by Amanda Doyle
“No, of course not,” she agreed demurely. “You’ve promised to dance my first dance with me, too, remember. Oh, Nicolas, I feel so free and light, as if I could float away.”
Nicolas laughed.
“Then we must buy these shoes immediately, no? It will not do to float away in those you have on, and incur the displeasure of good Doctor Lamas. You will take a glass of wine before you depart, senor doctor? But yes, I insist. You also, Miss Trent. Remain a moment, if you please, and Ignacio will bring glasses.”
Anna had intended to escape. Now she forced herself to sit and make pleasant conversation to the kindly old doctor.
Nicolas returned, this time accompanied by his aunt. He saw the old lady comfortably seated, and himself dispensed wine to each person.
“And now, I think our toast must be to the continued health of our recovered invalid, who has borne her indisposition with courage and—” he turned and made a teasing bow to Cecily—“no small degree of impatience.”
There was laughter all round, and Cecily pulled a face.
“Nicolas, how unkind,” she pouted playfully. “Well, maybe I was just a little bit fed-up, now and then, but the situation had its compensations.”
She looked at him with such a wealth of meaning that no one could have been in any doubt in which direction the compensations lay.
When Cecily and Nicolas came back from Barcelona, Cecily was wearing delightful, flat-soled sandals with thongs of finely-plaited yellow kid. She also displayed a bracelet of heavy silver studded with Brazilian topaz in the same lovely shade.
“Look, Anna. Isn’t it gorgeous?” She held out a slender white wrist. “Nicolas just insisted on buying it for me. I adore a really chunky piece like that, don’t you?”
Her eyes softened.
“Did you know that it’s the custom in Spain to exchange gifts when two people are thinking of marriage?” she asked dreamily, a propos of nothing in particular. “It’s not necessarily a ring, as in our country. A bracelet is just as common a choice.” Anna muttered something. It was an unintelligible sound, and she couldn’t have said what words it was supposed to represent, but Cecily obviously expected a response of some sort.
“Nicolas took me to a marvellous place for lunch, and then we went to get these sandals. He’s a fascinating man to go shopping with, Anna. He wasn’t a bit self-conscious coming into the shops with me. An Englishman would have run a mile, but it’s all a part of Nicolas’s foreign charm that he just doesn’t behave like that. He insisted on seeing every type of sandal they had, and we went to several different places before he was satisfied that we had nice enough ones.” She stretched her feet out in front of her, eyeing the pretty yellow sandals with pleasure.
“And what about the bracelet? Did you do the same?” Anna tried her best to evince a normal amount of interest. It was surprisingly hard to do. Come on, Anna, she told herself with a flash of her old spirit. This isn’t the first blow you’ve had to cope with in life. You can surmount it if you really try. It can’t go on much longer. It’s having to face it—face him—every day that makes it so unbearable, but that won’t go on for ever.
“Oh, no, it wasn’t the same with the bracelet,” Cecily declared brightly. “That was Nicolas’s choice alone. We didn’t even look at any others. One doesn’t argue with Nicolas—and of course, I adored it on sight, anyway.”
She turned her wrist this way and that as she spoke. Anna felt the familiar light-headedness that she’d been experiencing so often lately assailing her once more. Through mists of unhappiness she heard Cecily’s voice continuing.
“When Nicolas put the bracelet on, he told me he hoped that we would continue our holiday by staying on here at the Castillo, and of course I agreed.”
“Agreed?” The last remnants of Anna’s careful control threatened to give way.
Cecily raised a casual brow.
“But of course,” she said, surprised. “Under the circumstances, what else would I choose to do? I’ve no wish to go haring around when it’s so pleasant here. Anyway, we haven’t got a car now, and it’s so much easier to go about in Nicolas’s than go to all the bother of hiring a foreign one. He’ll take us anywhere we want to go.”
Anna balked at the thought. She knew she just couldn’t go on like this much longer. She had to get away. The idea of staying on and going about with Cecily and Nicolas was about as attractive as a longterm prison sentence.
“You don’t appear exactly thrilled about it,” Cecily commented coldly. “What’s the matter?”
“N—nothing really, but I—I thought we’d be moving on quite soon, once you were better.”
“Well, darling, I’ve just gone to the trouble to explain that we’re not moving on, so make up your mind that that’s final, and let’s not argue. You can still go around with Guy, can’t you? Nothing’s changed. I can’t think why you’re making such a fuss.”
“I’m not making a fuss—only even Guy’s going home soon, Cecily. Next week, so he says.” Anna felt desperate.
“Is he, though?” Cecily was thoughtful, gazing at Anna with an analytical stare that seemed to see right through her.
“I—wonder,” she said, almost to herself, slowly and softly, as if she had just made a gratifying decision.
“What do you wonder?” Anna had heard her.
“Anna, how would you like to go back to England when Guy goes? You’ve said before that you find it boring here, and without him it would be even worse for you, wouldn’t it?”
Anna gazed at her numbly.
“Yes, I’d like to go,” she said mechanically. Anything, anything, to get away. “Only what about Uncle Nigel, Cecily? I couldn’t just walk out on you like that. He made me promise that we’d stick together.”
“Yes, pet, and so we have. You’ve stuck to me like the proverbial leech up till this point. But things are different now. It’s not as if I intend travelling around any more, and you know what worried Daddy most, anyway—my crush on Mike Britton-Harvey. Well, that’s all old hat now, Anna. I could not care less about Mike—haven’t even given him a thought for weeks. I’ll pay your air-fare, and you leave Daddy to me. I’ll take full responsibility.”
Anna was certainly tempted.
“What about you and—and your position here, though, Cecily? You remember the day he brought you here, the Conde insisted that I accompany you. He didn’t seem to think it decent for you to be alone.”
Cecily brushed that aside easily enough.
“That was only because I’d have been travelling alone—or it would have looked like that—and you know that’s just not done in Nicolas’s set. It’s different when I’m actually a guest here, and Senora de Ceverio is a very proper chaperone.”
Anna couldn’t argue with that reasoning, and in fact, didn’t wish to.
“All right, Cecily,” she heard herself say tonelessly, “I’ll go when Guy goes.”
Dully she registered that her decision didn’t bring with it the relief she had hoped for.
There was only the familiar ache, and its intensity, if anything, had increased.
CHAPTER X
Anna’s next step was to speak to Guy to find out exactly when he proposed to go, and whether he would welcome her company on the flight.
He looked at her keenly.
“What’s it all about, Anna—this sudden flight? Has Cecily been up to any tricks, because if so, I’ll deal with her.”
“No, it’s not that, Guy.”
She explained that Cecily was staying on for a while, but that she herself would rather return to London than remain at the Castillo, and it seemed too good a chance of a pleasant travelling companion not to go when he did. If Guy suspected there was more to it than that, he certainly didn’t say so. He knew nothing about her pretended engagement, and it wasn’t likely that either Cecily or the Conde would broach that topic in his presence. If they did, she only had to sustain the deception until they were in the air—and then she’d confess all. There wasn
’t long to go now.
Anna managed to book a seat on the same flight as Guy and her time was taken up with preparations for her departure. She searched the shops for various little gifts that she thought might please her fellow-social-workers at home, and pondered on the possibilities of giving some small token of her affection to Senora de Ceverio. In the end she decided against buying anything here. Far better to send something modest, but typically British, once she was home. That way there would be no embarrassing moment of thanks. Anna was genuinely sad at the thought of having to say farewell to her elderly friend.
She had left it to Cecily to tell Nicolas of her impending departure, and she had no idea what had passed between them, or what his reactions had been.
His first, and indeed his only comment came after the dinner hour that night, when they had all retired to the small salita. Here he helped himself to cognac, lit a cheroot, and sat back at ease.
Tonight he wore a dark blue smoking jacket with silver buttons and narrow rolled lapels. His socks, revealed now that he hitched his trousers and crossed one knee over the other, were of fine black silk, and his shoes were black and narrow and perfectly fitting—probably they had been made by hand, Anna thought.
“Well, Miss Trent, so you are about to leave us shortly? This is correct?”
Anna removed her gaze from the beautiful black shoes to find him studying her with his usual composure.
“Yes, senor, that’s quite correct. Naturally I intended to mention the matter myself. You have been a very generous host to me for all these weeks, and I’ll always remember my sojourn at the Castillo Barientos with very great pleasure.”
“So?” He blew a ring of smoke that was almost faultless in form and idly watched it waft upwards. “Soon we will be but a memory that you lock away in some obscure part of that busy little mind, and the day follows when you cannot even recollect what we look like. We are forgotten. Such are the ways of the world, no, sad though it may seem. A passing regret that you say to us farewell, and then—nothing.” A spasm of pain and longing shook Anna to the core, but her face remained serene—or she was almost sure it did. She was becoming an extremely accomplished actress. It was necessary, and they say necessity is the mother of invention.
“No, it won’t be like that at all, senor. I’ll always remember your kindness, of course, and yours too, senora.” She turned a little shyly to the old lady. “Perhaps we might exchange letters now and then, Senora de Ceverio, just to keep in touch. I’d like to write to you occasionally if a letter would be welcome?”
Nicolas’s aunt smiled gently.
“But of course, child,” she agreed warmly. “This of all things would give me pleasure. I shall miss you, Anna. You have been kind and patient to an old woman who must often have bored you with her ramblings, yet always you appear interested and understanding. You have been muy simpatica, Anna, a very pleasant little visitor and companion.”
Senora de Ceverio stressed her words by laying a beringed and wrinkled hand upon Anna’s knee, where she sat on a stool beside her hostess’s chair. Anna found to her alarm that her eyes had filled with tears. She opened them wide and stared at the magnificent fireplace, not daring even to blink in case the tears overflowed.
Cecily came to the rescue.
“Anna, be a pet and bring me down the folder of snaps we had developed the other day, will you? I’m still a bit slow on the stairs, and I promised I’d show Nicolas the photos we took going through France. He’s been to many of the same places, and we want to compare notes.”
Once out of the room, Anna blew her nose and wiped her eyes.
The moment had passed, and she managed to get through the evening quite successfully after that.
Her next harrowing moment was provided by Juanito.
She and Guy had collected their tickets at the central office, and afterwards paid a visit to Senora Moreno.
Guy was more than gratified by the change in his unofficial patient, who obviously felt very much better than when he had first prescribed for her. She still took things as easily as possible, but managed to keep the little house more to her standards, and the children, too, seemed happier and plumper, and more secure in the knowledge that their mother could give them the attention that they constantly demanded. It was as though the effects of the woman’s returning good health spread around her and reflected its benefits on everyone and everything inside the meagre dwelling. The only person not obviously affected by it was the old grandfather, who appeared exactly as he always did, sitting alone, staring out on to the alley, lost in his private world.
“Always will I be grateful for what you have done for the family of Moreno, senor doctor,” Juanito’s mother said to Guy. “And to you also, senorita, for your unfailing goodness to me and my children.”
Her voice shook with emotion and she clasped Guy’s hand in both her own work-roughened ones.
“Not at all.” Guy was gruff with embarrassment. “It’s all in the day’s work for a doctor, you know. It has kept me in practice while on vacation,” he told her with an attempt at levity. “I’ll get you a further course of tablets before we go, senora, and we’ll look in to say goodbye. But I really do urge you, as soon as it’s possible, to see a doctor and carry on the treatment further.”
“When this is possible, I shall do as you suggest, of course,” Senora Moreno said quietly. Her tone discouraged further discussion of her circumstances.
She made them drink some quite delicious coffee and soon afterwards they left.
Back in the main boulevard once more, they found Juanito.
Resignedly, Guy allowed him to shine his shoes. It was simpler than arguing. When he attempted to pay, however, Juanito shook his head so rapidly that the unruly hair danced in a positive frenzy.
“No, no, no, senor doctor. Today this is my pleasure, for you especially, from Juanito. And for you, senorita,”—he fumbled for a small oblong package which Anna had noticed was tucked across his waist and held firm by his braces as he worked—“this, from Juanito also, because soon you leave us, and I would not wish you to forget Juanito and his family.”
“I could never do that,” Anna assured him with feeling.
There was a lump in her throat.
Juanito watched, proud and expectant, as she opened the parcel. She withdrew a cream lace mantilla, incredibly fine and light. It was of silk lace, and the leafy pattern was connected by such fine threads that they were almost invisible, and the leaves themselves danced and shimmered and fluttered like so many independent butterfly’s wings. It really was lovely.
“Juanito!” Anna was reproachful. “You shouldn’t have done this! It’s very, very beautiful. I’ll treasure it always, of course. But all the same—”
Her voice tailed off helplessly.
Juanito’s slender frame was held proudly.
“It was above all things my wish, senorita,” he said simply. “The Morenos do not accept charity. Now that my mother is somewhat better”—he bowed to Guy—“I work at night also, but not at the boots, you understand. At night, Juanito is—how you say—a waiter. Well, almost a waiter. At present in the kitchen of that large hotel there, where they are pleased indeed that Juanito comes to assist. The money is good, and the work is simple, but one needs to move quickly. Always Juanito moves quickly. For several weeks I have observed the mantilla in the window of the hotel shop, senorita. The kitchen staff are forbidden the main hall where stands the porter at all times, but each day I make sure that the mantilla is still there, because I wish to buy it for you. Only this morning I have gone in—from the main entrance, you understand, as one wishing to make a purchase—and I walk right under the nose of the porter and up to the window and request the mantilla, and the porter does not stop me, for he is unable to speak.”
Anna couldn’t speak either for a moment. She was torn between tears and an absurd desire to laugh. It looked a very impressive and fashionable hotel!
“Juanito! You—oh—you shouldn’t
have done it, not for me,” she could only murmur helplessly. “It’s so lovely.”
That was all Juanito needed to hear. Presently he departed, wreathed in smiles, with shoulders set at an incurably jaunty angle, and a cheeky spring in his step, looking more normal without the bulging parcel tucked into his braces.
Guy returned Anna to the Castillo, where she carefully packed the mantilla in her case. Dear little Juanito! Her heart was full. She reflected that goodbyes were really rather nerve-racking, but the worst was probably over now. She could imagine that a cool formality would probably prevail when she said goodbye to Nicolas.
Little did Anna then guess that worse was yet to come! Far worse!
With only three days left before her departure, she found herself organised and ready in every respect, if one excluded her state of mind, which, now she had so little to do, dwelt increasingly on the impending parting from Nicolas—for ever.
At a completely loose end, she wandered down to the library, turned on the lamp, and browsed over the titles of the books. Presently she selected one and took it over to one of the comfortable leather chairs. She read for a while, but it was hard to concentrate, especially as the print was in Spanish, and required her entire attention. Soon she got up, the book still held in one hand with her finger marking the page she was at, and went over to stand in front of the picture of the little boy.
In her own mind she called him Juanito. He returned her stare, uncannily alive, as though his eyes held a message for her. They were Juanito’s eyes. Just the very same eyes.
“You are reading, Miss Trent?” A voice spoke from the doorway. Nicolas’s voice.
He entered and closed the door behind him, coming over to where she stood.
“But no, I am wrong. You commune once again with your little urchin instead. Am I right?”
“Yes, you’re right,” Anna agreed, a little huskily. “I can’t resist him. He never allows me to read for long. It’s as though he watches, and wants to speak.” Nicolas turned her wrist in order to see the title of the book in her hand.
