‘Honor, tea-time!’ shouted Hazel, walking into the dining room to find the two girls skipping happily round and round as if imagining their own merry-go-round. She caught Honor as she galloped past and helped her out of her lion costume. Honor had specifically asked to wear a ‘pretty dress’ for her tea-party. Sofia had laughed at her early sense of occasion. ‘Now, let’s go and see what Mummy has made for tea,’ she said.
‘Chocolate Crispies!’ cried Honor, her blue eyes widening with glee.
‘Chocolate Crispies!’ copied Molly, stomping after her.
In the kitchen, Sofia was helping the other mothers seat their children. Johnny Longacre was crying, having been hit by Samuel Pettit, and Quid had already licked little Amber Hopkins’s face - which her mother considered extremely unhealthy. She was rushing about like a wasp trying to find a clean cloth with which to wipe the child’s face.
‘Honor, sweetheart, come and sit down,’ Sofia said calmly amid the chaos. ‘Look, aren’t those sandwiches clever? They're in the shape of butterflies.’
‘Can I have a Chocolate Crispie, please?’ Honor asked, stretching her hand out to take one.
‘No, not until you’ve had your Marmite sandwich,’ said Sofia, grimacing as
the smell of Marmite clung to her fingers.
‘Sofia, can you please remove your dog? He’s trying to eat Amber’s sandwich,’ said Amber’s mother in exasperation. Sofia asked Hazel to put Quid in the study, out of trouble. ‘You may as well put me there too,’ she laughed. ‘I’m in such deep trouble you can barely see me.’
‘Sofia, Joey didn’t get a marshmallow. There don’t seem to be any left. Marshmallows are his favourites,’ said Joey’s mother, her plain face creasing up apprehensively, afraid that her beloved boy might have to go without. Sofia thought she looked like one of the eggs that Honor drew faces on at breakfast.
Just then the kitchen door opened and in stepped Zaza, dressed in pale brown suede trousers and tweed jacket, her lips painted into a red scowl as she saw the kitchen full of screaming children and their over-anxious mothers.
‘Good God, what is going on in here?’ she gasped in horror when Sofia clambered over a howling child to greet her. ‘If these are Honor’s friends I just hope she gets more discerning as she grows older.’
Zaza, it turned out, had lasted six weeks in Provence with Ariella and later Alain. ‘I knew when I was no longer wanted,’ she had told David. ‘Alain was adorable, though very vague - he barely noticed us most of the time. Still,
Ariella’s besotted by him, and after I had served my purpose I left them to it and came home.’ Then Tony had told her that she had returned a much more interesting woman, whatever that meant, and he was considering sending her back for a refresher course the following year. Sofia had been pleased things had returned to normal. She had been surprised at how much she had missed Zaza.
This party is turning into a nightmare,’ Sofia sighed, watching the children stuffing themselves with chocolate. ‘One of them is going to throw up any minute, I just know it.’
‘Not over my suede trousers or I’ll wring his little neck,’ said Zaza, stepping back.
‘Why don’t you go and sit in the drawing room, it’s safer in there,’ suggested Sofia.
‘Actually, I came to tell you that Tony is throwing me a birthday party for my fiftieth this summer.’ Zaza smiled broadly. ‘I don’t know whether I should be celebrating or committing suicide - still, it’ll be a summer lunch-party and we’d love you both to come.’
‘Of course we’ll come. It’s not as though we have to go very far, is it?’ she
laughed.
‘Now if you don’t mind I might go and sit this one out. Come and find me when it’s all over, or at least when they’ve all washed their hands and faces.’
Back at the tea-party, Honor’s face was mottled with pieces of chocolate and cake. Her fair curly hair was studded with Smarties, put there by a sweetly enamoured Hugo Berrins, who was now flicking jelly at the other children, not so sweetly. Sofia rolled her eyes and leant back against the sideboard with Hazel.
‘Do you think Honor will ever look the same again?’ she said wearily. She had noticed she’s been feeling very tired recently.
Hazel smiled and placed her hands on her wide nurse’s hips. ‘If it weren’t for that little monkey,’ she said, pointing to Hugo Berrins, ‘she’d look as clean as if she’d just been bathed. I’ll take her straight up once they’ve all gone and wash it all away.’
‘She has enjoyed it, though, hasn’t she?’
‘She loves being the centre of attention. No one loves being adored more than Honor.’
‘Oh dear, I know where she gets that from,’ laughed Sofia wryly.
Finally the mothers wrapped their children in their heavy coats and led them out into the March evening, shouting to Sofia, ‘See you at school on Monday.’ Sofia waved them off, delighted to see them go and determined to do something different for Honor’s fourth birthday. ‘I don’t think I can cope with this again next year,’ she said to Hazel. ‘Perhaps we’ll just have a small tea-party.’
‘Oh, you’ll go through it again, Mrs Harrison. It always used to surprise me how mothers would put themselves through that sort of chaos year after year. But the little ones love it, don’t they?’ Hazel took a sleepy Honor by the hand and led her up the stairs to be bathed. Sofia kissed her little nose, which was the only part of her face not covered in chocolate and jelly, before crossing the hall in search of Zaza.
Zaza was beside the fire listening to music, smoking a cigarette and reading a book on Argentine estancias.
‘What’s that?’ asked Sofia, sitting down beside her.
‘It’s a book called Estancias Argentinas - I thought you might like it,’ said Zaza.
‘Where did you get it?’
‘Eddie gave it to me. He’s just come back. He’s had a wonderful time
playing polo out there.’
‘Really,’ said Sofia impassively.
‘What a beautiful book. Was your house like these?’
‘Yes, exactly like those.’
‘You know, I think Eddie was playing with a friend of yours,’ said Zaza. ‘In fact I know he was, because Eddie said they talked about you. In fact, they’re over here now, in England. He’s a professional. He said he knew you.’
‘Who was that?’ asked Sofia, not sure that she wanted to know.
‘Roberto Lobito,’ replied Zaza, narrowing her eyes and watching for Sofia’s reaction. Eddie had said that Sofia had apparently had a scandalous affair with someone her parents had disapproved of and that is why she had left. She wondered who that man might have been. Sofia relaxed her shoulders and Zaza crossed Roberto Lobito off the list of suspects.
‘Oh, him,’ she said and chuckled. ‘He was always a good player, even then.’ ‘He’s married - an exquisitely beautiful woman. They’re over here now until the autumn, I believe. I hope you don’t mind but I asked them to my party.’ ‘Right,’ said Sofia. Zaza blew the smoke out of her nose then waved her hand in front of her to push it away from Sofia who hated cigarettes.
‘I don’t think I’ve seen a more beautiful woman than Eva Lobito,’ she sighed, taking another deep drag.
‘Eva Lobito?’ Sofia recalled Eva Alarcon from all those years ago and wondered if it was the same person. She had only ever known one Eva.
‘What does she look like?’ she asked curiously.
‘White-blonde hair - like an angel’s. Long face, olive skin. Pretty laugh. Very graceful, long legs, heavy English accent. Charming.’ There was no doubt about it, that description belonged exclusively to Eva Alarcon, and Sofia was going to see her again, and Roberto, after all these years. She knew that to see them would bring back happy memories, trailing in their wake that inevitable melancholia, but she was curious and her curiosity was stronger than her anxiety. She longed for the party like one longs for a drink, knowing the headache and sickness that will surely follow.
&nb
sp; Sofia pulled Honor onto her lap and wrapped her arms around her, hugging her, as was their bedtime ritual, and kissing her pale, flawless skin.
‘Mummy, when I’m big I will be just like you,’ the little girl said.
‘Will you?’ Sofia smiled.
Then when Pm bigger I will be just like Daddy.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Oh yes I will,’ she said with certainty. ‘I will be just like Daddy.’
Sofia laughed quietly at the child’s understanding of a person’s evolution. When she slid between the sheets at nine-thirty, David stroked her forehead and kissed her. ‘You’ve been very tired recently,’ he commented.
‘Yes - I don’t know why.’
‘You don’t think you could be pregnant, do you?’
Sofia blinked up at him hopefully. ‘I hadn’t thought about that. I’ve been so busy with Honor and the horses, I haven’t been counting days. Oh David, you could be right. I hope so.’
‘Me too,’ he said, bending down to kiss her again. ‘Another miracle.’
Chapter 35
Sofia sat on the squat stump of a tree that once dominated the hills. It had been felled by a vicious October wind the winter before. Nothing is invincible, she thought. Nature is stronger than all of us. She looked around at the luminous June morning and enjoyed the splendour of another ephemeral dawn. Placing her hand on her belly, she marvelled at the miracle that was growing inside her, yet her heart shuddered with sadness knowing her family were ignorant of the life she had made for herself across the waters. Nervously, she recalled Roberto Lobito and Eva Alarcon as she had known them, now well over ten years ago, and tried to picture them as they would look today.
What worried her more than seeing them was not seeing them. If they decided at the last moment not to attend Zaza’s party, the disappointment would be enormous. She had mentally primed herself for this afternoon and her curiosity had increased over the last few months. Having come to terms with the fact that she was going to hear news from home, the thought of that news being denied her was unbearable. She was desperate to know what had become of Santi.
She arrived home in time to have a bath and prepare herself for Zaza’s lunch-party. She spent an hour trying on outfits, watched in bewilderment by Sam and Quid who wagged their tails at whatever she put on. ‘You’re no help at all!’ she said, throwing another ensemble onto the bed. When David appeared at the door Sofia had her back to him and was furiously struggling to pull a dress down over her hips. He watched her for a moment before the dogs gave him away.
‘I’m fat!’ she grumbled, angrily flicking the dress across the room with her foot.
‘What’s the matter?’ he asked, hugging her from behind. They watched their reflection in the mirror.
‘I’m fat,’ she said again.
‘You’re not fat, darling, you’re pregnant.’
‘I don’t want to be fat. I can’t fit into anything.’
‘What do you feel most comfortable in?’
‘My pyjamas,’ she replied sulkily.
‘Okay, wear your pyjamas,’ he said and kissed her before wandering into the bathroom.
‘Actually, that’s not a bad idea,’ she said happily, pulling out a pair of white silk pyjamas from the chest of drawers. When David walked back into the room, Sofia stood before him in the drawstring trousers and T-shirt. ‘David, you’re a genius,’ she beamed, admiring her reflection. David nodded, wading through the clutter of shoes and dresses to get to his cupboard. Sam and Quid sniffed their approval.
Tony had erected a white marquee in the garden in case of rain, but as the day was clear and hot the guests stood outside in the sunshine, in floral dresses and suits, drinking glasses of champagne and Pimms and admiring the rambling rusty-bricked manor and flowers that spilled over in abundance wherever one cast one’s eye. Zaza darted over to embrace David and Sofia before running after one of the waiters who had emerged prematurely from the house with a tray of smoked salmon.
Zaza did not have a style of her own, but was canny enough to recognize good taste when she saw it. She had spent thousands of Tony’s hard-earned pounds hiring decorators and landscape gardeners to transform their home into one which rightly deserved to adorn the pages of Homes e[ Cardens. Sofia appreciated the aesthetic perfection of Pickwick Manor but thought Zaza tried too hard. No sooner was she sucked into the throng of people than Sofia’s eyes fearfully searched the faces for Eva and Roberto.
‘Sofia, lovely to see you again,’ chortled a strange man, bending down to kiss her. His breath smelt of an unpleasant melange of salmon and champagne. She stepped back and frowned up at him blankly. ‘George Heavyweather,’ he said in a tone that betrayed his disappointment at her lapse of memory. ‘Now, surely you can remember where we met?’ he asked playfully, nudging her with his elbow.
Sofia sighed irritably, recalling the tactless oaf she had sat next to four years before. ‘Ian Lancaster’s dinner,’ she replied impassively, looking past him into the crowd.
‘Absolutely. God, it’s been a long time. Where have you been hiding yourself away? You probably haven’t noticed that the war’s over!’ he said and chuckled at his lame joke.
‘Excuse me,’ said Sofia, shelving her manners. ‘I have just seen someone I would prefer to talk to.’
‘Oh, yes - well, fine,’ he stammered jovially, ‘we’ll hook up later.’ Not if I can help it, thought Sofia as she was promptly swallowed up by the crowd.
Sofia and David had arrived late. After Sofia had spent the best part of half an hour unsuccessfully hunting the grounds for Eva and Roberto she resigned herself sadly to the reality that they had obviously decided not to come. Finding a bench under a shady cedar tree away from the crowds, she sat down despondently. Time was crawling by so slowly. She wanted to go home and wondered if anyone would notice if she quietly slipped away.
Then: ‘Sofia?’ came a warm husky voice from behind her. ‘I’ve been looking for you.’
‘Eva?’ gasped Sofia, standing up and blinking in surprise at the elegant white-haired woman who floated into focus.
‘Hace ainos!’ she breathed into Sofia’s neck as she kissed her affectionately. Sofia’s head spun as she inhaled Eva’s cologne, the same lemon scent she had worn twelve years before. They both sat down.
‘I thought you weren’t coming,’ said Sofia in Spanish, taking Eva’s hand and holding it tightly as if she were afraid she might disappear if she let go.
‘We were late. Roberto got lost,’ Eva explained and laughed prettily.
‘It’s so good to see you. You haven’t changed,’ Sofia said truthfully, her gaze washing over Eva’s perpetual youth with admiration.
‘Neither have you.’
‘When did you marry Roberto?’ she asked. ‘Where is he?’
‘He’s in the crowd somewhere. We married three years ago. I went to live in Buenos Aires when I finished school and met Roberto at a party. We have a baby, who's also called Roberto - he’s heavenly. Ah, you’re pregnant,’ she said, placing her free hand on Sofia’s barely noticeable belly.
‘I already have a little girl of three,’ she replied and smiled as Honor’s face emerged clearly through the fog that had mysteriously clouded her head while she had been talking to Eva.
‘Como vuela el tiempo!1 sighed Eva nostalgically.
‘Time certainly does fly. It’s been twelve years since we met that summer. Twelve years. Seeing you now, it could have been yesterday.’
‘Sofia, I can’t play games with you and pretend I don’t know why you left Argentina and that you haven’t been back. If I pretend, our friendship will not be an honest one,’ Eva said, her pale blue eyes probing Sofia’s questioningly. She placed Sofia’s hand between her long honey-coloured fingers and pressed it expressively. ‘I beg you to go back,’ she said softly.
‘I’m happy here, Eva. I’m married to a wonderful man. I have a daughter and
another child on the way. I can’t go back now. I belong here,
’ Sofia insisted in alarm. She hadn’t expected Eva to bring up the past so suddenly.
‘But can’t you at least pay them a visit - let them know you’re okay? Put the past behind you. So much has happened in the last decade - if you leave it any longer you might leave it too long. You might never be able to connect with them again. They are your family, after all.’
‘So tell me then, how’s Maria?’ Sofia asked, directing the conversation away from a subject Eva could never understand.
Eva withdrew her hands and placed them in her lap. ‘She’s married,’ she replied.
‘To whom?’
‘Eduardo Maraldi, Dr Eduardo Maraldi. I don’t see Maria very often, but when I last saw her she had two children, I think, with perhaps another on the way, I can’t remember. Everyone’s having children at the moment, it’s difficult to keep track. You know Fernando is in exile in Uruguay?’
‘Exile!’
‘He got mixed up in the guerrilla warfare against Videla. He’s okay, and he could have come back to Argentina when the government changed, but to be
honest I think he was so shaken up by his experience - they tortured him, you know-that he now lives and works in Uruguay.’
They tortured him?’ gasped Sofia, horrified. She listened to Eva recount the story as she knew it, how Miguel and Chiquita’s home had been broken into, how Fernando had been kidnapped and somehow miraculously escaped into Uruguay. Sofia sat petrified by what she heard, regretting that she hadn’t been there to lend her support.
‘It was hideous,’ continued Eva gravely. ‘Roberto and I went and stayed with him once - he has a house in Punta del Este, on the beach. He’s a different man,’ she said, reflecting on the sullen young man who now lived like a hippy writing articles for various Uruguayan newspapers.
‘And Santi? Is he all right?’ Sofia asked anxiously, wondering how all this had affected him.
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