A Very Special Man

by Marjorie Lewty

  ‘If we keep to the N. IV we can be in Jerez in just over an hour,’ Benedict told her, ‘but it would be more interesting to branch off at El Torbiscal. Then the road will take us along the side of Las Marismas—I expect you’ve heard of it—the area of swamp-land around the lower end of the river. This is almost the best time to see it, in the spring when the grass is growing again as the water dries up and the terns and coots are arriving and the bulls are being turned out to graze. Sometimes you can see them standing up to their knees in water, before the earth gets hard. Oh, it’s a magic place, Las Marismas —there’s nowhere quite like it. They’re trying to reclaim parts of it, but it’ll be a long job, thank goodness. Meanwhile the birds still come from everywhere to breed— Africa, mostly, but even as far as Israel. The winter birds—the ducks and the geese—retreat up north as the waters dry and the land birds come in in absolutely enormous flocks. You can’t have any concept of the sheer numbers if you’ve never actually seen them. I must bring you here one day, when there’s more time. It’s a fabulous place, one of the favourite haunts of my youth.’

  There he was again, talking as if they had the whole of the rest of their lives to plan together, as if there were not this time limit that he himself had put upon their marriage. There was a bitter-sweet taste in Chloe’s mouth as she answered, rather woodenly, ‘That would be very nice.’

  He shot a quick glance at her and said no more, his enthusiasm drying up completely, and for several miles they drove in silence, broken only when they passed another car or a loaded lorry, driving very fast in the opposite direction. Chloe sat with her eyes fixed on the side window because the sight of Benedict’s hands, with their strong sensitive fingers, resting easily on the wheel put forbidden thoughts into her head and made her pulse quicken uncomfortably.

  A quarter of an hour passed—more, possibly—then she heard Benedict let out a sudden exclamation and put his foot on the brake. She jerked her head round to see what looked at first like a dark barrier across the road, and when they got nearer turned out to be a number of stationary cars, their drivers walking around, gesticulating and talking loudly all at once.

  A uniformed policeman stepped out in front of their car, holding up an officially restraining hand. Benedict stopped the car and muttered under his breath. ‘If it’s an accident we shall be here for hours. I wonder if we could double back. We can hardly count as witnesses. Wait here, I’ll go and see what it’s all about.’

  He got out of the car and walked into the crowd. There seemed to be a number of men in uniform there and Chloe saw him speak to one of them. Then, as she watched, the crowd parted and an ambulance came from the middle of it, driving away very fast in the direction they had come from. Chloe was conscious of the sick feeling inside that any sort of an accident always produced in her. In the gap from which the ambulance had emerged she saw a big lorry slewed across the road, its cargo of boxes scattered on all sides, and what was undoubtedly the twisted wreckage of a light blue car. She looked away quickly, hoping fervently that the injuries to the drivers were not as serious as the ominous scene seemed to forebode.

  Benedict slid into the driving seat beside her and she said quickly, ‘Is it very—?’ The words dried in her throat as she saw his face. It was ashen under his dusky tan and his mouth was set grimly. He threw the car into gear and turned it on a wide arc to speed back, following the ambulance, which was still in sight, just a dot on the dusty road.

  Even before he spoke Chloe knew, by some sixth sense, what had happened.

  ‘It was Luis’s car,’ he forced out between his teeth and then, muttering to himself, ‘God—he even had to do that to her!’

  Chloe said nothing. What was there to say, and in any case she didn’t think he would hear her or take any notice. She sat gripping the front of the seat while the hired car strained itself to the utmost to keep the ambulance in sight, rocking from side to side as the needle on the speedometer flicked round further and further. At last, when they reached the outskirts of Seville and the broad road running alongside the river, Benedict slowed down and said, ‘I’ll go straight to the hospital. If I drop you off can you find your way back home, do you think?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘but couldn’t I—?’ Couldn’t I help somehow? was what she wanted to say, but he shook his head even before she could get the words out.

  ‘Don’t fuss,’ he said—unreasonably, for that was the first time she had spoken, ‘just do as I ask.’ He leaned across and opened the car door for her. ‘That way—ask someone if you can’t find it.’ He pointed to the right, slammed the door and drove off again without a glance at her. She might have been some hitch-hiker who had cadged a lift.

  She stood in the square where he had left her. In the cool of the late afternoon there were a lot of people about, but Chloe had never felt so much alone in all her life before. Go home, he had said, which was strange, because it wasn’t home to her and never would be. But she knew he meant the Casa Serrano and she couldn’t go back there. Not yet. Not to that dim, shadowy old house with the smell of wet earth and the heavy scent of flowers. This morning the perfume of carnations and roses and jasmine had delighted her; now the very thought appalled her.

  And how could she explain why they had returned so suddenly, and why she was there alone? She was sure that Catalina wasn’t the soul of discretion. If she knew what had happened and went up to see Dona Elisa the truth could easily slip out—either by accident or just because she was, Chloe judged, the kind of person who loved stirring up trouble to make drama for herself and other people.

  She crossed the square to a restaurant and drank coffee and sat there as long as she could. But the place was filling up—everyone seemed to be coming out now, after the heat of the afternoon—and soon it began to feel oppressive. Chloe’s little guide book was still in her handbag and with its help she found her way down to the river. She found a seat and watched the water, calm and slow-moving, turn a dazzling silvery-yellow as the sun sank lower. An ocean-going vessel moved slowly downstream. It looked strange here, so far from the sea, and in an effort to keep her mind occupied, she consulted her guide book and found that Seville is a flourishing port, although fifty miles from the sea, and that Columbus had sailed from La Rabida, at the mouth of the Guadalquivir, when he went off to discover the New World.

  At any other time Chloe might have found all this fascinating, but just now the information went into her mind and out the other side. Her thoughts were with Benedict at some unknown hospital, which must be quite near though she didn’t know where; and wherever she looked she saw that twisted blue car in front of her eyes.

  But she couldn’t stay out for ever. Consulting her map, she made her way slowly back to the shadowy house in the narrow old street. If she met Catalina she would have to prevaricate, to say that the car had developed a fault or something like that. It would be up to Benedict to decide what to do when he returned from the hospital.

  But she met nobody and she went swiftly up the stairs to the bedroom, closed the door, and sat down to wait.

  A long time later she heard Benedict’s footsteps, crossing the patio outside, heard him in the tiled hall, walking, stopping, walking again. Looking for her, perhaps, and her heart started to throb uneasily. Then the door opened, the light was switched on, flooding the room and disclosing Chloe sitting forlornly on the bed, and Benedict said, ‘You’re here—what on earth are you doing, sitting in the dark?’

  It was his angry voice, but she couldn’t resent it now, not at this moment. She said, ‘I thought it better not to let anyone know I was here, until you came in. I thought—your grandmother—she might get a shock…’

  He nodded and shut the door and came and sat down opposite to her on the cane-seated chair. ‘I see. That was thoughtful of you.’

  She sat looking at him, saying nothing, the question in her eyes.

  He said, ‘Luis is critically injured. They doubt if he’ll last out the night.’

  Chloe drew in
a breath, waiting, holding it until her throat ached. He passed a hand wearily across his forehead. ‘Juana was thrown clear,’ he said. ‘Cuts, bruises, shock. Possibly a hairline fracture to her wrist. They were X-raying it when I left.’

  It didn’t seem strange that she felt such a flood of relief. ‘I’m glad—I mean, I’m glad that Juana’s all right. She’s—she’s so beautiful, it would have been…’ The awkward little speech dried up completely.

  He looked at her as if he weren’t really seeing her at all. ‘I’m going back to the hospital soon. Things to do. Neither of them has any family living in this country, so I’ll do what I can. I’ve told Catalina, and put the fear of God into her about not saying anything to Grandmother about all this. I must be the one to do that, when I think best.’

  He stood up and began to pace backwards and forwards, running one hand along the high brass rail at the bottom of the bed. Then he stopped and looked at her. ‘This is a pretty awful time for you, isn’t it, Chloe?’ he said, and now he was really aware of her. ‘I’m sorry.’

  His unexpected thought for her made her want to cry and she bit her lip hard and said nothing. ‘Can you look after yourself until I can arrange something?’ he asked. ‘I may be at the hospital tonight, but I’ll come back in the morning.’

  She tried to smile. ‘I’ll be O.K.,’ she said.

  He came round the bed to where she sat and put a hand hard and briefly on her shoulder. ‘Mind you are,’ he said, and went out of the room.

  Chloe slept badly and got up early to find Marta preparing breakfast. Benedict had apparently put the fear of God into her as well as into Catalina about keeping quiet about what had just happened, for the woman had a baffled, almost frightened look on her dark, stolid face, and there was none of the easy, voluble talk with which she had greeted Chloe yesterday morning. Chloe took coffee and rolls up to her room and then sat down to wait for Benedict’s return. It was rather stupid, she realised, to hide away in her room like this, but in an odd sort of way the room had turned into a kind of refuge. Also, she didn’t want to encounter Catalina.

  Benedict came back soon after ten o’clock. She took one look at his set face and knew, even before he told her, that Luis had died in the night. Juana, he said, without emotion, was being kept in hospital for a time as they suspected slight concussion. He looked so stern and remote that she could think of nothing to say.

  There was a tap on the door and Marta appeared with a fresh pot of coffee and a cup and saucer. Chloe poured put a cup and handed it to him and then poured another for herself.

  He sat down, took a gulp of the hot drink, then put the cup down on the bedside table and said, ‘There’s been a lot to cope with. I’ve been on the phone for the past hour. There’s no point in your staying here—I shan’t have a moment to spare. I could have parked you with Aunt Isabel, but I thought you’d prefer to go back to England and be with your sister.’

  ‘I’m to go back—alone?’ she faltered.

  ‘Can’t you cope?’ he asked her, glancing quickly at her troubled face.

  ‘Yes, of course I can cope. It’s just that—’ Just that I’m stupidly frightened that if you send me away now I’ll never see you again. ‘—just that I thought there might be some way I could help.’

  He shook his head definitely. ‘No way at all. You go back and get started on Woodcotes. Make it at least habitable for the moment; put a few sticks in—you’ll know what to do.’

  She nodded. All he had offered her was a job, she reminded herself, and making Woodcotes habitable was part of it.

  He said, ‘Fortunately I’m pretty well known on this route and I’ve managed to get you a flight for this morning—a cancellation. You’ll have to change planes in Madrid, but that shouldn’t be any problem as you speak the language. I’ve phoned Uncle John in London and put him in the picture and he’ll meet you at the airport, pick up my car there, and then you can arrange to go up to your sister’s when you think best. I’ll leave it to you. I’m afraid it’s going to be rather a rush to get to the airport. Can you be ready in about’—he glanced at his watch—‘about twenty minutes?’

  ‘Twenty minutes?’ she gasped, ‘but…’

  Benedict reached out and put a hand on her knee. ‘Sorry, my dear, but this is how it’s got to be.’ His tone was very firm, no argument would be tolerated. ‘Try to see it my way, will you. I’m going to be flat out for some time, clearing things up, finding someone who can take over Luis’s job. There’s a lot to straighten out.’

  Of course there was a lot to straighten out. One big thing was that Juana was free now, free to marry whom she liked. But Benedict wasn’t free—not yet.

  ‘All right,’ she said, ‘twenty minutes.’ She stood up on legs that felt like indiarubber. ‘Do I go and say goodbye to Dona Elisa?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. She doesn’t know anything yet and it would involve explanations. I shall have to tell her later on—I’ll say your goodbyes then and she’ll understand.’ He went to the door. ‘Come down as soon as you’re ready. Leave your case up here and I’ll fetch it. I’ve got a phone call to put through to Uncle Richard while you’re packing.’

  The door closed and Chloe stood for a moment, looking at it. He couldn’t get rid of her quickly enough, could he?

  She was packed and ready inside twenty minutes. She stood for a moment looking round the room which she wasn’t going to see again, she was sure. It wasn’t exactly a beautiful room, with its heavy furniture and the small window, shaded from outside by trailing plants, but in a funny kind of way she had grown attached to it. She looked at the wide bed and felt again Benedict’s mouth against hers, his hands on her body, and she shivered, although the morning was getting warmer every minute. No emotional involvement, he had said. Grabbing her handbag, she ran down the stairs as if some demon were after her.

  Benedict was standing in the hall, with Catalina, in her scarlet dress.

  ‘Ready?’ he said. ‘I’ll go up and get your case.’

  He took the stairs two at a time. Catalina stood where she was, her lips curling. ‘So Benedict is sending you away. That is good. You should never have come here.’

  Chloe smiled faintly. She was inclined to agree.

  The smile fired the girl’s temper. A hand went up as if she meant to smack Chloe across the face, but then she thought better of it. ‘You don’t think he will want to keep you for a wife now that he can get Juana, do you?’ She almost spat out the words and her pretty face flushed a dark crimson. ‘What a pity Luis didn’t get himself killed before Benedict married you!’

  Chloe looked at the girl without emotion. At first Catalina’s aggression had hurt, but now it wasn’t even a minor irritation. There were so many more important things happening. She said quietly, ‘I don’t want to fight, you know, Catalina.’ She glanced towards the stairs, looking for Benedict.

  The Spanish girl’s eyes flashed, her body arched and she spat out a gutter-word whose meaning Chloe could only guess at. She whirled round towards the back of the house, then stopped suddenly, as if she had just thought of a superb exit line.

  ‘How lucky!’ She spoke slowly, menacingly, using words like the flickering tip of a steel rapier. ‘At least he can get rid of you. Divorce is easy in your country, is it not?’

  She flounced away with a triumphant toss of her head at the same moment that Benedict appeared at the head of the stairs.

  ‘The nurse spotted me,’ he explained as they went out. ‘I had to warn her not to tell Grandmother that we’d come back or she would have started to worry. I’ll go up and explain things to her gently when I’ve seen you off. Come along then, we’ll have to hurry.’

  The hired Seat was parked in the square. On the way to the airport he made no attempt to talk, neither did Chloe, and even when they left the car the exchange of remarks was entirely about practical things such as tickets, luggage, passport, ready cash.

  ‘And here are the keys of Woodcotes.’ He handed them to her. ‘I sh
ouldn’t like to think of you having to effect an entry through the pantry window again.’

  He slanted a little smile at her and she smiled back, and the fact that they were sharing a memory made a huge lump come into her throat.

  Her flight was called quite promptly. As they walked to the barrier Benedict put a hand at her elbow and said, ‘I hate having to send you away like this, Chloe. You’ve been very gallant and it seems such an anti-climax. You’ll be O.K.?’ He sounded genuinely concerned and she thought it was nice of him to worry about her when he had so many more important things to worry about.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ she told him brightly. ‘I’m quite used to travelling alone, you know.’ She added more slowly and quietly, ‘I do hope things aren’t too difficult for you.’ He didn’t reply to that. He was looking rather hard at her, a faintly puzzled crease between his eyes.

  ‘Well, I’d better go,’ she said. ‘Goodbye, Benedict.’ He bent his head and kissed her swiftly. ‘Goodbye for now, dear.’ The homely little word, almost domestic in its implications, brought quick tears into her eyes as she turned away and passed, through the barrier.

  She walked away without looking back. He might have stayed to wave and he might not.

  If he hadn’t she would rather not know.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  It was getting dark as Chloe’s train got into Coventry that same evening, and quite dark by the time she had found a taxi and driven out to Kenilworth. As she opened the front door of Jan’s house with her key, her sister was coming downstairs, having tucked up the children in bed.

  Jan hugged her, took her case and pushed her into a chair in the toy-strewn sitting room. ‘What is all this about? Your telegram arrived this morning, and then when you rang from London and said you were on your way back I couldn’t believe my ears.’ She looked hard at Chloe’s white face. ‘You look fagged out, love—have you eaten anything recently?’