Labrador, half something else, but Arthur and I haven’t exactly worked out what that something else is,’ Helena said. Federica watched her mother join Arthur on the sofa. She noticed he took her hand and squeezed it. He obviously thought he had won her over with his gift, but he was wrong. She grinned deviously to herself. Papa was about to return and change everything.
Chapter 22
‘Look at the camera, sweetheart. There, you’re gorgeous. Gorgeous. That’s right, a bit more chest, too much, too much. That’s be
tter, now eyes to camera. Simmer, sweetheart, simmer. Good.’ Julian clicked the camera in a series of staccato snaps at the laminated young woman who reclined on the divan like a glossy jungle cat. Her eyes were green and swept upwards with heavy lids that fanned her face with long, black lashes. She was beautiful, confident and alluring. So much, so young. She was only eighteen.
Julian had met Lucia Sarafina in a London club and listened to her dreams of becoming a famous singer. ‘I have the looks and the body, it’s just a question of training the voice,’ she had said coolly in a thick Italian accent. Julian, who appreciated the aesthetics of a good-looking woman, had invited her to the cottage he shared with Toby to take her publicity shots. She had agreed immediately, seizing the chance to make use of yet another bedazzled man, seduced by her beauty. She watched him with the steadiness of a preying panther, wearing only a pair of faded denims and sandals, his body firm and tanned. She was sure he was ripe to be converted to the world of the heterosexual.
It was a humid day. A froth of purple clouds advanced slowly in over the horizon promising an afternoon of thunder and rain. But while the light remained in such a tenuous limbo, suspended between sunshine and thunder, Julian hurried to photograph her before it was lost in the impending storm.
Lucia wore a simple white dress that dropped low over the cleavage of her breasts and rose high on the leg to expose her brazen thighs. With every pose she arranged herself to her best advantage and gazed into the camera with the self-confidence of a professional model.
‘You can relax now, I’m going to change the film, then perhaps we can take you under the blossom tree or something,’ he said, turning around to get a new film out of his bag. ‘Do you want a drink?’ he asked, ripping open the silver paper that wrapped the film.
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