‘What else did you think you’d lost? Your flippers?’
‘You want to swim?’ he asked enthusiastically.
‘If you’ll join me.’
In the magic light of sunset they ran into the golden waters of the icy Pacific. Hal yelped as the cold shot through his body, jolting his senses into focus. Ramon shouted at him to be a man and dive straight in. Following his father’s example he dived and felt the water numb his limbs until he was no longer
aware of the freezing temperature of the sea. He splashed about, laughing and joking with his father as the gentle waves washed away the turmoil of the last few years. When they finally lay on the sand, drying off in the dying hours of day, Hal knew where he belonged. ‘Papa, what if I never go back?’ he said, blinking at him with shiny eyes.
To England?’
‘Yes, what if I just don’t go back?’
‘You’ll be where you belong, Hal. Besides, you will have come home,’ he said and looked at his son seriously.
‘Thank you, Papa,’ he breathed, then turned his eyes to the horizon and sighed with contentment. ‘I’m home.’
Federica asked Mariana if it would be all right for her to call England. Of course, Mariana was only too happy to lend her the telephone. ‘Make as many calls as you like,’ she said. ‘Your mother will want to know how it’s all going.’
But Federica didn’t call Helena. She called Sam. The telephone rang for a long while until someone finally picked it up. It was Ingrid. ‘Ingrid, it’s Federica,’ she announced.
‘Ah, Fede, darling, how are you?’ she asked breezily.
‘I’m in Chile,’ Federica replied with a suspended heart.
‘How lovely.’
‘Is Sam about?’ she asked.
‘No, he’s gone,’ Ingrid said vaguely.
‘Gone?’ Federica gasped. ‘Gone where?’
To stay with some old girlfriend, I think.’
‘An old girlfriend?’
‘Yes, someone he’s liked for a very long time. Dear boy, it’s about time he started thinking about his future.’
‘Yes,’ Federica mumbled, but she was barely able to disguise the anxiety in her voice.
‘He’s not getting any younger,’ Ingrid continued, adding to Federica’s distress.
‘Did he say how long he’d be gone?’
‘No, darling, you know Sam! He never lets anyone know his plans.’
‘Did he leave a number?’
‘No again, darling. Though, I think it’s a big house in Scotland if that helps.
You know who his friends are better than I. Shall I tell him to call you when he returns?’
‘No, it’s fine. Just tell him I rang,’ she said, swallowing back her disappointment.
Ingrid had just put down the telephone when Sam walked in having taken the dogs out across the cliffs. ‘Who was that, Mum?’ he asked.
‘No one you know, darling,’ she said, picking up an orphaned fox cub and stroking its damp fur. ‘Someone wanting to know if we had any puppies,’ she added, kissing the cub. ‘Sadly they’re not interested in Little Red, are they, Little Red?’ She watched Sam’s dejected face and hoped that Federica would realize how much she loved him when she was in danger of losing him. Sam took an apple from the fruit bowl. ‘Where are you off to, darling?’ she asked, attempting to hide her concern.
‘To Nuno’s study.’
‘You’ll lose yourself in there,’ she said sympathetically.
‘I hope so.’
Federica let Hal do most of the talking during supper and retired early to bed. ‘You must be so tired, Fede,’ said Mariana kindly. ‘You have a good sleep and get up whenever you feel like it. You’re home now.’ Federica went around the table kissing each member of her family with affection. Ramoncito’s face burned scarlet once she had placed her lips on his cheek and continued to smoulder like a rekindled coal for the rest of the meal. Hal and Ramon talked with animation, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames of the hurricane lamps. Ignacio caught Mariana’s eye and smiled. They understood each other perfectly. Both instinctively felt that Hal would be staying for good, but Federica was distracted, Mariana noticed - it was a woman thing.
Federica had left the shutters open so that the moonlight spilled into her room along with the nocturnal stirrings of the crickets and the sea. She lay in bed watching the shadows slowly creep across the ceiling and thought about Sam. How ironic, she mused, that when she was in England she longed for her father and now that she was in Chile she longed for Sam. She had felt uneasy ever since her conversation with Ingrid. She wondered whom Sam had gone to stay with and found herself suffering an uncomfortable twinge of jealousy deep in the core of her being. She turned over in frustration and lay on her stomach
staring out onto the swaying trees and starry sky. She recalled his unshaven face and tormented eyes and wondered whether his silent intervention in her marriage had been inspired by friendship or love. She didn’t dare analyze her own feelings for she was afraid of love.
She remembered the long evenings in front of the fire in Nuno’s study, discussing literature and poetry, the chilly barbecues on the beach and the brisk walks along the cliff tops. He had been indispensable to her. If he were to fall in love with someone else she’d lose him, and she couldn’t bear to lose him. When sleep finally conquered her, dreams persisted in the place of consciousness to torment her. She dreamed of Sam - he was running down the cliff and she was shouting his name, but he didn’t hear her and as fast as she ran she couldn’t catch up with him. She awoke in the morning as tired as she had been the night before.
The following day Hal sprung out of bed with an energy he didn’t know he had. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so positive about life. He breathed in the scents of his childhood, drawing the air in right to the bottom of his lungs. He had read his father’s book, To Love Enough, and discovered a powerful story that explained his own path of self-discovery as well as a
philosophy on love that would apply to anyone: brothers and sisters, friends, lovers and husband and wife. He had read it well into the early hours of the morning. But he hadn’t felt tired. His eyes had continued to scan the lines of prose until the darkness had been burned away by the tender fire of dawn. As he slept his mind had continued to work on the allegory of life and love so that when he awoke he felt his heart had been touched by something magical. Someone, somewhere had given him another chance at life. This time he resolved to live it wisely.
He almost skipped onto the terrace where the sun was dazzling and the smell of toast and coffee so enticing that he inhaled again and reflected on his own good fortune. ‘Good morning, everyone,’ he said, bending down to kiss his grandmother. ‘Where's Papa?’
‘He’ll be over shortly,’ said Mariana. ‘We thought it would be nice to have lunch in Zapallar, where you used to eat locos at Cesar’s, do you remember?”
‘Yes, I do,’ Hal replied, rubbing his hands together with happiness. ‘Very good idea.’ He sat down and poured himself a cup of coffee. ‘I’m ravenous,’ he exclaimed, buttering himself a croissant. Mariana derived enormous pleasure from watching him eat well. The colour had returned to his cheeks, he looked
happy and rested. ‘Abuelita, I want to learn Spanish,’ he said suddenly.
That can be organized,’ she replied, catching eyes with her husband, who put down the paper and began to take an interest in the conversation.
‘I’m not going back to England,’ he said casually. ‘I want to stay here.’
Mariana was unable to hide her delight. She smiled broadly and clasped her hands together. ‘Mi amor, I’m so happy! You belong here,’ she said, touching his arm. ‘How lovely for Ramoncito to have a brother. What about Federica?’ she added.
Hal grinned. ‘No, she won’t stay,’ he said. ‘She’s in love with someone in England. She just doesn’t know it yet.’
It wasn’t until the fifth day, when Ramoncito and Hal were deeply engrossed i
n a game of chess and Ramon and Ignacio were walking along the beach, that Mariana took the opportunity to talk to Federica on her own.
‘You’ve been very distracted in the last few days, Fede,’ she said, sitting beside her on the sofa. ‘Is it this young man?’ she asked.
Federica looked surprised. ‘Which young man?’ Federica shrugged defensively.
The one Hal spoke about.’
‘How does Hal know?’ she exclaimed.
‘Perhaps he’s been more alert than you think.’ Mariana chuckled. ‘He’s thriving under the Chilean sun,’ she added, watching him on the terrace, laughing with Ramoncito as if they had known each other for ever.
‘Oh, Abuelita,’ Federica sighed in confusion. ‘I want to stay here because I so enjoy being with you and Abuelito and it’s just wonderful to see Papa again and to have finally put the past behind us. We’re friends now. That was all I ever wanted. But. ..’
‘But you’ve grown up, Fede.’
‘I’ve spent the last twenty years yearning for Papa. I’d read his letters when I was unhappy and remember all the strange tales he told me. I clung onto my childhood. I think Torquil was an attempt to find Papa in someone else. Now there’s Sam,’ she said softly and dropped her shoulders. ‘I think I love him.’
‘So what’s the problem?’
‘I think I’ve hurt him,’ she replied gloomily.
‘In what way?’
‘Well, I adored him as a child. He’s seven years older than me, eccentric and
clever - there’s no one like him in the world, whereas there are hundreds of Torquils. He used to be beautiful, but he’s not any more, he’s just adorable and lovely. During my marriage to Torquil he wrote me anonymous notes of poetry, which changed my life. He loved me from afar, helped me leave Torquil and supported me once I returned home. I couldn’t have done it without him. But I thought the notes were from Papa. I told him so. Then I said . . She paused and blushed.
‘What did you tell him?’ Mariana asked kindly.
Federica squirmed in her chair. ‘I told him that I was leaving for Chile, that I didn’t know how long I’d be gone because there was nothing in Polperro to make me stay.’
Mariana patted her knee fondly. ‘Oh dear,’ she sighed. ‘I think you’d better go back and tell him how you feel.’
‘The thing is, I didn’t know how I felt. I didn't dare feel anything for him. I think I said that on purpose, hoping to force him to declare his feelings. But he didn’t. He just looked wounded. I can’t bear it. I’m such a monster. I realize now that I do care for him. I care very much. What if I’m too late?’
‘Why would you be?’
‘Because I called his mother,’ she said, lowering her eyes, ‘she said he had gone away to stay with an old girlfriend and didn’t know when he’d be back.’ ‘Surely you don’t believe he could fall in love with someone else so quickly?’
‘I don’t know. Could he?’ Federica asked, eyeing her grandmother hopefully. ‘My dear, love isn’t something you can turn on and off with a tap. It’s not possible. If he loves you he’ll be waiting for you. If he doesn’t, he won’t. And Fede, if he hasn’t waited he’s not worth the lemon in his piscol’
‘What shall I do?’
‘Go back to England.’
‘But I want to be here with you.’
‘Dear girl, Chile isn’t the moon. You just call me when you want to come back and I’ll arrange your ticket, or Ramon will. This isn’t twenty years ago. You’re only fifteen hours away.’ Then she smiled. ‘Perhaps you could bring him with you.’
Federica beamed happily. ‘Oh, Abuelita, I hope so,’ she enthused and embraced her grandmother. Thank you,’ she added seriously, looking into Mariana’s twinkling eyes.
‘No, thank you!’ replied her grandmother, touching her cheek with a gentle
sweep of her old hand. ‘This is the way it should be.’
Chapter 42
Polperro
Helena sat on Toby’s sofa, sharing a packet of chocolate biscuits with Rasta, smarting after her children’s sudden departure to Chile. She munched angrily and imagined their reunion with Ramon and his parents, the beach house in Cachagua and all her memories that lingered there. But by the time she reached the bottom of the packet her thoughts had focused on Arthur and she had barely noticed the digression.
Arthur hadn’t made the slightest effort to communicate with her. Not even during the drama with Hal and their subsequent departure. Not a word. She felt desperately isolated and alone. She missed him. She missed his company and his compassion, but what surprised her most was that little by little she began to miss him for the things that she had previously resented: the jolly way he walked, his enthusiasm and brightness, his round girth and his soft doughy hands. Physically he was nothing like Ramon, but her heart yearned for Arthur and she blamed herself entirely for driving him away.
The last few weeks had been painful as she had slowly weaned herself off
her delusions. The Ramon in her memory wasn’t real. He belonged to a time in the past that had long since dried up and died. She might just as well have been pining for a ghost. All the while she had failed to notice the qualities of the man she had chosen to share her life with, who was real and who needed her. She had been a fool. Like Toby had so wisely said, she never seemed to learn from her mistakes. She was never happy with what she had and only recognized happiness with hindsight. But Arthur had always loved her in spite of her faults. She scrunched up the empty packet and threw it into the fire where it burst into flame and was reduced to ash.
She’d make a new start and this time she’d get it right.
Arthur sat in his office staring out at the blustery street below. It had rained without pause for the last few days, a light drizzle blown about by a vengeful wind. He felt miserable inside, barely able to concentrate on his work, which was unusual as his job had always been an escape from domestic strain. He played about with his pencil, drawing sad faces on his desk notebook. He had told his secretary to take messages; he wasn’t in the mood for telephone calls that might require his concentration. All he could think about was Helena. He
had hoped she might fight to win him back. Sadly he had misjudged her. He had heard nothing but a screaming silence. Had their marriage really meant so little to her?
He stared at the clock on the wall and watched as the second hand ate its way slowly around the face with methodical regularity. The day had dragged. They had all dragged since the night he had locked Helena out of the house. Her cries still resounded in his ears but he didn’t allow himself to feel remorse. He had done the right thing. She hadn’t come back so he was now faced with the bleak reality that she wasn’t ever going to come back. He had to let her go.
Finally he was able to struggle into his coat and leave the office. He struggled against the wind to his car, then struggled with the traffic to drive home. But most of all he struggled with the impulses that implored him to drop his defences and beg her to come home. Every day was a battle, but so far his determination had won.
It was dark when he arrived home. Gloomily he wondered what he was going to eat that night. He pictured a bowl of cereal or a plate of cheese and biscuits and speculated on the television schedule - there was rarely anything worth
watching. Then he noticed the lights on in the house. The cleaner who came twice a week had obviously forgotten to switch them off, which was the least she could do seeing as there was so little work to be done. Helena had needed tidying up after her; Arthur did not. The place was as neat and as dead as a museum. How he longed for his wife’s chaos to ruffle the life back into it.
He put his key in the lock and the door. When he stepped inside the aromatic smells from the kitchen reached his nostrils and he recognized at once the familiar whiff of Helena’s roast chicken. His breath caught in his throat as his heart accelerated with hope and reserve, in case he should find it a dream and wake disappointed. Without taking his coat off he walked unsteadil
y up the corridor. He could hear the sound of footsteps and the light clatter of utensils as someone walked about behind the closed door. He dreaded opening it and his trembling fingers hesitated on the handle, aware of the terrible anguish that would follow if he were to discover not his wife but the cleaner, or his daughter or anyone else.
Then he assembled his courage and opened it. When he lifted his eyes he found Helena peering into a steaming saucepan, dressed in a pair of suede trousers and silk shirt protected by her grubby cook’s apron. He blinked at her
in amazement. She replaced the lid and turned to face him. Her heavily applied mascara could barely conceal her remorse. She smiled at him nervously. But when she recognized the longing in his expression she regained her confidence and walked over to him and drew him into her arms.
Neither spoke. They didn’t need to. Arthur pulled her against him and breathed deeply into her softly perfumed neck. They held each other for a long time, appreciating as never before the power of their love. Finally Helena pulled away. She looked into Arthur’s shiny eyes and whispered tearfully, ‘I’ll never behave like that again.’
Arthur stared down at her with intention. ‘I know,’ he replied gravely, ‘because I won’t let you.’
Ramon waved as the car carrying Federica to Santiago airport disappeared up the sandy track, leaving behind it a cloud of dust and a cheerful sense of accomplishment. He smiled at her until she was long out of sight and recalled that heartbreaking moment twenty years before when she had waved tearfully goodbye not knowing when she would see him again. But now she was a grown woman she would decide when she would return. He was deeply proud
of her and grateful, for they had embraced not only as father and daughter but as friends. He had handed her his manuscript to give to Helena and told her she could read it on the plane. She had embraced her grandparents, Ramoncito and finally Hal. But her tears hadn’t been of sorrow but of joy because they had all found each other again and as Mariana said, ‘Chile isn’t the moon’ - it was farewell not goodbye.
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