The Spanish Uncle

by Jane Corrie

  'My apologies for receiving you like this,' he said gravely; as soon as the woman servant who had escorted Mary to the room left. 'I am forced to obey my son's ruling and take the allotted rest period before we dine this evening.' He gave her an anxious look. 'I hope you have had sufficient rest yourself?' he asked solicitously.

  Ample, thank you,' replied Mary with a tentative smile. 'I'm not in the habit of resting in the afternoon, you know, but here ...' She bit her lip in vexation. Another second and she would have told him how the heat had affected her, and she didn't want to sound complaining.

  He smiled at her, and indicated a chair by his bedside. 'Come and sit down, Mary—I may call you Mary, mayn't I?'

  'Of course,' answered Mary swiftly, 'I would prefer you to.'

  He waited until she had settled herself in the chair, then said, 'It's the heat, that's what you were going to say, wasn't it?'

  Mary's candid eyes met his twinkling ones. 'It's just that I'm not used to it,' she explained haltingly. 'I expect I shall get used to it,' she added hopefully.

  He nodded understandingly. 'I can only apologise again,' he said. 'It was not the best time of year for your visit.' He looked towards his bedroom window, shuttered, as were Mary's windows, against the glare of the sun. 'There was a time when the family moved to what we used to call "our mountain retreat".' He gave an abrupt sigh and looked back towards her. 'It was a long time ago, though. Now there is only myself, and it hardly seems worth the effort.'

  Mary did not know what to say. It must have been

  lonely for him with his only surviving son living, it appeared, away from home. No matter what nationality, that very precious link that can only be formed by family was an essential part of living.

  'Have you a family, Mary?' he asked suddenly; cutting into her thoughts.

  Mary told him how when she was ten, and Sheila nine, they were placed in an orphanage. Their father had left their mother, andshe had been unable to cope. On seeing the look of consternation this news brought her companion, she hastily said, 'Oh, it was the best thing that could have happened to us. We were much happier there than at home where we weren't wanted. At least we were together, and we stayed together. There was no question of either of us being adopted.'

  Her eyes settled on the rich silk counterpane on his bed. 'We rarely saw our mother, only when she was impelled by some spark of conscience would she make the effort to visit. Then she stopped coming altogether.' Her fine eyes met his sympathetic ones. 'We rather thought she'd met someone else and hadn't told them that she had two daughters.' She shrugged lightly. 'Well, time went by, and eventually when we were told that she had died, it didn't mean anything to us, she had become only a dim memory by then.'

  `And that was why you kept the boy,' said Emilio Alvarados softly, 'although it couldn't have been easy for you when you lost your sister.'

  Mary flung him a quick surprised look. In those few words he had told her that he knew that she was not Paul's mother, and more than this, he knew that Sheila had died. Rafael Alyarados, it appeared, had been very busy, and had obviously clarified the position for his father. As for the reason why she had kept Paul, he was

  partially right, yet not wholly so. 'Because we were brought up in an orphanage, you mean?' she queried slowly, then carried on before he could reply, 'I can't honestly say that our upbringing had anything to do with it. As I have said, we were happy, but it was more than that; I loved my sister, Senor Alvarados, and when I lost her Paul was all I had left. loved him because he was part of her.' She fell silent. How do you explain things like that?

  `When did she die, Mary?' he asked gently. 'At the boy's birth?'

  Mary shook her head. 'When Paul was six months old, a railway accident,' she replied quietly. There was so much more she wanted to say, such as how from that moment on Paul had regarded her as his mother, and would always do so, and why she had not felt it necessary to tell Paul the truth. She hesitated and looked back at the man who sat watching her, and there was something in his dark eyes that gave her encouragement. `Senor Alvarados—' she began.

  'Don Emilio,' he broke in with a wisp of an apologetic smile.

  Mary coloured. 'I do beg your pardon,' she apologised, but your son didn't ...' she broke off in confusion. Wretched man! he hadn't thought it necessary to introduce his father to her, only her to him, as if that was all that mattered, and in his eyes it was. She was only there on sufferance.

  He raised his hand in what was becoming a familiar gesture to Mary. 'I apologise for my son's lack of manners,' he said, somewhat sorrowfully, and pad down at his white slim hand on the counterpane. 'Rafael has always been a law unto himself. Do not let his forbidding manner intimidate you. I can assure you that he

  improves upon acquaintance. His shoulders are broad, and he has carried our little empire on them for more years than I care to remember.'

  Mary said nothing, as she had no with to contradict Don Emilio on his optimistic view of her relationship with his son improving in time, for she doubted if either of them had got that much time to spare, or indeed the wish to attain such a happy state.

  To her relief he changed the conversation abruptly and asked, `You have no objection to my calling ... er

  Paul by what I learnt from my son as his first name, Enrique?'

  Mary shook her head but swallowed a lump that had arose in her throat. This was just the beginning. She, too, would have to learn to call him Enrique, even though she would always think of him as Paul.

  As if sensing her feelings, Don Emilio again changed the subject and asked her about her work. `My son told me that you are a teacher. Are you happy in this work?'

  Mary blinked a little at this abrupt change of subject and gave the question a little thought. If she answered honestly she would say that she had been perfectly happy in her present situation until a change of headship had occurred; since then she had considered seeking another post, even though this would have meant her travelling quite a distance from her home, and would have brought her a few worries about leaving Paul on his own until her return. However, this was a situation yet to be resolved, and as yet she had pushed the matter aside in the vain hope perhaps that things would work out. She compromised by answering slowly, It's the only work I want to do,' and left it at that.

  Her' slight hesitation did not go unnoticed by Don Emilio. `But , you are not entirely happy in your present job?' he persisted gently.

  Mary sighed inwardly. How perceptive the man was, and in that respect it appeared Rafael took after him. 'Well,' she replied hesitantly, 'I was thinking of looking for another post—in another school, that is,' and that was as far as she would go.

  The news pleased Don Emilio, who nodded to himself for a second or so before saying, 'In that case, the question I am about to ask you will perhaps receive a favourable hearing.' He leant forward towards her, his dark heavy lidded eyes staring into hers as if to compel her attention, again reminding her of Rafael; who had the same way of capturing his audience's attention, only Rafael's effect was more devastating on the senses and more mesmerising. 'I want you to seriously consider staying here with Enrique,' he said abruptly.

  Mary's eyes registered the shock his words had given her. 'I don't—I didn't ' she began, then fell silent, unable to express her thoughts coherently.

  'Please! ' entreated Don Emilio earnestly. 'Do not try to give me an answer yet. Take your time; I have no wish to extract a promise from you that you will later regret giving.' He looked away from the still stupefied Mary and gave his attention to the velvet cuff of his dressing gown. 'I do, however, wish you to take certain things into consideration, the foremost being that I intend to make provision for Enrique's future, inasmuch as he will in due course of time inherit half the Alvarados estate as his father would have done, had he lived.'

  This was exactly what Mary had feared would be the outcome of their visit, and she didn't know why she felt so stunned: It was the timing, perhaps; it had come much earlier than sh
e had anticipated. Don Emilio,

  ' like his son, believed in laying his cards upon the table, and what a hand it was, a royal flush indeed!

  Her thoughts were echoed in her wide eyes as she met his searching ones. 'Do not look so lost, my child,' he said gently. 'I do not intend to snatch Enrique from you. He needs you, as I need, him.' The last words were said in a low voice. and held a pleading note in them that Mary found hard to ignore.

  She looked down at her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Did he know what he was asking of her? That she should leave her home and settle in a foreign land— just like that? What if she had still been engaged to Derek?

  'I am exceedingly stupid!' Don Emilio exclaimed, after the short pregnant silence that had fallen after his last words. 'You are perhaps attached to someone?' he asked gently.

  Mary knew what he meant. So the redoubtable Rafael had omitted to tell him that she was engaged— or had been. This did not surprise her; he was running true to form. He was simply not interested in her, only Paul. She could, of course, lie and say yes, there was someone, and perhaps gain a little breathing space, but she was done with lying. Her grey eyes met the probing ones of Don Emilio as she answered slowly, 'No, there is no one.'

  'Well, we shall discuss it no more for the time being,' he replied in a voice that showed his satisfaction at this state of affairs. 'Tomorrow I will get Rafael to show you over the estate.'

  This, Mary realised, was the end of the interview— she couldn't call it anything, else, although Don Emilio had done his best not to make it appear so. As she reached the door he said in a light almost teasing voice,

  `October will suit you better, Mary. The sun still shines, but without such ferocity.'

  Mary's thoughts hovered between exasperation and righteous indignation. He had taken her acceptance of his offer as a natural conclusion in spite of his earlier direction that she should give the matter some thought. She didn't know about Paul's father, but his uncle, she thought darkly, most certainly took after his father— neither, it appeared, was averse to using blockbusting tactics to gain their objective!

  By the time she was back in her room she felt as if she had been pushed off the edge of a mountain, and was now floating down to what she hoped would be a soft landing, but she was by no means sure. She was getting a little tired of having her mind made up for her by the formidable Alvarados family. She liked Don Emilio, and she wanted to help him, but not at the expense of her and Paul's happiness.

  A glance at her watch told her that it was about time Paul came back, and she wondered if she ought to go down to the kitchen to arrange his supper for him. Dinner, she had learnt, would be at eight thirty, and much too late for Paul's attendance.

  She walked over to the window and opened the shutters to let what breeze there might be into the room. The heat of the day had somewhat lessened, and she looked forward to the evening coolness in the hope of getting some alleviation from the sick headache that ' was beginning to make itself felt at the back of her temples.

  The vista that met her eyes was one of landscaped beauty; the gardens sloped down from the villa into the distance. Away on her right she caught the glistening rays of a fountain spray that rose high into the air,

  but the shrubs surrounding it effectively curtailed closer inspection. She would have to find that fountain, and if it were not for Paul's 'imminent arrival back from the vineyards she would have gone in search of it right then, for she couldn't imagine anything nicer than to stand dose to that sparkling cascade of water and feel the cool spray on her upturned face.

  When Paul eventually returned to her he had had supper, and though Mary's head was by now throbbing with an intensity that made her want to lie down and seek release in sleep, she again felt that surge of resentment against Rafael Alvarados, who had thoughtfully seen to Paul's welfare in the catering line, and given orders to that effect.

  'Uncle Rafael showed me some horses, Mum,' he said, his dark eyes sparkling in memory. 'And he said he'll teach me to ride,' and then added practically in the same breath, 'There's a pony there just right for me, he's all black with a white streak down his nose. Uncle Rafael says—'

  By the time Mary had packed him off to bed, she was heartily sick of what his Uncle Rafael had said, or hadn't said! As for what Paul had thought of the vineyards—well, it appeared that once he had seen the horses, all else had been driven from his mind, and Mary would have to wait to see them for herself the following day.

  As there was still an hour and a half to go before dinner, she took advantage of the free time by taking some aspirin and the rest she so badly needed. Heat could be wearying, quite apart from the astounding result of her interview with Don Emilio and its attendant problems, the answers to which she would have to have ready in the not too distant future. It would

  impression be cowardly of her to let things slide and give him the

  that he had won the day. On the other hand, she could hardly seek another interview with him at this early stage and bluntly tell him that there was no. possibility of her complying with this suggestion that she and Paul should take up permanent residence in Spain.

  It was odd, she thought, how Don Emilio had seized on her slight hesitation when she had spoken about her job. He would be even more certain of his ground and would be sure to press home his advantage had he known .that Mary could easily walk out of the job without fear of recrimination, or of bad references, since there happened to be someone waiting on the sidelines to step into her shoes. When this someone happened to be the headmaster's wife, who had been waiting for just such an opportunity since her husband had been granted the headship, Mary's dilemma was clear.

  The fact that it was a small private school made her position less tenable than it might otherwise have been. Mary knew that it was only a question of time before she was ousted, and the insecurity of her position had been a source of private worry to her for some time distance now. Had there been a school within reasonable

  of her home, she would have gracefully paved the way for her determined antagonist, but quite apart from the fact that no such school existed within fifteen miles of her home, there was no guarantee that there would be a job available for her. It was a true but sad fact of the times that jobs were scarce, hence the pressure being applied by her opponent.

  She then thought of what Don Emilio had said about Paul inheriting the Alvarados estates, and this made

  her think of Rafael Alvarados. He had known this, of course, indeed he had hinted at such a possibility, yet he was still a comparatively young man and able to have children of his own who would surely expect to inherit the estate, particularly as their father was the eldest son.

  Her smooth forehead creased as she tried to recall something he had said on their first meeting, since she was sure that it had something to do with this strange state of affairs. Then she had it: he had said something about disappointing his father. So that was it—he had not married ! And by all accounts had no intention of so doing, therefore providing no heirs to the estate.

  Her frown deepened as she considered this salient fact. Was he a womanhater? She shook her head at this he mightn't care for her, but she was sure that as fastidious as he was, he would be as aware of any attractive woman as any other man would be. Aware, she thought, but shut off from the light flirtatious invitations to dalliance that a man who was as attractive to the opposite sex as he was would be bound to receive from more intrepid females. With his height, his proud bearing, and his handsome latin looks, he automatically commanded attention. Mary had not failed to notice this on the journey over, nor the covert, almost envious looks she had caught on the faces of their fellow passengers, particularly the female ones.

  On this thought she gave a wry smile. They must have wondered what he was doing in the company of such a dull, plain looking woman, and must have come to the conclusion that she, was a hired hand employed to look after the child whose comfort he was at pains to achieve. One look at him and then at Pa
ul would have proclaimed the fact that they were related, and in

  all probability they had reached the same conclusion as Mary herself had on her first acquaintance with Rafael, that Paul was his son.

  Why hadn't he married? she asked herself. Had he loved and lost? Would no other woman come up to his high standards? She gave another tiny shake of the head; she simply couldn't see him as the forlorn lover standing aside with bowed head as the woman he loved married someone else. He would be more likely to lay a siege to her until he had obtained his heart's desire, ruthlessly cutting down any opposition to his goal!

  On this thought she fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  MARY was awoken by the sound of a deepsounding gong, and she lay for a moment or two wondering why someone should be sounding a gong. She did not possess one, so how could— Then realisation hit her that she was not at home but in the Alvarados household.

  She sat up quickly and stared at her watch, then gave a horrified gasp and shook it as if in disbelief. It simply couldn't be eight twenty; dinner was at eight thirty !

  She hadn't time to work out how she had managed to sleep for that, length of time—in the early evening, too, —something she had never done before. One look at her crumpled dress told her that she would have to find something else to wear, and in frantic haste she searched for another dress, not really caring whether it was suitable or not just as long as it was presentable, and took the first one that came to hand. This was a white linen pinafore styled dress, with a square neck, and was sleeveless.

  There was no time to linger over her toilet either, and she ran a quick comb through her hair. With three minutes to spare she rushed out of her room and went in search of the dining room.

  Her fear that she might not find the dining room was allayed by the appearance of a maid who was hovering at the bottom of the staircase obviously waiting for Mary's arrival, and she conducted her to the dining room.