“Yes, Ashok, that is my thought too. That is why I work so hard for Aarav – to learn all he knows, for he will not stay forever, he has ambitions, he tells me so.”
chapter 29
Alex bent down in the shower, letting the full force of the water hit his back and rear with its powerful jets. He was already beginning to ache and wondered how he would cope with even walking, let alone sitting, if he was as sore as he suspected he might be.
Ronnie and Tim, looking remarkably refreshed, arrived in time for breakfast. They were in high spirits and with all sorts of plans for the day, but wanted to check with Liz first if it was alright with her. It was Wednesday and Ronnie wanted to take Tim to the market in Anjuna, and then to Panaji to see the cathedral.
The market spread over several acres and was held once a week. Snake charmers, pickpockets and, probably, drugs were all part of the scene, but look beyond that and there were bargains to be had and fascinating people to see. They had already decided to take a taxi. Neither felt they could “steal” Ashok for the day, and Tim was not sure, even if Liz could spare him, he could take his driving for a whole day, despite Ronnie being more sanguine about it.
Alex arrived in the dining room walking, Liz felt, with a certain care. “I understand you rode bareback this morning,” she said, not wanting him to know she had witnessed his several attempts at mounting. “Yes,” he lied. “I thought riding bareback would be rather fun.”
“And was it?” Tim asked, grinning from ear to ear in what Alex felt was rather a leering kind of way. These gays had only one thing on their minds, he thought. He had actually met a pair who had paid a fortune for a beautiful stone statue of a girl – then, when they placed it in their garden, had displayed it back to front so that the bottom was the focus, even illuminating it at night with the spotlight on the bottom and the rest of the statue more or less lost in the foliage. So Alex was not amused.
Tim sensed this, of course, and teased him mercilessly, with Liz finally intervening with “Enough, children, enough!” Tim had the grace to look somewhat abashed and Ronnie changed the subject by talking about their proposed day out. Ronnie, kindly Liz thought, suggested Alex might like to join them for the day. Alex almost shuddered. A day with these faggots, he could think of nothing less appealing. Anyway, he wanted time with Liz.
Alex declined quite gracefully, but Ronnie and Tim could read the signs. They knew how he felt and it indicated quite clearly to them someone whose nature was not all that pleasant. They mutually thought he was not quite the nice, charming guy he appeared to be, and they hoped Liz would not be swept away by his apparent charm and good looks.
“Mind you,” Ronnie commented later, as they drove off for their “day’s adventure” (Tim’s phraseology). “We could be mistaken, you know.” Tim was noncommittal.
“We could be,” he said darkly. “Then again we could be right.”
“Let’s not waste time talking about him anyway,” Ronnie added hastily, determined their day should be fun.
The taxi driver insisted on taking them via a fabric and jewellery warehouse run by his cousin. Why not, they decided, after a few half-hearted demurs. They bought Tim’s mother a pashmina and they bought each other some silly little presents. Then Ronnie spied the ring. It was gold but set (quite discreetly for India) with small rubies all around it. Ronnie saw Tim looking at it and when he wandered off he quickly bought and paid for it. Trying it on one of his little fingers first, he knew it would fit Tim and he slipped it, carefully wrapped in tissue, into an inside pocket of his linen jacket.
Tacky it might be, but Tim adored Anjuna – from the snake charmers to the spice sellers, from the musicians to the children pleading “come to our stall, come to our stall” and other calls “no, no, come to mine.”
They bought beautifully made trinket boxes. They bought carved elephants and camels and finally, when the heat of the sun had worn them out, they found their air-conditioned taxi with an immense degree of satisfaction.
They laughed over some of the ridiculous things they had bought. “The spices for Nina,” Ronnie decided. “One of the papier-mâché boxes for Anjali,” Tim suggested. They mutually agreed on a carving for Bernadette and the rest they might keep for other gifts, or even take them home.
Sorted to their satisfaction they headed for the cathedrals which stood either side of the road. They proved welcomingly cool and culturally exceptionally different and equally fascinating. They arrived back at the villa at four-thirty p.m. to find Liz and Alex deep in conversation over tea in the shade of the palms.
“Perfect timing,” Ronnie said cheerfully. “A cup of Earl Grey tea, the right of every Englishman!”
“Every Scot too,” said Tim, reminding him of his extremely remote Scottish ancestry. They had paid off the taxi, giving the driver a more than generous tip. Ronnie kissed Liz warmly, said they would be “down in five” and disappeared into their room carrying their spoils.
Both wanted the bathroom so, it being a question of age first, Tim stood impatiently waiting for his turn. Washed, refreshed and about to go downstairs Ronnie remembered the ring he had slipped in his pocket. “Here Tim, catch,” he said, throwing the ring wrapped in its tissue paper. Tim caught it easily, opened it and flashed Ronnie a loving smile. “Oh, you clever fellow, how did you manage that without me seeing?”
“Try it on,” Ronnie begged. Tim slid the ring on the small finger of his left hand. “With this ring, I thee wed,” murmured Ronnie. Tim kissed him lightly on the lips.
“My thanks will be expressed tonight,” he said teasingly. “Think about that from now till then!” and with the flash of a wicked smile, he left the room, leaping happily down the stairs like an exuberant schoolboy.
Despite the pain, a hangover from the early-morning ride hardly reduced by paracetamol, Alex had had a perfect day. Also, despite being driven by that maniac Ashok, Liz had taken him for pre-lunch drinks at the Taj Exotica where her friend, the general manager, had joined them near the stunningly beautiful pool. They had previously visited Bernadette, and Liz explained the plan for a series of similar houses to provide homes for abandoned children, rather than the more impersonal and larger orphanages. She was obviously so proud and happy to waste her money like this that Alex listened with flattering attention, making astute and sometimes useful observations.
They also visited the primary school attached to the church and met Father Julian – an Indian Christian, which surprised Alex. Father Julian explained that the primary school had come about because of the generosity of Madame O’Mal. They looked on her presence in Goa as a gift from God himself, the priest explained solemnly.
If Alex found it all rather nauseating he hid it well. Liz found his encouraging remarks and comments helpful. She had to explain why she was called Madame O’Mal, but he felt she should insist on her full name, after all, Anjali used it correctly. “Anjali is a very educated woman. You must underdstand, the first people who helped me when I bought the villa. Ashok and Nina, for example. It was just easier for them to say Madame O’Mal, and it just spread. Hence the name of the villa.” Alex was silent, although he nodded, pretending to understand her rationale.
Liz had enjoyed the day. Alex was so attentive and perceptive, he had made one or two suggestions and observations that she felt were thoughtful, if not necessarily correct. During the day he explained why he had not saddled up and she decided he had been courageous, if somewhat foolhardy.
“You should have called Ashok, he would have saddled up for you.” Alex bit back a comment he might regret about Ashok, who, for some reason, he was beginning to dislike more and more. He had met Ashok’s eyes in the rear-view mirror and realised the feeling was mutual. If this was his place, he thought, Ashok and Nina would go and he would import a decent driver from England.
He let his mind dwell on the thought. He had fantasised about Liz, but how about a permanent relationship?
He was aware he should be thinking about marriage – he could spend the time between the two countries, as Liz did now, and he could sort out her household. Once he had thought of the idea he couldn’t let it go and he started working on his strategy.
chapter 30
Dinner that night was a jolly affair. With the party planned for the following day, they made the most of being a small group. Ronnie and Tim would leave the day after the party and Alex, who had originally planned to leave on the morning of the party, postponed his travel plans for a few more days. This was the official line anyway, to himself he planned to stay indefinitely.
Ronnie and Tim had them all laughing talking about their day and all the nonsensical things they had bought in Anjuna. Tim’s description of the snake charmer beggared belief as he made himself a turban out of his napkin, sat cross-legged on the floor with the bread basket in front of him, and played an imaginary flute with such consummate skill he almost convinced them a snake was rising up, swaying to match Tim’s music. Even Alex enjoyed the show. They laughed and applauded whilst Tim modestly took his bows and passed the bread basket around for tips!
They sat on the terrace in the cool of the evening enjoying their brandies. Ronnie talking to Alex and Tim to Liz. Actually, it was Alex talking to Ronnie rather than the other way round. By the end of an hour, Ronnie knew all he ever wanted to know about publishing – the rip-off publishers, the unsupportive agents (of which he was not, of course, one). Plus, difficult authors who would either not deliver on schedule or were overly demanding – imagining he was available as and when they wanted. Once, and only once, Ronnie tried to intervene, in part to defend the authors who were perhaps struggling with unforeseen difficulties, perhaps domestic or financial, but he gave up. Nothing, he felt, would stop the flow!
By the end of the evening, Ronnie was seething with a mixture of anger and boredom. He found Alex pompous and manipulative and was somewhat concerned about leaving Liz alone with him, for he had already announced he was staying at the villa longer than originally planned. “I think Liz wants me here,” he winked at Ronnie as he spoke. Ronnie who was, by nature, a generally mild man felt like punching him, and by the time he got to bed he was so uptight that it took all Tim’s efforts and cajoling to relax him so that proper thanks could be made for the ring that had been proudly worn all evening.
When the other two had gone to bed, Alex moved to the chair vacated by Tim. “Are we riding in the morning?” Alex asked. For a moment Liz was put out. She so loved the solitude of her rides, but never one to be churlish, she smiled and said, “Of course Alex, same time, same place.” She made as if to rise, but he put his arm out to stop her. “No Liz, stay a bit longer it’s so peaceful now the others have gone.” Liz bit back a retort but allowed herself to be prevailed on to stay.
She was annoyed when Alex leaned across and put more brandy in her glass. “Oh, Alex I really didn’t want any more.”
“It will do you good, relax you!” The minute he said that she was immediately tense, so she downed the unwanted brandy in one gulp and stood up before he could protest. “I have things to see to, I shall see you in the morning,” she snapped. He cursed under his breath, he must take things steadily or he would frighten her off.
*
Life in Paris was a round of social event after social event. After some of the tensions in India with Pakistan as its neighbour, problems that arose seemed just minor irritations. Europe, in capital letters, still had its problems though, with the Euro now accepted as the currency, with the exception of the United Kingdom, no one complained about currency restrictions affecting trade anymore. There were those concerned about the sovereignty of the UK, indeed he was one of them, though in diplomatic circles he kept his own counsel.
It seemed as if every female in Paris was trying to either pursue Philip themselves or, perhaps even worse, trying to get him married off. He met beautiful woman after beautiful woman and although he enjoyed their company – even flirted a little here and there – it was Liz’s face that haunted him at night. It was Liz he wanted between these pristine sheets. He blamed himself entirely for their non-relationship, he had let her slip silently out of his life whilst he sorted out his own relationship with Jack and worried about Jamie’s health.
Both these issues were now resolved. Jamie seemed taller every time he saw him and looked more and more like Helen, whilst Jack with his flair for languages and his love of sport was more like Philip every day. He came across the Hindi phrasebook on Jack’s bookshelves when idly looking for something to read one evening. It was the usual eclectic mix that any sixteen-year-old would have. From Harry Potter to science fiction and several sports biographies, which both surprised and pleased him, and then suddenly to come across the Hindi phrasebook. His first thought was that it must have come from his time in India – though he couldn’t remember it. He flicked through the small book and there on the inside of the front cover a cryptic message: Jack, lovingly L. He was totally mystified now. Who sent Hindi phrasebooks – lovingly – to his son, and who the hell was “L”. Not for one moment did he think of Liz – he always thought of her as Elizabeth anyway. Curiouser and curiouser. He took the book to his bedroom. There were quite a few pencil marks in Jack’s untidy hand. Philip looked with interest at the phrases he had underlined.
“May I introduce my Father. May I introduce my Mother”. By this, there were several exclamation marks. “May I visit you?” More exclamation marks. Philip was slightly concerned along with being a little amused, and he determined to ask Jack about the book and its “add-ons” during the next holiday. The following morning he returned the book to where he had found it and promptly forgot all about it.
chapter 31
Alex made a painfully slow recovery which he made the most of. It sadly meant he was unable to ride and Liz, well aware of his aches and pains, went off alone for her usual morning ride. He didn’t hear the horses go on the soft sandy path but from his window, he glimpsed a flash of a white shirt through the trees. He determined to do the evening ride and took extra arnica tablets from the bottle Liz had given him, but decided to leave the painkillers to help him through the next ride.
On her return, he was waiting for her by the stables and rubbed down Guinness whilst she did the same with Coco. “I thought you were still sleeping,” Liz said conversationally, feeling slightly selfish as she was aware she had crept out of the house, endeavouring not to wake him so as to enjoy her solitary ride. She was correct in her assumption that Alex would want to ride with her at sunset. It was, she had to admit, pleasant to have an attractive man around. Ronnie and Tim were such good company but Alex made her feel like a desirable woman again. She couldn’t help wondering what sort of lover he would be!
Thoughts of Philip flooded her mind. Why had he never, in all this time, even contacted her again? She consoled herself with thoughts of his sons, who almost seemed like her sons too. Jamie and she had been close from the first, but during the last two years Jack had become very special to her. His letters always included a Hindi phrase or two and he had written that there was an Indian boy at Eton who had become a good friend. Asif was teaching him Hindi and Jack confided that he could now carry out quite a reasonable conversation.
I shall visit you when I have saved enough money, Jack had written, and you will hear for yourself. Liz was thrilled that he was being so positive these days. The old truculent Jack was a faint memory now.
Alex rode Guinness, the painkillers had worked their magic. Liz rode ahead, bareback of course. Once again, hair flowing and the sea-dampened shirt clinging to her body. Alex was reminded of his fantasy. Had he but known Liz was fantasising too, she could hear the sounds of Guinness pounding behind her. She could imagine Alex, his earnest face hiding the pain his body undoubtedly was in. In her fantasy he would come alongside her and the horses would turn towards the shade of the palms.
They would dismount. He would unbutton he
r shirt and kiss her full breasts and they would make love. She slowed Coco and turned him out towards the sea, the balmy cool of the water calming her senses as, beneath her, the horse started to swim. Tacked up with saddle and bridle, Alex watched, sighing inwardly, wishing he could join her but of course could not risk spoiling the tack. The woman and horse blended into the landscape against the setting sun and Alex sighed, thinking he had never seen anything so beautiful.
*
It was the holidays, Jack and Jamie were back in Paris and there seemed to be a new woman in their father’s life. Remembering what Liz had said, they tried to be civil and friendly but her attitude to them was hardly cordial. The first thing she ever said to them was: “When do you return to England?”
“Hardly welcoming,” Jamie commented to Jack. They really tried to be pleasant and friendly despite their growing dislike of Jutta. She was tall and very skinny, her hair was blonde and cut straight in a rather boyish cut, but worst of all, she bossed their father around and he didn’t even seem to notice.
Jamie was worried. “I think I will stay at school for the holidays if he marries her.” He sounded so serious that Jack, who felt much the same, felt he must come up with some sort of plan before it was too late! He told his younger brother not to worry. “I’ll think of something,” he said with more confidence than he felt. “In fact,” he added. “I may have a plan already.” When Jamie questioned him he refused to be drawn – “Wait and see,” was his somewhat cryptic response.
The Portuguese House Page 15