Letters to Mrs Hernandez

by C S Gibbs

  “You are like me, in that you have good memories of your father and you had him taken away from you. If I had to lose him, then I almost wish that it been an accident, but it wasn't . . . He was taken away by the secret police. They did not like what he was writing in his leaflets, or the people that were his friends. My father was a strong willed man and he was not afraid to speak his mind.”

  Ben felt the need to say some words of support.

  “I think I can see some of that in you, Setsu!”

  “Well, at least I can say what I want, here in Argentina. In Japan, if you do not approve of the people in charge, then you are in danger. The secret police came and took him away and we never saw him again. The police said that he had a heart attack whilst in his cell, but I don't believe it. They did not give us any more information and we were not even allowed to see his body. I hate those people.”

  There was a difficult moment of silence. Ben knew that he could say nothing to ease her feelings, but had to say something.

  “I am so sorry to hear that. Please tell me about your mother.”

  “She is in Japan, all on her own. She is a gentle, quiet lady, very kind, always trying to do the right thing, what is best. Sometimes she just concentrates on helping others so that she does not have to think about her own troubles.”

  “That sounds like my mum, but I don't think I would describe her as quiet. If she is not happy about something, she will let everyone know about it.

  “Sometimes, when I read her letters, even though it's just words on a piece of paper, I can feel her nagging me!”

  “She nags you from the other side of the world? What does she nag you about?”

  “Oh, the usual sort of things, you know, like am I eating properly and is my underwear clean. I should imagine that your mother is the same with you?”

  “No!” she laughed, “My mother knows that I can feed myself and I can certainly keep my own underwear clean, thank you! Did you see where Vero and Hector went?”

  The pair rode on at a canter, in search of their hosts.

   

  ***

   

  About a half a mile ahead, Hector and Vero had dismounted under a cluster of trees and were preparing a picnic.

  “Do you think that we lost them?” asked Hector.

  “No, Setsu knows this spot, they will be here in a few minutes.”

  “Well, are you sure that you know what you are doing, my sweet little match maker?” mused Hector as he unwrapped a block of cheese from a lily white handkerchief, “You are still convinced that they are a good pairing?”

  “Oh, yes! You saw their faces when they first met – they looked hypnotized! I knew as soon as I met that young English fellow that I should introduce him to Setsu.”

  “And you are happy to leave them alone, together, so soon?”

  “What are you saying? Just look at them – she is too proper a young lady to let him try anything, and besides, he is far too shy.”

  “Ah,” cut in Hector, “He may be shy, but he is still a young man and there is only one thing that goes through a young man's mind! It used to go through mine all the time when I was his age!”

  “So you think that he won't be able to control himself and will jump on Setsu at the first available opportunity? Give the boy some credit, Hector. I am sure he would do no such thing. Well . . . not yet, at least.”

  “Aha! So perhaps you should have stayed as their chaperone? You should not have left them alone so soon! And what if he does try it on with her? I say well done to the boy. He is a young man, Vero, with a young man's energy and desires. You can't blame a young man for following his natural urges?”

  “No,” Vero conceded, “But I can stop him for a while, until the time is right.”

  “Oh. Why so righteous all of a sudden? I don't remember you putting up much of a fight with me in our early days.”

  “That was different! I was rebelling against my father. I put up a bitter fight against the men that he chose for me.”

  “I am so very, very glad to hear that, my darling.”

  “So you should be!” she teasingly slapped his shoulder with her riding gloves.

  “Hector, you are my only one. My chosen one. We are together through sheer fate, but that fate has decided not to bless us with children of our own. In Setsu and Ben, I just have this feeling in my heart that fate is working around us again and has sent them to us so that they can be together – it sounds ridiculous, but there is something about them.

  “I saw fate in action right before my eyes, last night, and I want to protect them from any harm that rushing their relationship might would cause. You have told Ben not to rush things – the way he hurries around and bolts his food down, so don't let him rush this, Hector.”

  With perfect timing, as the high morning sun reaching its zenith and the long shadows of morning shrank under the surrounding trees, the two young subjects of debate arrived, riding alongside each other and still engaged in eager, inquisitive conversation.

  The sight of the approaching couple riding side by side evoked the strongest of memories for Vero. She thought back to her teenage years and the circumstances that led to her first meeting with Hector.

  She had been so much like her mother in both looks and attitude – beautiful, wilful and rebellious, yet eager to make something of herself in this man's world. Yes, her mother, Constanza, had certainly done well to catch the eye of a man like Juan Estrada, a successful farmer and notable land owner in the district. They first met in the tailor's shop where Constanza worked as a seamstress. The young Juan needed to be measured for a suit, in readiness for an important business meeting and he was impressed with the way in which she bossed him around in order to get his measurements – normally, no-one spoke to him like that, but he liked the feistiness of this woman. Not surprisingly, he asked her to accompany him to the meeting as his secretary and things moved rapidly from there.

  Quite how Señor Estrada had expanded his land ownership was never fully made clear. Despite no questions being asked about such matters, it was his ambition in life to emulate the elegant immigrant aristocracy of the British colony, who had come to Argentina with their Angus beef cattle, Clydesdale sheep, railways and odd team sports of football and rugby, in search of business, profit and the good life – all of which they seemed to have found. Suffice to say, nothing was going to stand in the way of this local boy getting himself a slice of the British pie and Señor Estrada was not a fellow with whom one should trifle – a tall and imposing figure who was often quick to find means of retribution when his ambitions were thwarted – and whilst Constanza's family were thrilled with the financial security that their daughter's marriage would bring, they harboured fears that their rather forthright girl would not sit well within the shackles of matrimony with a man such as Estrada.

  As it turned out, their worries were unfounded, as the couple complimented each other remarkably well. Estrada was spellbound by his beautiful Constanza, who stepped up to the role of society wife and proved a great organiser and hostess of social functions, oiling the wheels of his business and enchanting potential customers and investors.

  The headstrong and ultra-competitive landowner had found his match. For a man who had to be first in everything, from beating rivals in to submission (be that psychologically or physically) in order to secure a contract, or winning a game of cards in the local bar, Estrada had no qualms in meeting his wife on equal terms. She had the wit, guile and sheer tenacity to stand up to him, not to mention the deepest of brown eyes and the seductive wiles of a first rate temptress.

  So, when their first child was born, it was no surprise that little Veronica was the very image of her mother, and as she grew, her personality was only ever going to be inherited from Constanza.

  But Constanza's influence was cut short. Vero's birth had been a difficult one and as a result, no other children followed. Never one to take advice and become a delicate, wilting society lady, Constanza igno
red the doctor's words and continued to live her life to the full. She regularly rode her horse around the estate, played ladies' hockey for the local team and smoked her favourite cigarettes when she wanted and as much as she wanted.

  Shortly after Vero's ninth birthday, she lost her mother to cancer.

  Estrada swallowed his grief and directed his energies in to his work, and in making sure that his daughter would fulfil his ambitions for her. He hoped to see young Vero grow up to be the embodiment of the English aristocratic ladies that he so deeply admired. It was his wish for her to marry the son of an English gentleman from one of the other surrounding estates and mark the dawn of a farming and land-owning dynasty, over which he could proudly preside in his autumn years. But this would not be an easy task with a daughter such as Vero. Every governess tended their resignations within a few months of their employment, stating that this obstinate child was un-teachable. Vero did, though, learn how to ride a horse, but to his dismay, she declared that, “Those side-saddles are for timid old virgins,” (something that her mother told her in one of her many moments of hard-nosed philosophy). She practised piano in order to become a 'proper' young lady, but quickly eschewed Bach, Schumann and the oh-so-English Sullivan in favour of Joplin and that dreadfully common music of the poor in Buenos Aires: the tango.

  Juan found himself at his wit's end with his offspring, but every time he confronted her, ready to release his anger and disappointment, he would see in her face his beloved wife and he would forgive her. Of course, it was surely just a phase, Juan told himself. Vero would grow out of this and settle down, balancing her headstrong ways with a sense of purpose, just as her mother had done. All that remained was for her to be paired off with a young suitor whose father just happened to be a filthy-rich, land-owning English farmer. There were a few young fellows who fitted the bill and they were introduced at dinner parties, only to be rejected, one by one. There was no way that love could be forced upon one so free-willed as Vero.

  Juan's dreams finally evaporated on that fateful day when Vero's horse bolted at the agricultural fair. At first, he was impressed by the skill of the young horseman who gave chase to the galloping gelding that was threatening his daughter's life. Easing around and over every obstacle as if his horse were gliding on air itself, he caught up with the tempestuous horse, pulled up alongside, and seemed to calm the creature with little more than a touch of the hand and a kind word.

  They rode back side-by-side, gazing at each other, with Hector holding the reins of both steeds in his hand. The smiling young man returned Vero to her father and introduced himself. Not surprisingly, his daughter's eyes were fixed on nothing other than this handsome rider's face.

  At first, Juan congratulated him on his expert riding skills and calmness – Hector responded with great eloquence and there was nothing in his speech or dress to suggest that he was anything less than a young gentleman. However, on explaining that he was nothing more than a gaucho from another farm, Juan was quick to make sure that Hector was sent on his way, with grateful but reserved thanks. This was not the sort of prospect for my daughter, he thought.

  How wrong she had proved him to be, she thought to herself, seeing so much of herself and Hector in the image of Setsu and Ben.

  The foursome gathered in the shade of a large tree and set about their picnic of empanadas, sausage, cheese, bread and wine.

  “Tomorrow,” said Hector, “We will drive you back to the city and show you a few sites. We have an apartment there and I need to meet with some associates on Monday, so it is convenient for us all.”

  “And whilst you are in your meeting, earning us more money, I shall be out spending it all!” announced Vero with particular zeal.

   

  ***

   

  They arrived back at the estancia in the middle of the afternoon. Everyone retired for an hour's rest, before reconvening in preparation for dinner. Ben made the most of this respite, for his joints ached tremendously, even though he had found the going much easier once he and Setsu had begun to talk openly. That had made him relax and for a while he had forgotten his discomfort whilst on horseback.

  Now, though, he lay on his bed, feeling his muscles loosen off and enjoying the state of torpor in which he found himself. Yet, despite this physical exhaustion, his mind was alert and racing with thoughts of this astounding young woman who had suddenly entered his life. Was it the sheer novelty of her exoticism that attracted him so? Well, of course that was a part of it, but there was more. Much more. He could have conversations with her and not have to force the issue. They shared common experiences, even though they were from different cultures and she was so very intelligent – was she out of his league? Such a thing was hard to tell, as he had not had much time (and certainly little opportunity) to meet girls back home. Almost always, he had been too busy with his studies and almost certainly, he had been too shy.

  What to do next? How to go about finding another situation where he could talk to her? She was in her room, but to go there now would not be right. He would be imposing. He would have to wait.

  A tap on the door interrupted his deliberating. He stirred and willed the stranger to be Setsu. The door creaked open.

  “Can I come in, Ben?”

  It was Hector.

  “I have been meaning to have a little talk with you since you have met Setsu. You two seem to be getting along very well.”

  “Yes, she is lovely company. But then, Vero did have all of this in mind when you invited me here, didn't she?”

  “Of course! She likes to play matchmaker and I think she sees you two as possibly her greatest work. Please don't be offended by her doings – she means well.”

  Ben found himself in something of a quandary. Was he just a toy in a game, with Vero pulling his puppet strings, or was this simply the most wonderful circumstance falling in to his lap?

  “What does Vero think she is doing?”

  Hector took a breath and motioned to the door.

  “Let's go for a stroll, outside, and I will do my best to explain,” he offered.

  The two men made their way out of the estancia and took a walk towards the paddocks. There were three large fields behind the estancia's grounds and a wall of tall evergreens hemmed in the whole area.

  “You know,” said Hector, “That Vero and I have had no children.”

  “Yes, you told me on the boat.”

  “Of course, we tried. Vero had three miscarriages. There was nothing we could do – no doctor could help us. Whether or not it was a curse from her father – who knows? What I do know is that Vero feels a need to create her own family. I know that she comes over all brash and overbearing . . .”

  “Really?” laughed Ben, “I hadn't noticed!”

  “But you have not seen the tears she has cried to me about not having a family. She sees something special in you two and so far, I think that her intuition has served her well. More to the point, I think that there is a chance for you to improve on today's good start with Setsu. If you think you would like that?”

  “I would, very much. What do you think I should do?”

  “Well, you could go over to the stables, there and talk to her again.”

  Ben followed Hector's gaze and saw Setsu outside the stable, brushing down the chocolate mare on which she had ridden so competently, that day. He needed no more encouragement, so with a knowing nod, he set off for his quarry.

  As he approached Setsu, who was turned away from him whilst she studiously brushed her horse's back, he was at first struck by her slender figure. The sweater that she wore was tight fitting and accentuated her hips, so that the broad, sweeping action of brushing became something of a swaying, inviting dance. He urgently began to rack his mind for an opening line. Something witty, intelligent and engaging that would show this educated, multi-lingual lady that he could be an intellectual sparring partner.

  “Th . . . that's a nice looking hindquarters,” he blurted.

  Setsu t
urned around, giving him an incredulous look. He wanted the earth to open up and swallow him.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “On . . . on the horse, I mean,” he stammered, “It's a great looking animal . . . very muscular . . . very . . . horsey.”

  “Horsey?”

  Shut up. Shut up, he told himself. He might as well just book that ticket home, now. So much for verbal sparring. He had gone in with his gloves down and now found himself on the ropes. Surely there was no saving this situation?

  “Horsey, you say? Well, she has four legs, a mane of hair, eats hay and runs quickly. I think that your choice of word is a very accurate one. In fact, I would go as far as to say that this one has that little extra 'horsiness'!”

  Was this a deserved helping of sarcasm, or was it a let off? He could not be sure, but had a feeling that the next exchange would be quite vital if he was to rescue himself.

  “So . . . you ride the horse well. When did you learn?” That was better – a move to safer ground, he told himself.

  “When I first came out here, about three months ago. Vero taught me. She's a very good teacher.”

  Setsu was enjoying this. She could feel Ben's eagerness to talk to her, just to be with her, and she felt a spark of excitement that she knew was mutual. There was more to this, for her, than curiosity and novelty value. There was simply a 'vibration' between them that she could sense and she was happy to encourage his attention – something she had never really felt the need for in the past, but then, she had been so studious in Japan and had struggled to find any interest in the boys back home, most of whom seemed to conform to her brother's views of the world.

  Happy to continue, she told him of her first horse riding experiences and how she took to it so easily, that she felt a rapport with her horse and wished that she had learned to do it earlier.

  As she talked, Ben was hanging on to her every word. He was simply thrilled to be in her presence, alone in a field with her all to himself. He drank in every syllable and registered it, showing far more attention than he ever did in his studies, even though his eyes were torn between her beautiful face and the rather daring way in which she wore her shirt – obviously influenced by Vero, the neck of the shirt was open down to where it protruded from the vee of the sweater. The cavalier neckerchief topped it off, forming a triangle of bare flesh on view for Ben that sent his blood pressure racing.