The Man in the Shadow

by Jan Andersen

  They dined out at a local clifftop restaurant and the wine must have mellowed Ana, for she laughed and talked as naturally as any girl. It was only when she and Jess came face to face last thing at night outside the bathroom they were to share that she dropped her guard a little.

  ‘I told Tomas to ask you if you really intended to marry Rafael. But when he returned he would not give me a straight answer. You seem to have bewitched him also.’

  ‘If you want to know,’ Jess returned calmly, ‘why don’t you ask me yourself?’

  ‘Well, are you?’

  ‘I think so, although we shall certainly make no announcement until I have finished my work here.’

  ‘Work,’ the other girl sneered, ‘surely it is just an excuse to stay over here.’

  Jess took a deep breath, determined to keep her temper. ‘If I wanted an excuse like that I would have found myself a job in Barcelona rather than on the top of an inaccessible mountain.’

  Ana went on casually, ‘Did Rafael tell you I know the owner of the hotel very well? He is the father of a friend of mine. No, perhaps he does not know, or has forgotten. Well, my friend tells me there is a mysterious Englishman living in solitude up in Monserrat. No one knows his business or why he is there. Do you know, Jess?’

  Jess looked into those cool, dark eyes and did her best not to look away guiltily. It would be just like Ana to probe into something that did not exist and come up with the wrong answers.

  Jess kept her voice as calm as possible. ‘Yes, I too have heard there is an Englishman up there. I think it was one of the waiters who mentioned it... no, the man who controls the cable car. Surely, if a man comes to somewhere like that for privacy then it should be respected.’

  Ana shrugged, then, like lightning, changed the conversation. ‘Rafael’s mother won’t allow it, you know.’

  ‘Allow what?’ Jess’s brain was moving rather more slowly.

  ‘Why, you to marry her beloved Rafael, of course.’

  Jess took a step back. She had had enough of this conversation. ‘I would have thought Rafael was a strong enough man to make up his own mind and stick to it. And please, Ana, don’t let’s cross each other like this. What point is there? I don’t think either you or Senora Gomez will change Rafael’s feelings for me. So why not try to be friends? He has said so many wonderful things about you to me ... why try to spoil things?’

  ‘I suppose he has talked about me as his favourite sister?’

  ‘Well ... yes, but much more as well.’

  ‘I thought so. But I don’t suppose he told you about the way he looks at me sometimes. I don’t think that’s the way a man looks at his sister.’

  Suddenly all Jess’s anger died. ‘Please, Ana, what do you want me to do? I didn’t ask Rafael to fall in love with me and I never expected to fall for him myself. But it’s happened and nothing can change it.’

  ‘You could go home,’ the other girl said bluntly. ‘I know you’ll never be happy, because I know Rafael so well. You will never be able to live up to what he expects of a woman. You’ll want to be independent, to have your own way, to remain English. And Rafael loathes independent women.’

  Jess pushed open the door of her bedroom with a sudden tired gesture. ‘I’m sorry, Ana, but this conversation is not going to help either of us. And I’m tired. I’ve been working quite hard this week. Good night. I hope...’ she paused, ‘I hope we’ll all be able to enjoy what’s left of the weekend.’

  She lay awake for a long time trying to deny to herself the fact that Ana’s words had disturbed her. She tried to see herself and Rafael in three ... five years’ time. If they were to be really happy she would have to change her ways, lose her independence, bow to most of his wishes. But if she loved him enough, would this matter? The answer eluded her before she fell asleep.

  Jess was amazed to find that the following day had none of the overtones she expected. Ana was courteous, gracious and really quite good company. Jess could only be thankful, even if it was all put on for Rafael’s benefit.

  They lazed about for most of the morning, then Jess discovered they were all invited for drinks before lunch at one of the nearby houses. Rafael explained that this was a tradition in the village in the summer, but since several houses were used this weekend they had all decided to get together before the season started.

  ‘You’ll find, darling, they are all friendly people, but informal because that’s the way we like it here. Besides, I’m very anxious for people to meet you—and for you to meet the people who will become your friends.’

  In her room, changing before going out, Jess wondered how formal informal was, knowing how things were in Barcelona. In the end she decided to wear the trouser suit she had packed at the last minute, a clinging affair in soft silk jersey in bold blues and greens. Better to start now the way she meant to go on.

  Ana, in tailored silk, looked at her with raised eyebrows, but Tomas’s expression was full of admiration.

  ‘Oh, Jess, you look wonderful, really English. We keep getting told over here that the English know how to dress. The men, too, but I’m afraid the Spanish men are much too conservative. Isn’t that true, Rafael?’ he added as the older man came in.

  Jess was not entirely sure that Rafael approved, in fact she was sure he did not, but he still introduced her with great pride to his friends.

  The house they went to, a little further along the road and also on the cliff edge, was a more typically Spanish house, built of mellow brick and seeming to be a series of glass patios. Their hosts were a charming middle-aged couple who spoke little English, but the other guests, about fifteen or sixteen, were of all ages.

  Several people asked Jess if she bought her trouser suit in England and wished such things were available in Barcelona, so Jess, although she was not normally a person who liked to stand out in a crowd, was glad this time to be a little individual. All the women here were dressed informally perhaps, but very expensively. Her own simple linens and jerseys would only have shown up like the poor relations, but dressed as she was she felt able to stand up to the frank curiosity of Rafael’s friends.

  When the whole party wandered out from the cool tiled rooms to where chairs had been arranged around a small circular swimming pool in the sun, Jess found herself seated next to an oldish man with very thick white hair who spoke much better than average English.

  She said to him, ‘You must have lived in England?’

  ‘Not for many years,’ he told her, ‘although I return often for holidays. But when I was a young man I did a post-graduate course in one of your big teaching hospitals. Now, my great pleasure is trying to read your medical and scientific journals.’

  ‘You are a doctor, then?’

  ‘Yes, senorita, a doctor. I had dreams of being a great surgeon, but I am an ordinary doctor still.’

  ‘Not an ordinary doctor,’ came Tomas’s voice from above them. ‘He is anything but an ordinary doctor, Jess. He is one of our most famous specialists in Barcelona.’

  The doctor shrugged modestly. ‘Do not listen to him, senorita.’ But he hesitated. ‘I am just thinking of something. I wonder if I could ask you a great favour. A little help.’

  ‘But how could I help you?’ Jess asked curiously.

  ‘Wait, I will show you. I will return in about five minutes.’

  When he came back he was carrying an English magazine, and Jess saw that it was a medical journal. He thumbed through the pages, saying to her, ‘There is an article here in which I am most interested, but I find there are two passages difficult to understand. Would it be an imposition to ask you...’

  ‘Of course not.’ Jess reached over for the paper and as she did so it slipped to the floor. Her companion bent to pick it up and as he laid it on the table she saw that it had fallen open on a different page. She almost gasped aloud, for the small photograph at the top of the page was the same one she had in her file at Monserrat. It was of Richard Kendall.

  CHAPTER VI

&n
bsp; ‘Is something wrong, senorita?’ the doctor was looking at her in concern.

  ‘No. No, nothing at all.’ She pulled herself together and reached for the journal. ‘Please tell me what you want to know, although I think Rafael may be of more use to you than I will be.’

  She did her best to help him, although she felt her translation to be rather inadequate, but then, as she was getting up to join the others, he added, turning over the pages of the magazine: ‘Perhaps you know of this young English surgeon. I believe he was very famous in your country.’

  Jess stared down at the now familiar photograph. ‘I ... I don’t know much about medical people, I’m afraid. Travel and newspaper articles are my subjects.’

  ‘Of course. One always expects people to know about the things one is interested in. I have heard that he was living in Spain, that was all. He is a man I would like to meet. I think we could learn much from each other.’ Jess shrugged a little bit and tried to smile away the subject. Ana was standing over them now listening a little too intently.

  Finally, the doctor must have sensed her reluctance to continue the conversation, for he suddenly bowed deeply and thanked her for her help and interest and told her he was sure she would like to return to be with Rafael.

  With relief she crossed the room and on to the terrace, where Rafael and Tomas were talking to some other neighbours. She made a pretence of listening to them, but all the time she was wondering why she should feel so guilty over the casual talk of Richard Kendall. Why she should have to deny that she knew him?

  Well, she had certainly made a promise to Oliver Preston, but most of all she decided it was because Rafael did not know the real reason why she had come to Monserrat. If she could only talk to him, explain to him her problems about getting to know the Englishman...

  For just a moment she was tempted. And so when, during a pause in the conversation, he turned to smile down at her she rushed in and said, ‘Rafael ... I wanted...’

  ‘Yes,’ he said patiently, ‘you wanted?’

  But her promise to Oliver returned forcibly to her. ‘Nothing,’ she said lamely, ‘nothing at the moment. I was just thinking how beautiful it was here.’

  After the usual late Spanish lunch and then a rest, they packed up to return to the city. Jess felt reluctant to leave. She had the strangest premonition she was going back to face something she did not like.

  On the final leg of the journey, from Barcelona to the mountain, she grew rather silent until Rafael said:

  ‘So Ana was right after all?’

  Jess turned to him, puzzled. ‘Ana right? What do you mean?’

  ‘She said that she thought Monserrat was bad for you. That I should try once again to persuade you not to stay up there.’

  ‘I suppose,’ Jess retorted tartly, ‘that she also suggested that I should come and stay in Barcelona for the next three weeks, to be closer to you?’

  ‘That is what she meant, of course. Why do you sound like that, Jess?’

  Jess sighed. ‘Because I’m a woman, I suppose.’

  ‘Ah, then, Ana...’

  ‘Could we please leave Ana out of this?’ She spoke more sharply than she had intended.

  Now it was his turn to look puzzled. ‘Really and truly, Jess, I do not understand you sometimes. I want only your happiness, therefore all my suggestions are for that end. And since Ana is my very dear sister she wants happiness for both of us, therefore I value her advice. She too is a woman, don’t forget.’

  Jess was silent. She could not think of any answer that would not make her sound a bitch.

  Above them, just to the right of the main road, loomed the soaring pinnacles of Monserrat. For just a moment Jess looked up at it and thought, Is it all worth it? Would it not be easier to give in now? She loved Rafael, she wanted to marry him. Why not bow to his wishes and throw the whole problem back at Oliver Preston?

  With a sudden jerk of the car Rafael pulled off the main road, on to a small pull-in, and stopped. He drew her towards him and kissed her soundly.

  ‘Jess, my darling, we do not want to disagree, do we? This is the only real thing that matters—you and me? Am I right?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Then that?’ He jerked his head upwards. ‘Why does it matter at all? If you were a Spanish girl I would think you had a secret lover up there.’

  ‘But I’m not a Spanish girl,’ Jess said shakily, ‘and that’s what the trouble is. A Spanish girl would do exactly what you wanted, because those are the rules. But my rules are slightly different and you don’t understand them. Perhaps even more important, you don’t want to understand them.’

  She saw the brief glint of anger in his eyes and it was then that her resolve hardened. She knew if she gave in to Rafael now, on an issue that was to her important—even fundamental, she would never really be able to live with herself. She accepted the fact that Rafael liked mastery over his women; she even found the idea rather exciting, but complete subservience was not in her nature. She had lived for too long in a country that had fought long and hard for its rights for women.

  Rafael’s hands dropped to his sides and he said coolly, ‘Do not juggle with words, Jess, I do not find it amusing. Nor do I find clever women amusing. I presume you have made up your mind about going up there?’

  ‘Rafael,’ she pleaded with him as gently as she could, ‘let me ask you a question. If you asked one of the girls working for you in your shop to do an important job for you and she walked out on it half way through because her fiancé wished her to, what sort of opinion would you have of that girl?’

  He shrugged angrily. ‘It is not the same thing at all. Besides, I would not be foolish enough to give an important job to a girl.’

  That of course, thought Jess, was the answer. On this sort of point she would never be able to make Rafael understand. But this was no moment to make an issue over a matter of the sexes.

  She leaned across and kissed him. ‘You’re probably quite right, darling, women are fickle creatures. ‘And she added lightly, ‘You may find when I’ve finished this job that I too will become fickle. Now, please, are you going to drive me to the cable car, or are you going to make me walk?’

  For just a second she thought he was not going to respond. Then, as suddenly, he relaxed and smiled the smile that had long ago won her heart.

  ‘I should make you walk, Jess my darling, but I am learning fast and I do not think it would do me much good. In fact, I think I will drive you all the way up to the hotel.’

  Before he left, after darkness had fallen, they stood together in the village square. The wind was cold, but the stars were very bright and the great edifice of the cathedral stood starkly against the bare mountainside. It was very silent and very beautiful, and Jess in that moment could suddenly feel the tremendous pull Monserrat had on people all over the world.

  They clung together for a moment, then as Rafael climbed into the car he said, ‘I’m going to offer you one more piece of advice. Take care on this mountain. It can be dangerous to venture too far. There is a long way to fall. Monserrat is not like other mountains. It has an atmosphere all of its own. I would prefer it if you were here during the summer—when it would be thronged with tourists. Now, you could wander about for a day and not meet a soul. Or, even worse, if you did meet a stranger it might not even be a friendly one.’

  Jess put her fingers to his lips. ‘Rafael darling, I’m not made of glass. I’m a newspaperwoman and I’ve been in many worse places than at the top of a friendly mountain. So please, let’s forget me and Monserrat until next weekend.’

  She watched his car disappear down the steep hill and wondered what he was really thinking. Rafael was a man who would never reveal the whole of his self to any woman. Ana knew this—and accepted it calmly. So why wasn’t she able to? For the second time she cursed silently her meddling in affairs that were nothing to do with her.

  The next day was fine in the morning, but there were sudden sharp showers during the afternoo
n. She did not go very high, but explored the lower paths, visiting the fantastic series of statues that had been carved from the rock. In the afternoon she stayed in her room and worked on a draft of what she had already seen. Tomorrow she planned for a guide to take her through as many of the monastery buildings that were open to her and to start to make a short study of the daily life of a Benedictine monk.

  It proved to be a long and interesting day, but very tiring, so it was not until after seven that Jess lay in her bath thinking about the evening ahead. What would she and Richard Armstrong-Kendall talk about? Or rather, how was she going to get him to talk about himself? Tonight was his way of saying thank you for the work she had done for him. Nothing more. So unless she was to behave like some of the brasher members of her profession, how could she possibly make contact with him again? If she started to pry he would most certainly retire into his shell like the hermit he was trying to be.

  She came down into the little bar looking a lot cooler and self-composed than she felt. She had hesitated a long time in front of the wardrobe, but had finally decided on a long-sleeved silky cotton with a high, demure neckline, and a very short skirt. The skirt, she decided, was for confidence, and the neckline for seriousness. She had let her thick honey-coloured hair hang loose, combing it behind her ears in a straight simple style. When she gave a final glance at herself in the mirror she did stop to wonder just why she was trying to impress him. I have to get through to him, she told herself.