“Let me introduce you to Jake, our manager, and my husband, Grey.”
“Father and son?”
“Yes,” said Grey.
“You look very alike.”
“I’m not sure that’s a compliment,” said Jake with a grin.
His father rolled his eyes. “No respect from the young these days! Welcome.” He extended his hand.
Rafa’s handshake was firm and confident. “It’s lovely to be here,” he said happily. “I hadn’t forgotten how beautiful the house is.”
Marina beamed with pride. “I’m so pleased you like it.”
“I will paint it, for sure.”
“And we will hang it up somewhere prominent,” said Grey.
“I can see we’re going to have a whole gallery,” Jake added, not without an edge of sarcasm.
“We’d be so lucky,” added Marina. “Would you like coffee, or to see your room first?”
“I’d like to see my room,” Rafa replied. “Any excuse to see more of this fantastic house.”
He smiled at her, and she couldn’t help but smile back with girlish enthusiasm. She noticed how his mouth turned up at the corners, causing the skin on his cheeks to fold into leonine creases, and wondered why Clementine hadn’t surfaced to meet him.
“Come, let me show you.”
They walked past reception, where Rose and Jennifer stood in suspended animation, their mouths frozen into inane grins. Rafa broke the spell by shaking their hands and introducing himself. They were caught off guard by his confidence and good manners—most people talked to them only when they wanted something.
“He’s gorgeous,” sighed Rose as he disappeared upstairs with Marina, Grey, and Jake.
“They don’t make them like that in this country,” said Jennifer. “I don’t know a single Englishman who has his easy charm.”
“And his accent. I’d like to listen to that on my pillow.”
“Oh Lordie, so would I.”
Their dreaming was interrupted by the loud ringing of the telephone. Jennifer was quick to pick it up. When she heard the familiar voice, she looked mildly irritated. “Oh, hello there, Cowboy. You know you shouldn’t call me at work …”
Marina led Rafa to the top floor, where a bathroom, bedroom, and sitting room made up a cozy suite. “Is this all for me?” he asked, surprised.
“Well, you’re going to be here all summer, and you need space to paint.”
“Qué bárbaro!” He wandered into the bedroom, where Tom had placed one bag on a rack and the other on the floor beside it. There was a dark wood-framed super-king-size bed and elegant lamps on the bedside tables where piles of books were neatly stacked.
“Grey chooses the reading material,” she said, noticing his glancing over the spines.
“Edith Wharton, Nancy Mitford, P. G. Wodehouse, Jane Austen, Dumas, Maupassant, Antonia Fraser, William Shawcross.”
“Do you think you’ll have any time to paint?” Grey asked, smiling proudly as Rafa read out his favorite authors.
Rafa rubbed his chin. “I’m not sure. I might never leave my room.”
“How lucky then that you have the whole summer.”
“I think I’m going to like it here,” he mused, grinning at Marina. “You have very good taste, señora.”
“Thank you. I had great fun doing it. It was a challenge to keep the best of the old and bring in the best of the new without changing the feel of the place. This used to be the children’s floor when it was a private house. There’s a heavenly view of the sea from here.” She walked over to the bedroom window, kneeled on the window seat, and peered through the little square panes of glass set in lead. “You wouldn’t believe the amount of glass panes we had to replace.”
Rafa put a hand on the wall beside her and leaned over. “I love the sea. Having been brought up on the pampa, I find the sea is a great novelty for me.”
“It’s nice to drift off to sleep listening to it crashing on the rocks.”
“Have you always lived here?”
“No, we bought the house eighteen years ago, but I love it like a person.”
“It has so much character. I felt that the minute I first walked in. It must be very demanding, like another child.”
Marina didn’t bother to correct him. Most people assumed that Grey’s children were hers. “It’s somehow more helpless,” she said softly. Once again she felt the weight of foreboding fall upon her heart as she was reminded of why Rafa was here and how much depended on him.
“Let me show you your sitting room,” interrupted Grey, and Rafa followed him down the corridor, leaving Jake and Marina in the bedroom.
“I’m still not sure why you’ve given him the best set of rooms in the house,” said Jake quietly.
“They’re not the best. The first-floor rooms are prettier.” She stood up and faced him.
“Yes, but this is a whole floor.”
“It’s an attic.”
“But what if we get honeymooners who want to book it?”
“Then they have the rooms downstairs. We have twenty rooms, Jake, of which under half are booked so far this summer.”
“We’re going to get busier.”
“It’s all relative.”
“He’s charismatic, but I’m not sure how he’s going to suddenly fill the hotel with wannabe painters.”
“Don’t be so negative. You haven’t come up with any better ideas.”
“Actually, Dad and I are going to start a literary club.”
“Really?”
“Didn’t he tell you?”
“No, he didn’t.”
“We’re going to invite famous authors to come down and give talks.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “It’s a good idea, Jake.”
He looked surprised. “Yes, it is.”
“Have you approached anyone yet?”
“No. But we will soon. Dad and I have to work it all out. It’s only an idea at the moment.”
“Well, you’d better do it quickly or you won’t have a hotel to invite them to speak in.”
“It’s not that bad, is it?”
Marina closed her eyes and sighed painfully. “It’s bad, I’m afraid. I wish it wasn’t true, but it is. We’re sinking into the mud.”
“God, I didn’t know it was that desperate.”
“I don’t suppose your father wanted to worry you.”
“Perhaps you’re overreacting.”
“I wish I was, but I’m not. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep this place. I don’t care how low I have to stoop.”
The men returned to the bedroom as Jake was just stepping out into the corridor.
“Do you like your sitting room?”
“It’s charming,” Rafa replied. “And I like the way you have retained all the old bathroom fittings. It’s so English.”
“Sometimes the old things are better made than their modern equivalents. These fittings have lasted nearly two hundred years; some of the modern fittings last only two before they begin to crack or leak,” Grey explained.
“For sure,” Rafa agreed emphatically.
“We’ll leave you to freshen up and sort yourself out, and wait for you outside on the terrace. Can I get you something to drink?” Marina asked.
“Coffee, thank you.”
“It will be waiting when you’re ready.”
The trio walked downstairs, careful not to talk about the artist while they were in the stairwell, the acoustics being such that the entire hotel could hear conversations there. Rose and Jennifer were still giggling to each other behind the reception desk while Tom and Shane were loitering in the hall, waiting for new arrivals to summon them outside or for the existing residents to appear in the hall and ask directions to the gumboot room or some other part of the hotel, for it was a confusing layout of rooms and guests often lost their bearings.
Marina instructed Tom to tell Heather to bring coffee for all of them. As they walked through the drawing room they greeted a couple of Am
ericans who had come for the weekend, sitting on the comfy sofa by the redundant fireplace, drinking Earl Grey tea. Grey hung back to answer their questions on the history of the house, leaving Jake and his stepmother to walk on through to the terrace.
It was an unusually clear day, with not even the most delicate wisp of a cloud in the sky. The ocean was calm and looked almost as blue as the Mediterranean Sea. Marina sat down and lost her gaze there awhile, her thoughts drifting aimlessly on the gently undulating water. Jake stopped to talk to the waiters, quietly discussing the business of the day, and Marina was left alone to contemplate her predicament.
She was sidetracked a moment by the sight of a grandmother with her grandson, sitting quietly at the end of the terrace, playing Old Maid. Her expression softened as she took in the tender sight. The grandmother let the child win and feigned annoyance at losing. The little boy grinned up at her, his cheeks as rosy as crab apples, and demanded to play again. The grandmother shuffled the cards patiently, as if she had no desire to do anything else but spend the morning entertaining him. Marina envied them with a painful yearning and had to look away.
Jake joined her at last, and Grey appeared with Rafa. She swept the little boy and his grandmother from her vision and settled her attention onto Rafa, grateful for the distraction.
“I see you have supplied paints and paper,” he said, sitting down.
“I didn’t know what you needed, but took the liberty of guessing, based on what Paul Lockwood worked with last year. Our guests will need materials, although some will bring their own.”
“I have brought supplies, too, but thank you.”
Heather stepped out with a tray of silver pots and pretty cups. One of the waiters helped to unload it, placing a plate of biscuits in the center of the table.
“I suggest you take some time to look around,” said Grey. “There are beautiful places here to paint, and Harvey knows all the private houses and hotels nearby if you need to take your students off to paint elsewhere. Last year Paul spent a lot of time in neighboring homes where the gardens are quite spectacular. He relished the diversity, and I’m sure they’d be very happy to have you.”
“Yes, you must take the opportunity to see as much of England as you can. This part of the country is so beautiful, and we know lots of people who have really pretty houses.”
“I will take your advice and see all that I can.”
“Harvey will be your guide,” said Marina decisively. “There’s no one better than Harvey.”
At that moment Clementine appeared in a turquoise kaftan hanging loosely over skinny white jeans. Her hair was scrunched messily onto the top of her head, and she wore no makeup, as if determined not to look like she’d made an effort for the artist who seemed to have already whipped the female members of staff into a froth of excitement.
“Ah, Clementine darling, come and meet Rafa Santoro,” said Grey, giving his daughter an enthusiastic welcome in a subconscious attempt to lift her mood.
Rafa turned round to see the girl he had met a few weeks before in the Black Bean Coffee Shop. Clementine recognized him at once and blushed. Suddenly, she wished she had put on mascara, brushed her hair, sprayed herself with perfume, not worn white trousers or the kaftan, for that matter, and she imploded with anxiety. She didn’t know where to put herself for embarrassment.
Rafa stood up, ignored her outstretched hand, and kissed her coolly on the cheek, as was custom in his own country. “Hello again.”
“You’ve met before?” Marina asked in surprise.
“Yes, after I came here to meet you I went into the town to have a look around. I met your daughter in the Black Bean Coffee Shop.”
“You never told us,” said Grey.
“I didn’t know who he was, Dad,” Clementine explained, her embarrassment translating into defensiveness. She didn’t mean to sound so unfriendly. She wanted to smile but felt gauche. How could she not have bothered to ask more about the artist who was coming to spend the summer? Why had she willfully shown no interest? Now she just looked foolish.
“You made me buy a brownie,” he said. “A naughty brownie.”
“Sounds good,” said Jake.
“It was good.”
“Come and join us,” said Marina as the waiter brought over another chair. Clementine wanted to rewind the scene and start again, but she was left no option but to sit down and continue as she had begun, awkward and self-conscious. She folded her arms and wished everyone would talk among themselves.
“I don’t believe you already know each other,” Marina continued.
“We hardly know each other,” said Clementine. “I told him to buy a brownie and that was it.” She shrugged carelessly, but she hadn’t forgotten her dash back to the office to tell Sylvia she was in love and her certainty that she would never see him again. Well, here he was, and all she could do was scowl at him.
Marina was confounded by her stepdaughter’s sulkiness in the face of possibly the most attractive man ever to set foot in their corner of Devon, and she tried to cajole her out of herself.
“Clemmie loves to travel, don’t you, Clemmie? She’s been all over India. That’s why she’s down here, working to earn the money she needs to go back.”
“I think the best education is traveling the world,” said Rafa. “I admit, though, that I have never been to India.”
That should have been Clementine’s cue to engage in conversation, but she sat back, leaving her stepmother to fill the silence for her.
“Neither have I, though the way Clementine talks about it, when she talks about it, fills me with the desire to go.” She smiled at Clementine kindly, but all the girl could muster was a mumble.
She watched her stepmother chat on effusively, and sighed. Yet another man caught in her silky web.
“I admire people who speak languages,” said Grey. “I tried to encourage Jake and Clementine to learn French, but neither has a particularly good ear for it.”
“That’s because French is a useless language,” interjected Jake. “Only spoken in France and a few small islands far away.”
“I bet you speak French,” said Marina to Rafa.
“Once you know one Latin-based language the others come very easily. I grew up speaking Italian to my parents, Spanish to my friends, and we learned English in school. I’ve picked up a little French along the way but it’s not very good. I’m an excellent bluffer.”
“Your parents are Italian?” Marina asked.
“So many Argentines are Italian,” he replied. “My father left Italy for Argentina after the war. My mother’s family have lived in Argentina for generations.”
“They say it’s a wonderful melting pot of cultures,” said Grey.
“It is,” Rafa agreed. “But we don’t have the culture you have in Europe. It’s fascinating to walk through the streets of London and imagine what it was like in the days of the infamous Tudors. I confess I went to the Tower and just stood and soaked it up, this rich history of yours, for most of a morning. It was time well spent.”
They talked on. Clementine joined in, slowly warming up as Rafa seemed deliberately to include her, though he seemed more interested in Marina. She wondered whether her father ever noticed his wife’s flirting, or whether he was so used to it as not to be bothered. She suspected he was just happy that she was happy, at any cost. Marina’s contentment was of paramount importance to him.
“Clemmie, why don’t you show Rafa around?” Marina suggested. “You’re not doing anything today, are you?” She turned to Rafa. “You’ve already seen the Black Bean Coffee Shop, which is clearly one of the highlights of Dawcomb, so it might be nice to explore a little of the countryside with a guide who knows her way around.”
“One who has no interest in Devon,” Jake added mischievously. “Clemmie makes no secret of the fact that she hates everything about Devon.”
“That’s not fair,” interjected Marina. “Clemmie doesn’t hate Devon. She’s just got her mind on India.”
“Perhaps my enthusiasm will be infectious,” said Rafa, and his eyes twinkled at Clementine as they had done in the Black Bean Coffee Shop. She felt her chest inflate with happiness. “What do you say? Will you be my guide?”
Clementine smiled in spite of herself. It was impossible not to respond positively to Rafa’s uninhibited geniality. “Sure, if you like.”
Marina watched her face open like a sunflower and wished she would smile more often; she was really very pretty when she did.
11.
After they had finished their coffees Grey suggested Clementine begin her tour in order to be back in time for lunch. “Take him on a drive, that way he can get his bearings.”
“Do show him the beach,” said Marina. “It’s such a lovely day, you can walk up and down with your feet in the sea.”
“Make sure you take him to the Wayfarer,” Jake added.
Clementine huffed irritably. “I’ll make my own arrangements, thank you very much.”
“You can borrow my car,” said Grey.
“What’s wrong with my Mini?”
“Well, it’s a little small.”
Clementine turned to Rafa. “Do you think a Mini is too small?”
He shrugged. “You’re the boss. If you were all cooks, you’d have spoiled the cake.”
Marina laughed. “You’re so right. Come on, let’s leave them to it. We’ll see you back at one.”
“Whatever. I’m going to change, Rafa. I’ll meet you in the hall in five.”
Clementine left them on the terrace and found that once she was alone in her bedroom she was able to breathe again.
“Oh my God!” she exclaimed into the bathroom mirror. “He’s delicious. He’s even more delicious than I recall. And he remembered me.” She painted her lashes with mascara and covered up the dark circles beneath her eyes with concealer. “I don’t know why I bother, really. I mean, he’ll never look at me. Why would he? And he probably has a girlfriend already. Men like that are usually taken.” She squirted herself with Penhaligon’s Bluebell eau de toilette. Sighing melodramatically, she watched the excitement stain her cheeks pink.
What will Sylvia say when I tell her that the Argentine I never thought I’d see again has come to spend the summer with us? Is it Fate? Am I destined to fall in love and live happily ever after?
The Mermaid Garden Page 13