The Mermaid Garden

by Santa Montefiore

  “Sit down!” commanded the man. “Or you’ll make me crash.”

  “Where are you taking me?” she demanded. When he didn’t reply, she began to sob. “You’re not taking me to Dante, are you?” She stared out of the rear window as the dog slowed down to a trot and grew smaller and smaller, until he was a little dot on the tarmac. “What are you going to do with me?” Still he didn’t answer. He had his orders. He clutched the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

  The following day it poured with rain. Dante waited for Floriana under an umbrella by the wall, as they had arranged. He paced up and down, up and down, every now and then looking at his watch, wondering why she didn’t come. Good-Night stood in the middle of the road, ears back, tail between his legs, as restless as his master. He whined, trotting in circles as Dante grew ever more anxious, but he had no way of letting his master know what he had seen.

  Heavyhearted, Dante drove into Herba. He encountered Signora Bruno at the door, but she was as mystified as he was. She had assumed the girl had gone to see him.

  He found Elio drinking at the bar in Luigi’s. The old man was sobbing into his glass. “I’ve lost my daughter,” he wailed.

  “Where has she gone?” Dante demanded.

  “Just like her mother,” said Elio.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Run off with her lover.”

  “What lover?”

  “A man she met at the market.”

  “You’re confused,” snapped Dante.

  “No, she’s a whore!” The old man cackled. “And you thought the child was yours. Ha! That’s the funniest part of the story. I’d laugh if I wasn’t so bloody miserable. Just like her mother. Now I am well and truly alone.”

  Dante left the bar reeling. He knew in his heart that what Elio said could not possibly be true. The man was drunk and hallucinating. He had to find her, but where in the world would he start looking?

  When he arrived back at La Magdalena, Good-Night was waiting for him at the gates in the pouring rain. At first Dante barely recognized him: he was sodden and bedraggled, and the fur about his face was gray, making him look old and sad. Dante climbed out of the car and ran over, lifting the animal into his arms. But as he staggered back to the car he was overcome with loss and sank to his knees. He buried his face in the dog’s soggy neck and cried.

  “Where is she? Where has she gone?”

  Good-Night wriggled out of his embrace and limped into the middle of the road. Then he lay down with a whine and placed his head between his paws.

  29.

  Devon, 2009

  Rafa awoke to Biscuit jumping onto his bed with an enthusiastic leap. For a second he defended himself, forgetting about the rescue the evening before. Then, just as suddenly, it all came rushing back, and he laughed, pulling the dog into his arms affectionately.

  “Oh, it’s you, Biscuit!” he said in Spanish. “You want to go out, I suppose?” Biscuit seemed to understand, for he sprang off the bed and waited by the door, wagging his tail.

  Rafa dressed and made his way downstairs with his new companion. The hotel was gently stirring to life. He could hear the creaking of the water pipes beneath the floorboards and the gentle clatter from the dining room where a few early risers were already having breakfast. Shane was in the hall with Tom, while Jennifer was at reception, checking her mobile telephone for messages. When Biscuit clattered down the stairs, they all stopped what they were doing and greeted him enthusiastically.

  “He’s none the worse for his fright,” said Shane, giving him a firm pat.

  “He’s had a good sleep,” Rafa informed him.

  “Isn’t he adorable?” Jennifer gushed, crouching down to tickle his ears. “I’m glad he’s allowed to stay.”

  “By the skin of his teeth,” said Tom with a smirk.

  Rafa took Biscuit round to the front of the hotel and watched him run down the lawn. It was a beautiful June morning. The sky was veiled in a light mist, the sun already burning through to reveal patches of blue. He put his hands in his pockets and thought of Clementine. The mental picture of her made him feel light inside. He imagined her smile and the way it transformed her face. Then his thoughts clouded a moment as he remembered why he had come. He knew it wouldn’t be in his interests to get too close, especially at this stage. But he was beginning to feel a warm sense of belonging, and he was beginning to care. The thought of seeing her later filled him with anticipation, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to wait until the end of the day. He strode into the vegetable garden while Biscuit sniffed the ground excitedly, taking in all the new, unfamiliar smells.

  Rafa pulled out his BlackBerry. He felt the urge to call her, just to hear her voice. He scrolled down to her number and pressed it. It rang a few times before going through to her answer machine. He grinned as he listened to her recorded message: “Hi, it’s Clemmie. Not a good moment. Sorry. You know the drill.” There followed a long bleep.

  “Buenos días, Clementine,” Rafa said. “I’m in the garden with Biscuit. It is a beautiful day. I don’t feel right taking our dog for a walk without you. He’s just found a very interesting hole in the grass. Luckily, it is not big enough for him to climb into. We need to buy him food, no? Let me know when you are free. Have a good day in the office. Ciao.”

  As he hung up, he saw Biscuit accosting Harvey as he came out of his shed at the bottom of the vegetable garden. The old man was surprised to see a dog on the property and looked around anxiously to see where he had come from. Rafa hurried down to explain. “Ah, Rafa. Does this little fellow belong to you?”

  “He’s called Biscuit. Clementine and I rescued him from the rocks last night.”

  “Has Marina seen him?” Harvey looked concerned.

  “She says we can keep him.”

  “She does?”

  “Yes. She wasn’t too happy about it, but his owner tried to murder him.” Rafa shrugged. “I guess she felt sorry for him.”

  “I’d keep him away from her as much as possible, all the same,” Harvey advised. “I think she’s afraid of dogs.”

  “A bad experience in the past perhaps.”

  “Perhaps.” He bent down to stroke him. “Affectionate dog, isn’t he? I don’t think it’ll be long before he wins her over.” Then he spoke to Biscuit. “You’re not going to frighten anyone, are you?”

  “I don’t think he’ll see off Baffles, do you?”

  Harvey chuckled. “You’re right about that. He’s no rottweiler. Still, a dog is better than none. He may surprise us and bring the thief in by the collar.” Rafa watched him straighten his tweed cap then walk slowly up the garden. Biscuit ran off in the opposite direction, and Rafa was left no alternative than to follow him.

  As he walked down the path to the beach his BlackBerry bleeped with a message. He knew it was from Clementine before he pulled it out of his pocket, and his heart swelled with joy.

  Good morning indeed! You’re out early. We’ll have to train Biscuit to sleep in. Pick me up after work and we’ll go together. Don’t forget to bring the client. He might be choosy. C

  He returned to the hotel with a spring in his step. Jennifer informed him that a group of six girls were arriving on the train from London for a hen weekend and might be keen to do some painting. She added that a couple of bird-watchers from Holland were due that evening and might be interested, too. Rafa shrugged nonchalantly. If there were enough paintbrushes, he was happy to tutor them all.

  He breakfasted with the brigadier, Pat, Jane, and Veronica, while Grace had hers in her bedroom. Biscuit lay obediently at his feet, oblivious that he was the subject of their conversation.

  “How could anyone be so cruel?” asked Veronica when she heard how Biscuit had been left in the cave to drown.

  “There are some very nasty people in the world,” Pat added. “Sue McCain says you can’t trust a person who doesn’t like dogs, and I think she’s right. Anyone who ill-treats a dog has a heart of stone.”

&n
bsp; “Hear, hear!” exclaimed the brigadier, winking at Jane, who hid her blush behind her cup of coffee.

  The brigadier and Jane had much in common. Rafa noticed the enthusiasm with which she told him about her childhood in an army garrison in Germany, and how the brigadier listened with great interest, nodding his agreement and reminiscing about his own army days. It was as if they were at a table of their own. He wasn’t surprised when they declared they’d pass on their painting lesson and walk to Salcombe instead. The look that passed between them was at once tender and mischievous. Pat was on the point of suggesting she go, too, when Veronica interrupted briskly, proposing another outing in Grey’s boat. Nothing could tempt Pat as surely as the sea, and the brigadier breathed a heavy sigh of relief and smiled gratefully at Veronica.

  The morning passed slowly. Rafa took his students down to the beach, and they positioned themselves on the rocks to paint the sea. The six girls on their hen weekend giggled and flirted with him so brazenly that they barely touched their paints, while Grace scowled from the other end of the beach and complained about their lack of refinement to Veronica and Pat.

  After lunch, Rafa retreated to his bedroom. He looked out of the window, at the magnificent view of the ocean, which never ceased to capture his attention, when he was suddenly distracted by the unexpected sight of Marina wandering across the lawn towards Biscuit, who lay asleep in the shade of the cedar tree. He remained staring as she trod slowly, hands in pockets, shoulders a little hunched, then stood a while gazing down at him, alone with her thoughts. He wondered what she was thinking—and if it wasn’t fear that made her recoil last night, what was it?

  After a long while, she sat beside him and rested her hand on his head. Rafa could feel the weight of her sorrow as if it fell on his shoulders, too. The dog slept on, but Marina gently stroked his fur, never taking her eyes off him. Rafa could barely take his eyes off her. He wanted to go down and sit with her. He wanted to ask her why the dog made her feel so sad. But he knew it would be intrusive. He didn’t know her well enough—and he didn’t want to break the moment. Eventually, he dragged himself away and went into the bathroom to freshen up for his afternoon lesson.

  Clementine had wanted to tell Joe about Biscuit, but she couldn’t trust herself not to give away the growing feelings she had for Rafa. The two were intertwined: Biscuit was the excuse that would throw them together, and she couldn’t think of the dog without recalling Rafa’s heroism. So, she had made up a story about helping her father with his boat and falling into the sea, which is why she was in his dressing gown with her wet clothes in a plastic bag.

  Joe had bought it, because he had wanted to buy it. If he suspected she was lying, he hadn’t let it show. He had put his big arms around her, and if he had felt her body stiffen, he had ignored it.

  She had spent a long time in the bath, recalling every moment of the rescue—the way Rafa had swum so bravely, the way he had encouraged her so confidently, the way he had cared so deeply for the endangered animal. He had touched her heart, and she had flung wide the door and let him in. Only, he didn’t know that he was in.

  So, why didn’t she just end it with Joe? She had asked herself that question many times, and always got the same answer: but then she’d have no one.

  In the morning love had awoken her early. She had left Joe asleep, spread-eagled in the bed, but she was too wound up to feel any regret. Her belly was full of tingling nerves like the mad crawling of a whole nest of ants. She wasn’t hungry, but she stopped at the Black Bean Coffee Shop anyway, to feel close to Rafa even though he wasn’t there. When she had received his voice mail, her stomach had lurched with excitement. The thought of their afternoon outing to the pet shop had propelled her through her day.

  She had sat at her desk dreamily, half listening to Sylvia whingeing on about Freddie and whether or not he’d ever leave his wife, half replaying the rescue over and over again. She glowed with the infectious light of love, and every man who came into the office sensed it and was drawn to it, leaving with a little sprinkle on his shoulders and a spring in his step. Mr. Atwood lingered as much as possible, hovering around her desk like a mosquito. Clementine barely noticed him.

  Joe telephoned, but Clementine managed to avoid his calls. Sylvia glanced at her suspiciously, wondering why she was too busy to speak to him. But when Rafa appeared at five thirty P.M. with Biscuit, she realized why: The girl was in love—but not with Joe. She felt the air vibrate between Clementine and Rafa like a whole orchestra of violins, and couldn’t help but feel a stab of jealousy. Why didn’t Big Love ever happen to her?

  Clementine cuddled the dog affectionately, recounting to Sylvia how they had saved him from drowning. Rafa rejoined that if he ever found the person who had tied him up in that cave, he’d personally beat him to a pulp. Clementine looked on proudly as Sylvia’s admiration glowed on her face. He was not only handsome, but heroic, too. Biscuit had recovered from the shock of his near-death experience, as only a dog can. He wagged his tail and panted, pushing his nose under Clementine’s hand whenever she got distracted and paused her stroking. He was clearly happy with his new owners.

  Sylvia watched them all leave. She had read about another robbery in the Gazette. A small one, this time, at the private home of Edward and Anya Powell, who happened to be great friends of Grey and Marina. The only thing taken was an enormous diamond engagement ring Anya always put in an ashtray on the kitchen windowsill when she was washing up. The only proof that it was stolen at all and not mislaid was the note saying “Thank you” in the unmistakable hand of Baffles, the gentleman thief. The journalist reporting said there was a chance that it was a spoof, a copycat burglary, for why would Baffles bother to break in for one small piece of jewelry, unless he was getting a buzz out of once again slipping through the net?

  Clementine and Rafa went straight to the pet shop. They filled a trolley with dog food, biscuits, and toys. Rafa pulled treats off the shelves and took them out onto the pavement for Biscuit to sniff. Clementine watched, amused, while Rafa was certain the dog had the ability to choose from the packet what he liked best. She realized she hadn’t ever had such fun. Sure, people made her laugh, but never with such abandon. Most of all she felt she was fun to be with. Rafa brought out the best in her, and she liked who she was when she was with him.

  They stuffed Rafa’s boot with their goods, then drove to Salcombe to give Biscuit a run. It didn’t seem right to take him to the beach where they had first heard him cry for help, so they took him to a pebble beach nearby and let him off the lead to explore freely. They wandered up and down, chatting contentedly, then found a pub nearby and sat outside in the fading sunlight to enjoy a light dinner. Clementine didn’t feel the need to drink copious amounts of alcohol. She no longer felt the desire to lose herself.

  When her phone rang, she looked at the name on the screen and pulled a face.

  Rafa raised his eyebrows. “Joe?” he asked. Clementine nodded. She wished he’d mind, but he simply smiled at her. “Aren’t you going to answer it?”

  Reluctantly, she put it to her ear. “Hi, Joe.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m at a pub with a friend.”

  “The Argentine and his dog,” Joe stated flatly. Clementine was taken by surprise. She hadn’t expected him to know. “I came by your office, but you had already left. Look, Clemmie, we need to talk.”

  “You’re right, we do.” She watched Rafa stroke Biscuit, but she knew he was listening.

  “When are you coming back?”

  “Soon.”

  “We’ll talk then.”

  “Okay.” She hung up. “Sylvia told him I went off with you. He’s not over the moon about it.”

  Rafa sat up and looked at her, his brown eyes full of understanding. She remembered the first time he had gazed into her eyes like that, in the church when she had told him she believed Marina had stolen her father, and he had been as irresistible then as he was now. “You should move back in with your
parents.”

  “I know.”

  “You don’t love him.”

  “That obvious, eh?”

  “I’m afraid you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to see that you used him just to get at your stepmother—and perhaps to get at me, too.”

  She blushed but brushed aside his analysis. “I’ve only just moved in.”

  “That’s irrelevant. You cannot stay in a relationship if your heart isn’t in it.”

  “I’m very proud.”

  “Pride only hurts the proud. Let it go. Everyone makes mistakes; there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s life. But if you hold on to unhappy situations just because you’re too proud to relinquish them, then you’re the fool.” He took her hand in his. “Don’t be the fool, Clementine. You’re way too clever for that.”

  She felt her blush deepen. Nothing else existed but his hand and the feel of his skin touching hers. She tried to act as if it meant nothing, but she was sure her heart was jumping through her T-shirt like a cricket trying to find its way out. He was looking at her so intensely she could barely hold her ground, but she was determined not to look away. “You’re a very special girl,” he said softly. “The trouble is, you don’t see yourself that way. You have to start looking at yourself through my eyes.”

  “What do you see?”

  “I see a very beautiful smile. I see blushing cheeks and pretty blue eyes, but I see beyond all that to the person you are inside, and I like that person very much.”

  Clementine shuffled on the bench. “I don’t know what to say.”

  He shrugged. “Then don’t say anything at all. I’m simply stating things the way they are.”

  “Do you say these things to everyone?”

  “Only if I mean it.”

  “But do you see blushing cheeks and pretty eyes in everyone? Or … or …” She hesitated. “Or is it just me?” She laughed to hide her embarrassment.