A Night To Remember

by Anne Weale

  ‘What is his type?’

  ‘I don’t know, but certainly not me.’

  ‘I agree…but that won’t stop it happening. Men frequently fall in love with women who aren’t right for them. Women do the same. If you haven’t experienced it yet, love is like a squall at sea. It sweeps people off their right course and can do a lot of damage.’

  ‘Are you speaking from experience?’

  ‘No, from observation only. I have friends who are happily married and other friends with a trail of disasters behind them. There’s one big difference between them. The ones who—’ He was interrupted by the telephone. ‘Excuse me a moment.’ He picked up the receiver. ‘Diga!’

  After a pause he asked the caller to wait and, putting his hand over the mouthpiece, said to Cassia, ‘This call will take some time. We’ll continue our talk tomorrow. You’ve had a long, stressful day. Go to bed now. Goodnight.’

  As she was leaving the room he started speaking Italian. It was a language with many similarities to Spanish, and she thought what he said was, ‘No, you’re not interrupting anything important. You know I am always delighted to hear your voice.’

  ‘What did Don Simón have to say to you last night?’ Laura enquired when Cassia went down to the breakfast.

  As she didn’t want to take Laura into her confidence, Cassia said, ‘He gave me a ticking off for not saying I had a blister as soon as it started.’

  ‘Yes, it was very silly of you,’ the housekeeper agreed. ‘But you’ve come out of it with a nice new pair of shoes.’

  ‘They weren’t a present. I’ve paid him for them.’

  ‘Did he ask you to pay?’

  ‘No. I put the money in an envelope and slipped it under his door before I went to bed.’

  ‘If he didn’t ask, I should have taken them as a gift. He can afford a few mil better than we can,’ said Laura. ‘He’s rolling in money. If you ask me, this set-up here is probably some kind of tax dodge. Do you believe he’s really interested in young drop-outs and delinquents? I don’t. Why should he be? If I had been born in a fine cradle like he was—’ she was using the Spanish equivalent of a silver spoon in the mouth ‘—I wouldn’t worry about the rest of the world. I’d concentrate on enjoying myself.’

  ‘Why did you take this job if the project doesn’t interest you?’

  ‘I didn’t say I wasn’t interested. But is he?’ Laura shrugged her plump shoulders. ‘Perhaps…for a while. Then he’ll lose interest. When rich people take up causes, it’s usually to suit themselves. There’s a lot of corruption in high places in this country,’ she added darkly.

  Later, thinking over her remarks, Cassia had to admit that her own first impression of Simón as a playboy and womaniser didn’t tie in with the role of a caring philanthropist. But had he arrived at the hotel without Isa Sanchez in tow, she would not have had that impression.

  She remembered what he had said to her in the office the night before. ‘Most single men spend a lot of time starving for sex.’ Perhaps he was speaking from experience. He, like Jack, was in peak condition. Perhaps his libido drove him to have affairs with girls like Isa, apparently prepared to sleep with anyone who gave them a good time in luxurious surroundings. Cassia’s father hadn’t been a philandering man, but from time to time his libido had driven him into relationships which had differed from Simón’s affairs only in being longer-lasting.

  She found her thoughts about Simón deeply puzzling and unsettling. Also, she was intensely curious to know what he had been going to say about the difference between the happy and unhappy marriages of his friends. When the right moment arose she would remind him.

  But the right moment didn’t arise that day, or the next, and the day after that the Marqués announced at breakfast that he was off to Madrid.

  Before he left they did have a few moments together. ‘Remember what I told you. Don’t get too friendly with Jack. Don’t let your curiosity lead you down the wrong road. That’s all it would be if you let him start something with you. That’s the irresistible urge which gets most girls into bed the first time. Not because they need or want sex. Not even because they’re in love. But because they can’t wait to find out what it’s all about.’

  He had written out lists of tasks he expected them each to accomplish in his absence. She had not expected advice on her personal conduct.

  ‘And a big disappointment it is, in most cases,’ he added. ‘So don’t be tempted to let Jack initiate you.’

  Retaining her self-possession with difficulty, she said, ‘I don’t need this lecture…Excellency. I’m not just out of a convent, although you seem to think so. Compared with other people of my age, I’ve been around more than most.’

  ‘Geographically, yes. Not emotionally. It wouldn’t surprise me if you’ve never been kissed,’ he said, smiling.

  ‘Of course I’ve been kissed!’ she exploded indignantly.

  ‘Like this?’ He cupped her chin and her cheek in the warm curve of his palm and, tilting her face up, put his lips lightly on hers. For a moment, while her heart bungee jumped, his mouth remained on hers, motionless. Then, softly and slowly, it moved in a kiss so gentle yet so subtly arousing that her response astonished and horrified her.

  Simón raised his head and looked down at her, knowing—she could see it in his eyes—precisely how she was feeling—how he had made her feel.

  ‘Not like that,’ he said mockingly. ‘Adiós, chica.’

  The effect of his kiss stayed with her all the time he was gone. She went to sleep thinking about it, dreamed about him, and woke up wondering if today he would come back.

  She knew that she had fallen in love with him. Madly, deeply, foolishly. Unutterably foolishly. For the chance of his loving her was infinitesimal.

  In his absence, her heel made good progress. Every morning Jack brought his first-aid case down to breakfast and replaced the dressing with a fresh one. Within a week of the walk the place didn’t need to be covered, although it was still somewhat tender and he felt a plaster would protect it from an accidental knock.

  The following Saturday night Jack went out for the evening. Before he left he said that if the weather stayed fine the next day he might have a swim.

  ‘At this time of year! You must be mad,’ exclaimed Laura.

  ‘I met an old guy—a German—in the village this morning who swims all year round. He’s seventysomething. If he can do it, I reckon I can. Would you like to come, Cass?’

  The thought of a day by the sea was very tempting. It was a long time since she’d seen it. She couldn’t resist saying, ‘Yes, please. But I don’t promise to swim if the water’s cold.’

  ‘No use asking you to join us, I suppose?’ he said to Laura.

  With a vehement shake of the head, she said, ‘My friend from Benidorm is coming to spend the day with me. She rents a little car while she’s here. We may go out for a drive. Do you wish to take a packed lunch, or will you eat out?’

  ‘We’ll find somewhere to eat—if that’s all right with you, Cassia?’

  She took this as a hint that they would be going Dutch. ‘Fine,’ she agreed.

  * * *

  They set out just before nine the next morning, by which time the misty vapour lying over the vineyards had cleared and it promised to be a hot day.

  ‘Brought your swimsuit?’ Jack asked as they left the village behind.

  ‘Yes, but it’s falling to bits. I shall have to buy another for the summer. I used to love swimming when we lived on a boat. But that was a long time ago. Did you grow up near the sea?’

  He shook his head. ‘Never saw it when I was a kid. I learnt to swim in a big indoor pool with the water stinking of chlorine, making your eyes sting. But with us lot all peeing in it I reckon it would have smelt worse without the chemicals.’

  Cassia laughed. ‘Children aren’t the only ones who do that. I’ve seen grown-ups get up from their beach chairs, wander into the sea for a few minutes and then come out again. It was perfectly
obvious what they were doing.’

  ‘That doesn’t bother me,’ said Jack. ‘It’s the bad pollution I watch out for. But I’ve heard the beaches on this coast are cleaner than most. Anyway, the old fellow who recommended the one we’re going to says he’s swum there for years, and he looks as fit as a flea.’

  Their route took them over a pass into the neighbouring valley and then by the bed of a river which, although dry at the moment—perhaps because its main source had been dammed higher up—had at some time swept its way through the rocky terrain, scouring away the red earth which around it nurtured almendros, their branches now bursting with blossom.

  Some groves were pink, others white. Soon, Cassia knew, the ephemeral beauty of the blossom would be replaced by green leaves and furry cases already almost as large as when the embryos inside had grown to fullsize almonds. But today, as they would for a week or two more, the trees gave the arid landscape its most beautiful aspect—long before spring would break in more northerly Europe.

  ‘Where did you learn to swim?’ asked Jack.

  ‘I can’t remember. Probably somewhere in Greece. My father said I could swim before I could walk. Babies living on boats have to be drownproofed as soon as possible.’

  ‘You’re on your own now, is that right?’

  ‘If my grandparents are alive, I don’t know where they are.’

  Jack said, ‘I suppose I’ve got grandparents somewhere. It’s not likely they’ll all be dead yet. Me, I don’t even know who my parents were.’ After a pause he added, ‘I used not to like having no family when I was a kid. Now it doesn’t bother me. Families aren’t always that close. Sometimes they hate each other.’

  ‘Families in Spain seem closer than families in some other countries,’ said Cassia. ‘I always feel envious when I see them on Sunday picnics—the grannies dandling the babies and all the sons and sons-in-law attending to the paella while their wives have a rest and a gossip and the older children run about.’

  Jack didn’t answer, perhaps because there was a blind bend ahead and the road there was barely wide enough for two vehicles to pass each other. After a winding stretch the view opened out, traversed by the east-coast autopista—a broad ribbon of speeding traffic supported, where the land dipped, on massive pillars of concrete. Far from being an eyesore, its sweeping curves were beautiful.

  It reminded Cassia of the journey from Granada. She wondered if Simón would disapprove of her accepting Jack’s invitation. But if she hadn’t she would have been at a loose end today. Laura and her French friend wouldn’t have wanted her with them.

  The beach that Jack had been told about was a small, stony cove at the foot of rust-coloured cliffs. It was at one end of a large bay near the town called Jávea, which stood a kilometre inland but had spread to form a resort of a quieter type than Benidorm. At the back of the cove was a terrace belonging to a café-bar, but at present the bar wasn’t open and they had the cove to themselves.

  ‘I expect most people are having a lie-in,’ said Jack. ‘It’s early yet. Give it an hour. The sea looks pretty good, don’t you think?’

  ‘It looks most inviting,’ she agreed, admiring the sparkling blue-green water lapping the sea-shiny cobbles.

  ‘I’ll check it out,’ said Jack.

  This morning, in place of boots, he was wearing thick rubber soles attached to his feet by Velcro-fastened straps. He walked down to the water’s edge, bending to roll up his trouser legs before letting the sea wash over his sandalled feet.

  ‘It’s not too bad,’ he reported. ‘I won’t say it’s warm, but it should feel pretty good…once you’re in.’

  ‘Maybe I’ll go in later. We’re going to be here all morning, aren’t we?’

  ‘I thought we’d have lunch here,’ said Jack, returning to where he had dumped his knapsack. ‘In summer, so the old guy says, there’s a place at the other end of the bay where they serve paella out of doors under a splitcane awning. But it isn’t open at this time of year.’

  As he spoke he unzipped his trousers. He was already wearing a brief black slip. In a matter of moments he was ready to bathe.

  ‘Right…here we go, then!’ Still wearing the sandals, he strode into the sea, and when it was up to his thighs flung up his arms for a plunge dive.

  He was under the water for some seconds, surfacing with a characteristically masculine shake of the head— a reflex, perhaps, from the days when he had had longer hair.

  His scalp, almost bald when she’d first met him, was looking a little less shorn, she noticed as he started an energetic crawl in the direction of some red floats lying on the surface two or three hundred yards out.

  Predictably Jack was a powerful swimmer, but he made a lot of splash. Cassia had the feeling that Simón would also swim well, but in a more stylish manner.

  Suddenly changing her mind, she unzipped her holdall and pulled out a towel and a black Lycra one-piece dating back to her mid-teens. Since the last time she had worn it, her vital statistics had changed, her waist now being slimmer than at sixteen, her bust and hips fuller.

  She was wearing a white T-shirt under a loose blue denim pinafore with a dropped waist and side-seam pockets. There still being no one about, she pulled off her briefs and stepped into the swimsuit, drawing it over her hips before stripping down to her bra and reaching behind her to unfasten the clip.

  As she did so Jack stopped swimming. He rolled over and, treading water, waved to her at the same moment as Cassia removed her bra and felt the warmth of the sun caressing her bare breasts.

  Although she had never exposed her breasts in public, as many women did at the beach, he was too far away for her to feel any embarrassment. She waved back and pulled up her swimsuit, then applied a waterproof suncream to her shoulders and back. Her face and arms she had sunproofed before coming out.

  Having no plastic beach shoes, she found the stony beach made walking very uncomfortable. Nor was getting in painless. Unable to stride in and plunge, she had to endure the ordeal of the water creeping up her legs as she felt her way forward on slippery footholds. When she did throw herself forward the shock of immersing her warm flesh in the cold sea made her stifle a howl of agony.

  ‘It’s great…once you’re in, isn’t it?’ said Jack when they met a hundred yards out. ‘I’m told there’s a nice little beach over there.’ He jerked a thumb at the cliffs between the cove and the end of the headland. ‘Let’s go and investigate, shall we?’

  The beach, hidden from the cove, was sandy. As they landed on it Jack said, ‘Old Fritz—or whatever his name is—comes out here to strip off and tan his backside. Don’t worry, I’m not going to do that,’ he added with a grin, sitting down and leaning back on his elbows.

  Cassia sat down beside him and surveyed the view from this different perspective. Halfway across the bay, on a low promontory, was a grove of palm trees.

  Pointing them out to Jack, she said, ‘I wonder what they’re doing there. It seems a funny place for palm trees to be growing.’

  ‘That’s where the main beach is. The palms were brought in for the garden of a modern parador. Fritz said we can drive back that way, cutting across those low hills at the back,’ he said, pointing to a wooded hinterland dotted with white villas. ‘You’re not cold now, are you?’ Jerking into a sitting position, he laid the flat of his hand on the bare skin between her shoulder blades.

  She had an intuitive feeling that he wanted to kiss her.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  EITHER Cassia’s instinct was wrong or Jack chose not to act on the impulse.

  Answering the question himself, he said, ‘No, you feel warm as toast.’ Then, taking his palm away to lock both hands behind his head and stretch himself at full length, he went on, ‘I should have brought a mask and fins. Have you done any snorkelling?’

  Relieved that she’d been mistaken, Cassia said, ‘As a child, yes. Not for a long time.’ She was struck by a worrying thought. ‘Do you think it’s all right to leave our gear unattended?
When I followed you in I didn’t think I’d be coming out of sight. Maybe I should go back in case someone grabs the chance to make off with our valuables.’

  ‘By God…you’re right!’ he exclaimed, jackknifing to his feet. ‘My credit card’s in my wallet. If that gets nicked I’ll have to ring the UK, and I don’t know the bloody number. It’ll mean going back to the house.’

  Seconds later he was in the water, thrashing up foam as he tore back the way they had come.

  Swimming flat out, Cassia was not far behind him when a shout made her pause.

  ‘Panic over,’ Jack called.

  Treading water, she saw that the bar had opened and now an elderly couple were sitting at a table on the terrace. But the beach was still empty.

  They swam the rest of the way breast-stroking alongside each other. Where the water came up to his chest, Jack stood up. ‘I’ve got sea shoes. You haven’t. I’ll give you a lift over the stones.’

  This time being picked up and carried was less surprising, but in a way more disturbing. It was her first close contact with a naked male torso.

  Beside their things, he set her on her feet

  ‘Thanks,’ she said casually, bending to pluck her towel from the rock where she’d left it after unintentionally catching sight of the evidence that he too had been affected by the intimate contact.

  Jack wrapped his towel round his hips and sat down. ‘Have you ever smoked?’ he asked.

  Starting to towel her hair, Cassia paused to shake her head. ‘I tried one once. I didn’t like it.’

  ‘People don’t…not the first few. Then they get hooked. I gave it up five years ago. Sometimes—like after a swim—I feel the old urge to light up. But I never will. I’ve more respect for my body than I had then. Most soldiers smoke and drink. You’ll find the odd one who doesn’t, but not many.’

  ‘Tell me about your time in the French Foreign Legion.’

  ‘Légion Étrangère,’ he corrected her. ‘Well, I served two five-year contracts. It’s a great outfit. I went in a bumptious kid with a chip on my shoulder, and they made a man of me.’