Encarnita's Journey

by Joan Lingard

  ‘I might have managed better if he had lived. If you were to marry Juan we would become family. That would please me, Encarnita.’

  Encarnita went over and put an arm round Sofia’s shoulder. ‘I feel we are family now.’

  ‘But as Juan’s wife, we would be family by law. I would leave this house to you and Juan.’

  Encarnita’s only home now was with Sofia. Rinaldo’s house, which he had rented, was about to be repossessed by the owner.

  ‘That is kind of you, Sofia, to offer to do that.’

  ‘You will think it over? Juan asked me to speak to you about it. Now go and fetch the plates from the table.’

  Encarnita was about to lift the plates when she saw a small bottle half filled with dark liquid sitting in the middle of the table. She frowned and turned to look questioningly at Sofia, who shrugged. Encarnita picked up the bottle, took out the cork and sniffed.

  ‘Sofia, where did you get this?’

  ‘I went to visit Marina.’

  ‘And what did you tell her?’

  ‘That you had a bad cut on your toe and it was festering. She took it from the doctor’s surgery while he was not there.’

  ‘You’re wonderful, Sofia!’

  Sofia snorted. ‘Don’t worry, I said nothing about your young man.’

  ‘He is not my young man!’

  ‘I hope he will not be. Do not let yourself get too fond of this Scotsman, Encarnita, for he will bring you nothing but troubles. Now then, bring the plates and let’s eat.’

  1939

  The Scotsman winced as she dabbed the wound and the iodine stung. ‘You’re a marvel, Encarnita.’

  ‘Sofia got it. She is very good, very kind.’

  ‘Like you.’

  She blushed and looked away.

  She picked some pieces of dried grass and dead insects from his hair. ‘Needs cut,’ she said. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘And washed.’ Her hand accidentally brushed his cheek and their eyes met again and she was disturbed. She felt it deep down inside her. It was something she had never felt before. She moved back from him.

  Don Geraldo’s book was lying open on the ground.

  ‘You enjoy it?’

  ‘Not an awful lot.’ When he saw that she frowned he added quickly, ‘It’s just that I didn’t like Jack much, the way he walks out on his mother and stays away for a year and doesn’t even let her know if he’s alive or dead.’

  ‘You leave your mother.’

  ‘But she knew I was going.’

  ‘And she approve?’

  ‘Not totally. She approved of the cause but she didn’t want me to be hurt.’

  Encarnita nodded. That was how she had felt when she had watched Rinaldo walk out for the last time, his rucksack on his back. She had wanted to call him back, beg him not to go. But he would have gone anyway, just as the Scotsman would have done had his mother asked him.

  She was disappointed, though, that he had not liked Don Geraldo’s book. She would like to think that the two men would be friends if they were to meet.

  ‘But you like books?’ she pressed. He must, surely he must, since his family was rich.

  ‘Oh yes! I like very much a Scottish writer called Robert Louis Stevenson. He lived in a house just along the road from me. Long before my time.’

  ‘I have his book!’ cried Encarnita triumphantly. ‘Garden of Verses.’

  ‘You do?’ He went on to recite some of the poems, most of which she knew herself by heart. ‘My mother used to read them to me when I went to bed,’ he said.

  She could imagine such a scene. The land of counterpane. A boy with reddish-blond hair and blue eyes sitting up in bed, propped against fat white, lace-edged pillows, and a lovely lady with a sweet face reading. It was an image she took home with her as she recrossed the campo.

  That evening, when they were having their meal – another fish from Juan – Sofia asked her what she found to talk about with the Scotsman.

  ‘We talk about books.’

  ‘Books! How many books have you read?’

  ‘Some. We like the same poems. It’s true!’

  ‘And you can understand what he says, in English?’

  ‘Not all the time. But enough. And he speaks some Spanish. We teach each other.’

  Sofia pursed her lips.

  A little later, a rap on the door announced the arrival of Juan. He had come to see if Encarnita would like to go for a paseo with him along the sea front. It was a fine night, he said. There was a moon. She excused herself, saying she was tired and had a headache. She avoided Sofia’s eye.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said when Juan had gone, wearing an air of dejection.

  ‘You are a fool!’ It was seldom that Sofia was angry but tonight she was. She banged a pot lid as she put it on the shelf. ‘Why will you not take him? Is he not good enough for you? I have been good enough to take you in and help you when you needed help. Do you think you are so special that you turn down an honest fisherman?’

  ‘You have been good to me, Sofia, and I love you,’ said Encarnita in a low voice, ‘but I cannot reward you by marrying Juan.’

  ‘I don’t want a reward. But I want my nephew to be happy. He would like you for his wife. What is wrong with him?’

  ‘Nothing, Sofia. He is a good man.’

  ‘Well then?’

  Encarnita stood with bent head, feeling like a penitent, but unwilling to repent. Her mother had always said she was stubborn and maybe she was being stubborn now but she could not bring herself to marry a man she did not love, or for whom she did not feel some affection. She liked Juan well enough, she thought him kind, but she found his features coarse and he blew his nose between his fingers and spat in the street, like many men did but, still, she did not like it.

  ‘It was that Englishman in Yegen who put ideas in your head, wasn’t it? What was his name?’

  ‘Don Geraldo.’ It was true that Encarnita had admired his manners and his learning, which perhaps had made her more critical of the Spanish men she met. She could not say so to Sofia, who would only be further offended. Nor could she say that she liked having ideas in her head, things to think about, or even to puzzle over, for Sofia would not understand that, either. Why did everyone think it was so bad to have ideas put into your head? You didn’t have to keep them if you didn’t want to.

  ‘Well, you won’t find a man like him to marry here, so you can forget about that! Like sticks with like in this world. Your Scotsman won’t make you his bride, you can take my word for that. He’s more likely to end up in the hands of the Guardia.’

  ‘Sofia, you wouldn’t —!’

  ‘Of course I wouldn’t! What do you take me for? Do you think I would betray a man – any man? Even if he had fought on the other side?’

  But what if he had killed her Pedro? Encarnita did not ask that question. Some questions were too difficult to ask.

  ‘Don’t say anything about him to Juan, please, Sofia!’

  ‘I know when to keep my mouth shut.’ Sofia subsided with a sigh. ‘I just ask you again, Encarnita, not to make your mind up too quickly about Juan. I will tell him you need time and he should try not to rush you.’

  Encarnita was on edge for the next two days because she was unable to go into the campo. Continuing army manoeuvres on the main road were making it impossible to leave the pueblo without being seen. She could tell that Sofia was secretly pleased even though she was saying nothing. While the older woman was up in the cemetery, Encarnita sat in the house and studied A Child’s Garden of Verses and when she heard her coming she hid the book under her pallet. It made her happy every time she opened it.

  On the third day, the road was quiet again.

  ‘I suppose you are going back to him?’ said Sofia.

  Encarnita was brushing her hair in front of the pockmarked mirror on the dresser. She brushed it and brushed it with long even strokes, until it glistened. She shook the long dark locks back from her shoulders.

  ‘I can’t abandon hi
m now.’ She was studying her reflection. Her gaze was level and unblinking. Her life was shifting on its axis, about to change, she felt sure of that.

  ‘How long does he intend to stay out there?’

  ‘Until his wounds have healed and his arm is mended.’

  ‘And do you think he’ll manage to get away even then? How will he escape the patrols?’ Sofia did not expect an answer and did not get one.

  There was no traffic at all on the road today. Encarnita raced across and was soon heading inland. As she neared the house, though, she slowed, wanting to savour the moment of seeing him again, to stretch it out. She felt as if her whole body was tingling with excitement.

  But when the house did come into view and she saw that he was standing in the doorway leaning against the lintel, she broke into a run.

  ‘You are leaving?’

  ‘I was considering it. I thought you might be finding it too difficult to come again and that perhaps I should try to move on.’

  ‘But not strong enough to move?’

  ‘No.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘My legs feel as if they’re filled with sand.’

  She led him inside and he dropped like a sack onto the ground. ‘You shouldn’t have tried to walk!’ She fussed over him, changing the dressings and swabbing the sounds, which were looking a little better. ‘You need more time to rest.’

  ‘But I’m worried about getting you into trouble, Encarnita.’

  ‘I can take care of me.’

  ‘I couldn’t bear it if one of those butchers were to lay a hand on you – you are so lovely! I would want to kill him with my own bare hands.’

  Encarnita’s heart was racing so madly that she thought he must hear it. ‘I am not lovely.’

  ‘You are! You’re beautiful.’ He slid his hand round the back of her neck and drew her face towards his. Her lips met his. She had known since their first meeting that this moment would come. She thought she might even have willed it.

  He began to caress her, to stroke her hair and her body, to murmur into her hair, to kiss her eyes. She had not imagined a man could be so gentle. She offered no resistance. She was ready for him; her passion matched his and as his desire quickened so did hers until they reached such a feverish pitch that their cries would have been heard outside the house should anyone have been passing. Only the goatherd was, and he went on his way, fearful for them.

  Afterwards, they lay at peace, entwined together, forgetful of the world that existed beyond the four broken-down walls, aware only of each other.

  ‘Your arm?’ she murmured.

  ‘It’s fine.’ He swivelled his head and kissed her cheek. ‘Salt! You’ve not been crying? I didn’t hurt you, did I, Encarnita?’

  She shook her head, so happy that she did not want to speak. He smiled at her and she knew that he understood. She felt he understood everything.

  ‘Say my name, Encarnita. You never have.’

  ‘Conal,’ she said. ‘Very short. Me, I am Encarnita Pilar Maria.’

  ‘And I am Conal Alexander Roderick MacDonald! Quite a mouthful! After my father and two grandfathers.’

  ‘Tell me the names again.’

  He repeated them and she tried to say them after him, making him laugh. ‘I like the way you say them. I like everything you say.’

  She stayed with him all day and left only when the sun was dropping.

  ‘I wish I can stay with you all night.’

  ‘But you can’t,’ he said sadly.

  ‘I’ll come tomorrow.’

  ‘Don’t, if the Guardia are around!’

  He insisted on coming to the door to watch her go. She looked back at him several times until it was too dark to make out anything but the bare jagged outline of the house. Thick cloud was obscuring the moon.

  Her legs were scratched and cut by the time she arrived home. Sofia was sitting at the table.

  ‘Well, come in and shut the door. Don’t just stand there.’

  ‘I hope you weren’t worried?’

  ‘That wouldn’t stop you, would it? So you’ve lain with him. Don’t try to deny it. I can smell him on you.’

  ‘I love him, Sofia,’ said Encarnita, her voice quiet and pitched low.

  ‘Love, huh! How many stupid girls have I heard say that! Myself amongst them. And do you think he loves you? He’ll be like all men. They want you while they lust after you. They’ll lie with any woman who’s willing.’

  ‘He’s not like that!’

  ‘How do you know what he’s like? You’ve read a few poems with him, dressed his cuts. Do you think if he was in his own country he would want you?’

  ‘We’re not in his country.’

  ‘But he’ll go back there. If he lives long enough. I knew this would happen.’

  ‘He’s made me happy!’

  ‘Women are stupid,’ muttered Sofia. Then she lifted her head. ‘There’s an egg there for you and some bread. But before you eat maybe you should go and wash. Wash as much of his seed away as you can.’

  She said nothing in the morning when she saw Encarnita getting ready to go out, except to warn her to come back before nightfall.

  There were a few army trucks on the road but Encarnita lay low in the undergrowth, awaiting her chance, until the road was clear to cross. Nothing would keep her from him today. She flew across the campo as if her feet were winged, stopping once only, to pick some wild flowers, anemones, orchids, dianthus, to which she added two flaming poppies even though she knew they would not survive for long. She carried the bouquet in front of her like a torch.

  He was waiting for her. He buried his nose in the blooms, then laid them aside to take her into his arms. They made love even before she attended to his wounds.

  ‘They can wait,’ he said, ‘but I can’t.’

  It was overcast and the rain came on later but it served to make their hideaway even cosier. The piece of roof that remained kept them dry and their bodies generated heat. They rejoiced in the crackling of the thunder and the flashing of the lightning. They fell asleep in the late afternoon and awoke to find that the storm had passed and it was pitch dark.

  ‘How will you get back?’ asked Conal.

  ‘I won’t,’ said Encarnita, pulling him to her. ‘I stay.’

  The dawn was quiet, except for the calls of the birds. When she went out to fetch fresh water she thought that she had never seen the campo look more beautiful. Back lit by the rising sun, every tree, every blade of grass, rimmed with beads of dew, stood out more clearly than she could ever remember. For a moment she remained quite still.

  She returned to Conal, taking him the cool, sweet water. She held the cup to his lips and when she took it away she kissed him. He pulled her to him.

  ‘Don’t leave me yet,’ he begged.

  And so she stayed for another hour or so, or perhaps more. They had ceased to register time passing. She kept saying that she ought to go, the sun was climbing up in the sky, and Sofia would be worrying; and he kept saying that he could not bear the idea of her going, yet he knew that she must. Before she finally did leave she went out again and gathered oranges and olives for him. It was not enough to build a man’s strength but the best that she could do. She would come back later and try to bring some cheese and sausage.

  Even now, she lingered. This was madness, they agreed. They kissed, parted, came together again, and it was then that he said, ‘I love you, Encarnita, I want you to know that,’ making it harder for her to leave in one way, yet in another way, not. She could hold the thought of his love inside her while they were apart.

  ‘And you? Do you love me?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, but he had known that already.

  Finally, they separated, knowing that they must. They stood back and looked at each other.

  ‘Hasta pronto, Encarnita!’ he said. ‘Muy pronto!’

  She could feel herself smiling as she made her way back across the campo, and at one point she threw back her head and laughed aloud, from sheer happiness. Lo
st in her reverie, she ran straight into the two guards without a chance of avoiding them. The fat one, the one she hated, seized her arm, pulling her to a halt.

  ‘So, Señorita, what have you got to be laughing about?’

  No longer laughing, she concentrated on keeping her voice steady. ‘It’s a lovely day.’

  ‘What do you do out there in the campo?’

  ‘I like being out in the country. I don’t like the town.’

  ‘You steal fruit, don’t you?’

  ‘Only the ones on the ground. They’d go rotten if I didn’t lift them.’

  ‘That’s still stealing.’

  ‘No one owns them now. They would go to waste. It is wicked to waste food.’

  Unable to think of anything else, he pushed her away. As soon as she was out of their sight she began to run. The encounter had unnerved her. Did they suspect her of meeting someone? But if they did they would have followed her, wouldn’t they? She thought – hoped – that they had been merely idling around and that the fat one liked to amuse himself by tormenting her.

  Sofia was in the cemetery. ‘So you managed to tear yourself away?’

  ‘We could hardly bear it.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘Yes, him too. Sofia, I could never have imagined anything to be so wonderful.’

  ‘You do have a good imagination, I can say that.’

  ‘We love each other.’

  Sofia sighed. ‘It’s not new. How many times have I heard it! Sometimes the ending is good, often bad.’

  ‘You look too much on the dark side, Sofia.’

  ‘That’s what life has done to me.’

  ‘I’m going back to him later.’

  ‘What am I to say if someone asks where you are?’

  ‘No one comes to the house in the evening, except Juan. And he might not come for a while, since he’s annoyed with me.’

  ‘What if he does?’

  ‘Couldn’t you tell him I’m asleep?’

  ‘You want me to lie for you now?’

  ‘Oh, Sofia, it would only be a little lie!’ Encarnita put her arms round her. ‘I’m sorry I’m upsetting you but I can’t help it!’