The Dragon's Cave

by Isobel Chace

  ‘I thought Spaniards didn’t kiss the hands of unmarried ladies?’ she said nervously.

  ‘Do you object?’ he countered.

  ‘N-no,’ she said. She thought she would sound even more young and foolish if she said she did. ‘ I just wondered if it were quite proper.’

  His dark green eyes glinted with laughter. ‘Quite proper, seeing the difference in our ages—’

  ‘You aren’t thirty yet!’ she reproved him.

  He sighed. ‘Pilar has been talking a great deal,’ he said.

  Megan blushed. ‘She was telling me about all her family,’ she explained.

  ‘I see,’ he said shortly.

  ‘Anyway,’ Megan said crossly, ‘I don’t see why you should mind my knowing how old you are. You know how old I am I.’

  He smiled slowly. ‘I don’t mind your knowing.’

  ‘Then what did you mind?’ she prompted him.

  She thought he wasn’t going to answer, but in the end he did.

  ‘They always had each other. I was too old to play with them, and their mother wasn’t my mother. I expect I resented always being the odd man out.’

  ‘But you are the eldest son!’ Megan pointed out. ‘You were always that!’ She hesitated. ‘I expect it’s that that’s made you so interfering,’ she added impertinently. ‘Rescuing strange females—

  ‘That had nothing to do with my responsibilities as the eldest son!’ he cut in sharply.

  ‘Of course it did!’ retorted Megan, well pleased with her theory. ‘I was just another Pilar, or Isabel, to you! I could feel it!’

  ‘Indeed?’ he said stiffly.

  ‘Well, what other reason had you?’ Megan asked reasonably.

  ‘I suppose that one will do as well as any other,’ he said with a glint of humour.

  Megan’s eyes widened. ‘But it must have been your reason!’

  He bowed slightly. ‘If you say so.’

  She chewed on her lip thoughtfully, wanting to puncture his confidence—just once—with the same ease with which he undermined hers. It wasn’t only that he had the advantage in years and experience, for she had always before been able to give as good as she got, no matter who; it was more that he intimidated her physically, without even touching her, because for some peculiar reason she felt weak at the knees at the sight of him.

  ‘I expect lunch will be ready soon,’ she said finally. ‘I’d better go and set the table.’ She jumped up out of her chair and left the room in a rush, almost colliding with Pilar in the hall.

  Pilar’s eyes danced with anticipation. ‘Did he ask you? Are you going to Mallorca?’ She looked at Megan’s face more closely. ‘Did he upset you?’ she demanded at last, her eye kindling.

  ‘No, of course not! And yes, I am going to Majorca—’

  ‘Ah!’ Pilar grinned happily. ‘I am so glad I If you hadn’t, you know, I should have had to leave Barcelona, and that wouldn’t have suited me at all!’

  ‘No?’

  Pilar looked wicked. ‘There is a certain man I know—’

  ‘Do I know him?’ her brother’s voice cut across their conversation.

  Pilar’s face fell. ‘I have never seen him alone,’ she said quickly. ‘You know his sister!’ she added. ‘So perhaps you do know him!’

  Carlos eyed her coldly. ‘We’ll talk about it later,’ he said quietly. ‘Now we had better join the others.’

  Lunch was a painful meal as far as Megan was concerned. Her parents looked smug, as if they had pulled off a successful deal against incredible odds, and Pilar was still sulking in case her brother prevented her from seeing her friend in Barcelona ever again, though how he could do such a thing was quite beyond Megan.

  It was a relief to her when the meal came to an end and she made her escape into the kitchen to make the coffee.

  ‘May I carry the tray for you?’ Carlos asked her.

  ‘Thank you, but I can manage, senor,’ she said with dignity.

  He didn’t offer again. Instead he stood and watched her as she made the coffee and placed the cups and saucers on a tray, together with a jug of cream and a bowl of brown sugar. When she had done, she picked up the tray and started off for the sitting room where the others were waiting, but somehow the kitchen door began to close just as she was walking through it, catching the edge of the tray, and some of the hot coffee spilled over on to her fingers.

  Carlos snatched the tray from her and put it down on the table. Megan put her scalded fingers behind her back, swallowing down unbidden tears, and wishing that he wouldn’t look at her.

  He turned on the cold tap and pulled her over to the sink, forcing her hands under the flow of water.

  ‘That’ll take the sting out,’ he said cheerfully. He touched the pink patches that the hot coffee had made with incredible gentleness. ‘There! You won’t feel it in a few minutes.’

  ‘It was all your fault!’ she wailed.

  ‘Naturalmente lo dice en broma,’ he drawled.

  ‘I don’t understand Spanish,’ she said sourly.

  ‘I, said you must be joking!’

  ‘Well, it was your fault! Why couldn’t you stay with the others?’

  ‘I preferred to be with you,’ he said.

  ‘Nonsense!’ she rebuked him with some asperity.

  ‘May I carry the tray this time?’ he suggested, unabashed.

  She knew that she was being silly, but she couldn’t help it. ‘I’m not helpless!’ she exclaimed.

  His eyebrows rose. ‘I didn’t suppose that you were. A little spoilt, perhaps, but helpless? No!’

  Megan looked at him. How could he say she was spoilt?

  ‘I—I—’ she began.

  ‘It is more feminine to accept an offer of this sort graciously,’ he said, with a remarkable lack of interest in her as a person. ‘A Spanish woman learns that sort of thing in her pram!’

  ‘Oh, really?’ she said coldly.

  He grinned at her. ‘But it’s not too late for you. You’re young yet!’ he taunted her. He picked up the tray and strode out of the kitchen and across the hall into the sitting room. Megan could hear her mother telling him how kind it was of him to bother and could have wept. Why was it that all the doors had behaved perfectly for him? Life was extremely unfair!

  The afternoon was endless. Pilar and Carlos showed every sign that they were enjoying themselves. Mr. Meredith stoked up the fire in the sitting room and had them toasting crumpets in front of its warmth, while Mrs. Meredith pretended to do some mending and fussed over Megan, her mind jumping from one article to another of the things she thought Megan ought to take with her to Majorca.

  ‘I’ve got all tomorrow to think about that,’ Megan told her, exasperated.

  ‘But Mrs. Vallori will want you to look nice—’

  ‘Don’t I always?’ Megan asked her dryly.

  ‘In your own way,’ her mother admitted. ‘But I hope you’ll be tidier, dear, when you’re there!’ She emitted a sigh of satisfaction. ‘It’s so nice to have no further worries about you! You’re so thin, darling. I’m sure you haven’t been eating properly in London by yourself.’

  ‘It’s fashionable to be thin!’ Megan protested ‘Isn’t it, Pilar?’

  The Spanish girl nodded her head, smiling. ‘But even I think you are thin, Megan. That dress is too wide for you—’

  The word is slim!’ Megan interrupted her, crosser than ever.

  Carlos chuckled. ‘A yard of pump-water,’ he teased her.

  ‘If you’re going to be horrid—’ Megan flared at him.

  ‘No, no,’ he denied hastily. ‘It is just an expression I heard somewhere. I find you very pleasant to look at.’

  For some reason this didn’t please Megan either.

  ‘It’s very bad manners to make personal remarks!’ she said loftily.

  His dark eyes lit with laughter. ‘But not to children!’ he excused himself.

  ‘I’m not a child!’

  ‘Of course you are still a child,’ her mother
put in placidly.

  Megan glared at her. ‘At least I have the law on my side!’ she muttered.

  Pilar put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  ‘Carlos is always like that!’ she pouted at her brother. ‘But you will have the last word! Do you know what dragonear means? It is the Mallorquin word for courting a young lady at her window. You will have more suitors than Mama will be able to deal with. Then let them say that you are a child!’

  Carlos laughed out loud. ‘Then we’ll call her a minx!’

  Pilar looked at him coldly. ‘You are not above courting the ladies yourself,’ she reminded him. ‘I know!’

  ‘I am a man of valour!’ Carlos drawled. ‘I put my hand in the dragon’s mouth and come away unscathed.’

  Pilar giggled, unable to keep up her disapproval of anyone for very long.

  ‘Tell them the story, Carlos! Tell them! It will amuse Megan to hear that Mallorca has its own St George!’

  ‘It is a true story,’ he began. ‘You can see the proof in the Diocesan Museum behind the Cathedral in Palma, if you don’t believe me. It was a long time ago now, perhaps about the year 1700, and Palma was in a state of terror because this dragon was living there. It preyed upon anyone who went out at night, and on anyone whose faith was weak, and sometimes it was seen prowling beneath the gratings in the street. Once, it nearly carried off a young boy, and the whole city was in a state of panic. Nobody dared to go out at all after dark, and a reward was offered for the dragon’s capture, but nobody was brave enough to engage the dread beast. The Governor of Alcudia, a young man called Don Bernardo Coch, used to go to visit his fiancée in Palma just the same. He used to ride into Palma on a very fine horse and make love to his beloved through the window. But one night the dragon appeared, breathing fire through its nostrils. The girl was badly frightened, but Don Bernardo was quite pleased to be able to prove his courage to his sweetheart. He drew his sword and attacked the dragon, killing it dead!’

  ‘It’s absolutely true!’ Pilar exclaimed, seeing Megan’s ironic expression. ‘The Mallorquins were terribly grateful to Don Bernardo. They called the dragon after his betrothed, El Drac de Na Cocal. There used to be a festival every year when the dragon was shown to the people! It was kept by the Roselle Miralles family, the descendants of Don Bernardo, and they gave it to the museum!’

  ‘I don’t believe it!’ Megan said flatly.

  Carlos looked amused. ‘You can see for yourself when you are in Palma,’ he said.

  ‘But,’ Megan said reasonably, ‘nobody courts people through a window nowadays!’

  ‘Don’t you find it romantic?’ Pilar asked anxiously. ‘I should love someone to sing songs to me outside my window!’ She caught her brother’s eye and coloured a little. ‘Someone I—like,’ she ended lamely.

  Megan rubbed her nose with her forefinger. ‘I should find it embarrassing,’ she said gruffly.

  ‘That is because you are not in love,’ Carlos told her.

  ‘I’d feel a fool!’

  ‘He’d be a brave man!’ Carlos said thoughtfully.

  Megan’s defences dropped from her. ‘Why?’ she demanded, sounding as hurt as she felt. ‘I suppose you think I’d sing right back at him? Stealing his thunder?’

  He looked surprised. ‘No, that hadn’t occurred to me. I was thinking of the scorching you’d give him for not daring to speak to you face to face. A dragon indeed!’

  She blushed. ‘I’m not as unromantic as you think!’ she protested.

  ‘No?’

  Her eyes fell before the teasing look in his. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I have my moments like everyone else!’

  ‘Is that a promise?’ he drawled.

  Megan pretended she hadn’t heard him. She jumped to her feet and looked out at the white, winter scene and the grey sky that threatened yet more snow.

  ‘It’s going to snow again,’ she said.

  ‘Then we had better be going,’ he said amiably. ‘I will return for you here on Tuesday?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’ll meet you in London,’ she told him.

  She thought he was going to argue with her, but he only nodded in a businesslike way. ‘Very well. What’s your address?’

  She wrote it down for him, together with the telephone number. He accepted the slip of paper, putting it carefully away in his leather wallet.

  ‘You will not fail me?’ he said finally, as he eased himself into his coat.

  Megan shook her head. ‘I’ll—I’ll try to make your mother happier,’ she promised earnestly. ‘But I haven’t much experience—’

  He laid a finger on her cheek. ‘Be happy yourself, that’s all that’s needed!’

  She sniffed. ‘That’s easy!’ she scoffed.

  He looked down at her for a long moment. ‘I hope so,’ he said at last. ‘I wonder if I’m wise to let you loose in the dragon’s cave?’

  She wrinkled up her nose, not sure that she knew what he meant. ‘I can look after myself!’ she assured him.

  ‘Without getting your fingers burned?’

  ‘That was an accident! Dragons don’t frighten me!’

  ‘If you recognise them in time!’

  She chuckled. ‘Are you sure you’re not talking about wolves?’ she asked him demurely.

  He shrugged his shoulders. ‘You have wolves in your cold climate, we have fiery breathed dragons in the sun!’ He laughed suddenly. ‘They say you must fight fire with fire, but I think you are too young, amada, for us to find out, no?’

  Megan put her hands behind her back like a child.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said.

  ‘Obviously not,’ he said on a sigh. ‘I’ll see you on Tuesday?’

  She nodded, relieved that they were going. She went with them to the car and waved to them as they disappeared down the drive, Pilar’s scarlet coat showing up as a bright splash of colour in the black and white scene. She was glad they had gone, but she felt inexpressibly lonely at their going.

  On the telephone, Carlos’s Spanish accent was clearly discernible. He sounded foreign and more alien than she had remembered him. She thought, with a feeling of rising panic, that she didn’t understand him at all, and that she probably wouldn’t even like his mother! She was mad to be going to Majorca at all! She should have stayed exactly where she was and got on with her career by finding another singing engagement somewhere. Jobs didn’t grow on trees, of course, but she would have found something, sooner or later.

  ‘Megan? I have booked you to fly to Mallorca at nine o’clock tomorrow morning. I will be at your address at seven. That will give us time to get to the airport before eight. You will be ready?’

  ‘Yes,’ Megan said simply.

  There was a short pause at the other end. ‘I shall be travelling to Mallorca with you,’ his voice came again, sounding unexpectedly diffident.

  ‘I thought you were going to Barcelona!’

  ‘I was,’ he said flatly. ‘My stepmother wishes me to help her open up the house in Palma, however.’

  ‘But can’t I do that?’ Megan suggested, a little overcome that he should change his plans at his stepmother’s whim.

  ‘My stepmother requires someone who can speak Spanish to be with her for a few days,’ he explained. ‘Apparently she is planning to change the decorations and to put in an extra bathroom. She wishes me to deal with the workmen for her.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ Megan said inadequately.

  ‘I thought you might be pleased?’

  She was glad that he couldn’t see her face, for she could feel herself blushing.

  ‘I am!’ she said.

  ‘Good. That is better than I hoped!’

  ‘Oh?’ She sounded shocked and rather pleased.

  ‘Tomorrow you must tell me exactly how pleased you are,’ he continued, his voice edged with laughter.

  ‘Oh!’ she said again.

  ‘Hasta luego, Megan Meredith.’

  Megan giggled, sufficiently encouraged to try out her o
wn Spanish. ‘Hasta la vista, senor,’ she said demurely, and replaced the receiver quickly before he had a chance to make any further remark.

  She stood for a long moment, looking into space, trying to still her whirring thoughts. Then she put on her coat and hurried out before the shops closed to buy a Spanish grammar and a phrase book to help her over those first awkward days. If she applied herself, she thought, she might be able to say something more to Senor Carlos Vallori Llobera in his own language. She could imagine his dark green eyes crinkling with pleased surprise and the thought warmed her as she hurried down the street. In a few weeks she would be able to say anything, anything at all!

  Megan felt heavy-eyed after an almost sleepless night. She carried her suitcase down the numerous flights of stairs that led up to the room she shared with her ex-school friend and dropped it with a bang on to the lino-covered floor of the main hall. When she opened the front door, she saw that it was snowing again.

  ‘We are both a little early,’ Carlos greeted her, doffing his hat to her. ‘Is your luggage upstairs? Shall I fetch it?’

  ‘It’s here,’ she said awkwardly. She lifted the heavy suitcase and shoved it through the doorway, slamming the front door behind her. ‘I hope it isn’t overweight. I seem to have packed just about everything I possess!’

  Carlos looked down at the suitcase. ‘In that?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s my father’s case really,’ she confessed. ‘It’s the largest one we have.’

  He took it from her, carrying it with the greatest of ease, and put it in the back of the car.

  ‘Is that really all you possess in the world?’ he asked her, as he held the door for her to get in.

  She nodded shyly, very conscious of his long length standing so close to her.

  ‘I suppose you have not had long to collect much clutter from living,’ he teased her. ‘I cannot remember a time when all I possess would have fitted into one suitcase!’

  ‘That’s different,’ she said.

  ‘Is it?’ He slammed her door shut and went round to the driving seat, jumping in beside her and turning on the ignition key in the one easy movement.