The Spanish Uncle

by Jane Corrie

  She roused herself from her reverie in time to make some reply to Enrique's brother who was still closely watching her. 'Oh, well, we moved away from the district anyway, and we—I,' she hastily corrected herself, 'didn't know anybody at the university.' She stared at the wall behind Rafael Alvarados before she continued; she was normally a very truthful person and was useless at any kind of subterfuge, but the thought of Paul and what she was fighting for gave her the courage to go through With it. 'When we—I heard nothing further from Enrique, we—I assumed that he had—' She swallowed, not knowing how to put their feelings at that time—well, at least, hers. Sheila had never doubted Enrique.

  Another brief nod from Rafael Alvarados saved her the necessity of continuing and she was extremely grateful for this at least. She hoped he showed the same understanding with anything else connected with the past, for she doubted her ability to keep up the subterfuge that she had embarked upon.

  `You did know he was engaged, didn't you?' he said quietly, bringing Mary back to the present with a jolt

  Mary nodded warily, and wondered why he should bring up that particular point now.

  'I very much doubt whether he would have married you,' he continued slowly, his eyes dwelling on her face, no doubt to watch the reaction this calm statement brought, but Mary's face showed no emotion in spite of the fury she felt building up inside her. Sheila would. not have been good enough for them, of course, and her soft lips firmed at the thought as she stared back coolly at the elegant man in front of her.

  There must have been something in the calm way she had looked at him that prompted him to add, 'Perhaps I am wrong in this; but I do know my father would have opposed the marriage vigorously. On a point of honour, you understand?'

  Again Mary nodded, and wished wearily that he would get to the point. Was he afraid that some claim would be made upon the family, and felt it necessary to point out a few salient facts? She would soon put him right on that, she thought bitterly; just let him offer her some recompense!

  His light sensitive fingers made a quick impatient drumming sound on the desk that told her they had got to the crux of the meeting, and he was impatient to put his proposition, if that was what it was, before her. `However, that is over and done with,' he commented

  firmly, 'and we have now found the child.' He looked up at Mary suddenly, and she had the impression that his next words were going to leave her in no doubt of his objective in seeking this interview with her.

  'My father is now an old man, and his health is failing,' he said as he drew in a deep breath, 'and there is no doubt at all that once he learns of the existence of this child, he would want to see him. As there is no possibility of his making any journey in his state of health, I am' asking you to consider taking the 'child to see him.'

  At Mary's quick gasp of surprise he held up his hand. 'All expenses paid, of course.' He leaned forward, and continued in a low vibrant voice, 'I beg you to consider this request favourably. Enrique's death hit him hard, and it would be a kindness that would greatly indebt me to you if you comply with my wishes in this .' He looked away from Mary and studied the desk top, and she sensed that he was struggling under some inward emotion, but was unwilling to show her this, it was also obvious that he thought a lot of his father. 'I realise that you have every right to refuse this request,' he went on in a low voice, 'but I do ask you to remember that efforts were made to carry out Enrique's wishes, and it was through no fault of ours that we failed. To say that this state of affairs caused my father much pain and anguish would' be no untruth. He and Enrique were particularly close to one another. They were much alike in many ways. I can say in all honesty that since the death of Enrique life has riot held a great amount of pleasure for him.' He looked down at his slim hands and gently flexed them. 'There were just the two of us, and I, for various reasons that are unnecessary to go into, disappointed. him, and it was in Enrique that his

  hopes were centred.' He gave a light shrug, as if to throw off these memories. 'I feel that it is necessary for you to know these things, and that it is extremely likely that adequate provision will be made for the child.'

  He took a deep breath. `However, these things can be gone into later. All I ask now is that you should discuss this with your husband.' He raised his brows slightly, and waited for Mary's confirmation on this before going on.

  Mary was now in a dilemma. She had already told one untruth, and didn't see how she could conjure up a husband, not without seeking Derek's complicity in the plot, and knowing Derek, she baulked at the idea. 'Er—fiancé,' she said quickly.

  She did not fail to notice that her answer had given him some satisfaction, although his voice gave none of his thoughts away. 'Quite so,' he said easily. 'It is now I believe what is termed as the summer vacation period, is it not? and though I do not know what arrangements you have made for your holiday, I very much hope that you will consider my offer to spend a few weeks at my home in Seville."

  Mary sat in stunned silence. Events were happening much too fast for her, she needed time to assimilate the facts; whatever she had expected, it, hadn't been this. She knew a deep sense' of foreboding, as if she had suddenly stepped on to a roundabout and someone had altered the timing mechanism and she was now whirling around at great speed and unable to stop. She felt breathless and somehow totally inadequate to cope. She wanted to make excuses as to why it would be impossible for them to accept his offer, and put it off until ' perhaps next year—or the year after that, yet she knew

  that she couldn't. Without his actually belabouring the fact, she knew that Enrique's father was very ill, and had sensed the urgency behind his request. Her teeth caught her soft lower lip; she still needed time. She glanced up at Rafael Alvarados and saw how tensely he was watching her. have to think about it,' she said slowly, adding a trifle lamely, `I'm sorry about your father's poor health.'

  Rafael Alvarados continued to look at her, and she knew that he was waiting for a definite answer from her; and she wished she had the courage to say no, there and then, but knew that he would accept no such answer and she really could not expect him to. `I'm sorry,' she repeated hastily, `but you must see all this has come as quite a shock to me. You must think me very unfeeling.' Her large eyes pleaded with him to understand, even though she sensed that he was not interested in her or her feelings, only in getting the right answer from her; a hard man, she thought, and one used to getting his own way.

  He glanced at his watch before answering her. 'I assure you I have no wish to rush you into a decision here and now,' he said coolly. 'Enrique should be returning shortly. May I visit you, say, tomorrow evening, to discuss the matter further?' he asked.

  So much for his assurance that he did not want to rush her, Mary thought crossly, yet it was precisely what he was doing, but at least she would be given a breathing space to think things out, and she gave a swift nod of agreement.

  There was a tap on the door at this point, and, after Rafael Alvarados had given the authoritative permission for entry, Paul was ushered in by Miguel. As they entered the office Rafael Alvarados stood up, showing

  Mary that the interview was over for the time being at least, and that he was now ready to escort them home.

  Mary sat in the back of the expensive looking car, leaving Paul the honour of sitting up front beside his newly discovered uncle, and after giving him her address, she felt a short spurt of surprise that he was so well acquainted with the outskirts of the vast city as to be in no need of further. direction other than the mentioned district. To her further surprise, he caught her eye in the driving mirror and said calmly, 'I too attended university in England.'

  Mary gave a short polite, 'Oh, did you?' and sank back in her seat and made a pretence of looking out of the window at the streaming traffic around them. So that was something else she had learnt about Rafael, Alvarados, he might be a hard man, but he was also extremely observant—she did not think her face had been all that expressive. Her job as a teacher had t
aught her the necessity of keeping her emotions out of her , expression, and up until now she had managed very efficiently.

  Although her mind was teeming with the sudden development that had taken place in her and Paul's life, she resolutely pushed all these thoughts aside until she could give them due consideration in a more peaceful atmosphere, and thought about the tall dark man who was Enrique's brother.

  To some he would have appeared handsome, if one was drawn to the dark satanic type. She winced at the description she had just labelled him with and wondered why such' a thought had entered her head. No one would have thought Enrique a satanic type, yet he had had the same dark features, and the same high cheekbones with , the black winged brows that were so

  expressive. Yet this man was no Enrique; Enrique had been a warm, impulsive man, and as it had turned out, a very loyal one to the woman he had loved.

  Mary was sure one could not say the same of the man in front of her. This man was cold, and she wondered if he ever really smiled. She thought of his expression as he had looked at Paul; there had been a kind of tenderness there, she remembered, but only where the child was concerned, and because he was Enrique’s child. Odd that he should have taken so strongly after his father in looks, and not his mother, although Sheila had been a brunette, it was true, but her complexion had been naturally pale, while Paul's was dark, as if he had a built in honeyed tan that lasted all the year round.

  She broke off her reverie to tell Paul not to be so inquisitive, and to stop asking his uncle so many questions and let him concentrate on the driving, but his uncle said he had no objection to the questions, so Mary was forced to leave them to it and only hope that no embarrassing ones were asked. Even if they were, she told herself sardonically, the smooth sophisticated Rafael Alvarados would know how to handle them, so why should she worry? She lapsed back into her reverie. How old was Rafael? If Enrique had lived he would be about thirty, Mary mused, an she had gathered that Rafael was the elder of the two brothers and that meant he was probably in his middle thirties. Married? She didn't think so, and she couldn't have said why. Was it because of something he had said about disappointing his father? She had also got the distinct impression that Paul was the only grandchild, and the thought gave her a nasty jolt as she also remembered what

  Rafael had said about some provision being made for Paul.

  'We have many vineyards,' commented the deep voice of the man Mary was trying to categorise. 'I shall show you round them when you come to Seville. You would like that, wouldn't you?' he asked in an amused way.

  Paul's ecstatically breathed, 'Oh, yes! ' gave Mary another hard jolt and with it a sense of panic. They were as good as on the plane now, she was certain of it. She was also certain that nothing would ever be the same again. She would lose Paul, they would take him away from her. They could offer him so much more than she could. It was as well for her that they had arrived at their destination, for she knew a sudden longing to stop events right there and then, to tell this strong hard man to stop the car and to get out and take Paul with her and just walk off and lose themselves in the thronging mill of humanity and out of reach of Rafael Alvarados.

  CHAPTER TWO

  LATER that evening a mentally exhausted Mary settled herself down in their small sitting room and gave her thoughts full rein without fear of disturbance.

  Paul had been coerced to bed at his normal time, although he plainly thought that Mary ought to have allowed him an extra half an hour in which to ply his endless questions about his father, and had eventually fallen asleep muttering something about did she know that they grew oranges out there? and fell asleep before she could answer, much to her relief.

  As if she hadn't enough to worry about, another problem had now loomed on the horizon. She had always taught Paul to be truthful and never to. shirk the consequences, yet here she was faced with her own dilemma on this strict observance. She had never told Paul that she was not his mother, there had never been occasion to. He had accepted her, as she had accepted him, as hers, although she had realised that one day she would have to tell him.

  She stirred restlessly in her chair; he was only seven and surely there was time enough for such enlightenment. She sighed deeply. Perhaps she ought to have instilled into him a long time ago, so that he could grow up in the knowledge, but it was too late for that now. She had to be thankful that he was a happy and contented child who had never whined about the loss of a father, even though she suspected that he 'must have wondered sometimes. She could only recall one

  occasion when he had asked about his father, and Mary had simply said, 'He's gone, darling. There's only you and me,' not realising at the time that she had spoken the truth without knowing it, but he had accepted it and given her a hug; as if to say that that was all right by him.

  Her eyes misted over at this recollection; yes, there had been time enough for the truth to be told, but what now? How long could she keep it from him now? She thought of Rafael Alvarados and his sick father, and her full lips firmed. If Paul had been older, she would have no need of subterfuge, but he was still only a child with no one else to look out for him and his happiness came first—it always had done, even where Derek was concerned.

  She stared at the print of a Constable above the fireplace, but for once the picture of the countryside and gently rolling hills did not give her the peace it usually did. She had been engaged to Derek for two years now, :but had always managed to avert naming the day when she would become Mrs Handley. At first it had simply been good sense to wait until they had saved enough to buy a home of their own, although Derek had wanted them to move in with his mother, but Mary knew that Derek's mother had no time for children, and saw no pleasure in having to constantly tell Paul to, 'wipe your feet, dear,' or, 'Mrs Handley's got a headache, so don't laugh so loud, love.'

  Of course, Derek could have moved in with Mary and Paul, but Derek taught at the local college and it would have meant a longer journey to work for him. There was also the undeniable fact that , he felt that the district Mary lived in was not quite what might be described as a desirable one, and his mother would have

  been horrified at the thought of her son living in what she would describe as a 'downgraded area'. The plain fact was that Mrs Handley was a snob, and unfortunately Derek shared many of her views.

  Mary eased the leg that she had tucked under her into a more comfortable position. She had a habit of sitting with one leg curled under her, a habit that she would have to cure if and when she married Derek, as there was no doubt that Mrs Handley would be a constant visitor, if only to assure herself that Derek was getting his full quota of vitamins, and she was a stickler for correctness.

  She sighed. The 'if and when' problem had been with her for a long time, particularly the 'if', and now was as good a time to face it as any other since Paul and Derek did not get on together, but had suffered each other's company purely out of deference to Mary. A lot of it was jealousy, Mary had to admit, but she always contended that Derek ought to have recognised it as such and done something about it and eased the situation. However, she suspected it was a little more than that where Derek was concerned, and she was a little afraid that he shared his mother's views on the 'children should be seen and not heard' theme, although if this was put to him she was certain that he would strenuously deny it, but it was a fact that he resented Paul.

  Mary had often wondered how they had got to the engaged state, for neither of them could he said to be passionately in love with the other. She supposed they had just drifted into it. For her it had been a kind of security. She had liked Derek and felt safe with him, and had not felt the need of a passionate attachment, particularly after what had happened to Sheila, but

  she would have been surprised if this fact had been pointed out to her. As far as she was concerned, her conservative outlook abhorred any emotional display, and if that was what love did to you, she would rather settle for the solid but dependable type of man, if a little dull at times
. At least you know where you were with them.

  Her smooth forehead crinkled at this thought. ]?id she know where she was with Derek? Surely the fact that she hadn't been absolutely certain of what the future held for them had been the prime factor in her steadfastly refusing, or putting off taking the irrevocable step—not for herself but for Paul's sake, since Derek had shown definite signs of what he called `taking him in hand' when they were 'married. The sad fact was that Derek had not got a sense of humour, and Paul had an impish one. He was not a naughty boy, but did take delight in childish pranks much as any child of his age would,. but they were always met with a stony face from Derek and .a muttered comment of how he wished the boy would grow up.

  She shook her head impatiently. This was not getting her anywhere; she had other things to think of now such as what to do about Rafael Alvarados's invitation to spend part of their summer holidays in Seville. That they would go was certain, but for how long? Derek had planned to take Mary on a tour of Scotland and had insisted on her making arrangements to leave Paul with a friend of hers, . Sarah Holland, for the week. This would not have been any hardship for Paul, since he would be staying with his best friend's family and would certainly enjoy the stay with them much more than finding himself constantly under the surveillance