Mad Dogs and an English Girl

by Caroline Waterman

  “But not to her, it seems.”

  “No.That’s the worst part about it. She’s becoming just like him, starting to quote obscure German philosophers and things. It’s awful.”

  “So, you think they’re in love?”

  “Think? I know it! Completely besotted; the pair of them.”

  “Like goats?”

  “Exactly like goats.What’s to be done?”

  “If you’ve ever been in love you’ll know the answer to that one. Nothing.Absolutely nothing.”

  I bit my lip and remained silent.

  “Anyway,” he continued after a pause,“it’s really not for you to say who’s right for her. Supposing she thought the same about whoever it is you’re so keen on?”

  I gave a cynical laugh.“That’s exactly the situation; but I don’t care what she thinks.”

  Daniel threw me a mischievous grin. “What more is there to be said?” he concluded.

  By this time we were nearing our destination. We could see the ski slopes and the clubhouse coming into view but we had lost Anita and Desmond among the straggle of other skiers making their way up. I doubted we would see them again for some time.

  The ski-ing lessons consisted of me wobbling precariously at the top of a gentle slope while Daniel stood at the bottom, arms spread wide, ready to catch me as I hurtled down towards him, clumsy, uncontrolled and weaving an erratic course which usually ended up with both of us rolling in the snow. Poor Daniel spent the best part of that day teaching me the rudiments of his favourite sport with patience and good humour.

  In the middle of the afternoon I persuaded him to drop the lessons and enjoy himself for a bit on the steep slope where all the experts were showing off their skills. I stood among the pine trees watching as the ski lift carried him up and away. It was not long before I spotted his red sweater among the other skiers and was amazed by what I saw.There was Daniel, skimming effortlessly over the snow, weaving in and out of trees at frightening speed. He was no longer the grocer’s son; it seemed to me that his skill had transformed him into some sort of super-being!

  When he eventually glided over to me, his face flushed with cold and exhilaration, I felt compelled to embrace this amazing creature and flung my arms round his waist.

  “You were wonderful! So clever! I’ve never seen anything like it!”

  He laughed.“Nonsense! Most of these others are much better than me. Come on! Let’s get back to the clubhouse. The sun’s going down, it’s getting cold and we need a drink.”

  We packed up our skis and set off towards the ski centre, hand-in-hand and in silence save for the crunch of snow beneath our boots and the sound of Daniel whistling softly, his breath drifting on the frosty air. Behind us, the sun had turned into a blood-red orb, casting a rosy glow over the snow, bathing everything in its incandescent light while our bodies cast long shadows ahead of us, like guides leading the way. I felt happy and at peace with the world and I wished this feeling could last forever.

  Back at the clubhouse, a cheerful fire was blazing on the great stone hearth and round it, the skiers were gathered, drinking anís and thawing out.The room was buzzing with animated chatter as people joked and recounted the day’s events. Desmond and Anita were nowhere to be seen.

  Daniel ordered us a substantial merienda, for the cold and exercise had given us both healthy appetites.We sat down at a table near the door, warming our hands on the great steaming cups of coffee and watching out for Anita and Desmond.

  We finished our meal and played four games of cards. Night had fallen, many of the skiers left for home but still there was no sign of the others. I began to feel worried.What if they had fallen into a crevasse or been buried in a snowdrift? My anxiety mounted despite soothing words from Daniel. I was just on the point of getting up to try and organize a search party when the two of them appeared through the door, locked in an embrace and still gazing at each other as though time had stood still for them.

  I jumped up relieved and annoyed at the same time. “Where on earth have you two been all day?” I exploded.

  Desmond turned his bearded face in my direction and regarded me in a supercilious manner. “I was not aware that we were obliged to account to you for our movements,” he observed sarcastically.

  “I was worried about you,” I said to Anita, ignoring him, “we thought you might have got lost or had an accident.”

  “Que tonta! How silly!” smiled Anita coming over and sitting down beside me. “Of course we wouldn’t get lost. We’ve had a wonderful afternoon, haven’t we Desmond?”

  She stretched her hand out to him and he pressed it to his lips before sitting down beside her. “Sweet Angel of Beauty,” he droned, “words alone cannot adequately describe the bliss and solace of these golden hours we have spent together. Up here, in the pure, unadulterated mountain air, we have found the opportunity to look at ourselves afresh, examine our souls, consider our lives at this, their most important turning point.” Here he paused, significantly looking at Anita who sighed happily and put her head on his shoulder. “We have, at last,” he continued, “turned the key to unlock that inestimable treasure chest which is our mutual destiny.”

  “Oh, Desmond!” smiled Anita.“You have such a beautiful way of expressing things!”

  All this sounded extremely ominous. I glanced at Daniel who looked amused.

  “Have you been ski-ing?” he enquired innocently.

  Desmond transferred his heavy-lidded eyes from Anita to Daniel. “Ski-ing?” he repeated incredulously. “Ski-ing? Do you imagine we would fritter away these precious moments in such idle activity? Indeed we have not. Our time has been most profitably spent in admiring the beauties of nature and marvelling at the complexity and diversity of those gifts with which God — or, if you like,The Ultimate Reality, has endowed this earth.”

  “Actually, we’ve been for a walk,” explained Anita. “A beautiful, romantic walk.”

  I reminded Desmond that it had been his idea in the first place that we should go ski-ing and he who had supplied us with the gear, so Daniel’s question was not unreasonable, but he ignored me.

  “Well, anyway,” said Daniel, “you’d better order something to eat and then we must be on our way back.Are you hungry? Let me get you something.”

  “Thank you, but that will not be necessary,” replied Desmond. “We did, in fact, return briefly to the clubhouse for a little light refreshment while you were still out on the slopes.”

  “No, we’re not at all hungry,” confirmed Anita.

  “When the soul is so well-nourished there is little need for physical sustenance,” observed Desmond.

  Under a clear starry sky, we made our way down to the mountain railway. The pine trees were basking in moonlight making them appear silvery and mysterious. It was a magical sight. Desmond was busy pointing out to Anita all the different stars, telling her their names and explaining their formations while she hung, spellbound, on his every word.

  “Oh, how beautiful it all is!” she sighed. “How lovely it is up here! I wish we could stay here forever; and I am so happy! I have never felt so happy; except…” her face clouded a little, “except when I think about tomorrow.”

  “Why yes,” I said cheerfully, “of course! We’re going back to Burgos.”

  Desmond turned to Anita. “Do not let the thought of our imminent parting disturb you unduly, Precious Goddess, for I can assure you without a shadow of doubt that our separation shall not be of great duration.”

  “Well, well,” commented Daniel when the others were out of earshot,“I see what you mean. He’s the strangest man I’ve ever met and they really are like goats.”

  “It’s dreadful,” I groaned, “and getting worse all the time. Is there really nothing that can be done?”

  Daniel put a comforting hand on my shoulder. “As I told you before: absolutely nothing. They’re obviously deeply involved. I never saw such a devoted pair of novios.”

  “Oh! I suppose they are novios. I’d nev
er thought of them that way. I hoped it was just a passing fancy on her part. I never really thought of them as serious novios.”

  “In that case,” said my friend as we came out of the darkness into the station and joined the flock of day-trippers waiting on the platform with their gear, “in that case I think it’s about time you got used to the idea.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  THE WEEKEND OF SAN JOSÉ

  Nothing had changed in Burgos since our departure a fortnight earlier.We arrived at the same bleak, dark hour of the morning as when we had left and emerged into the bitter cold, to find the Hotel España’s battered old bus waiting for us in the snowy forecourt like a faithful servant.

  Later that day, gathered round the cosy brasero, we recounted to Aunt Domi a carefully edited version of our adventures. Anita had kept from her the fact that we were planning to travel to Andalusia so we only told her about Madrid. She was delighted to have us back and kept hugging us in turn. Before long the kitchen was filled with all the usual friends and neighbours anxious to hear what we had been up to during our absence. Many expressed surprise that we had dared to travel alone – two young unaccompanied señoritas – and there were several raised eyebrows. What, we wondered, would have been their reaction had they known the whole story? What would they have thought about our drunken serenade in Jerez or the gory brawl in Seville? These things I could happily recount in my letters to my mother, but from Aunt Domi they had to be kept at all costs!

  Having spent all the money I had saved, I had to get back to work at once. Although my mother had lent me money for the return journey to England, I had banked it in the hope that I would not have to use it except in an emergency, so now I had to save hard.

  My pupils were pleased to resume their lessons, particularly the daughters of the Captain General who appeared to have missed me greatly and greeted me like a long-lost sister with affectionate kisses. As soon as I was able, I went to seek out Don Federico as I was anxious to resume my typing lessons. I tracked him down in his academy sorting through some papers. He was wearing his thick overcoat with the collar turned up against the chilly gloom and smoking a self-rolled cigarette, sprinkling his papers with its ash.The room was dark and I was surprised that he could still see what he was doing by the dim, fading light of that grey afternoon. I stood by the door and switched on the light. He raised his head and blinked as the single bulb, hanging limply from the crumbling ceiling, filled the room with its unfriendly glare.

  “Ah! you’re back!” he exclaimed, removing the cigarette end from his mouth and coming over to greet me. “Back from your travels at last.Well, Burgos has not been the same without you. All my friends in the bars, they are asking where are you.”

  I rushed over to hug him. “It’s great to be back! We’ve had a fantastic time, but it’s so good to be back!”

  “Yes, yes; let’s go to see! Let us have a little copa to celebrate your return,” he suggested, glad of an excuse to get back to the bars.“I just tidy up these papers and then we go.”

  I shivered.“It’s freezing in here, Freddie. How on earth can you work in this cold? And it was dark too when I got here.You’ll strain your eyes and give yourself another dose of ‘flu if you’re not careful.”

  “I tell you, I tell you before: I am not friends with Doña Flu. She has never visited me in my life. But come, we go now to the Bar Paloma where is warm and you will tell me what you have been doing.”

  Over countless glasses of white wine, I gave him an unedited account of our adventures which he found highly amusing. I told him about Anita and her unlikely new novio.“He pays her the most ridiculous compliments: tells her that she is like a goddess – that sort of thing.”

  “Ah, but a compliment is a beautiful thing,” said Federico smiling up at the ceiling.“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”

  “Thou art more lovely and more temperate,” I interrupted. “You see I know that one! Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May – we learnt it at school.”

  “Sonnet number eighteen,” muttered Federico, slightly put out by my interference with his quotation. “Wonderful poet your Shakespeare! Is wonderful poet.”

  I decided the time had come to talk business while I was still sober enough to do so. “About my typing lessons, Freddie, I want to start again as soon as possible.”

  “Yes,” he said, “I know. You can come any time; any time before lunch because he is not coming any more.”

  “Who?” I croaked, a strange hot and cold sensation creeping over me, knowing full well the answer.

  “Your lover, of course. He is not coming. He has gone to Madrid.”

  “Don Federico! If you call him that once more, I promise I’ll crown you with the nearest bottle! You’re being really annoying!”

  Federico shrugged his shoulders, totally unruffled by my outburst. “He was asking me about you. Before he went he was asking me where were you.”

  “I’m not interested in him,” I lied, draining my glass. “I don’t want to hear anything about him. There’s nothing between us anymore. He means nothing to me now. Can you understand that?”

  Federico smiled indulgently and lit a cigarette. “Okay, If you say so, Baby. But then, I ask myself why are you so cross? The lady doth protest too much methinks! Hamlet,Act three, Scene two.”

  “Look Freddie,” I said, trying to suppress my irritation, “I know I can’t compete with you when it comes to Shakespeare quotations, but I do seem to remember something about I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him and I don’t know the exact reference, but could we please apply that particular saying to the subject in question?”

  Federico nodded and rapped on the counter to call the attention of the barman. “Julius Caesar,” he murmured absently, chewing on his cigarette,“and that also is Act three, Scene two.”

  The end of February saw the snow beginning to melt, turning to icy rain or sleet but the weather was still extremely cold.The house was again beginning to fill with relatives. Anita’s cousin, Margarita, had come over to see her boyfriend, Jacinto, something she did as often as feasible given the distance she had to travel from France. It was good to have her there as her lively presence always lifted the spirits of those around her.

  The harshness of that winter was considerably softened for Anita by the daily arrival of Desmond’s love letters which appeared, regular as clockwork, each morning on the breakfast table and which she read with the utmost rapture.

  Over my cup of coffee, I would watch her savouring each page – and there were many – to the accompaniment of sighs and little giggles of delight. Occasionally, she would read me odd extracts.

  “Listen to this! The flame of love which you, adored Light of my Life, have kindled in my heart shall burn for ever like an inextinguishable fire melting the ice which sorrow at our parting has cast upon my soul. It gives me strength to endure that indescribable agony which this doleful absence from you has inflicted upon me. Oh! That my spirit could take wings to span the paltry distance which divides us, that these two kindred souls of ours, having so fortuitously found each other while wandering through the wilderness that we call this earthly life, should once more be united as it has no doubt been ordained by Divine Providence... Isn’t that wonderful? What other man could write such things?”

  In addition to writing her daily letters, Desmond had promised her that he would travel to Burgos as often as possible. I realised that I would have to take Daniel’s advice and resign myself to the fact that they were now definitely novios.

  One day, alongside Anita’s three letters from Desmond which had accumulated over a weekend, I found one for me, post-marked Logroño. From this and the familiar writing on the envelope, I knew at once that it was from Julio.

  ‘I was in Burgos a few weeks ago and you weren’t there’ it began accusingly. ‘I took several days off from all the pressing business I have in hand at the moment only to be told by various people that you were gallivanting all over Spain.What will
you think of next? Why did you not tell me of your intentions so that I could accompany you? I hear you were in Madrid again and I don’t trust you in Madrid. Not after last spring. And if I find out that you’ve been flirting with that Rafael again, I shall deal with him once and for all the next time I am there on business. I don’t trust anyone with my niña. As you know, the important project I am working on at present takes me frequently to Madrid so it would be a simple matter to look him up and get to the truth of all this. It is hard work trying to keep track of you here in Spain. It wasn’t like this when you were in London. In England you stayed in one place, lived in the same house. I always knew where to find you.There was none of this flitting around from place to place. Anyway, the purpose of this letter is to let you know that, despite my recent wasted journey, I shall again try to see you this coming weekend. I have to see someone in Valladolid next Monday so I shall take the opportunity of stopping over in Burgos. Preoccupied as I am with important matters concerning my business and valuable as is every minute of my time, as you well know, I shall expect, this time, to find my niña where she should be.’

  “What are you reading? Who’s it from?” asked Anita nosily, looking up from her own letter.

  “I’ve been summoned by Julio to meet him on Sunday.”

  “I don’t know how you can stand going out with him. He’s so bossy and conceited.”

  “Not as conceited as Desmond,” I retorted, stuffing Julio’s letter into my coat pocket and winding a scarf round my neck in preparation for my battle with the elements.

  “Well, at least Desmond’s got something to be conceited about. Oh, and by the way, you’re not the only one with a date this weekend. Desmond’s coming all the way up from Madrid just to see me, like he promised. I’m so happy and excited!”

  Margarita was prancing around the kitchen putting away newly-washed dishes from the night before’s supper. She stopped to look at us with her hands on her hips.