The Butterfly Box

by Santa Montefiore

  ‘I think it’s really cool to have a chauffeur,’ said Hal. ‘Swish car too. You married well, Fede.’

  Julian looked at Federica and watched her smile at her brother. But he could feel the unease behind her smile because the light in her eyes had grown opaque. He took her hand and squeezed it, but Federica only squeezed it back jovially as if she didn’t want her pain to be recognized by anyone.

  The atmosphere at Pickthistle Manor was lighter compared with the heaviness that had hung like an invisible miasma in the church. Everyone unburdened their grief with the effect of the wine and Ingrid asked her guests to celebrate Nuno’s life, not to mourn it. The sitting room at once filled with smoke and the vapour of alcohol and body heat as it throbbed with the people Nuno had

  acquired throughout his life. When Lucien brought in a sodden hedgehog he had found in the driveway Ingrid burst into tears, recalling Nuno’s aversion to flea-ridden animals, and knocked back half a glass of vodka.

  Helena embraced her daughter and complimented her on her designer suit. Then she launched once again into a soliloquy about Hal. ‘We’re not doing very well at school at the moment,’ she said sanctimoniously. ‘We're going to fail our A levels. We’ve got the brains, we just refuse to use them.’ She sighed helplessly. ‘We’re going through a particularly painful time at present. But our heart’s in the right place, we’re just a little bit misguided.’

  Federica’s attention drifted, as it always did when her mother obsessed about Hal. She was relieved when Jake intervened and directed the conversation away from his grandson. ‘Hal’s fine, Helena, your problem is you won’t let go,’ he said wisely.

  ‘He needs his mother, Dad,’ she replied, offended. ‘I don’t care what any of you say, I’m not going to leave him to flounder when I can pick him up.’

  Molly was too affronted by Federica’s fickleness even to greet her. She saw her making her way through the crowd in her perfect black suit, her perfect black

  shoes, her perfect little black bag and perfect black hat and turned her back and walked in the opposite direction. But Hester remained and embraced her friend with the same loyal affection that she had always shown her throughout their childhood. ‘You look well,’ she said kindly, noticing her larger frame and pallid skin and wondering what had caused it.

  ‘I am well,’ she replied.

  ‘How’s Torquil?’ Hester, asked wondering if Federica would open up to her like she had always done in their secret cave. But she was disappointed.

  ‘He’s a dream,’ she replied enthusiastically. ‘I only wish he were here today. I hate to be parted from him, even for a minute.’

  ‘How nice,’ said Hester flatly. ‘It’s great that you’ve found your soul mate. I’m still looking for mine.’

  ‘No one, then?’

  ‘No one. It’s a desert out there,’ she sighed. ‘Molly has a penchant for picking up builders,’ she added, trying to lighten the conversation. ‘She’s happiest on a building site.’

  ‘That sounds like Molly. I was lucky Torquil found me so early on. But you’re young, you don’t need to find someone yet. Enjoy your freedom while you have

  ‘You’re right. I’ll keep my eyes peeled for a Torquil. He doesn’t have any handsome friends by any chance, does he?’ They both laughed, but their laughter was uneasy.

  ‘Sam’s miserable.’ Federica said, watching him talking gravely to his father.

  ‘Oh, he’s devastated,’ Hester agreed. ‘He gave a good address, didn’t he?’

  ‘He’s so talented.’

  ‘I know. I’m so proud of him.’ She sighed. Then she touched Federica on her arm and looked at her imploringly. ‘Go and talk to him. He needs cheering up’

  ‘Sam, I’m so sorry,’ said Federica, when Inigo had moved off to seek the quiet sanctuary of his office.

  ‘Federica.’ He kissed her. ‘I’m glad you could make it. We’d almost forgotten what you looked like.’ Federica smiled awkwardly, recalling their last meeting. ‘Let’s get out of here, I’m feeling claustrophobic,’ he suggested. Sam led her down the corridor to Nuno’s study. Once inside he closed the door, blocking out the low drone of voices. ‘You can see why Nuno liked it so much in here. It’s quiet,’ he said, sitting down on his grandfather’s worn leather chair.

  Federica sat on the sofa avoiding the holes that revealed the white foam beneath the leather and crossed her legs neatly under her. ‘I can still smell him,’ he continued. This is the only room in the house that literally vibrates with his presence, even now. I come in here and I still feel that he’s alive and about to walk in at any moment and catch me reading in the erotica section.’

  ‘Don’t tell me Nuno had an erotica section?’ she laughed.

  ‘Oh, yes. Nuno was a big fan of erotica,’ he replied. ‘But not a big fan of the real thing.’

  ‘He must have done it once to have produced Ingrid.’

  ‘Once. Then he put it away for ever.’

  ‘Really!’ she exclaimed, lowering her eyes because Sam’s had settled on hers and they made her feel uncomfortable. ‘He was a wonderfully colourful person,’ she sighed, changing the subject. ‘I was fortunate to have known him.’ ‘You were, we all were.’ He stood up and started picking up the papers on Nuno’s antique desk. ‘So how come Torquil let you come down?’

  ‘He wouldn’t want to stop me coming to Nuno’s funeral,’ she replied coolly, hoping he wasn’t going to repeat the speech he gave her at lunch.

  ‘You’ve barely been back since you got married.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Still hectic with that time-consuming literature course, I suppose?’

  ‘I do other courses now,’ she retorted. They take up all my time.’

  ‘Fede,’ he said seriously, flopping into Nuno’s desk chair and draining his glass. ‘You love Polperro, don’t tell me you don’t miss it?’

  ‘Of course I do, it’s just that Torquil has a different sort of life, we do other things.’

  ‘But not to come and visit your family? Family was once everything to you.’ Federica shuffled awkwardly. She didn’t appreciate this sudden attack on the way she had chosen to live her life. ‘Family is everything to me, Sam, but I’m married now,’ she said tightly. ‘Things change. I really don’t want to go into this again.’

  ‘You’re married, but you’re not happy,’ he said, watching her steadily.

  Federica stiffened. So she had put on weight, what of it? ‘How do you know I’m not happy? You’re judging me by your own standards,’ she argued. ‘I don’t want to be sitting down here writing books.’

  ‘You’d like to be sitting down here taking photographs.’

  ‘Oh, really,’ she laughed, ‘that was a long time ago, like I told you. I adore

  London, I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.’ She watched Sam’s tortured face and wondered why he cared.

  ‘You’re living in a beautiful shop window. There’s nothing behind it, Fede. If I was worried about you two years ago, I’m even more concerned now.’

  ‘For goodness’ sake, Sam, this is ridiculous. Why do you care?’

  He stood up again and strode over to the window. ‘Because you’re an old friend,’ he said softly, looking out onto the wet garden.

  ‘Because you kissed me once in the barn.’

  ‘Because I kissed you once in the barn,’ he repeated with a bitter chuckle. He wanted to add ‘and because I let you go when I should have held on to you’.

  ‘I care, Fede, because I’ve watched you grow up here. You’re part of my family. From the moment I dragged you out of the lake to those times when you came and cried on my shoulder, I’ve been like an older brother to you. I care about you. For God’s sake, Federica, look at yourself.’ He turned and stared at her with his grey eyes and grey face twisted in anguish. Federica felt her chest constrict and swallowed back her self-pity. ‘Darling, you’re not yourself. He’s changing you. The Fede I know doesn’t wear designer suits with matching handbags.
The Fede I know doesn’t cross her legs like the Queen. The Fede I

  know doesn’t smile from the nose down. She smiles with her eyes, behind her eyes. She’s like a lovely swan on the lake, but this husband of hers is pulling her under.’

  They both stared at each other not knowing where to go from there. Sam gazed at her forlornly, fighting the impulse to gather her into her arms and kiss her again. Only this time he wouldn’t stop, but would go on kissing her for ever.

  Federica’s skin prickled with an uncomfortable fervour. She looked at him in confusion while the person she was struggled with the person she had become in an agonizing conflict of wills. Finally a fat tear pushed its way through her restraint as she realized that she didn't know who she was any more.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said coldly. ‘I’m fine and I’m happy. You’re just emotional because your grandfather has died,’ she stammered, standing up. ‘So am I. I love Torquil and he loves me. I don’t think it’s right for you to criticize me,’ she added defensively before leaving the room.

  Sam turned around and stared bleakly out across the lake. The skies were black and dense and a soft drizzle floated on the wind. A few brown leaves swirled

  about on the paving stones outside the window. Just like Federica, he thought, being tossed about by the will of something far bigger than herself. He remembered the shy, awkward child who had played with Hester in the caves and melted marshmallows on camp-fires, he hadn’t noticed her then. And the inadequate teenager who stammered whenever she spoke to him and blushed with her first tender infatuation, he hadn’t noticed her then, either. He couldn’t remember exactly when he had first noticed her. Perhaps the feeling had crept into his heart without him even noticing, because suddenly his jealousy had been roused, leaving him bewildered at the surprising strength of his emotions.

  He had watched helplessly as she had married Torquil. The signs had been there right from the start in large neon letters and yet no one had tried to make her see them. He remembered Nuno’s wise words: ‘You can teach people knowledge, but wisdom, dear boy, has to be learned through experience.’ So far Federica had learned nothing. How much further had she to fall before she gained some self-awareness and inner strength? He sunk into Nuno’s leather chair and concentrated on devising a way to help her.

  Federica returned to the sitting room and attempted to forget about her strange conversation with Sam. She forced a smile and tried her best to listen to what people were saying. But her ears rung with the echo of his words and as much as she made every effort to ignore them she knew in her heart that he was right. She wasn’t happy.

  The chauffeur drove her to Toby and Julian’s cottage where she had arranged to stay the night. Rasta sat by her chair with his ageing white face on her lap, staring up at her with adoring eyes the whole way through dinner. Helena, Arthur and Hal joined them and they talked well into the night. When she slipped beneath the sheets she reflected on the family gathering that had been just like old times. The cottage was the same. The damp scent of the sea that mingled with the smell of rotting autumn had swelled her senses and flooded them with longing for those carefree days of her childhood. They had reminisced, laughing at all the old, well-worn stories that had slipped into family folklore. Even Hal had left his teenage angst back at home and joined in with enthusiasm. Helena was happy because Hal was happy and Federica was happy because she felt herself again.

  But no one had failed to notice the change in her and they all worried.

  When she left Polperro the following morning she felt a tremendous wave of homesickness. She dreaded returning to London, to the monotonous round of dinners and cocktail parties, ladies’ lunches and shopping and shuddered at the thought of Torquil’s persistent attempts to impregnate her. She looked down at her crocodile handbag and manicured nails and sighed. What was the point of it all?

  Toby watched Federica leave and wondered when he would see her again. As the months rolled into years she was slowly drifting away from them. A small raft barely afloat on the strong undercurrents of a disappointing sea. Her marriage wasn’t what she had dreamed of. It wasn’t what her family had dreamed for her either. Toby resigned himself to the fact that he was losing her.

  ‘Seeing Fede makes me feel desperately sad,’ he said to Helena.

  ‘Oh, she’s all right. We all have our ups and downs,’ she replied, too concerned with the sorry state of her own marriage to dwell for long on that of her daughter. ‘Torquil loves her,’ she added, not wanting to sound selfish. ‘It’ll work itself out.’

  ‘I’m not so sure it will,’ he replied bleakly, retreating into the house.

  Helena was irritated. All anyone could talk about was Federica. How unhappy she looked. How she had put on weight. How her marriage must be crumbling. From the Applebys to the people who lived in the village, no one had anything else to say. When Arthur decided to add his thoughts to the pile Helena lost her patience. ‘For God’s sake, Arthur. You don’t know what her marriage is like. You never even talk to her. I don’t see how you’ve suddenly managed to penetrate her inner world,’ she exclaimed hotly. Arthur’s own patience was being slowly ground down by her incessant ill humour. She seemed to thrive on the drama of an argument. If there wasn’t a reason to fight she invented one, happier to wallow in misery than try to find a way off her shadowy path of self-destruction.

  ‘Now listen, Helena. Federica might not like me very much for obvious reasons, but I’ve watched her grow up and I care for her very deeply.’

  ‘So do I,’ she retorted. ‘She’s my daughter, not yours.’

  Arthur sighed and narrowed his small brown eyes, resisting the temptation to shout at her. ‘I’m only suggesting we do something to help, she’s clearly having a hard time. She needs our support,’ he said gently.

  ‘What do you want to do? Rush in on a white charger?’ she laughed

  scornfully. ‘Fede doesn’t want our help. If she did, she would have asked for it. Look, she’s top to toe in designer clothes, has more money than King Midas and a husband who clearly worships the ground she walks on. So she looks unhappy; it was Nuno’s funeral, if you remember, not exactly a time for celebration.’

  ‘But she never comes down to see us.’

  ‘She doesn’t have time.’

  ‘She loves her home, the countryside, the Applebys.’

  ‘She’s moved on, Arthur, that’s what no one can bear to admit. She’s left us all behind. That’s fine by me. She’s chosen a better life for herself than being stuck down here in bloody obscurity.’

  Arthur stared at her in fury. He rarely lost his temper, but this time Helena had gone too far. His face swelled like a ripe tomato. ‘Well if you're not happy with your lot, madam, why don’t you just leave!’ he shouted, throwing his papers onto the floor. Helena gaped at him in surprise. He never raised his voice. ‘Go on, put your money where your mouth is, because I’m sick and tired of your hot air!’ And with that he left the room.

  Chapter 36

  ‘What’s this?’ Lucia asked, pulling Federica’s butterfly box out of her bedside table drawer, where she now kept it hidden beneath her books.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Torquil, sitting up in bed and lighting a cigarette.

  ‘How sweet,’ she said, opening it. ‘Adorabile.}

  ‘Well, what’s in it?’

  ‘Letters.’

  ‘Letters?’

  ‘Mmm.’ She sighed, pulling one out. ‘Che carina.1

  ‘Who the fuck are they from?’ he asked furiously, grabbing it out of her hand. He opened up the first well-handled epistle and turned it over. His shoulders dropped with relief. ‘They’re from her father.’

  ‘Sweet,’ she said in a patronizing tone. ‘You’re so possessive.’

  ‘Like I told you, she’s my wife, she belongs to me and I adore her.’

  ‘What about me?’

  ‘You don’t belong to anyone.’ He smirked.

  ‘Torkie!’ she breathed huskily, pretending to
be hurt.

  ‘All right,’ he conceded. ‘You belong to me part-time.’

  ‘I don’t sleep with anyone else, you know.’

  ‘I know. I’d kill you if you did,’ he said and looked at her steadily with impassive green eyes.

  ‘Give me one of those letters, I want to read it,’ she said excitedly. She liked it when he was masterful.

  ‘No you can’t,’ he replied, folding the letter up and putting it back in the box.

  ‘Torkie, come on, don’t be a spoilsport.’

  ‘I said, no. Drop it.’ He enjoyed playing Lucia off against his wife.

  ‘Don’t speak to me like that, I’ve just allowed you to ravage my body.’ She laughed.

  ‘And you enjoyed every minute of it. When I’m ready I’ll take you again.’

  ‘I might not let you,’ she goaded.

  ‘I’m stronger than you are. I’ll pin you down and fight my way into you. Don’t think you can ever prevent me from getting what I want, when I want it.’

  ‘I like it when you sound rough. Like a gangster.’ She smiled and stretched like a glossy cat. ‘I wish Federica would spend the night away more often.’

  ‘Absolutely not,’ he replied. ‘The fewer the better. I like her to be where I can

  see her.’

  ‘You’re a jealous husband.’

  ‘She thrives under my guidance. She needs me. She’d be lost without me.’

  ‘Then why the diavolo are you sleeping with me?’

  Torquil smiled at her indulgently. ‘Because, my angel, you work in an entirely different department. Fede’s my wife. You’re my lover. I love you both in different ways. I wouldn’t want to be without either of you. Besides, you and I go back a long, long way. It’s hardly an affair. Rather the continuation of an old friendship.’

  ‘How do you know she’s not having an affair?’ Lucia asked, fixing him with her wide Italian eyes.

  Torquil continued to smoke complacently. ‘Because I know her every movement, angel.’

  ‘You little spy,’ she said, rolling onto her front and running a long nail down his chest. ‘Do you spy on me too?’