by Jan Andersen
She explored some of the old buildings of the monastery that were still open to the public, spending much of the morning in the beautiful sanctuary. The guide who showed her round explained the history of the statue of the Dark Virgin told her that Monserrat had one of the oldest choirs of boy singers in Europe and explained what a tremendous part the mountain played in the lives of the Catalan people. There were few young married couples in Catalonia who did not come here to have their marriage blessed. Jess listened to him as he talked of two centuries ago as if it were today and of the extraordinary effect the mountain had upon visitors, whether they were religious or not. She knew, as she made rapid notes, that she was soon going to gather enough information for a large travel book, not just a travel feature.
She would have been completely happy just doing this, but every so often the face of Richard Armstrong Kendall intruded on her mind. She did not like him; she heartily disapproved of what he had done in the past, his coldblooded attitude towards his fellow humans, and yet she still found herself intrigued by him, so much so that when she grew tired of writing that afternoon, she went back to her file on him and re-read it from beginning to end in an attempt to try to understand the man better. But she learned nothing about him as a person. The cloak of secrecy with which he surrounded himself was quite extraordinary for so young and successful a man.
It seemed that the people here thought he was a scientist. And what kind of work, she wondered, was he doing in that small, isolated cabin?
When she came down to dinner she found a message waiting for her. If it was convenient to her Senor Tomas Gomez would be calling on her about eleven o’clock tomorrow, since he was in Monserrat for the day. Jess’s spirits lifted immediately. She would have news of Rafael, some company for the day and perhaps learn just a little more about the Gomez family.
She had one strong wish, that she could confide in someone about Richard Kendall. She felt that by talking about the problem she might get closer to solving it. But she had given her word to Oliver, so that was simply not to be.
Tomas arrived promptly at eleven o’clock and over coffee passed on messages from Rafael, that the whole family was looking forward to seeing her in Barcelona at the weekend. If the weather remained fine Rafael would be taking her to see his house on the Costa Brava.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘what do you think of our Monserrat, after two days, and please, Senorita Jess, what have you done to your arm?’
‘Montserrat did that,’ she told him ruefully,’ or rather my keenness to see a little too much of it. I was walking up at San Jeronimo in the wrong shoes, and slipped. But please, Tomas, I would prefer that you said nothing about it to Rafael. It’s almost better now. I only leave it in the sling to rest it. By the weekend I will have forgotten about it completely.’
‘Well, if you say so, but...’
‘But Rafael will worry,’ she said firmly, ‘so I don’t want him to know. To be perfectly honest, Tomas, he didn’t really want me to come here to work. But I have a job to do and I must see it through.’
‘Of course. I understand. But I understand my cousin Rafael too. He is a very proud man. Now, Jess,’ he went on quickly, ‘I shall be going further up the mountain today; now, in fact. Is there any hope that you might accompany me? Or,’ he added doubtfully, ‘are you too busy?’
‘I’d love to come,’ she told him, ‘after all, this is work to me as well. And you know Monserrat better than I do. While you make your notes I shall make mine.’
They took the rack railway once again, but then set off in a different direction from yesterday.
Jess found Tomas an easy companion, quiet when he wanted to work, but friendly and talkative at all other times. All the time his conversation returned to Rafael.
When he had collected enough geological specimens he found a sunny, sheltered spot and pulled out lunch and a flask of wine from his haversack. By now, Jess decided, with all those lumps of rock it must weigh a ton. But he did not seem daunted.
She bit into the tasty sausage which had a flavour all of its own and watched while he poured out the wine in two glasses. ‘Your health, Senorita Jess ... Rafael is a lucky man.’
‘You think a lot of your cousin, don’t you, Tomas?’ she said slowly.
‘Oh, yes, if I can be like him, I shall be happy. He is very clever and much respected in Barcelona. After all, he has one of the best businesses in the city. If I cannot make my fortune working with him, then I shall never succeed.’
You said he is a proud man, Tomas. What did you mean by that?’ She added quickly, ‘I have to ask these questions about Rafael, for though I have known him for all these months, I’ve seen so little of him. That’s why I’m so grateful for meeting his family.’
‘Oh, it is just that it is difficult to do anything for Rafael. He likes to give rather than receive. He has done so much for all of us. My sister thinks the world of him. I suppose she agrees with him that a woman should be in the background, that a Spanish man must be master in his own house.’
Jess helped herself to more bread. ‘You have guessed perhaps that Rafael and I may marry.’
‘I guessed as soon as I saw you,’ Tomas grinned. ‘I have always known my cousin’s taste in women. Besides, he would never bring a woman to stay in his house unless he wanted to marry her. This is his way. Perhaps a little old-fashioned by your English standards, where I believe the girls are very free. I know my sister disapproves.’
‘Of English girls, or me in particular?’ Jess asked the question before she could stop herself.
Tomas’s smile faded. ‘Oh, then you did see more than I hoped you would. Ana has always had very high ideals for Rafael, and I’m afraid to meet her standard you would have to be Spanish. I think she even thought Rafael...’
‘Would choose her?’
‘Perhaps. Now I do speak very frankly, Jess. That is a secret I must ask you to keep. But perhaps it is better that you should know. But Ana is of a generous nature, and once you have announced your marriage she will give in gracefully. That is her way.’
Jess had doubts about that, but she could hardly express them. Instead she said curiously: ‘But Ana and Rafael are cousins. I know there is nothing wrong in cousins marrying, but if Ana has such hopes for his future, then I would have thought she would know herself not to be the ideal choice.’
‘You would be right, except for one thing. There is no blood relation between Rafael and Ana. She was adopted by my parents when they were told there was little hope of them having children. Then, as I believe frequently happens, I arrived just about a year later. Since Ana left school she has been grooming herself in Rafael’s ways, learning what he wants her to learn, liking what he wants her to like. I have always told her she has counted too much on him, when he thinks of her much as a sister. He is a self-willed man and would always have made his own choice, in spite of Ana and his mother. I told my sister that until she could be sure of him she must accept other invitations, but she would look at no one but Rafael.’
Jess suddenly felt sorry for the other girl. A narrow life, aimed at only one purpose. And now all hopes dashed. ‘I suppose,’ she said sadly, ‘it must have been a shock to her when Rafael brought me home.’
‘I’m afraid so; a little, but I have told you, she will get over it. As long as Rafael is happy, that is all that really matters. At least if you love someone it is.’ He jumped up. ‘But I have talked too much, Jess. I have never talked about my family like this. We are rather private people, you know. You will think me nothing but a gossip.’
‘No, Tomas, on the contrary I’m deeply honoured. But I would like you to do one thing for me.’
‘Anything I can.’
‘Try to tell your sister that I would like to be her friend. I know no other girl in Spain, and if Rafael and I are to marry, then I shall need her friendship badly.’
‘I’ll tell her, I promise you, and I know that things will be all right. As a matter of fact, I had no intention of telli
ng you about Ana, but somehow it happened, and I’m glad. I have often thought that perhaps Rafael and Ana know each other a little too well.’
So they spent the rest of the afternoon scrambling down one of the few easy slopes of the mountain, among the olive trees and where the vegetation grew more lushly. It was here where Tomas pointed out the small farms run by the monks, the vineyards perched on the sunny southern slopes and the few cottages scattered about. But everywhere they went it was the utter peace that caught Jess’s imagination. No wonder a man like Richard Kendall, who had wanted to escape the world, had come here to live.
By Thursday evening she had done a lot of work on Monserrat and got absolutely nowhere with her real project. Tomorrow evening she was going to Barcelona. She dared not put that off, for apart from wanting to see Rafael he was not a man to take no for an answer easily and would undoubtedly come storming up to the village himself to see what she was really doing.
Then her eye fell on the silk scarf. It was not much of an excuse, but for want of a better one it would have to do. She washed it overnight and first thing in the morning persuaded one of the maids to iron it for her. Her arm still felt a little strained without its support, but she was able to manage fairly comfortably.
As she put on her anorak and walking shoes after breakfast, she was still trying to seek another, stronger excuse to go up the mountain again. Her welcome was by no means assured just by handing over the scarf. And then she felt something pushed to the bottom of her holdall.
In triumph she pulled out a duty-free bottle of whisky. She had intended to give it to Rafael, or his mother, but when she saw the luxury of their home it seemed much too paltry a gift that would have embarrassed her to hand over. So she had put it away. But an Englishman living on a Spanish mountaintop would certainly appreciate a bottle of real Scotch whisky. The good thing about it would be that Kendall would know it had not cost too much and therefore could hardly refuse it as a thank you for helping her. And, with luck, he could hardly send her away with a flea in her ear. She felt very pleased with herself. I don’t like you, Mr. Richard Kendall, one little bit, but I’m going to make friends with you if it’s the last thing I do.
This time when she took the cable car up to San Jeronimo the guide remembered her and greeted her cheerfully. There were also two Americans whom he regaled with the hazards of climbing the rock face and also undoubtedly because he found them a little stuffy he told them how the same cable car had been stuck half way up for eight whole hours.
This time Jess gave the ten-minute trip up to the sky her full attention and though she was not particularly frightened by the guide’s much relished story, she was appalled at the idea of men risking their lives to climb a thousand-foot wall. Strange that Richard Kendall was a climber. One would have thought that a man who needed his hands so badly would have been afraid to damage them.
As she started on the walk to his house the sky suddenly clouded over and there was a distant rumble of thunder. The first drops of rain fell as she rounded the corner to where the almost hidden path took the final hundred yards. To her dismay there was no reply to her repeated knocking.
By now the skies had opened and within minutes she would have been drenched, for the nearest alternative shelter was probably the housing of the cable car. The trees—had they been near enough—would have been little help. She made her decision quickly so there would be no uncertainty later. She pushed open the door and went in.
When she had been there three days ago she had felt so strange that she had been hardly aware of her surroundings. She saw now that what she had thought of as a ‘house ‘was really a single room with a small lean-to behind it that served as both kitchen and bathroom. In that was merely an improvised sink and a Primus stove. In the main room were only the bare essentials, a narrow bed, two chairs, a cupboard and a rough wooden table whose main duty was as a desk.
She did not want to pry, but she could not help seeing the mounds of papers and a battered old typewriter, the result of which appeared to be just about the worst typing she had ever seen.
She did not know quite what to do, whether to stand half in the doorway as if she literally was just sheltering, or sit down where she had sat before and in a sense, make herself at home. The room was very silent except for the rain drumming on the roof. She had a feeling that he could not have gone far; the room had the air of being left very recently and was only waiting for its owner to return.
Well, wherever he had gone he was going to be extremely wet when he came back. On impulse she went out to the kitchen, found a jug of water with which she filled the kettle. She was still struggling with the Primus stove when the door behind her slammed. She jumped guiltily to her feet and, as he came through, said rather lamely, ‘I thought you’d probably be very wet, so I was making some coffee.’
He stared at her as though he was wondering for a moment where he had seen her before. And because he did not speak, she found herself rushing on. ‘I came to return your scarf and then it started to pour. I suppose I could have stood out in the rain, but I thought you probably wouldn’t mind...’
‘No,’ he said gravely, ‘I didn’t actually think you were stealing the family silver—although I must admit you looked guilty enough for it.’
‘Well, I’m not used to walking into people’s houses uninvited.’ She eyed him thoughtfully, forgetting for a moment her wariness of him. ‘You really are soaked, aren’t you? I’ll turn my back and make that coffee if you take off those wet things immediately.’
‘Anything you say, Miss Stevenson. Perhaps you’d pass me my towel from the rail over there. And since you’re making coffee I like mine very strong, black, with three spoonfuls of sugar. I’m afraid we don’t run to milk up here anyway.’
When she turned again, holding the two mugs of coffee he was standing by his desk. He drank his coffee absentmindedly, absorbed already. Probably he had even forgotten she was here. Well, he hadn’t actually been rude, but her plan wasn’t going to work after all. She drank half her coffee and reached for her still damp anorak.
He seemed to be aware of her movement and regarded her with those strange dark eyes. ‘Where are you going?’
She swallowed. ‘Back where I came from. I only came to return your scarf and...’
‘It’s still raining,’ he said patiently. ‘I thought you also came in here for shelter.’
‘Yes, I did, but ... well, you do tend to make it clear how unwelcome people are.’
His look this time was one of mild surprise. ‘So I do, but that doesn’t mean I’m cold-blooded enough to throw you out. You can sit down, finish your coffee and admire the view. That’s something never to grow tired of. Besides, I want to work but I can’t. That’s why I went out this morning.’
‘Can’t? I don’t understand.’
‘You may have gathered that I’m not always a patient man. I bought a typewriter and I expected to be able to type immediately. I find I can’t and I don’t like it, particularly as I wanted to get something down to Barcelona tonight.’
‘You could write whatever you had to,’ she pointed out.
‘Ah, but you haven’t seen my writing. Anyone transcribing this could make some bad errors. And in research that’s something you can’t afford to do.’
She glanced at the page he held up and shuddered.
Jess drained the last of her coffee, took off her anorak again and stood up. ‘I see what you mean about both the typing and the writing. In that case it would probably be better if you dictated to me. I’m not all that fast, but it would be quicker in the long run.’
‘No, you couldn’t do that,’ he said sharply.
‘Why not?’ she challenged him.
‘Because perfect strangers don’t usually walk into my house and offer to do my typing, I suppose.’
‘I’m not a perfect stranger,’ she pointed out, ‘you’ve spent one whole hour in my company. Anyway, that’s not your real reason for refusing, is it?’
&n
bsp; ‘No.’ For once she could see she had him floored. ‘I’d better be honest with you. The work I’m doing is very private. I told myself that no one would touch it except myself and the man to whom I send it.’
Jess had a sudden lift of hope. Was she getting through to him at last?
She pushed back her thick fair hair, a gesture she always used when she was a little excited. ‘Well, apart from the fact that what you’ve got written there looks like a lot of double dutch and I wouldn’t understand it anyway, I’ve always been taught that the work you perform for someone else is always intensely private.’
‘Yes,’ he said slowly, ‘I’m beginning to think you would look at it that way. I’m used to people who...’ He stopped himself abruptly.
‘Well, I don’t know what sort of people you’re used to,’ she said gently, ‘but most of those I know are honest and have integrity. Well, do you want me to do the work for you, or shall I go now?’ And she held her breath, knowing in this moment that his answer could mean the complete failure of her mission.
CHAPTER V
It seemed an interminable time before he said: ‘My friends—if I had any—would tell me not to look a gift horse in the mouth. If you’re foolish enough to make an offer like that, then I would be equally foolish to refuse it. Sit down, Miss Stevenson, on the not very comfortable chair, and tell me what equipment you want.’ Jess felt her sigh of relief must be audible as she sat down and started to clear a space for herself on the cluttered table.