by Betty Neels
Dr Sebastiao arrived punctually, and because Judith was lonely and unhappy she responded to his quite obvious admiration. He examined his patient with great care and thoroughness, took a sample of blood, stayed to tea, entertaining them with light-hearted talk about Portugal and Algarve in particular, and suggested that they might like to go for a drive one evening, then took himself off.
‘He took a fancy to you, Judith,’ commented Lady Cresswell as they watched him race away down the drive. ‘He’s a very nice man; I hope he invites you out for an evening.’
Judith smiled and nodded vaguely. Why was it, she wondered, that a man you had not the least interest in chatted you up whenever you met, and someone you desperately wanted to like you—even notice you—behaved as though you were yesterday’s cold potatoes?
‘How old did you say you were, dear?’ asked Lady Cresswell suddenly.
Judith looked at her in considerable astonishment. ‘Twenty-seven—halfway to twenty-eight, actually.’
She was still more astonished at Lady Cresswell’s satisfied: ‘Just the right age.’
Judith was dying to ask the obvious question, but on occasion her patient could be as withdrawn as her son. She decided to say nothing, and spent the remainder of the day consumed with curiosity.
They went to Praia da Rocha the following morning, driven by Augusto in the car hired by Charles before he left. It wasn’t too hot as yet and the country was a feast of colour and the grape harvest was in full swing, almonds were being gathered, and figs, and there were flowers everywhere. Even the smallest cottage had its garden with a vine trailing over the porch, orange and lemon trees casting a welcome shade in which a mixture of vegetables and flowers grew. ‘Isn’t it funny,’ observed Judith, ‘that with so much colour around them, the women all wear black?’ She gazed at a group of women standing by the road. ‘And their black felt hats!’
‘To keep off the sun,’ explained Lady Cresswell. ‘And I expect most of them are widows.’ She added: ‘Charles would be able to answer all your questions. Such a pity that he isn’t here.’
And Judith silently agreed.
They drove through Portimao before they reached the sea—a bustling little town, famous for its sardine fisheries. The harbour was full of fishing boats hung with nets, each with its eye painted on the prow. Judith would have liked to explore the town, but probably she would have the chance before they went back. They were near the sea by now, the white villas with their red-tiled roofs were scattered thickly and there were several tower blocks to which Lady Cresswell took instant exception. But they were forgotten as they rounded the ancient fort facing out to sea below the harbour and they saw the great sweep of golden sand and the blue sea beyond. There weren’t a great many people about, the height of the season had passed and the children were back at school. ‘You’re going to enjoy this,’ declared Lady Cresswell. ‘We’ll go to the hotel and have coffee and order lunch and I shall sit on the terrace while you swim. You can go from the hotel, of course.’
It would never have entered Judith’s head to use the hotel, but when they went in its rather grand entrance, nothing could have been easier. Lady Cresswell was escorted on to a shady terrace overlooking the beach and the pair of them had coffee before Judith went away to change for her swim.
The sea was warm and as smooth as silk; she swam until she was tired and then padded back to the terrace.
‘That’s a very eye-catching bikini,’ remarked Lady Cresswell. ‘You’ve a splendid shape, my dear. I daresay the sea is a great deal nicer than the pool at the villa.’
Judith was lying on a sunbed letting the sun sink into the seawater and Ambre Solaire. ‘Much nicer,’ she agreed.
‘But I daresay you enjoyed your swim with Charles?’ persisted Lady Cresswell. She had a high clear voice and sometimes there was a note in it which compelled an answer.
‘We quarrelled,’ said Judith briefly.
‘Dear, dear,’ murmured her companion. ‘Of course, dear Charles can be most vexing at times.’ She took off her sunglasses and polished them carefully. ‘All the same, I miss him—he seems such a very long way away.’
Dark glasses were useful things, thought Judith, one could hide behind them. She said carefully: ‘Only a little under three hours by plane. I expect he’s getting a lot of work done.’ Despite herself, there was a note of bitterness in her voice.
‘I’m not sure of that,’ said his mother, and smiled a little.
Judith hadn’t seen the smile. ‘I’ll go and change,’ she said. ‘I won’t be a minute. Can I do anything for you before I go?’
‘No, dear. We’ll have a cool drink when you get back and decide what we’re going to eat. After lunch I’d like to look round the boutique…’
‘Of course, but a rest first, don’t you think?’ Judith lingered by her chair. ‘Would you like to do anything later on?’
‘Augusto will drive us through the town after tea, if we see a shop we like the look of we can always get him to stop. We might see some books.’
Judith eyed her carefully; she was standing up well to the days activities and she didn’t look tired. ‘Yes, let’s do that,’ she agreed cheerfully.
They lunched in a cool dining room, off iced melon, a fish salad and ice cream, and had coffee on the terrace again, and presently Lady Cresswell dozed off in her shady corner while Judith lay in the sun. It was very hot, she could feel the heat through her thin sleeveless dress, but she had rubbed in more sun lotion and popped her straw hat on to her head. She had a thick creamy skin which didn’t burn easily and she wanted to go home with a splendid tan. Presently she slept.
They had tea later and then, as it grew cooler, they went to inspect the boutique in the foyer. Judith bought a handful of cards to send to friends and family, but Lady Cresswell ignored them. She could telephone, she pointed out, so much easier and quicker than all that writing. More expensive too, but she wasn’t concerned with that. She turned over the dainty mats and cloths and bought several, as well as some pottery she liked the look of, and finally she bought half a dozen exquisitely embroidered handkerchiefs and gave them to Judith. It all cost a staggeringly large sum of money, but that only whetted Lady Cresswell’s appetite to do a little more shopping. Augusto was instructed to drive slowly along the promenade until a bookshop was found, where they spent a considerable time while she chose a dozen paperbacks. ‘And get whatever you want for yourself, dear,’ she told Judith, who, feeling very much in the mood for that sort of thing, chose Jilly Cooper’s British in Love.
They went home after that because Lady Cresswell looked tired. Judith whisked her off to bed and bore up a supper tray presently. ‘A lovely day,’ she observed cheerfully, ‘but let’s have a lazy day tomorrow. I have got dozens of postcards to write, and Teresa has promised me she’ll show me how to make Mountain Rose pudding—at least I think that’s what she said.’
Lady Cresswell agreed readily enough—perhaps she had done too much, thought Judith worriedly, but her pulse and temperature were normal and there was no sign of purpura. She would see how things were in the morning and if she still felt uneasy she would get Dr Sebastiao to call in the morning.
She ate her own dinner, with one ear listening for her patient’s bell and the other for the telephone—just in case Charles rang up. But he didn’t, and in the morning Lady Cresswell was quite recovered. All the same, Judith kept to the plan and they spent a quiet day reading and talking and listening to the record player, and at lunchtime Charles did telephone, wasting no time on her at all, merely asking to speak to his mother. Judith sat there, peeling an orange, shutting her ears to Lady Cresswell’s voice saying yes and no, willing him to ask for her. But he didn’t, and she was forced to listen to her companion’s vague account of how busy he was with his book—the research was going well. ‘Oh, and he asked after the little cat, Judith—I said she was doing very well and so were the kittens. Shouldn’t we find a name for her—for all of them, since they’ll be coming to live
with us?’ She frowned. ‘Something English.’
‘Mrs Smith,’ suggested Judith without giving it much thought, ‘that’s very English—and call the kittens George and Mary.’
‘What a good idea—they’re so sweet, even Teresa likes them.’ Lady Cresswell sipped her coffee. ‘What shall we do tomorrow, Judith?’
‘You’d like to go somewhere?’
‘Indeed yes. Shall we go to Caldas and drink the water? I believe it’s quite fashionable nowadays, although I can’t think why. It’s off the main road and only a small village.’
‘It’s not far from here?’
‘No distance at all. Shall we go in the morning and have lunch and come home directly after?’
‘That sounds fun…’
Lady Cresswell interrupted her: ‘And we must go to Monchique.’
‘On another day, perhaps? Didn’t you tell me there’s an inn there where we can have tea and look at the view?’
Lady Cresswell agreed enthusiastically. ‘And we must go to the sea again so that you can swim, and there are several towns—Sagres and Lagos and Albufeira. I do hope that nice Dr Sebastiao takes you out, Judith.’
‘Well, you know, I’m happy just to be here and do nothing all day, being bone idle is such a delightful experience—besides, the pool here is quite super.’ Judith got up and gave her arm to her companion. ‘I shall have a swim while you’re taking your nap.’
It was lonely in the pool. She swam up and down and thought about Charles; sitting with his handsome nose buried in some dry-as-dust old tome, she supposed. On the other hand, he might be dallying with Eileen Hunt—the girl had a clear field and time enough to mug up bits about the thirteenth century so that she could look intelligent when he enthused about churches and Magna Carta and feudal Law…
She was suddenly tired of the pool; she got out and lay in the sun drying and then went indoors to dress. Lady Cresswell was still asleep and to stay indoors seemed a great waste of the splendid weather. Judith found her hat and wandered off down the drive and along the dirt track towards the road. She turned away from the direction of Silves and strolled along towards the mountains, meeting no one, and no houses in sight. The dog coming towards her was the only thing moving, and he was doing that in a tired way that made her stand still and look at him. He wore no collar; and Charles had told her that all dogs in Portugal had to wear a collar if they were owned, although some of the owners didn’t bother, but this animal looked as if it wasn’t owned. He was a large, loosely put together animal, not so very young and sorely in need of a bath and a good brush and, more than these, a good meal. He advanced towards Judith in a hopeful way and after a glance at her face, trotted along beside her. And when she turned for home presently, he turned too.
She was a tender-hearted girl and at times impulsive, so she allowed him to accompany her back to the villa, where, no one being about, she filled an old plate with odds and ends of food and took it out to where he was waiting patiently at the back door. He paused just long enough to wag his thin pointed tail before wolfing down the lot and then he looked at her so hopefully that she went back to the kitchen and piled the plate again. He ate that too and then sat down watching her; it was obvious that he considered himself her dog. She led him to a corner of the garden where he wouldn’t be seen immediately, for Teresa would be coming presently to get their tea and Judith wasn’t sure if he would be welcome. ‘Be a good quiet boy,’ she begged him, and hurried upstairs.
Lady Cresswell was awake and in splendid spirits and it took less than a minute to explain about the dog and ask, a little warily, if there was any chance of keeping him. ‘He would be nice to have about the house—and he’s gentle enough, only scruffy and tired.’
‘Why not?’ Agreed Lady Cresswell. ‘He’ll be company for Mrs Smith and the kittens—it’s a splendid idea. Send Teresa to me, dear, and I’ll do my best to explain.’
‘Oh, thank you, Lady Cresswell—if we could just feed him up a bit…’
‘He can come back with us,’ declared Lady Cresswell. ‘Charles won’t mind.’
‘But how could we get them back?’
‘We can always charter a plane, dear.’
The dog was still there, he didn’t appear to have moved an inch. Anxious to make the most of his looks, Judith found a brush and did her best with his appearance. His coat was dull and dusty, but at least she smoothed it to some sort of order and he submitted quietly enough. He cringed a little when Lady Cresswell joined them, but upon Judith begging him not to be a silly boy he wagged a tail and flung out his boney chest so that Teresa, who had followed Lady Cresswell, had to admit that there seemed no harm in him. He wasn’t a local dog, of that she was sure; most likely turned loose at some time or other, but provided he behaved himself and didn’t go into her kitchen, she gave her grudging approval to his joining the household.
So Judith went in search of Augusto to find a lead and a collar and a place for the dog to sleep and, since he still looked hungry, another plate of food. He went and sat quietly by Lady Cresswell after that, and even the arrival of Mrs Smith and her kittens, carried out in their box to take the cooler air after tea, left him unmoved. It kept Lady Cresswell nicely occupied and interested until dinner time, and when Charles telephoned soon after that meal, Judith heard her telling him about the dog, even out on the patio Lady Cresswell’s high clear voice carried.
They were to keep the animal, Lady Cresswell told her triumphantly, and he was to return with them when they went home. ‘I told dear Charles that chartering a plane to take us all back was a small price to pay for the pleasure I get from the creatures.’ She twinkled at Judith. ‘I think if I asked for the moon, Charles would climb into the sky and get it for me. He has his faults, but he is a good son and he’ll be a good husband.’
‘Oh, is he thinking of getting married?’ Judith hoped her voice sounded unconcerned.
‘Oh, definitely, my dear.’ Lady Cresswell peeped at her quickly. ‘At least, when I say he’s thinking about it, he doesn’t know that he is, if you understand me. These clever men are sometimes so slow to see something any ordinary person would have discovered in no time at all. And now I think I’ll go to bed; we’ll make an early start in the morning, shall we? And perhaps we’d better take the dog with us—the quicker he knows he belongs to us the better. You won’t mind taking him on a lead?’ She added: ‘Charles does hope he’s house-trained!’
Something Judith hadn’t thought of; he was hardly a dog to grace a home such as Charles’s either. Perhaps it would be a good idea if she took him over once they were in England, and there was the question of the cat and kittens too. He had said that they might find a home with him, but if he was going to marry and if his bride was to be the horrible Eileen, the chances were that an outcast dog and a tatty moggy would be shown the door. Not by Charles, of course—she gave him that—he wouldn’t be intentionally unkind, but if he was besotted he might not even notice. She put the problem aside and allowed his austere image to fill her mind—something done with such success that she didn’t fall asleep until the small hours.
They left for Caldas very shortly after breakfast, for Lady Cresswell professed herself full of energy and anxious to start. Judith spent a busy hour, getting that lady ready for her day’s outing, attending to Mrs Smith and the kittens, feeding the dog, brushing him and installing him, to his great surprise, in the car. She prudently laid an old blanket on the seat first and he seemed to know what was wanted of him, because he curled up at once. With a collar on and a few good meals inside him he looked more presentable, although it was obvious that the variety of his ancestry was without number. Studying him, Judith asked: ‘Do you suppose the Professor will mind having him? He’s—well, he’s not exactly handsome.’
Lady Cresswell looked over her shoulder at her. ‘Charles will take him. He said so; he never goes back on his word.’
Judith hadn’t known what to expect at the spa, a miniature Baden-Baden perhaps as she remembered it o
n TV, certainly not the quaint little village away from the main road with a cluster of white-walled and stone buildings and a small modern hospital beyond. Augusto parked the car on the cobbled road and they walked the few yards to a square surrounded by buildings and with two lines of trees shading a row of seats down its centre, presumably for the comfort of those desirous of drinking the water. There was a restaurant, a café and two shops, already doing a brisk trade with visitors. But Lady Cresswell ignored these. ‘The water first,’ she observed, and took a path away from the square to a small glass-roofed building.
‘Will they let the dog in?’ asked Judith. They both stopped to look at him, not a prepossessing creature but very docile.
‘Why not?’ asked Lady Cresswell, used to getting her own way.
In fact no one noticed him. There were few people there; they walked in, obediently took their glasses, sipped the sulphur-flavoured water under the eye of the lady behind the counter and went out again.
‘A cool drink?’ suggested Lady Cresswell. ‘I’d forgotten how nauseating spa waters can be. These, by the way, are supposed to make you ten years younger.’
Judith laughed. ‘Well, so they should, they taste beastly enough!’
They had their drinks sitting in the little square at one of the tables outside the café. It was pleasantly cool and the dog had subsided thankfully at their feet and was sleeping. Lounging on a wall some distance from them a young man, long-haired and burnt brown by the sun, was playing Greensleeves, on a tin whistle. He played well and the charming little tune tore at Judith’s unhappy heart. Not wanting to hear any more of it she asked: ‘Shall I get you another drink? It’s so pleasant sitting here…’
Lady Cresswell didn’t want anything else, she wanted to browse round the two shops. ‘Not that I want anything,’ she remarked vaguely, ‘but we might as well have a look while we’re here.’