An Undefended City

by Sophie Weston

  A little breathless at the myriad turns the speech had taken, Olivia said, 'I've never really eaten very much. We used to have Mexican dishes at home sometimes when Mama was alive, but I don't really remember them. And anyway she always had to cook them because our cook got offended if she was asked to and Mama didn't often cook. Since I've been here—' she gave a little laugh, 'I've hardly eaten anything,' she amazed herself at the fact. 'I had a snack yesterday in Mexico, but it was the sort of thing one could buy anywhere in the world. A woman did offer me a sort of pancake on the bus, but I wasn't feeling very well.'

  Barbarita looked at her sharply, but the door opened and Emilio entered with a trolley full of dishes. Olivia jumped up to make room for him beside the bed. The array of food filled her with admiration. Everything was presented on beautiful silver dishes with an insignia which, though she could not quite make it out, was identical on each plate. There was fluffy rice, a stew of some kind smelling delicious, a dish of white fish garnished with red and green peppers, an aromatic salad and a bowl of some brown solid substance like pease pudding.

  `Frijoles, said Barbarita. She pointed with an elegantly-kept finger at the brown goo. 'Beans. They're a peasant dish to which I am very partial. I hope you like them. You must be very hungry.'

  'I didn't think I was, but this all smells so good I suppose

  I must be,' replied Olivia.

  Emilio arranged a tray cloth over the bed covers, on which he placed a sizeable wooden tray and began to serve Barbarita. In spite of the enormous quantities in each dish it was noticeable that he gave her no more than a spoonful of each. He ladled some salad on to a side plate, poured water into a crystal goblet and handed Barbarita a heavy linen napkin.

  Then he carried a table from beside the window and placed it in front of Olivia.

  `Give the señorita a taste of everything, but not too much,' instructed Barbarita. 'Then she can see what she likes. She is not used to our cooking yet.'

  `There is nothing very strongly spiced,' Emilio assured her. 'We took great care.'

  IS it often a problem?' asked Olivia, amused.

  To foreigners, all the time,' said Barbarita. 'We use a lot of chilli peppers in our kitchen and that makes our food very hot. Some of it anyway. And most of our tourists are North Americans. You know the rubbish they eat, with all taste frozen out of it. So they find our food too hot. I don't myself like a great deal of chilli. Of course the peasants use it to disguise the tough old meat, quite often. But even a little can be quite a shock if you don't expect it. The fish has chilli in it, but that's all, isn't that true, Emilio?'

  The manservant agreed. 'But only a little, señorita. Don Luis told us that you are new to Mexico. So welcome.' He put the plate in front of her with a certain stately enthusiasm. `And buen apetito.'

  `Thank you, Emilio. We don't need you any more—the señorita can serve herself now. We will ring.'

  He bowed and retreated, leaving Barbarita reviewing Olivia with sharp eyes.

  `That's very interesting,' she murmured. Then with a flourish of a fork she encouraged Olivia, 'Well, eat up, child, eat up! If you're going to marry Luis you'll have to get used to Mexican cuisine.'

  Olivia started and blushed; a fact which was not lost on Barbarita.

  'Er—yes,' she said, making great play with tasting the fish. It was certainly highly spiced and she gasped in spite of having been warned. Emilio had left her two glasses, one with wine and one with water, and she took a long gulp of the latter. However, there was a pleasant aftertaste to the fish and when she had swallowed the shock and her eyes had stopped watering she tasted another small piece, albeit cautiously.

  Barbarita continued with her own meal, watching her narrowly, a fact of which Olivia was entirely conscious. She had not forgotten that Barbarita thought she was going to marry Luis. Yet again it occurred to her to wonder' how the old lady had come to make such an assumption. It seemed very strange, even if Luis did not normally bring girls to visit her, unless she had been told by someone that such was

  the case. And the only person who could have told her was Luis. Could it be that he was so determined to marry her that he had informed Barbarita before actually asking herself? And if so, why?

  The little maid in Mexico had more or less told her that he was courting another girl. In her preoccupation Olivia forgot both Barbarita's stare and the food in front of her. Her fork dropped and she sat staring ahead with a perplexed and worried expression.

  There was even a name—Anna something. But that could be servants' gossip. The little maid might not have known anything very much, especially as Luis did not live in the house. But it was all very strange and puzzling.

  She found she was no longer hungry and pushed the plate away.

  `Is it too hot for you?' asked Barbarita, the perfect hostess.

  `What?' A thousand miles away, Olivia jumped as she was thus recalled to her surroundings. 'Oh no, not at all. It's delicious. I just don't seem to be as hungry as I thought I was. I hope Emilio won't be offended.'

  `It is more likely to be the cook who minds,' said Barbarita drily, and then, relenting at Olivia's conscience-stricken expression, 'No, really, my dear, it could not matter less. We are quite used to it, as you have heard. And no doubt you will become accustomed to the food in time. Of course,' she went on airily, 'Luis's mother is Spanish and they have never really adopted the local culinary style, so you will have no difficulties at home with Luis. It is only when you go out that you will have to brace yourself.'

  `But it truly is delicious,' protested Olivia, her colour rising again.

  `You are very kind to say so, my dear. You must tell Emilio. All the servants are very interested in Luis and they wanted to do their best for his future wife. Of course if we had had more notice that you were coming. . . .' She let the remark hang delicately in the air.

  There was not going to be any way of avoiding discussion of Luis Escobar. Feeling a little sick, Olivia realised that she had no idea what he had told Barbarita or how much of his

  story he expected her to support. Deciding that attack was therefore the only feasible method of defence, she looked levelly at her inquisitor.

  `What is it that you want to know, señora?'

  The old hands ascribed a graceful arc. `Barbarita, please. And I would not dream of enquiring into your private affairs.'

  `Oh, of course not,' agreed Olivia, relieved. Perhaps she was to be let off after all.

  `It is just that I am very fond of Luis.' Barbarita stared rapturously at the window. 'The sunshine is truly beautiful, don't you agree? I had the windows altered specially so that it would come into the room. Mexicans build their houses so dark, as a rule. Where was I?'

  `With your fondness for Luis,' prompted Olivia, faltering slightly over his name.

  Barbarita narrowed her eyes and contemplated the curtains of her bed.

  `Yes, of course. I have known him since he was a child. He was born in my house. When they arrived here they had nothing, you know. It was during the Civil War. Luis's father, Eduardo, he was not much more than a boy—just out of university with a lot of silly republican ideas. It broke his poor father's heart, because they were a very old family and Eduardo would inherit the title eventually.'

  `Title?' said Olivia, startled. `Do you mean that Luis . . .?'

  `Oh no. Luis is not the eldest son and anyway they never used the title here. It is too stupid to be calling yourself a Conde of some place that you can never go back to and don't own any more anyway. But it is Luis's elder brother who is the Conde now—Victor.'

  `Oh, I see. I didn't know.'

  `About the title or about his brother?' Barbarita withdrew her gaze from the curtains and subjected Olivia to a piercing survey that, while it was not malicious, was sufficiently powerful to make her quail. 'Tell me, Olivia, how much do you know about Luis?'

  Olivia hung her head. 'Very little,' she acknowledged, defeated. She hoped that he had not lied to Barbarita and

&n
bsp; that she was now exposing him by this admission. 'I only met him on Friday—no, Saturday morning. The flight arrived after midnight.'

  Barbarita sat bolt upright in bed and the tray slid off her knees to the edge of the bed. Olivia caught it and transferred it to Emilio's trolley.

  `Two days !' exclaimed Barbarita, stupefied. 'But how on earth can you be prepared to marry him on an acquaintance like that?'

  `I'm not sure that I am,' Olivia defended herself.

  `Is this something that Octavio has put together?' snapped Barbarita. 'Yes, yes, I know you're his niece. It's all very well Luis saying Octavio has been kind to him. I've known Octavio all my life and he never does anything except for profit'

  Olivia blinked, not so much at the accusation which was very much what she had heard from other sources on her Uncle Octavio, but that Barbarita was so closely acquainted with him.

  `No, no,' she assured her. 'In fact my uncle wants me to marry his son. That was why he insisted that I come to Mexico. I didn't realise—what a liability I was and how they were going to have to secure my future so that I could be looked after—' She stopped. 'Which meant that poor old Diego had to marry me.' She looked up at Barbarita. 'I was furious,' she said simply. 'I mean, I know I'm not the last of the great adventurers or anything but I'm not helpless. So I walked out. I thought I'd show them I could look after myself. I thought they were very impertinent to be arranging things like marriage for me.' She sagged suddenly and the fire went out of her. 'Only of course, as Luis successfully proved yesterday evening, I'm not capable of looking after myself.' A rueful note made itself heard. 'It was all words and wind, and I need looking after quite as much as my damnably conscientious family thinks I do.'

  There was an unconscious pathos in the statement which moved Barbarita more than tears or protestations would have done.

  `You'd better tell me all about it,' said that lady. She

  patted the bed invitingly. 'Come and sit down here and begin.'

  Olivia was horrified. Aunt Betty had never sat on the edge of beds herself, nor ever allowed anyone else to do so. `But the springs !' she protested.

  `I think the springs are strong enough after all these years to survive a little extra pressure. Especially from a little thing like you.' And, as Olivia still hesitated, 'Stop hovering, child, and do what you're told!'

  Olivia did so. She also poured out her story in not very coherent form, but at length. Barbarita seemed to find little wrong with it. From time to time, when the account became too involved for human understanding to decipher, she would interpolate a clarifying question, but otherwise she left Olivia severely alone in her narrative. Once or twice she exclaimed in surprise. And when Olivia explained how she had overheard Aunt Betty telling Luis about the plans for her future she became deeply thoughtful.

  `Did she know you were listening?' she asked.

  Olivia stared. No, of course not. Or at least . . . I don't know, but I shouldn't think so. It would be stupid, wouldn't it? To break it to me like that.'

  `Somewhat undiplomatic,' agreed Barbarita. `So why Luis?' she mused. 'What was it to do with him? Unless,' with a sharp glance at Olivia, 'he had already shown signs of wanting to carry you off.'

  `Oh no,' said Olivia with complete conviction. 'He can't possibly have done. We'd hardly met.'

  Hmm. Well, carry on.'

  And she did so. The account of her bus journey amused Barbarita a good deal and elicited such warm admiration from her that Olivia's spirits began irrationally to lift.

  When she came to the end of her tale she sat looking at her hostess hopefully.

  `It sounds to me,' opined that lady, 'as if you have had a rather adventurous few hours. Topped off with a proposal of marriage which you say was completely unexpected.'

  `Totally,' agreed Olivia.

  `And you had never met Luis before this weekend.'

  `Never.'

  Barbarita pondered, tapping her forefinger against her chin in a pantomime of a quandary. Then she said with apparent irrelevance, 'How much do you know about Luis? About his family and his circumstances, I mean?'

  `Why, nothing.' Olivia was at a loss. 'I told you, we've only just met.'

  `Yes, I know that, but didn't he tell you anything at all—not even when he proposed?'

  Olivia frowned in thought. 'He said his father was a big game hunter. He said that on the first night, I think. And that he admired him tremendously.'

  Barbarita sank back against her pillows, sighing. 'Yes, he did,' she said. 'Everyone loved Eduardo. He was so full of life—like Luis, only much more reckless. He used to go off for weeks into the jungles of Yucatan and Eloisa and the boys never knew where he was. He was killed in Africa in the end, hunting lions. A beast that should have been dead was only wounded and when he went up to it, it mauled him. Luis was seventeen then.'

  `How terrible!' said Olivia, her tender heart touched.

  `Yes, it was,' said Barbarita with irony. 'There was no money; Eduardo had been disinherited by his father for his political opinions and Eloisa never had much anyway. For a while they got by. They had plenty of friends who helped them and Eloisa gave music lessons. And then Victor had begun to work about a year before his father's death. It all should have been all right. But—'

  She broke off, sighing, her face twisted with remembered distress. Olivia deduced that she was one of the friends who had helped the Escobar family. She leant forward and patted Barbarita's hand comfortingly. It was taken and held in a surprisingly firm clasp.

  `But Victor was just like this father. Show him danger and he was off like a donkey after a carrot. Only he didn't shoot animals, he climbed mountains. One day he was careless or the weather was bad, who knows? He fell, anyway. It was in Peru.' The hands tightened on Olivia's. 'At first they thought he would die. They didn't bring him home, they flew him

  straight to Texas. Do you know how much medicine costs in the United States, Olivia? And Luis was still at university ! Victor was insured, but not for enough. So his mother went to his employer—your uncle Octavio?

  `Nobody told me,' said Olivia in a small voice.

  `They should have done. It was principally your mother who helped, by all accounts. It must be nearly fifteen years ago now, but Eloisa told me that when she arrived the family was at dinner. Everyone—your grandfather, your aunt— there was a celebration because your mother was home. Octavio didn't want to help, but your mother persuaded him. She said they were all so happy they could afford to spread some happiness among those who weren't. Not that there was any way to make Eloisa happy, with a dead husband and a paralysed son. But she was always grateful to Carlotta for that.'

  `I'm glad,' said Olivia. She turned her head away so that Barbarita should not see she was weeping. 'Did he—recover?'

  Barbarita sighed. 'Oh yes. Paralysed, of course. He's been in a wheelchair ever since. He and Eloisa live together. Luis bought them a house in San Angel, that's the old part of Mexico City. It has a garden and everything. Victor has a man to look after him and a bedroom on the ground floor. Like his mother he's a musician—he composes for the guitar. It's not a bad life, since Luis became successful. At the start when they all lived together in a poky little flat it was dreadful.'

  `So Luis is responsible for them?'

  `Wholly.' Barbarita's tone was unequivocal. 'And that's why he still works for your uncle when he should have struck out on his own years ago. You see, Octavio put him through university, although he wanted to leave at once and get a job to support his mother and brother. But Eloisa insisted that he stay on and Victor backed her up. Luis has always listened to his brother. And when he left, of course, he went to Octavio's company. He's a first class engineer with a brilliant inventive mind,' Barbarita became bitter, 'and they take all his designs and market them under

  the company's name. Oh, they've promoted him now, and Octavio lent him some money to start a company about eighteen months ago, but it took a long time. And now that they call him Octavio's person
al assistant, he's used like a lapdog. For instance, making him meet you at the airport. That's a job for a chauffeur, not a professional engineer. But Octavio knew it would humiliate him. Octavio has never forgiven him for being a better engineer than he is.'

  Olivia shrank at the suppressed fury.

  `Do you—do you know my uncle?'

  Barbarita shot her a look. 'Rather better than you, I suspect. I knew him very well when Luis first went to work for him. Recently—oh, I don't see many people, but here in Guanajuato, and I'm quite happy not to. Your uncle was never one of my fervent admirers anyway. I was always urging Luis to leave and he didn't like that.'

  `Why did you want him to leave?'

  Barbarita pounded her fists on the sheets. 'He was too young to waste himself. He never told his family, of course, but I knew how frustrated he used to feel. There were weekends when he went off on his own and went wild.'

  Olivia was feeling more and more out of her depth. She could fully appreciate how tied down Luis must have felt by his obligation to her uncle. And she knew her uncle well enough to be sure that, if Luis ever showed signs of resentment, he would have been reminded of that obligation. It was not unlike her own situation. But she could not imagine how a man of such strength of character had tolerated it and began to fear that he might take refuge in excesses which terrified her by the very fact of their being unimaginable.

  `How do you mean, "wild"?' she therefore asked in no little unease.

  Barbarita shrugged. 'Oh, as young men usually are I suppose. Fast cars, wine, girls. . . . And with Luis there was always this passion for danger, too, like his father. I used to dread what would happen. But he has a strong sense of responsibility and he knew Eloisa and Victor depended on him. So he always came back. Octavio probably never even knew he'd been away. Octavio thinks he's as tame as a