Meet Me Under The Ombu Tree

by Santa Montefiore

  ‘Do you really think she will come back?’ asked Claudia, biting a piece of dead skin from the side of her long painted nail.

  ‘Of course she will,’ Maria replied emphatically. ‘I know she will.’

  ‘Oh.’ Claudia nodded and pulled a weak smile.

  ‘She loved it here too much to leave it for ever,’ Maria said and began to sort through the photographs again. She swallowed hard. Sofia couldn’t leave them for ever, could she?

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I haven’t had the time lately to stick all these into books. It’s quiet this morning, so I thought I’d start sorting through them.’ Then Maria noticed one of Sofia and picked it up. There, that’s a typical photograph of Sofia,’ she said

  and gazed at it sadly. That was the summer she left.’

  The summer she was in love with Santi, thought Claudia bitterly. She took the photograph from her sister-in-law and looked into the brown, radiant face that seemed to grin triumphantly out at her. Claudia saw a certain complacency in her smile. She was dressed in a pair of tight white trousers and brown boots, sitting on a pony holding a mallet casually over her shoulder. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Claudia hated horses and didn’t much like the countryside either. The fact that Sofia had loved both to distraction made her dislike them even more.

  The effort Claudia had made before they married to pretend she enjoyed them had been a complete waste of time. She found out one afternoon when Santi had taken her riding. Sitting stiffly on the pony, utterly miserable, she had finally dissolved into a fit of angry sobs and confessed to hating the very sight of horses. ‘I never want to ride again,’ she had sniffed.

  To her surprise, Santi had almost seemed happy. He had taken her home, put his arms around her and told her that she never had to go near another pony as long as she lived. She had been relieved at first that she no longer had to continue pretending, but later she wished he hadn’t been so delighted.

  Ponies, riding, the countryside - they were part of Sofia’s territory and Claudia believed Santi wanted to keep them exclusive to her. ‘Was Santi always particularly close to Sofia?’ she asked carefully.

  Maria looked at her in alarm. ‘I don’t know,’ she lied. ‘You should ask Santi.’

  ‘He never talks about her,’ she shrugged and lowered her eyes.

  ‘Oh, I see. Well, they were always close. He was like an elder brother, you see, and Sofia was like my sister.’ Maria suddenly felt uncomfortable, as if the conversation was beginning to spin out of her control.

  ‘Do you mind if I look through some more?’ asked Claudia, tactfully changing the subject. She sensed she was perhaps being too inquisitive. She didn’t want Maria going back and telling Santi.

  ‘Here, why don’t you look through these - I’ve already sorted them,’ Maria offered, relieved, and handed one of the neatly marked piles to Claudia. ‘Don’t muddle them with the rest, will you?’

  Claudia sat back in the chair, placing the photographs on her lap, and Maria stole a glance at her while she didn’t know she was being looked at. She was only a couple of months older than Maria, but she seemed much older. Sofia always said that people are born a certain age; she claimed to be eighteen and

  said that Maria was in her twenties. Well, if that were the case, she would probably have said that Claudia was forty. It had nothing to do with her face, which was a rich, smooth, brown colour, she was naturally beautiful, but more to do with the way she dressed and behaved. She had offered to teach Maria how to use makeup to her advantage. ‘What I could do with your face,’ she had said tactlessly. Maria was too nice to take offence. She didn’t want to be painted with those rich colours like Claudia, and anyhow Eduardo would hate it. She wondered whether she slept in it, and if she didn’t she wondered if Santi recognized her in the morning. She was dying to ask, but didn’t dare. There had been a time when she could have asked him anything, but things had changed - only subtly, but they had changed.

  No one had understood why Santi had married Claudia. They liked her enough, for she was pleasant, kind, pretty, but the couple didn’t seem to have anything in common. Like oil and water they didn’t gel. Chiquita had warmed to her immediately, but that was only because she was relieved that he had married at all. She was happy to see her son smile and move on. Oddly enough, the one person Claudia had really bonded with was Anna. They were both cool in temperament and both hated horses. They spent a lot of time together and Anna had taken trouble to make her feel welcome.

  ‘What are you looking at?’ Claudia asked suddenly, without taking her eyes off the photographs. Maria feared she had been aware all the time of being evaluated.

  ‘I’m just curious, you paint yourself so beautifully,’ she replied helplessly.

  ‘Thank you. I did offer,’ she said and smiled down at Maria.

  ‘I know. I think I might have to take you up on it.’ Maria smiled back weakly.

  ‘D/os, what do you look like?’ exclaimed Eduardo in horror when he saw his wife enter for dinner with the face of a salesgirl behind the counter selling Revlon.

  ‘Claudia’s given me a lesson,’ she replied feebly, blinking at him with long, heavy black lashes.

  ‘I wondered what you two were doing locked in there,’ he said, taking his glasses off to clean them on his shirt. Just then, Claudia appeared behind Maria wearing a long black dress, held up by two delicate silver straps.

  lMi amor, you look lovely,’ said Santi, standing up to kiss his wife. He had barely seen her all day.

  ‘Don’t you think you should change out of your jeans for dinner?’ she hissed. ‘You smell of horses.’

  ‘Mama won’t mind. If she’s not used to me now, she never will be,’ he told her and sat back down again. Claudia squeezed in beside him although the armchair wasn’t designed for two. He ran a hand down the back of her hair.

  lMi amor,1 she complained, ‘can’t you wash your hands if you’re going to touch me? I’m all clean.’

  He grinned mischievously and pulled her back and hugged her. ‘Don’t you like the sweat of a red-blooded man?’ he teased.

  ‘No, I don’t,’ she laughed grudgingly, sitting up and shaking him off. ‘Please Santi, I want you to touch me, all I ask is for clean hands.’ Santi got up reluctantly and disappeared out of the room. After five minutes he returned cleanshaven and in a new set of clothes.

  ‘Better?’ he said, raising an eyebrow.

  ‘Better,’ she replied, making room for him on the armchair.

  Dinner was out on the terrace in the light of four large hurricane lamps. Miguel, Eduardo and Santi discussed politics while Chiquita, Maria and Claudia discussed them. Chiquita enjoyed her new extended family and watched their animated faces in the warm glow of the lamps. She always carried a quiet sorrow in her heart for Fernando, miles across the river in Uruguay, but they had been to see him often.

  Fernando was still tormented by his experience. He had let his black hair grow long; at least it was clean and shone like a crow’s wing. She remembered with nostalgia the long summer holidays of his boyhood, when life was innocent, when the games he had played had finished at bedtime. Now he was a long way from home, on a beach, living the life of a stray dog. It wasn’t the same as having him at Santa Catalina but she realised that she should be content that he was alive and not worry about trivial things.

  Panchito, now a lithe seventeen-year-old, spent as much time as he could in other people’s houses with cousins and friends of his own age. Chiquita encouraged him to invite friends home in an attempt to make it more interesting for him, but if he wasn’t shining on the polo field he was elsewhere and much of the time she didn’t even know where he was or whom he was with. She barely saw him.

  ‘What was Miguel like when you met him?’ asked Claudia.

  Chiquita laughed. ‘Well, he was tall and ...'

  ‘Hairy,’ interjected Santi helpfully. They all laughed.

  ‘Hairy. But not as hairy as he is now.’


  ‘Was he lupine, Mama? Did he chase you and carry you off to his lair?’

  ‘Oh Santi, you are ridiculous sometimes.’ She smiled and her eyes twinkled happily.

  ‘Well, did you, Papa?’

  ‘Your mother was being chased by everyone. I happened to be the lucky one,’ he said and winked at Chiquita across the table.

  ‘You were both very lucky,’ said Claudia diplomatically.

  ‘Luck had nothing to do with it. I had to make sacrifices to the ombu,’ he chuckled.

  ‘The ombu?’ Claudia was confused. Maria glanced at Santi and noticed the muscle in his jaw tighten. He pulled a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one.

  ‘Don’t tell me Santi hasn’t taken you to the ombu?’ said Chiquita in surprise. ‘When he was a boy he spent all his time at the very top of that tree.’

  ‘No, you haven’t. What’s so special about it?’ she asked, directing her question to Santi, but he didn’t respond, he just blew the smoke out of his mouth

  in silence.

  ‘We used to make wishes there. We thought it was magic, but it isn’t really. It’s nothing special,’ Maria said quickly, making light of it. She felt Eduardo’s leg press against hers in support.

  ‘It is a very special tree,’ Miguel said gruffly. ‘It’s part of our youth. As children we played there, as grown-ups we dated there. In fact, without being indiscreet, the ombu is where I first kissed your mother.’

  ‘Really?’ said Maria. No one had ever told her that.

  ‘Absolutely. To your mother and me it’s a very special tree indeed.’

  ‘Santi, will you take me there? I’m all curious now,’ Claudia said.

  ‘I’ll take you there sometime,’ mumbled Santi hoarsely. His face appeared deathly white in the flickering light of the candles, accentuating his features grotesquely.

  lMi amor, are you all right? You’ve gone very pale,’ Claudia said in concern.

  ‘I’m feeling a little dizzy actually. It’s the heat. I’ve been in the sun all day.’ He stubbed out his cigarette before getting up from the table. ‘No, you stay and eat,’ he said to his wife. ‘I’ll be fine, I just need to walk around a bit.’

  Claudia looked dejected, but pulled her chair in and placed her napkin neatly

  back on her lap. ‘Whatever you like, Santi,’ she replied tightly and watched him disappear into the darkness. Once more she heard Sofia’s laughter taunting her from out of the black empty space that surrounded them.

  Santi walked across the pampa to the ombu. There was enough light from the clear, starry sky for him to see his way without stumbling, but he knew that terrain without it. Once at the tree he climbed it to the top then sank onto a steady branch and leant miserably back against the thick trunk. He felt a throbbing in his throat as if his collar were too tight, but his collar was undone. He placed a hand there in an attempt to loosen the clamp. His chest also felt compressed and uncomfortable. He tried to breathe deeply, but succeeded only in taking in jagged, shallow breaths. His stomach churned with nausea and his head ached. He looked out into the night and remembered how he used to sit there with Sofia, gazing up at the planets and stars that glimmered above them. He wondered if she could see the same sky and whether she looked up at it and still thought of him.

  Suddenly he began to sob. He tried to control himself, but the sobs spilled out from deep within him. He hadn’t cried for a long, long time. Not since Sofia had left him raw and broken all those years ago. He had thought that finally he had found happiness with another woman. Claudia made him smile, she sometimes even made him laugh. She was warm and soft to make love to, kind and considerate to live with. She was undemanding and uncomplicated. She did everything she could to please him and only lost her temper occasionally. She was cool, her emotions were controlled, but that wasn’t to say she didn’t feel. She felt everything, she was just careful what she revealed. She was quiet and dignified. No one could say she wasn’t beautiful. She looked after herself. So why the hell did he long for the chaos, the selfishness, the passion of Sofia? Why, after all this time, almost ten years, did she still have the power to bring him to his knees to cry like a child?

  ‘Damn it, Chofi!’ he shouted out into the damp night air. ‘Damn you!’

  Claudia wanted to start a family. She was desperate for a child. But he just wasn’t ready. How could he bring a child into the world when he was still hoping Sofia might come back? If he made that commitment to Claudia it would really be a commitment for life. Marriage should be for life, but children were irreversible. He still hoped that one day Sofia might return to him and he wanted to be ready. Everyone thought he had forgotten about her, but he would never forget. How could he forget when her face loomed out from every corner

  of the estancia? Memories of her clung to every part of the ranch, to every piece of furniture. There was no getting away from her, and yet somehow he didn’t want to; she tormented him and gave him comfort at the same time.

  When he returned to the house Claudia was waiting for him, sitting on the bed in her nightdress, her face taut and anxious. She had removed all her makeup; without her lipstick her face was drained of colour.

  ‘Where did you go?’ she asked.

  ‘For a walk.’

  ‘You’re upset.’

  ‘I’m fine now. I needed some air, that’s all,’ he said and began pulling his shirt out of his trousers and unbuttoning it.

  Claudia watched him steadily. ‘You went to this ombu tree, didn’t you?’

  ‘Why do you think that?’ he asked, turning away.

  ‘Because that’s where you always used to go with Sofia.’

  ‘Claudia ...’ he began irritably.

  ‘I saw Maria’s photos - there were lots of you up that tree with Sofia. I’m not accusing you, mi amor, I want to help you,’ she said, reaching out to him, but he continued undressing, throwing his clothes onto the floor.

  ‘I don’t need help and I don’t want to talk about Sofia,’ he said flatly.

  ‘Why not? Why don’t you ever talk about her?’ she asked, her voice suddenly unfamiliar.

  He looked at her rigid features. ‘Would you prefer it if I talked about her? “Sofia this, Sofia that” - is that what you want?’

  ‘Don’t you understand that by not talking about her she hangs over us like a ghost. Every time I get close to you I feel her slipping in between us,’ she said and her voice trembled.

  ‘But what do you want to know? I’ve told you everything.’

  ‘I don’t want you to hide her from me.’

  ‘I’m not hiding her from you. I want to forget her, Claudia. I want to build a life with you.’

  ‘You still love her?’ she said suddenly.

  ‘Where is all this coming from?’ he asked in confusion, sitting down on the bed beside her.

  ‘I’ve been patient,’ she said unsteadily. ‘I’ve never asked about her, I’ve left that part of your life alone.’

  ‘So why are you insecure about her now?’ he asked gently, taking her hand in

  his.

  ‘Because I feel her everywhere. I feel her in the silences when people pause for breath. Everyone’s afraid of talking about her. What did she do that makes people so furtive? Even Anna doesn’t talk about her. It’s as if she’s dead. Not talking about her only makes her bigger, more threatening. I feel her taking you away from me. I don’t want to lose you to a ghost, Santi,’ she said and she swallowed hard, unused to baring her emotions.

  ‘You’re not going to lose me. Not to anyone. It was over years ago.’

  ‘But you still love her,’ she ventured again.

  ‘I love the memory, Claudia. That’s all,’ he lied. ‘If she were to come back we would both have changed. We’re different people now.’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘What do I have to do to convince you?’ he asked, drawing her into his arms. But he knew.

  He suddenly pulled her against him and kissed her deeply, his tongue slidin
g over her teeth and gums, pressing his lips firmly against hers. She caught her breath. He had never kissed her like that before, not with such urgency. He threw her back across the bed and pulled her silk nightdress up to her belly.

  He looked at the soft undulation of her stomach and ran his hand over it, staring at it in silence. She opened her eyes and noticed the strange look that had come over his face. When she caught his eye and frowned his features softened. He grinned at her as she tried to work out his thoughts but then his face was buried in her neck and he was kissing and licking her until she cried out in pleasure. His hands moved firmly between her legs and on her breasts, his touch confident and vigorous, and she writhed as he made her feel sensual in a way she had never allowed herself to feel before. Then he opened his trousers and released himself. Pulling her legs apart he entered her.

  ‘But you’re not protected?’ she asked, her face red and wanton.

  ‘I want to plant a seed, Claudia,’ he replied breathlessly, looking at her seriously. ‘I want to build a future with you.’

  ‘Oh Santi, I love you,’ she sighed happily, wrapping her arms and legs about him like an octopus, pulling him against her. Now you’ll let me go, Chofi, thought Santi silently. Now I really will forget you.

  Chapter 31

  England, 1982

  ‘ “Ribby stared with amazement - Did you ever see the like! So there really was a patty-pan? ... But my patty-pans are all in the kitchen cupboard. Well, I never did! . . . Next time I want to give a party - I will invite Cousin Tabitha Twitchit!”

  ’ Sofia said softly and closed the little book by Beatrix Potter.