The Fault

by Kitty Sewell

  He glanced towards the dark interior of the establishment but the publican and his wife had disappeared through some interior doorway covered by a filthy curtain.

  ‘It’s refreshing to be with someone who’s so forthright, but your question is very personal.’

  ‘Haven’t I given you something very personal to read?’ She put her elbows on the table and leaned her chin in her hands. ‘Look, I was brought up in a family where nobody communicates, at least not honestly. It’s all subterfuge, lies and hidden agendas. Nobody calls a spade a fucking shovel, or asks any questions, for that matter. I’m sick of it.’

  ‘Does that go for your brother too?

  She hesitated. ‘Sort of. He’s got the same background. He loves me a lot but never tells me what’s going on.’

  Carlo leaned forward. ‘What do you think is going on?’

  She drew back. Booze made her tongue flap. She absolutely must not blabber to anybody about Sebastian.

  Carlo had noticed her withdrawal. ‘Okay, let me answer your question,’ he said. ‘I retired from the priesthood ten years ago because I fell in love with a young woman. I gave up my calling in order to marry her. She wanted us to live together for a year before taking our marriage vows, but I insisted we should do the right thing. In retrospect, I realise she was unsure and needed time. Now that I’m older and wiser, I can’t say I blame her.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘We weren’t really compatible. She was quite a bit younger and found me too introspective and serious. She called it off in the nick of time.’ He looked forlorn. ‘I see her around town with two children in tow. It took a while but I think I’ve risen above it.’

  ‘And that’s it? No more women in your life?’

  ‘I have a lot of women acquaintances,’ he said, fiddling with his crucifix. ‘I try to live a spiritual life and I still believe in chastity.’

  ‘Chastity? That’s when you can’t have sex, right?’

  ‘Chastity is not punitive, as in “can’t do this” or “can’t do that”. It’s empowering because it frees men from the shackles of immorality.’

  She shook her head. ‘Personally, I don’t see the freedom in that. And what’s immorality, anyway? I had an argument with Sebastian the other day, about your religion? He told me what you Catholics did to natives in the colonies – in the name of your faith. I even googled it in case he was having me on.’

  Carlo frowned. ‘I have a feeling your brother would say anything to discredit me.’

  ‘Why would he?’ she asked, knowing that it was absolutely true, but perhaps not because of his religion. ‘He’s not your favourite person either, is he?’

  ‘At least with me it’s not personal,’ Carlo said coolly. ‘But I can’t deny that I belong to the faction that is utterly and totally against your brother’s project. The destruction of Gibraltar is something that weighs very heavily on me.’

  She was perplexed. ‘Why destruction?’

  ‘It’s all about money, power and prestige, my young friend. Socially and environmentally, your brother’s project is a disaster.’

  She stared at her hands, embarrassed about her lack of knowledge on the subject. ‘Have you told him how you feel about it?’

  ‘Your brother doesn’t deign to talk to me, and anyway, as we’re neighbours, I’d prefer not to touch on the subject. I tackle it in other ways.’

  ‘What other ways?’ She peered at him, suddenly suspicious. ‘Where do I come into the equation? You’re not hanging out with me to piss him off, are you?’

  He looked at her with his large liquid eyes. ‘Heavens, Imogen! Of course I’m not.’

  His outrage was so genuine, she felt ashamed. Another silence ensued while they sipped their drinks. Her head was spinning a little but that early stage of drunkenness was so powerful. Inebriated, she murmured into her glass.

  He had hardly touched his, even though he made a show of drinking. She studied him from under the rim of her floppy fringe. He must have been a beautiful guy in his teens and twenties. He still was, in an old kind of way. Too bad the hair was going.

  ‘Let’s get back to the chastity thing,’ she said. ‘Is this a requirement for Catholics, before marriage?’

  He reached out and slowly pushed her glass away from her. ‘You’re not really old enough to drink, are you?’

  She reached out and pulled it back. ‘Only for three more weeks,’ she said.

  ‘Simply put, it’s about me respecting and appreciating a woman as a whole person, not as an object.’

  ‘So what do Catholics do with their needs, I wonder?’ Mimi said, knowing she was being intrusive.

  Carlo burst out laughing. ‘Pray and meditate. In my case, I write poetry. You’re a writer, I bet it could work on your needs too.’

  She liked it when he laughed; he had perfect teeth and it made him look young and relaxed. And she was intrigued about his spiritual life, the prayer and meditation. She would like to learn about it, but there was no way she was buying the chastity thing. It just sounded too unreal.

  Her eyes tried to focus on a sign on the bare stone wall, claiming Christopher Columbus had stopped here on his way to the New World, as it had been famous for its special fillet steaks. It was not hard to imagine the rowdy sailors tossing bones onto the sawdust covered floor. ‘Is it true?’ she said, slurring slightly.

  ‘Yes, I believe it is documented. Gib was a handy stopoff point for those Spanish ships setting off across the Atlantic.’

  ‘Oh, my God, imagine that.’

  ‘Imogen, leave that vile drink and let’s get out of here. Remember, I’m supposed to be your guide to Gib, not get you drunk in seedy pubs. Besides I want to prove to you that I have no problem being seen with you. Let’s go to the busiest place in town, the Convent. I might be able to show you the interior. There’s a marvellous Dragon tree in the garden which is over five-hundred years old.’

  ‘Oh God, let’s not. Just look at me. Nuns wouldn’t have me for love nor money.’

  He chuckled. ‘It not a convent any more, it’s the official residence of the Governor of Gibraltar. Franciscan Friars founded it in 1531, and it’s well documented that one of the guest bedrooms there is haunted by a Franciscan Nun – the Grey Lady.’

  Well, he must have known that a ghost would get her attention. ‘Okay, if it is a true story, tell me it while I finish this drink.’

  He laced his long fingers around the crucifix. ‘She was the daughter of an affluent Spanish family who had married against her father’s wishes. When her father found out about her clandestine wedding he put her into the Convent of Santa Clara – then situated in the Main Street – where under the eyes of the Mother Superior she was forced to take her vows and become a nun. But her husband wasn’t about to give up on her. He joined the Franciscan Order at the convent. The couple managed the odd encounter in the confessional of the King’s Chapel next door where they hatched plans to run away.

  ‘On the night of their escape they made their way to the harbour where the husband had arranged for a boat. However, the alarm had been raised and, in the ensuing chase, the husband fell into the water and drowned. The young woman was arrested. For breaking her vows – as was the punishment for such a sin – she was walled up, alive, in one of the rooms in the convent.’

  Mimi stared at him. ‘Walled up alive? Well, that can’t be true.’

  ‘I’m afraid it’s absolutely true. You can read all about it in one of my books. I don’t know about her ghost wandering around the place, but her death by entombment is documented. Entombment or live burial of nuns who broke their vows of chastity has been practised since the Vestal Virgins in Roman times. The punishment was abolished in 394 AD, but many historical accounts prove that it continued for centuries after that.’

  She put her hands over her ears. ‘Stop! That’s awful! I know I’m creepy and ghoulish, but the idea of that just makes my skin crawl.’

  He chuckled. ‘And there I was, thinking you were such
a bombproof young woman.’

  ‘I am,’ she protested.

  ‘I had hoped you’d allow me to show you the tunnels. You’re not scared of them, I hope.’ He clearly wanted her to show some enthusiasm for his pet interest. ‘Mohammed and I are going on Wednesday. The invitation is there if you want to join us.’

  ‘Maybe,’ she said, thinking of Sebastian’s likely reaction. Of course he didn’t need to know. She pushed away her empty glass. ‘Let’s go visit the Grey Lady.’

  Eva

  It was like swimming through history. Beneath her, a seabed littered with shipwrecks: ships sunk in storms or blown apart in many hundreds of battles. Wrecks dating back to the Napoleonic times were almost intact. She shivered with awe as she reached out to touch a Phoenician anchor, half buried in the mud. She knew this dive had been intended to show off her diving expertise, but she felt like a child in a toy store. If only it had been Sebastian by her side instead of Brian. Sebastian would just love this.

  They swam through modern ships and barges that were derelict and had been sunk deliberately into Camp Bay to form an artificial reef for a conservation project. Two planes, looking as though they dated from World War Two, were parked incongruously on the seabed, out of their element.

  As they went further out along Gib’s coastline, she saw deep caves and sheer dropoffs, the peaks of the Seven Sisters. All the while, excitement mounted in her. Thank God for this! If she got the job, it would be her salvation. The element of water always floated her demons away. Here she could feel invulnerable.

  Towards the end of their dive, Brian took her to where only the most experienced divers should venture – a clear sign that he trusted her ability – Europa Reef. The narrow way between the two oceans had a constant and vast water turnover and was teeming with sea life, including vibrantly coloured fish, a host of rays, sunfish, bass and mullet as well as the more rare dwellers of the deep. Though she was well up on her marine biology, he pointed out the dodgy guys who could pose a danger to divers: the Scorpion fish, the Morays and Conger Eels.

  Back up on dry land Brian said nothing at first. Once in the shop she dried off and changed into her clothes in his little toilet, then helped him rinse and hang their gear.

  ‘Well,’ she said, bending down to scratch the world’s ugliest dog on his scabby head. ‘What do you think? Can I be of help?’

  ‘Yep,’ he said. ‘I can see you’re up to speed. Small groups to start.’

  Brian reminded her a little of Austin, the man who had discovered in her a talent for diving. As a young woman of twenty, she’d gone wild trying to catch up, doing openly everything that she’d done in secret during her teens. A film of a woman deep-sea diver had inspired her more than anything her God could have asked of her.

  After the ‘excommunication’, after fluttering around the country like a paper tissue in a wind, after working at many mindnumbing jobs to raise some money, she’d done her first dive. She’d met Austin, a veteran diver who’d worked on oil rigs and for the navy, welding steel hulls deep in the most inhospitable and cold waters. They were lovers for a while, then the best of friends. Austin taught her everything she knew about diving, and after he died, she went through the rigours of formal training as he’d made her promise to do. A few years on, her qualifications paved the way to becoming a paramedic specialising in rescue at sea. The future looked bright, the future looked rosy. She met Adrian and the future looked solid and safe.

  Sebastian

  A muted applause welcomed him on stage. He looked out over an ocean of faces – the men and women of Gibraltar who had come to listen to his presentation – and he felt high in mind and spirit, soaring above them with boundless enthusiasm and goodwill.

  The old Inces Hall Theatre was full to maximum seating capacity. Everyone in Gib now knew about the Frontiers Development Project and wanted to know more. Disappointingly, the Governor and Chief Minister had – through their offices – turned down the invitation, but before going on stage he’d been told by the organiser that both the Minister of Housing and the Minister of Enterprise, Development and Technology were in attendance. A considerable portion of the audience belonged to the Gibraltar Environmental Safety Group. He hoped they’d take on board his passionate commitment to environmental concerns and understand his plans for a new future, a new world. He would convince his guests that his project would impart a huge boost to investment, tourism, and commerce, which in turn would enhance and enrich Gibraltar in carefully projected but also unforeseen ways. He’d rehearsed his talk in front of Eva a dozen times and was confident he would make everything sound simple and painless, environmentally safe and politically shrewd.

  It started well. Using every visual aid at his disposal he kept switching his delivery between English and Spanish. Almost everyone in Gib, even those of British birth, was Spanish speaking – certainly Yanito speaking – and his fluency impressed them, made him one of them. If Saunders had seen him now, he’d have to eat his words: “barking mad”! One day he’d bitterly regret expressing such doubts about his lead engineer.

  Half way through the presentation he spotted their neighbour, Carlo Montegriffo. He was sitting near the front, in the company of several influential persons Sebastian had been introduced to. Montegriffo gave him a curt nod.

  Now, during the closing applause, they held each other’s gaze for a moment. There was something unnerving about the man’s impassive expression. His lack of enthusiasm was obvious as his arms were folded firmly across his chest.

  ‘Let’s have some questions,’ Sebastian invited. He was aware of the strong ‘no-more-concrete brigade’ in Gibraltar, part of the reactionary old guard that wanted no new developments, or any change, for that matter. He hoped they weren’t going to give him flack, but if they did, he was ready for them.

  What happened next came as a cold shower.

  Montegriffo stood up and said, ‘I’m afraid your development is being put on hold.’

  Sebastian forced a smile. ‘Perhaps you’ve not listened attentively. We’ve got every approval to go ahead and construction is already underway.’ He looked around for some other raised hand to take Montegriffo off his case. He sensed that entering into a public debate with him would leave the audience with a different impression of the evening.

  ‘In the meantime,’ said Montegriffo, ‘Gibraltar Museum’s own people have done some research. We’ve contacted Princeton University, which has a special interest in the Neanderthal history of the Rock and we’ve been granted a month’s suspension of any project relating to that particular stretch of coastline, so that a team of archaeologists can perform some preliminary investigations of some recent unusual findings.’ He looked behind him at the audience and waved some papers in the air. ‘I’ve just picked up the paperwork, signed by the Governor and the Chief minister.

  ‘Hallelujah,’ intoned someone at the back.

  ‘What unusual findings?’ Sebastian’s voice twanged through the loudspeakers, making it sound slightly hysterical.

  Montegriffo spoke in an even voice and with definite authority. ‘That’s for the archaeologists to divulge. All I can say is, it looks important and highly sensitive.’

  ‘I think you might be mistaken. There is no reason why construction would be put on hold for something like that. Anyway, I’d be the first to hear of it.’

  ‘In that case I regret to be the one to inform you.’ He waved his papers again. ‘In effect as of Monday.’

  He walked out in a daze. Eva was waiting in the foyer where drinks were being served at a makeshift bar.

  He looked at her in that rose-coloured mini skirt, the plain white blouse, the flat but elegant sandals, and wondered what this stunning creature was doing with him. Her hair cascaded down her body like a golden waterfall and her long swimmer’s legs were smooth and brown. Never had she looked so beautiful in her simplicity. He glanced around and hoped that others would see the real live mermaid standing there amongst men, and notice that she was his
. Anything to boost him after his shattered triumph.

  ‘Was it very bad? Did I lose them?’

  ‘No,’ she said flinging her arms around his neck. ‘You were brilliant.’ Just as quickly, she disengaged him. ‘Shouldn’t you be talking to your guests?’

  ‘No. Let’s get the hell out of here.’

  ‘How do you feel about the holdup?’

  ‘Mightily pissed off, but it’s not my money on the line. Saunders will go apeshit.’

  People were streaming out and Sebastian looked around him. ‘I see Mimi isn’t with you. She decided not to come?’

  ‘She had a date.’

  ‘Really?’ he said with a mixture of disappointment and relief. ‘At least it’s not with Carlo Montegriffo.’

  ‘He just left,’ Eva pointed out, ‘but he stopped to say “hello” to me, as if nothing –’

  ‘He did, did he, the self-righteous bastard?’

  ‘He’s not exactly evil, but he could have told you, either before or after the presentation. That manoeuvre in there was a bit underhand.’

  ‘Underhand?’ Sebastian barked. ‘He did his damned best to humiliate me.’

  ‘You’ve got to be prepared for some opposition, honey. Some people have genuine concerns.’ She took his arm and steered him out of the gates and into the street.