The Butterfly Box

by Santa Montefiore

  ‘Was,’ he interjected sadly.

  She looked into his anguished eyes and realized that she had never really known him. ‘You still are,’ she said kindly. ‘Mama misses you.’

  His face flushed with hope. ‘She does?’

  ‘She thinks she’s lost you.’ Federica watched his small eyes glisten.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said, shaking his head and pressing his lips together. ‘I just don’t know.’

  ‘I’m not coming here to negotiate a peace treaty. I came to apologize because I’ve treated you badly. You’ve been wonderful to Mama. I know she can

  be a nightmare,’ she chuckled. ‘But you handled her really well.’ She looked at him steadily. ‘You have to take her back, because no one else would know how to cope with her.’

  ‘She is difficult, but never dull.’

  ‘What attracted you to her in the beginning?’ she asked out of curiosity, but unwittingly she unlocked the door to the happy memories that he had wilfully subdued.

  He sat back in his chair and smiled. ‘I could tell she was difficult. She had

  had a rough time too, so beneath the frost was a little girl desperate to be loved

  >

  Federica sipped her tea and listened while Arthur related the story of their meeting and their marriage, the good and the bad, until he realized that what he had was worth fighting to keep.

  It was late when Arthur drove Federica home. He dropped her off at her uncle’s house then hesitated at the wheel, debating whether to drive on to Helena’s or to return to his own empty home. He still felt the warmth from his conversation with Federica and smiled inwardly at so many tender recollections. Yet he knew that if a reconciliation was to take place, it had to be on

  Helena’s initiative or the balance of power would weigh in her favour and he’d lose her again. What’s more, she had to learn from her mistake and be willing to change. He hoped she hadn’t given up on him.

  Sam accompanied Federica down to the beach where he’d gather wood for the fires he made and insist on toasting marshmallows just like they had done in the old days. He lent her books to read then discussed them late into the evening beside the happy fire in Nuno’s study before driving her home in his father’s car. He’d sit in his shirtsleeves on the cliffs as much as in the study because he constantly felt warm inside whether or not there was a fire. As long as he was close to Federica he needed little to exist, just the shared air between them and the knowledge that she was there. Little by little he became as comfortable and as familiar to Federica as Nuno’s old chair. She looked forward to their walks and their excursions, to the dinners they had with his parents and the discussions about literature and history. As the weeks tumbled by Federica thought less and less about Torquil and only suffered the occasional nightmare which reminded her in her waking moments of why she had left him.

  But she couldn’t forget the notes from her father and she knew she wouldn’t rest until she found him.

  It was a strange telephone call that made up her mind to fly out to Chile. She was just about to leave the house when it rang. She was always reluctant to pick it up in case it was Torquil, but she reassured herself that it couldn’t be him, she hadn’t heard from him for weeks. Still, her hand trembled when she lifted the receiver. ‘Hello,’ she said tentatively.

  ‘Hello,’ replied a young woman. Federica’s shoulders relaxed. ‘Am I speaking to Federica Jensen?’

  ‘Federica Campione, yes, I am she,’ she answered firmly. ‘Whom am I speaking to?’

  ‘My name is Claire Shawton. I’m a friend of Hal’s.’

  ‘Oh, hello,’ she said in a friendlier tone. ‘How can I help you?’

  ‘Well, it’s a bit of a delicate subject really,’ she began. ‘I didn’t want to talk to your mother, because I know how Hal feels about his mother.’

  ‘Right,’ said Federica, wondering how he did feel about their mother.

  ‘And I couldn’t talk to your stepfather either. Hal’s funny about him too.’ ‘Okay.’

  ‘He speaks very highly of you, though,’ she said. ‘I found your number in his book. No one answered the London number.’

  ‘I see,’ she mumbled, trying not to think about Torquil. ‘What’s up with Hal?’

  ‘He’s an alcoholic,’ she stated. ‘He needs help. He’s in a right mess.’

  ‘What?’ said Federica, appalled. ‘What sort of mess?’

  ‘He misses all his lectures, sleeps all day, drinks all night. He’s barely there at all, you know, he’s out of it.’

  ‘Are you sure he’s an alcoholic?’

  ‘Yes, I am. I know because I’ve been paying for his drink and his gambling for the last few months.’

  ‘Gambling?’

  ‘You know, fruit machines, poker, horses. I’ve paid for it all.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I’m in love with him,’ she replied in shame. ‘He doesn’t have any money and I have lots. But it’s got out of hand. He’s drinking too much. He’s changed.’

  ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘He’s here asleep.’

  ‘At this hour?’

  ‘Yes, you see he stays up drinking all night, then he can’t get to sleep so he takes sleeping pills, lots of them. Then he can’t wake up. It’s like he’s dead.’ She stammered and her voice quivered with emotion. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she sniffed.

  ‘Oh God!’ Federica sighed. ‘What can we do?’

  ‘He needs help.’

  ‘I can see that. I’m coming up. But I’ll have to bring someone with me,’ she said, remembering that she couldn’t drive.

  Sam was only too happy to drive Federica to Exeter. They talked all the way about the options open to them. But Sam was adamant that the drink was only the symptom of an illness which lay far deeper. ‘He drinks to hide from himself,’ he said wisely.

  ‘It all leads back to Papa,’ Federica sighed. ‘I just know it.’

  When they found Hal lying asleep on his bed, his face sallow and lifeless, Federica began to shake him violently, fearing that he was dead and not asleep at

  all. When he woke up his eyes were bloodshot and distant. Not the Hal she knew at all. Sam looked around the room at the squalor he lived in.

  Cigarettes were stubbed out on dirty plates which still bore the remains of greasy fry-ups, empty wine glasses and coffee cups lay collecting dust, clothes were strewn around the floor, mildewing from neglect and damp. The room smelt worse than the rabbit hutch that Hester had once had as a child.

  ‘Hal, you’re sick,’ Federica said kindly.

  ‘Go away and leave me alone!’ he cried, thrashing out with his arms. ‘I don’t need you to come and lecture me.’

  ‘I care about you, Hal. Look at the state you’re in. You live like an animal.’

  ‘It’s not so bad,’ he protested.

  ‘It’s terrible. You need help,’ she said.

  ‘I’m fine,’ he insisted.

  ‘You’re an alcoholic,’ she stated bluntly.

  ‘I drink occasionally. So does everyone. That hardly qualifies me as an alcoholic,’ he said sarcastically.

  Then Claire stepped forward out of the shadows. ‘I told her everything, Hal,’ she said, wiping the tears from her face.

  He stared at her a moment, blinking her into focus. Then his face twisted in defeat. ‘You bitch,’ he spat.

  ‘It’s because I love you that I can’t stand by and watch you destroy yourself.'

  Hal put his head into his hands and wept.

  Hal allowed Sam and Federica to take him home. Claire said that she would pack up his things and sort out his room. Federica thanked her gratefully but knew that Hal would probably never want to see her again. He sat in the back of the car shaking with cold and discomfort, his skin an unhealthy pale green colour - he looked as if he already had one foot in the morgue. Federica and Sam decided that they would keep the nature of his illness secret in order not to upset his family. They agreed to say tha
t he had had a nervous breakdown. Federica knew that he needed to get away, start again somewhere else, far from Helena’s possessive love and the horror of his own demons.

  ‘I’m going to take Hal to Chile,’ she told Sam.

  ‘When?’ Sam exclaimed in alarm.

  ‘As soon as possible. He needs to leave the country for a while. There’s only one person who can help him through this, because he helped me through my

  trouble too.’

  ‘Who’s that?’ Sam asked, feeling an invisible hand wrap itself around his throat.

  ‘My father.’

  ‘Your father?’

  ‘Yes, he’s at the root of Hal’s problem.’

  ‘How did he help you?’ he asked, fixing his eyes on the road in front of him and gripping the steering wheel in an effort to control his impulses.

  ‘I wasn’t going to tell you, because I feared you might think it ridiculous. But Papa sent me anonymous notes of such lovely poetry. He must have written them himself, after all, he’s a poet as well as a novelist.’

  ‘I see,’ said Sam tightly. His heart flooded with disappointment, but he couldn’t bring himself to dampen her happiness and tell her that the notes had really come from him.

  ‘He’s very spiritual and philosophical. His notes just opened my eyes, I suppose, and helped me to see my situation more clearly. I felt I wasn’t alone, that he was there helping me. He gave me the strength to leave Torquil. I want to thank him. But I think he could help Hal too.’

  ‘So, how long will you stay?’

  ‘As long as it takes. I’ve got nothing to keep me here.’

  ‘No,’ he said flatly, swallowing his misery in order to brood on it later when he was alone. ‘Nothing.’

  Chapter 40

  Hal wanted to get better. Polly said that was the first step and a very brave step indeed. Helena was appalled when she heard, but Federica was firm. ‘He needs a new scene,’ she said. ‘And so do I.1

  Helena insisted that she could nurse him back to health. ‘You don’t need to take him across the world, for goodness’ sake!’ she exclaimed, hurt that Hal was ready to leave her and humiliated that she hadn’t been able to help him herself.

  ‘We’re going to find Papa,’ Federica admitted finally. ‘I know that Hal’s problem goes back to when he was a child in Chile. He needs to talk to him.’

  Helena went white with indignation, as if Federica was attacking her personally for leaving Ramon. She sat tight-lipped and furious, smouldering with guilt and jealousy because she wasn’t included.

  Arthur was so relieved that at last someone had taken responsibility for Hal he bought them their tickets to Santiago.

  ‘Don’t thank me,’ he said to Federica, ‘this is to thank you. You don’t know how grateful I am.’

  Federica knew he was discreetly thanking her for more than preserving the health of his stepson. She kissed his fleshy face and whispered, ‘Don’t forget the good times with Mama, will you. There were many more than bad.’

  But Arthur was determined to wait. Sadly he had no choice. If she didn’t come back of her own accord, he would have to let her go.

  Sam was mortified that Federica was leaving Polperro and hurt that she believed there was no reason to stay. He wanted to shake her, tell her he loved her with his whole heart and his whole being, but he knew that if he did he would ruin any chance he had.

  She would come to him when she was ready or not at all. He’d just have to be patient. The day before she left he arrived at Toby and Julian’s house to say goodbye. He had bought her a gift, hoping that she’d remember him each time she used it.

  ‘Oh, Sam, you really shouldn’t have bought me a present,’ she said, taking the package from him. He stood with his hands in his pockets, his moth-eaten jersey barely able to keep out the cold that penetrated right through to his bones. She opened the brown paper to find a Pentax camera. ‘My God!’ she

  exclaimed. This is a proper camera.’

  ‘It’s got a proper zoom lens too,’ he said, smiling in order to hide his despair.

  ‘You’re so sweet, Sam, thank you,’ she replied, kissing him on his taut cheek. He breathed in the scent of her skin that invaded his senses whenever she came close and resisted the impulse to pull her against him and kiss her properly like he had done that night in the barn.

  ‘Don’t forget your friend, will you?’ he said, suppressing his emotion.

  She grinned at him with gratitude. ‘You’ve been such a good friend, Sam. I’m so grateful. If it hadn’t been for you, I’d never have got through these last weeks.’

  ‘Well, don’t forget that you did it all by yourself,’ he said. ‘You don’t need anyone any more, you’re strong on your own.’

  Federica frowned at him and thought how like her father he sounded.

  Mariana had just come in from a walk along the beach when the telephone rang. She picked it up to hear the crackle of a long-distance call and then the thin voice of a young woman. ‘Hola, quìn es?’ she said, putting her hand over

  her other ear to muffle the sound of Ramoncito who was playing a competitive game of chess with his grandfather.

  ‘It’s Federica.’

  Mariana caught her breath. ‘Fede? Is that you?’ she gasped in English.

  ‘Abuelita, it’s really me,’ she exclaimed, feeling a wave of nostalgia hit her.

  ‘It’s been so long! How are you?’

  ‘I’m coming out to Chile tomorrow with Hal. Can we come and stay?’

  ‘Well, of course you can,’ she said in excitement. ‘I don’t believe it. I thought you’d forgotten about us.'

  ‘I never forgot about you, Abuelita. I have so much to tell you, so much . . .’ she said, the joy catching in her throat and making it difficult to speak. ‘Is Papa with you?’ she asked hoarsely.

  ‘He has a house on the beach, between here and Zapallar.’

  ‘Will he be there?'

  ‘Yes,’ she said happily. ‘Yes he will. He’ll be so happy to see you both! I’ll send a car to pick you up and bring you down.’ Then she added hopefully, ‘How long will you be staying?’ And Federica couldn’t help but laugh for her grandmother hadn’t changed at all.

  When Mariana walked out onto the terrace, her old eyes streaming with joy, Ignacio looked up from his chess game. ‘What’s happened?’ he asked, wondering what kind of miracle had the power to make her face glow like that.

  Mariana rubbed her hands together, unable to contain her happiness. ‘Ramoncito,’ she said. ‘You’re going to meet your half-brother and sister. They're arriving in two days to stay.’

  Ramoncito looked at his grandfather whose face crumpled with delight.

  ‘Woman, you sure know how to distract our concentration,’ he said and grinned at her. ‘I thought they’d forgotten about us,’ he added, taking his glasses off and wiping his eyes.

  ‘No, and what’s more they have no plans,’ she said hopefully.

  ‘Maybe they’re coming home,’ he said, looking at his wife with tenderness.

  ‘Maybe.’ Then she bustled into the cool interior of the house to prepare their rooms. She wanted to do it personally and Gertrude couldn’t be trusted to get it right. Gertrude couldn’t be trusted to get anything right, but for some reason Ignacio liked her, so she stayed.

  ‘Abuelito?’ said Ramoncito, moving his piece across the board. His grandfather put his glasses back on the bridge of his nose and looked at his grandson over the top of them. ‘Will I like Hal and Federica?’

  ‘Yes, you will, you’ll like them very much. But you have to remember that they were torn from their father when they were very small. They’re coming out with a lot of emotional baggage. Be patient and give them time to sort it out. Your father loves you, Ramoncito, and he loved your mother more than he ever loved anyone. Don’t forget that.’

  The boy nodded and watched his grandfather turn his attention back to the game.

  Ramon typed the last line of his book with great satisfaction
. It had been cathartic. Estella had shown him that it was possible to love without possessiveness, to love enough to give the other his freedom. Her life had quite literally changed his. In a way he felt she had unwittingly sacrificed herself for his enlightenment. She had set an example and he had learnt from it. He only wished that he had had the inner ability to learn from her while she had been alive. So he aired his feelings of guilt and failure which had clung to his

  conscience since he had wilfully abandoned his children, in an allegory about three birds: the peacock who demands love’s total commitment, the swallow who flies away from love and the third, the phoenix, who brings her unconditional love without asking for anything in return. When the phoenix disappears into the flames the peacock and the swallow have finally learnt how to love without yearning to possess each other. Ramon was pleased with his work. He entitled it To Love Enough and dedicated it To those I have loved’.

  He thought of Federica and Hal. It was too late to try to make up for his negligence in the past and that greatly saddened him. But he had Ramoncito and poured into him the love he had in his heart for three. He sank into an easy chair and in the half-light of his study he read the manuscript from beginning to end. The shutters were closed against the heat of early afternoon but the gentle surge of the sea filtered through with the scent of honeysuckle and jasmine and caressed his soul that still mourned the loss of Estella.

  When Ramoncito found him later he was submerged in his memories, his eyes closed and his breathing heavy. Ramoncito couldn’t wait to tell him the news; he knew how happy he’d be. So he shook his shoulder gently. ‘Wake up, Papa!’ he whispered. ‘I have good news for you.’

  Ramon opened his eyes and pulled himself out of his warm, rose-scented dreams and blinked up at his son.

  ‘Hal and Federica are arriving in two days from England,’ he said and watched his father stare at him in bewilderment. ‘It’s true. Federica telephoned Abuelita this afternoon. I’m finally going to meet my half-brother and sister,’ he said and smiled broadly.

  Ramon sat up and rubbed his eyes. ‘Tell me again,’ he said in confusion. ‘Federica and Hal are coming here? Are you sure?’