Leticia returned alone to the graveside to say her last farewell and Jenny went to join the family. She noticed a slight fragrance in the air. Not the churchyard flowers, something artificial, like a woman’s perfume. She put her hand to her nose and smelled a faint scent on her palm. Hmm, someone’s wearing a nice after shave. Could be Hugo Boss? It had been one of Ron’s few extravagances, she remembered sadly.
On the drive back to Marbella Leticia was in a quiet, pensive mood. Now that Charlie had gone she realised that her life had changed and would continue to change in many ways.
Memories of the events of the past few years tumbled through her mind. Ellen’s death in Yalta had been the tragic catalyst for Charlie’s growing reliance on her. Not just as a housekeeper, but as a friend, a companion, a confidante and then almost by accident, a lover.
It had started after his first attempt to socialise again, by arranging, with her help, a dinner party for some friends. She had come from the kitchen to say goodnight to Charlie but couldn’t find him. He was sitting on the wall of the terrace, sobbing quietly, his shoulders heaving with the emotion. He didn’t hear her come up behind him.
“Shhh, Charlie, it’s alright.” She put her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it, as if to inject some of her positivity and vibrancy into the older man.
“No it’s not, Leticia. It’s bloody terrible.” Charlie didn’t turn around. He lifted his head, looking out over the pool into the night. “I can’t even remember a word that was said at the table this evening. It was a nightmare. Just sitting, trying to smile and make conversation when you’ve already forgotten what was said. Everywhere I looked I saw images of Ellen, nothing else, nobody else, just her beautiful face. We built this house together but it’s stamped everywhere with her personality. Since she’s been gone it’s like I’m just a lodger living in her home and I don’t really belong here without her.
“It’s as if my life has just come to a standstill. I don’t know why I bother getting up in the morning. Without Ellen, the day holds absolutely nothing. Just one day after another with no point to them at all. I should have died instead of her. She was much better than me at coping with life, she coped for both of us.”
Leticia wanted to comfort him but she knew her English wasn’t good enough. She just said, “You need a good night of sleep, Charlie. Tomorrow will be better.”
Over the next few months they slowly grew closer. Charlie was quite different to Spanish men, whom she thought either immature and frivolous or suffering from a male macho complex. He was considerate, funny and interesting and with her help he began to shake off the mood of depression he’d suffered after Ellen’s death. He took up golf again and started socialising. She felt that she’d helped him to regain his equilibrium. In addition to this, her English had improved dramatically so she could enjoy a proper conversation with him.
One day in September, she was about to leave after her morning’s work. Charlie was relaxing by the pool. It was a very hot day and he persuaded her to stay for a swim. Afterwards, lying in the sun together, it seemed the most natural thing in the world for them to make love. Charlie was self deprecating. “It’s been a long time, Leticia. I hope you won’t be disappointed. And don’t look too closely at my physique, it’s not what it was.”
Leticia had started to pick up his very English sense of humour. “If you are fit to play golf then I think we can manage.”
He was sensitive and considerate. Taking his time, ensuring that he gave her as much pleasure as he was able. It was one of the most tender and pleasurable experiences of her life. With his hands and lips, Charlie paid tribute, slowly and tenderly, to every part of her lovely body. She had never achieved an orgasm in such an unfrenzied, gentle and relaxed fashion before. The sensation resonated deeply throughout her body. Lying on the lawn by the pool, in his arms, under the warm Spanish sunshine, she felt totally fulfilled and happy.
Afterwards, Charlie gazed at her exquisite, perfect body, and marvelled at his good fortune. “My God, Leticia. You’re so young and beautiful and I’m so old and decrepit. Do you realise that I’m old enough to be your father?”
She kissed him gently. “I already have a father, Charlie. I think it’s better if you just be my lover.”
And that was what happened. Over the next months and years they fell deeper and deeper in love. It was not a passionate love, it was a mature and appreciative love. Although the physical side of it was a joy to both of them. “I think you’re getting more fit all the time, Charlie. Is your golf getting better also?”
Having given up on boyfriends, it had been a long while since Leticia had taken any kind of protection. When she fell pregnant, Charlie immediately suggested that they get married.
She refused. “I don’t want your friends at the club to think you take advantage of your employees. I think it’s better to not change anything.”
Initially her parents were worried and sceptical of the outcome. But when they saw how happy and fulfilled their daughter had become they came to terms with the situation. Then at the birth of their first grandson they were ecstatically happy. The christening was a private ceremony. Just the small family together, at the Iglesia Cristo church in Coín.
Shortly after Emilio’s birth, Charlie told her, “We’re going to have to face up to telling Ron about Emilio one day. They have to meet each other. It’s not going to be easy, Ron’s going to wonder what the hell I’ve been up to. If I’ve lost it in my dotage. But it’s not fair for neither of them to know they have a brother.”
“I think it’s better to wait a few years until Emilio is old enough to understand,” she replied. “Nothing is going to change, only that it is probably easier to explain later on.”
The next month he returned from Malaga to tell her that he had looked after them both in his will. “I’m getting too old to take chances. Now José Luis has all the details in his hands, so you and Emilio won’t have any problems when I go. He won’t say anything.”
Although she scoffed the idea she realised he was right. And when he suffered his heart attack she was sure she would lose him. She stayed with him night and day, caring for him, instilling him with her youth and energy, willing him to get better. And he did. After two months he was like a new man, fit, happy and living life to the full again.
But just weeks later, tragedy struck again. Charlie lost his only son. Their Christmas was overshadowed by the shock and grief that Ron’s death brought and it took all of her love and understanding to help him out of the depths of his despair. He lost interest in his business, going just once more to Geneva on a February morning and returning that same evening.
Then, after his accident, their happiness had ended. She had Emilio, their beautiful son, but she had lost Charlie, her friend and lover. And Ron had disappeared before he had met Emilio. Without discovering that he had a brother. Who could have known?
Now she was facing another new phase in her life. No longer a housekeeper, no longer an unmarried lover. A young, wealthy woman with the world at her feet, a whole new life ahead, for her and for Emilio. She would have to get used to mixing with people who had always been outside of her social circle. She frowned at the thought. One thing at a time, she told herself.
Back at York House, Jenny opened up Outlook again. There were two emails. The first, a very brief message from Laurent, sent from his BlackBerry, conveyed his sadness at the news but apologised that it was impossible for him to attend the funeral. He was travelling and would be in contact again in a few days. The second was from Nick and though it contained a warm message, reflecting his feelings of shock and loss, the answer was the same. Neither man could be present and they would be back in touch soon. There was no message from Raffael, but the women were not surprised at this. Charlie had said he was less involved than the other partners.
That night, Jenny fell into a deep sleep, as if she had taken a sedative. She woke at five in the morning, still tired after a series of disturbing dreams, and went down to m
ake a cup of tea. As she sat on the terrace in the pre-dawn darkness, the last dream sequence came back to her.
It was a pitch black night and she was walking alone through a darkened graveyard when a figure appeared before her. It was a man, but she couldn’t make out his face. Surprised and frightened, she ran back through the darkness, tripping over gravestones and undergrowth, bruising and cutting her hands and knees. Each time she got to her feet she could hear the soft footsteps of the man behind her, getting ever closer.
She took shelter in the entrance of an old ruin at the edge of the churchyard, holding her breath, standing motionless against the moss covered wall. She waited a couple of minutes, her heart thumping so hard she thought it would give her away. There was no sound. He had gone.
Emerging from the entrance, she walked towards the path to leave the place. The man appeared on the paving directly in front of her. He stepped quickly up to her, took her in his arms and kissed her passionately, moving his hands about her body. At first Jenny didn’t resist him, but responded to his touch. Forgotten feelings awakened again after the last few lonely, miserable months on her own.
Then a shaft of moonlight illuminated them for a moment and she saw his face. “I know you,” she cried out, pushing him away from her. “But who are you?”
“What’s wrong, Jenny?” He stared at her. “It’s me, Adam Peterson.”
Jenny shivered. Both from the recollection of her dream and from the cool morning air. She went down the stairs to the pool. The surface of the water was still and shining with the reflection of the moon. She looked down at the water, seeing her own face looking up at her. A slight breath of wind ruffled the surface and it seemed for a moment that the reflection changed into the face of the young man at the funeral. She felt a sense of dread, then went back into the house to get ready for the day. Who is Adam Peterson, she asked herself?
It was now four days until the meeting of the Angolan Clan.
BOOK ONE
PART FOUR: 1979 - 1998
FIFTY-THREE
September, 1979
Durban, South Africa
When Adam was four he was enrolled at Glenwood Preparatory School, not far from their home and near Durban University. He started in the September term, just after his fifth birthday and was the youngest boy in his class. Two weeks after the start of school he was brought home by the headmistress, Mrs. Connolly, who had been Rachel’s primary school teacher many years previously. Adam was crying and Rachel saw that he had a large bruise on his forehead and there was blood on his lip and on his school blazer.
“Have you had an accident, sweetheart?” She picked the little boy up and held him to her. At this, his crying increased in intensity and became hysterical sobbing. Adam could put on a good show, even at that tender age.
“I’m sorry, Rachel,” the school teacher said, “We’ve had a bit of a battle in the playground. But Adam’s fine. Unlike little Lawrence Callim, poor child.”
“He called me a bastard!” Adam turned and glowered at the woman.
Rachel suddenly felt sick. She had been dreading this day and had hoped it would never arrive, but now it had. “Do you know what it means, Adam?”
“No, but all the other kids were laughing, so it must be something nasty.”
“So what did you do?”
“I fought him. And I won,” he added proudly, putting aside his tears.
“But he’s almost two years older than you and much bigger. How on earth could you win a fight against him?”
“I’m afraid it wasn’t exactly like that.” Mrs. Connolly intervened. “Lawrence is in the hospital. He was hit with a rock. He’s got a lump on his head the size of a football. I’m surprised he wasn’t killed.”
“He had me on the ground. I had to bash him with something, he was hurting me. He’s a rotten bully.”
It took Rachel a half hour and two cups of coffee to convince the headmistress that her son wasn’t a danger to the community. Then they went to speak to Lawrence’s mother, to ensure that the matter would end there.
Rachel now had to explain to the children the discrepancy between their parent’s wedding anniversary and Adam’s birthday. Sitting with them on the garden terrace she explained that after the death of Mammy Matja their father had been lonely. They had fallen in love and decided to get married and bring another child into the family. They wanted the four children to be as close together as possible, so they made sure that the new baby came very quickly. Soon after the wedding they became a family of six, wasn’t this wonderful?
“Then Adam isn’t really our brother is he, Mammy?” At seven years old, Greg could already understand the implication.
“Greg, do you think of me as your mother?”
“You know I do, but..”
Catrine immediately jumped into the conversation. “Of course you are our mother. I’m sorry, but I can’t remember Mammy Matja any more, I’ve forgotten her face.” She burst into tears. Her younger sister immediately joined her in crying and Rachel held the two girls to her.
“It’s the same for me. Mammy Matja is gone and you are the only mother I want,” Greg cried. “But Adam is only our half brother. Arthur Lumley told me in school.”
“That’s not true!” Adam said to his elder brother with a scowl. “Your mammy and daddy are the same as mine.” He broke into tears again.
“The most important thing is that daddy and I love you all just the same. Greg, you and Catrine have been lucky enough to have had two mothers. But all of you have the same father and for all these years you have had the same mother. So it means that now we are just a nice ordinary family of six. No differences any more.”
The children seemed mollified by this explanation and Rachel hoped that it would put the matter to rest. In any event, it was never brought up again by them. And there were no further incidents at school since none of the other children wanted to end up in hospital. However, Adam began to get the feeling that Greg looked down upon him as a lesser member of the family. There was no reason behind this, but he began to suffer from a feeling of inferiority with regard to his step-brother.
FIFTY-FOUR
September, 1979
Favela Morro do Cantagalo, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
Sergio d’Almeida was counting his money. He had seven dollars to his name. Enough to buy supper tonight. Knowing how much Alicia and little Ray could eat between them and how much would be left for him, he bought nine sardines from the fish seller in the next alley then a small loaf of bread and an apple from the stall on the corner. He had only four dollars left, but he had a broken fridge to repair and a lighting system to set up in someone’s garden. That would bring in fifteen dollars, so he could finish the week in credit.
After recovering from the injuries inflicted on him by the blonde giant, Sergio had tried every way he could think of to find Ferreiro and recover something from the catastrophe. But the gem dealer was no longer there. His store was closed and shuttered and obviously had been for several weeks. Neither he nor his attacker was to be found, although he wasn’t keen on coming across that man again. He knew that with fifty thousand dollars worth of diamonds Ferreiro could pack up and start again anywhere, just as he had dreamed of doing.
Elvira was no better and he couldn’t afford a doctor, even less a hospital. After paying two months rent during his recuperation, he now had only five hundred dollars left in the world. He couldn’t afford to pay rent either, so he wandered through the nearby shanty town, the Favela Morro do Cantagalo, next to the park and behind the beach. The third time he strolled through the mean, filthy lanes, he saw a man taking a couple of battered old chairs from a shack and carrying them across the street into another, slightly larger, smarter place.
Intrigued, he asked what was going on. The man’s uncle had just died and he was improving his own shack with anything of use. Like Sergio, Eladio was an Angolan refugee but his family had arrived the previous year, in time to buy a couple of huts before the massive in
flux of refugees made it impossible to find any kind of a dwelling, no matter how decrepit.
“What are you going to do with your uncle’s shack?” Sergio asked.
“I’ll sell it for whatever I can get. I can’t use it to enlarge our place, it’s on the other side of the lane, so I’ll try to get a few bucks for it.”
Sergio bought the ‘dwelling’ for fifty dollars and made a good friend into the bargain. Eladio and Tanya had two children a little older than Alicia and Ray, and after moving in, the two men saw each other often, usually just sitting in the filthy lane with a beer, talking about the old days. He found a bed and a few more pieces of furniture and made a ramshackle sofa in the corner of the shack where Elvira could rest. Her health wasn’t improving.
The rainy season started in December and the lanes in the favela became streams. The foul air was even more hot and humid. It was like breathing in steam. Elvira’s asthma was even worse. She couldn’t get any fresh air into her lungs. There wasn’t any. Their daughter, Alicia, started to suffer from the same problem. Sergio had three hundred dollars left. He couldn’t leave his wife and children to go out and find work and if he didn’t do so they would run out of money in a few months. Every night, he lay in the bed that they shared, listening to their laboured breathing, trying to think of some kind of a plan, a solution, some way to improve their lives. But he couldn’t. They were trapped in the favela and they would die there. There was no way out.
In February, Elvira had a terrible attack. She wheezed and gasped until her face turned blue. She was suffocating for lack of air. Sergio couldn’t stand seeing her like that. She was dying in front of him. He asked Tanya to look after his family for a few minutes and ran along to the doctor’s surgery. He gave the quack ten dollars and they ran back together with medication to help Elvira’s breathing, even temporarily, to alleviate her suffering.
Tanya was at the door with the children. She was crying, they all were. “It’s too late,” she said. She took Ray and Alicia across to her place and left Sergio alone with the doctor.
The African Diamond Trilogy Box Set Page 34
