by Joan Lingard
‘I think there must be some mistake.’
Encarnita shakes her head. ‘No mistake. Conal Alexander Roderick MacDonald the father of Concepción.’
‘What proof do you have?’
‘You look at Concepción. You look at you in mirror.’
Celia makes no move to go and examine herself in the oval gilt-edged mirror on the wall. She says in a low voice, ‘That is not proof. Many people look similar. They say everyone has a double in the world.’
‘That so?’ Encarnita is interested. ‘So somewhere another me. Maybe I find her sometime.’
‘If you did it would not mean that you were necessarily related by blood.’ Celia’s voice is gaining strength from this diversion in the conversation. ‘Doesn’t Saddam Hussein have several doubles? The man in Iraq,’ she adds.
‘We see him on television,’ says Concepción, huffed by the implication that they might not know about world affairs.
‘Conal have birthmark on stomach, just above belly button,’ says Encarnita, who is not to be diverted. ‘Like upside down quarter-moon.’ They had laughed about that.
Celia looks startled.
‘That true, yes?’
‘Yes, that may be, but, well, I mean to say, other people could have similar marks…’ Celia’s voice trails away.
‘Also bad injury to right leg above ankle which I clean. Must have left long scar?’
‘Possibly. Even so…’
‘Not many men with same name, same colour, same marks on body.’
‘I suppose not…’
‘This big shock for you, I understand. Maybe need drink?’
‘Yes, perhaps we could do with one.’
Celia gets up and goes to a cupboard and takes out a decanter of sherry and three fine glasses of Edinburgh crystal. The two women, seated on the settee, still wearing their overalls, watch her in silence. Encarnita feels as if she has run dry and Concepción is trying to take in the knowledge that this unknown well-mannered, well-groomed woman is related to her by blood, is, in fact, her sister.
Celia’s hand shakes a little as she pours the sherry. She comes back to join them and each take a glass from the tray. They drink without a toast being proposed.
The room is warm. The gilded clock on the mantelpiece emits a quiet tick-tock and the tyres of passing cars make a soft swishing sound on the wet street. It has started to rain. Large drops slide down the window panes.
And then they hear the front door opening and are jolted out of their trance. A cheerful male voice calls out. Can this be Cuthbert, wonders Encarnita. But when the door opens and she sees the young man she thinks for a moment that it is Felipe come to fetch them home. He may be a few years younger but, apart from that, he could be his double.
‘Alex,’ says Celia, getting to her feet and going to embrace the newcomer. ‘I didn’t know you were coming.’
‘Thought I’d look in.’ Alex glances past her at the two women on the settee.
‘This is my son Alex,’ says Celia, a little flustered. ‘Alex, let me introduce you to Encarnita, and her daughter Concepción. They’ve come from Nerja. That’s in Spain, on the coast. Do you remember Dad and I went there a few years ago?’ She is talking too much, and too fast. She realises this and slows down. ‘Why don’t you pour yourself a whisky? I have something to tell you.’
While she haltingly retells Encarnita’s tale he listens attentively, his head cocked slightly to one side, the way his mother had. He smiles at the end and says, ‘That’s quite a story! What a shame Grandfather died before you got here.’
Encarnita nods. ‘I liked to see him. But I see you. You are his image.’
‘So I’ve always been told. We were very close. He talked a lot to me about Spain. In fact, he talked to me about you.’
‘He talked about me?’
‘He told me how he’d been wounded when he was fighting with the International Brigades during the Civil War and how a wonderful Spanish girl called Encarnita had saved his life.’
‘He told you that?’ Celia sounds stunned.
‘He remember me?’ says Encarnita, catching her breath.
‘Of course he remembered you! After he came out of the army – he fought in the Second World War – he went back to Spain to look for you.’
‘But not find me.’
‘Mama!’ cries Concepción. ‘Oh, Mama! Imagine —’
For a fleeting moment Encarnita allows herself to imagine what their life might have been had Conal found them. Then she pats her daughter’s hand.
‘He went to the place where you’d been living,’ says Alex.
‘Almuñecar?’
‘Yes, that was it. But he couldn’t find anyone who knew where you were. That was where Laurie Lee ended up, wasn’t it, in his book I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning?’
‘Laurie Lee?’ says Encarnita, puzzled. ‘I knew English boy Lorenzo Lee in Hotel Mediterráneo. He play violin with German boy Jacobo.’
‘That’s the one.’
‘So Lorenzo write a book? I will read it.’
‘You’ve had quite a life, haven’t you?’ Alex shakes his head in admiration.
‘Most of the time I live quietly.’
‘Mother, imagine, you’ve got a sister!’ Alex turns to Celia. ‘You always said you wished you’d had one.’
The sisters eye each other uncomfortably.
‘You’ll have to meet the rest of the family,’ says Alex. ‘Dad, and Lucinda and Clarissa. My sisters,’ he adds.
‘We would like,’ says Encarnita, who is feeling tired now and is ready to leave.
They hear the outside door opening again and Celia starts up in alarm.
‘That’ll be Cuthbert. I think I’d better go and warn him.’ She hastens out of the room, closing the door behind her, though they are able to hear the conversation that ensues between husband and wife. She breaks the news quietly but when he responds his voice is raised.
‘This is ridiculous, Celia! Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for a cock-and-bull story like that! You’re far too gullible, always have been.’
‘Hush, Cuthbert, they’ll hear.’
‘They’ll have to hear. They can’t come waltzing in here out of the blue claiming that this woman is your father’s daughter!’
‘She does look like Father. And me, I think. We could have a blood test.’
‘Blood test nothing. I am going to go in now and ask them to leave.’
‘Alex says —’
‘I don’t give a damn what Alex says!’
The door opens abruptly and Cuthbert enters the room. He stops dead.
Alex springs up. ‘Dad, come and meet Encarnita and Concepción.’
‘I must ask you two ladies to leave now,’ says Cuthbert, ignoring him. ‘I do not believe you have any claim on my wife’s family.’
‘But, Dad,’ says Alex, ‘Grandfather told me all about Encarnita.’
Cuthbert’s eyes bulge behind their glasses.
‘Concepción willing to have blood test,’ says Encarnita and Concepción looks horrified as she hates having needles stuck into her.
‘There’s DNA,’ says Alex. ‘That would settle it. If we need to. As far as I’m concerned, Concepción looks just like Mother.’
His mother does not look greatly flattered but she says to Concepción, ‘I have to admit I got a jolt when I saw you. I think we do probably look somewhat alike.’
‘Have you lost your senses, Celia?’ demands Cuthbert.
‘We not come for money,’ Encarnita says to him.
‘What have you come for then?’
‘To find what happen to Conal. Big shock for you all, I know, us coming.’
‘Very big shock,’ he declares and leaves the room, after giving his wife a look that says he will talk to her later.
‘Don’t let Cuthbert upset you,’ she says. ‘He hates surprises.’
‘Especially when he senses he’s losing a battle,’ his son adds with a grin.
‘Time w
e go,’ says Encarnita, making to rise.
‘But you will come back, won’t you?’ asks Alex anxiously. He comes to help her up. ‘We can’t lose you now that we’ve just found you. We must have a family party to celebrate. Don’t you agree, Mother?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Celia manages a smile, even if it is a little wan.
Alex takes Encarnita’s arm and walks with her to the front door.
‘You so like my grandson Felipe,’ she tells him. ‘The son of Concepción. The double. What do you do in your life?’
‘I’m a lawyer,’ he says.
She is not surprised.
In the evening, she phones Felipe and tells him, ‘We have found your family. You must come.’
Two days later, Felipe arrives from Spain and is met at the airport by his cousin Alex. They agree that they had no problem recognising each other! ‘It’s uncanny,’ says Alex. They hit it off together straightaway. Felipe’s English is good and Alex has a smattering of Spanish from travelling in South America as a student. He says he will take Spanish lessons so that when he comes to visit them in Spain he will be able to talk to his relatives in their own tongue.
The family gathering is organised. Felipe buys new outfits for his mother and grandmother in Jenners department store. Morna would be happy to know that, thinks Encarnita, as she is borne down the escalator carrying her bags. The purchase she is best pleased with is a pair of dove-grey kid shoes that fit her feet as if made for them. They go to a hairdresser and have their hair washed and blown dry and Concepción has a manicure and a facial followed by a full make-up. Encarnita declines. She says she is long past all that.
At the elected time, they arrive at the Marjoribanks’ house in a taxi with Felipe. Concepción, in royal blue silk, is fidgeting a little nervously. Encarnita, wearing burgundy velvet, is perfectly calm. Cuthbert and Celia come to the door together. He greets them civilly, extending his hand, but not offering his cheek. Encarnita suspects that he has had warnings issued to him by his wife and offspring. He is wearing a slight air of martyrdom. Celia is more welcoming and kisses them on both cheeks, Spanish-style. The two daughters, tall, attractive, well-mannered girls, like Celia herself, greet them warmly. They do not have their mother’s or their brother’s colouring. Their hair is mid-brown, their eyes hazel-coloured; in that, they resemble their father.
Celia has had caterers lay on a sumptuous buffet. The visitors are amazed by the amount of food for just eight people. A whole salmon with a lemon in its mouth, decorated with scales of cucumber, several kinds of meat and fowl, stuffed eggs, numerous bowls of salad, several kinds of cheese as well as deserts. The Spanish women’s eyes go to the Scotch trifle and chocolate mousse and raspberry meringues. They both have a sweet tooth. Encarnita appreciates that Conal’s daughter wants to make amends and do what her father would have wished her to do.
Alex and his sisters chat non-stop with Felipe. Laughter erupts from the little group at regular intervals. Encarnita is content to sit and watch and listen to the rise and fall of their conversation, making out a few phrases here and there. She is proud that Felipe can speak English so well for it was she who taught him his first words in the language, the ones taught to her by Don Geraldo. Tree. Flower. Goat. Clouds. The memory of that sunny day on the hillside comes back to her. She can smell the warmth of the earth and its scents of lavender and thyme.
‘Grandmother,’ says Felipe, bending down to her, startling her out of her reverie, ‘Lucinda is going to study Spanish at university. Because her grandfather got her interested in Spain!’
‘Our grandfather,’ Alex corrects him.
‘Yes, our grandfather,’ agrees Felipe with a smile.
Lucinda, who is the younger of the two sisters, says she will try to do her year abroad in Granada. ‘That would give me the chance to get to know my new relatives!’
‘We should like that very much,’ says Felipe.
Lucinda says she was thrilled when she found out that they had a Spanish connection. ‘Imagine Grandpa!’ she says admiringly.
‘As a matter of fact, I can easily imagine Grandpa,’ says Alex.
Clarissa, who has already qualified as a chartered accountant, declares that she, too, will come to Spain. She is planning a holiday in the summer with her boyfriend, who works for the same firm. ‘We might come to Nerja! Perhaps you could suggest somewhere for us to stay?’
Felipe says he is sure they could do that.
Encarnita imagines entertaining Clarissa and her boyfriend, whom she imagines to be like Hubert, the Pilkingtons’ son, when he was in his early twenties. They will seem very tall in her small house but she will receive them well and lay out a spread of good Spanish food and wine on her table.
Encarnita and Concepción are glad to have Felipe with them, so that he can talk for them. After telling her story, Encarnita does not want to say much more. She has a short exchange with Celia in which the latter comments that she seems very close to her daughter. Very close, agrees Encarnita. They are together always, every day of life. Celia says that is very unusual these days when children fly the nest as soon as they can get the money together for a flat. Encarnita does not ask if she is close to her daughters and is glad when Celia excuses herself to go and see to the food. Encarnita cannot think of anything at all to say to Cuthbert, who still looks somewhat horrified at what is going on in his house. He does not ask her anything about her memories of Virginia Woolf.
The next morning, Encarnita and Concepción take affectionate leave of Effie and set off for the airport. Felipe escorts them there in a taxi but he will not travel further with them. He is to stay on for a few days. He wants to spend some time getting to know his cousins. The girls are keen to show him the sights of Edinburgh and Alex plans to take him hill walking. They will go up to the Cairngorms and visit their grandfather’s grave. Encarnita is happy to think of the friendship between the two young men blossoming. She is sure that Conal, if he were to know it, would be pleased too.
As they are fastening their seat belts, Concepción says, ‘I don’t think I will find all that much in common with Celia even though she is my sister.’
‘Maybe you won’t,’ agrees Encarnita. But it does not matter.
Celia has promised to come out to Nerja to see them. They suspect she will not be accompanied by Cuthbert. Effie, too, plans a visit and they have told her that she would be welcome to stay in their house though they have not extended the same invitation to their relatives. They will surely stay in the parador. Effie said that wild horses would not keep her away, another of her turns of phrase that has puzzled the two women.
‘It was kind of Celia to give us the money, though.’ In her handbag Concepción has a banker’s draft for euros equivalent to ten thousand pounds sterling. They wonder if Celia has told her husband.
‘She is a good woman and she felt you had a right to something from your father,’ says Encarnita. ‘I think that is fair. He would have wished it.’
Celia has also given ten thousand pounds to Encarnita, who did not want to take it. ‘I not need. At my age.’ Celia said she should spend a little on herself at least and perhaps give some to her other grandchildren, or their children, as she saw fit. After all, they are family, too. What a large extended family they have become! Encarnita has something in her bag that she treasures more than the money: a picture of Conal Alexander Roderick MacDonald as a young man, sitting under a silver birch tree on a summer’s day, with a book on his lap. The leaves above his head are shimmering in the sunshine lighting up his golden-red hair. He is smiling directly at the camera. He is smiling directly at her.
‘I’m glad Jorge is coming to meet us,’ says Concepción. ‘It’ll save us the taxi fare.’
Jorge has forsaken his motor bike for a clapped-out car. He said he thought he was getting too old for the bike and maybe Encarnita would be more comfortable in the car than riding pillion. They might manage a little jaunt up to Toledo. She has always wanted to go there. Encarnita told him
that she would like that. She will spend part of Celia’s money on the trip. And then, after that, who knows where they might go? She spoke to Jorge on his mobile phone the night before. It is another thing he has acquired.
They are ready for take-off. Encarnita takes hold of her daughter’s hand and braces herself for the ordeal, telling herself that in no more than three or four hours she will have her feet on the ground, and after that she will have no need to fly again.
Acknowledgements
I wish to acknowledge the following sources:
Gerald Brenan: South from Granada
The Face of Spain
A Life of One’s Own
Personal Record Best of Friends: The Brenan-Partridge
Letters (with Ralph Partridge)
Jonathan Gathorne-Hardy: The Interior Castle, A life of Gerald Brenan
Antonio Ramos Espejo ed.: Ciega en Granada
Gamel Woolsey: Death’s Other Kingdom
Laurie Lee: As I walked Out One Midsummer’s Morning
Valerie Grove: Laurie Lee, The Well-loved Stranger
Maria Carlota Hallama Palm: Almuñecar en la obra de Laurie Lee y en el recuerdo de sus habitantes
Shirley Deane: Tomorrow is Mañana
Valerie Cunningham ed.: Writers on the Civil War
Nina Epton: Andalucía
Special thanks to Isobel Murray and Tom Adair for their advice and encouragement.
About the Author
JOAN LINGARD is the acclaimed author of over 40 books for both children and adults. She was born in Edinburgh and brought up in Belfast, the inspiration for many of her novels, including the compelling Across the Barricades. She was awarded the MBE in 1998 for Services to Children’s Literature.
By Joan Lingard
The Kiss
Encarnita’s Journey
After You’ve Gone
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