‘I will. Don’t worry, Henry.’ On impulse she stretched up and kissed him, disregarding her fellow passengers, four shabbily attired young males, travelling light, who talked openly about embarking on a big adventure, eager to be involved in the distinct possibility of future conflict.
He stood on the platform as the train departed. She was not near enough the window for him to glimpse her waving goodbye. He shouldn’t have let her go, he thought, but he was aware that he couldn’t have stopped her.
Carmen met her elder daughter from the train almost at her journey’s end. May had enjoyed her first experience on the boat, but had found the last part of the journey tedious. After travelling overnight, dozing on and off, and waking stiff-limbed and cramped, May emerged into the sunlight and saw her mother walking towards her. Carmen’s hair was greying now, her figure was decidedly thicker, but she was as flamboyant as ever, in a tight red frock with a flower in the lapel of her white jacket.
‘Welcome to Spain, to Catalonia, to Barcelona,’ Carmen called, as she clicked along the platform in her high heeled shoes. ‘Hurry, I have a taxi waiting!’
Even as they hugged, May realized that Carmen was not carrying a handbag. She would obviously have to pay for the taxi, when it would have been cheaper to catch the bus, on to which most of the other train passengers were filing. May struggled with her luggage, as Carmen didn’t offer to carry one of the bags, but urged her forward to the taxi rank. ‘The hotel is some distance: I will point out some interesting places as we go.’
The taxi driver drove round bends in narrow, often steep roads at reckless speed, and the scenery blurred before May’s eyes. The smell of petrol made her feel sick. She was only half-aware of Carmen’s commentary: ‘See! The Jewish mountain – Montjuic – and the castle! Alas, not a place to visit – there are many dissidents imprisoned there.’
The driver honked his horn loudly at a gathering of angrily gesticulating people, brandishing placards and spilling over into the road as men grappled one with another.
‘You see, May, you should not venture out alone. It is not safe, even in the countryside; churches burn, workers strike, miners are in revolt. We have more elections. I am not political. This beautiful city is threatened …’ The taxi screeched to a halt outside a modest hotel. There was a military truck parked outside. A soldier stood beside it, rifle in hand. He stared at them, but said nothing.
‘He is not concerned with us,’ Carmen told May. ‘Pay our driver, he is anxious to depart.’
There were few tourists staying in the hotel, and they had to wait some time before they were attended to at the reception desk. Their accommodation was up two flights of stairs, there was no lift and no-one to carry the luggage. May felt exhausted by the time Carmen inserted the key in the door and announced: ‘This is the bedroom; we have to share. That door is to the bathroom. We will have to go out to eat – they don’t serve meals here, except for breakfast. You look tired, May. Take off your shoes and rest on the bed. There is a kettle, I will make us coffee.’
‘I have some biscuits in my bag,’ May said faintly. She hadn’t eaten for several hours and it was surely time for lunch, she thought?
May stretched out on the coverlet, which didn’t look too clean, but she was past caring. Fortunately she had fastened her hair into a knot in the nape of her neck as it was more practical for travelling, and was not wearing her best clothes.
She awoke to the strong smell of coffee, and this proved too much for her; she gulped and ran barefoot to the bathroom, where she was violently sick in the grubby hand basin. She groped for a towel, after rinsing her face in cold water, aware that Carmen had not bothered to follow her.
‘Your coffee is cooling,’ Carmen reproved her when she returned. She looked long and hard at her daughter. ‘If I did not know you better, May, I would say you must be pregnant.’
May subsided into the depths of the one armchair. She’d had her suspicions, of course, but had refused to believe it. How could she have been so foolish?
Seeing the tears stream down her daughter’s wan face, Carmen set down her cup, kicked off her own shoes and padded over to the chair. She sank on her knees beside May and rested her face on May’s shoulder. With a sigh, she asked: ‘You didn’t know?’
May shook her head. ‘No, but I do now.’
‘Not the good Henry, surely?’
‘No.’
‘You are ashamed?’
‘No!’ May repeated.
‘The man concerned – will he stand by you?’
‘I don’t propose to tell him. Don’t ask me his name. I don’t want to trap him into another marriage—’
‘He has been married before?’ Carmen demanded, eyes flashing.
‘Yes, but he is no longer married. Please, no more questions.’
‘If I find out, he will be sorry!’
‘I’m sorry, Mum, if I have disappointed you—’
‘You silly girl! What example have I been to you? It happened to me, you know, I was always impetuous – so was your father. We had to marry because you were on the way. We were not suited, as you know; it did not work. Don’t look at me like that. You blame me, no doubt, but Jim was a hot-blooded young man.’
‘He loved you at the time, I’m sure of that. But you were not compatible.’
‘And this man – is it like that for you?’ Carmen demanded.
‘Oh, Mum, I love him, I probably always will, and he says he feels the same way, but – well, what happened between us – it wasn’t the time or place. He would feel obliged to marry me, and I don’t want that.’
‘What will you do, then?’
‘Mum – I was hoping to persuade you anyway – come back with me – help.’
‘I will think about it. We will see how we get on, eh, during the next week or so? I have no money, I have not worked for some time. I do not attract the attention of such as Carlos. I can still dance, but I do not look the part. Maybe I can make up for being a bad mama when you were young. Now, tell me, how is my darling Pomona?’
‘She sends her love. She is longing to see you before she goes back to University for the summer term.’
Twenty-Nine
TWO OF THE odd assortment of guests at the hotel were Canadians, one of them obviously a news reporter who monopolized the telephone in the foyer. He scribbled in a notebook, tore out the page, folded this and passed it to his companion without comment. These scraps of paper were lit by a match and burned in a large ashtray on the table. The two men exchanged cheerful greetings with those sitting at the breakfast table, drinking coffee and breaking rather stale rolls of bread into pieces to spread with soft sour cheese.
‘If they were caught,’ Carmen whispered to May, ‘they would, without doubt, be arrested. We have to pretend not to see.’
May couldn’t face the strong coffee, so Carmen arranged for them to have a pot of tea. ‘You should drink it plain, no milk, with a slice of lemon,’ she advised her.
‘Oh, I’m used to that now, as that’s how Tatiana serves it.’
‘Eat your roll. I shall dip mine in the tea. I don’t advise the cheese – it smells old to me.’
‘I’d rather finish off the biscuits,’ May said, producing a couple of crumbling ones from her pocket.
‘We must visit the shops after you have seen to your business, though I doubt if there is much left on the shelves. Too many strangers in our midst. Nevertheless, there are places I should show you, before …’ Carmen glanced around to see if anyone was eavesdropping.
They overheard a conversation themselves. A stout pair of matrons from New York were at the next table. They were studying a tour guide. Their voices were loud, whereas most of the other hotel guests spoke in muted tones, often furtively. May suspected that there was a good reason for this. The first American said: ‘We need to get out early if we are to obtain tickets for the Society of Contemporary Music Festival next week. The soloist is Louis Krasner, he is performing Alban Berg’s Violin Concerto –
it is the world premiere!’
‘I can’t wait…We also ought to visit the La Sagrada Familia church, designed by Antoni Gaudi; the guide says it is incredibly beautiful, despite being modern and not yet finished.’
‘It might never be completed if …’ her companion broke off, suddenly aware that they had an audience. She dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. ‘Let’s make the most of today.’
‘Our appointment is at eleven,’ May reminded Carmen. Once the arrangements are made in that respect, she thought, I believe we should return home as soon as possible.
As if she could read her mind, Carmen hissed: ‘Monarchists – Republicans – the fascist Falangists – anti-clerics: Spain is truly divided. I wish to return to a country which is celebrating the crowning of a new King.’
She hasn’t read the worrying rumours about Edward who, heaven forbid, may abdicate if he is not allowed to marry the woman he loves, May thought.
Henry wound up the gramophone at Pomona’s request. She’d chosen a recording of ‘Cheek to Cheek’ from Top Hat, the musical film in which Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers once again reprised their dancing partnership.
‘Did you see the film?’ she asked him. It was late evening, and they were sipping cups of hot cocoa, but they’d both felt like some light relief after discussing an assignment she’d just completed for university.
‘No, I didn’t go to the cinema much before May joined me here.’
‘Oh, she and I went together when the film came to Kettle Row – long after the premiere, of course! Ginger Rogers wore a beautiful dress, decorated with ostrich feathers – I saw later, in a movie magazine, that feathers flew all over the stage when they danced together. Fred Astaire wasn’t keen on her wearing it in the first place. It probably made him sneeze. Wouldn’t you like to dance in a top hat and tails?’
Henry smiled. ‘Can you imagine it?’ he asked ruefully.
‘Oh come on, you can sing anyway – probably better than Fred. Let’s dance cheek to cheek!’ Obediently, he stood up, and with her encouragement they began to sway round the furniture in the confined space. Pomona was almost as tall as Henry; she came up to his chin, so his cheek actually brushed against her golden mop of hair. Daringly, she clasped both her arms round his neck. He kept his left hand firmly in the small of her back.
‘Heaven, I’m in heaven …’ He caught his foot in the rug and they landed, giggling on the sofa.
‘I suppose I’ll have to kiss you, if you won’t take advantage of me,’ Pomona challenged him.
‘I wouldn’t do any such thing,’ he murmured, before she kept her word, determined to make him respond. She was not disappointed.
‘Oh Henry, I didn’t know you had it in you,’ she breathed, before he gently disengaged himself.
‘I’m sorry, Pom – it’s not that I didn’t enjoy our embrace – it’s just that …’
‘You’re still in love with May! You must know that nothing will come of that. She’s still hankering after Paddy.’
‘I’m aware of that, but they don’t appear to have got back together, do they?’
‘Look, please forget what just happened, Henry. I don’t want to lose a good friend.’ Pomona was determined not to reveal how hurt she felt at his rebuttal. I have my pride, she told herself.
‘Of course you won’t. You’ll meet the right man before long, I’m sure, and you’ll wonder what you ever saw in a dull chap like me. You need your beauty sleep. Time to say goodnight, I think.’
The shrilling of the phone made them both jump. Henry answered it. The voice on the other end sounded faint, there was crackling on the line, but he got the message.
‘Henry, I’m coming home in two days’ time – with my mother. I hope you don’t mind. Please, can you meet us, and I’ll explain all then? I’ll ring again with the time of arrival. Love to you and Pom,’ May said.
He turned to tell Pomona the news, but she was already halfway up the stairs, with her back to him. Best to break it to her in the morning, he decided.
Pom didn’t cry easily, like May, but she clutched at her pillow in bed and told herself not to be a fool. Henry was still in love with May, and that was that.
The next morning May and Carmen realized that the two Canadians were missing. The Americans were vocal, as usual. ‘They were arrested during the night. I think we should move on from here, too.’
‘What about the concert?’
‘No point in hanging around, but we’ll contact the American embassy, and see what they advise.’
Carmen nudged her daughter. ‘What did your friend say when you telephoned him last evening?’
‘I – I didn’t give him a chance to say much, apart from hello.’
‘We must see how soon we can travel, eh?’
‘I still have the shipment of the ceramics to arrange. I hope I can do that today. Did you notice that the shelves were almost empty in Maria’s studio? She must be packing up in case she needs to leave in a hurry, too. I only got a glimpse of the pots she was sending to Tatiana; the crates were ready to be closed.’
They had not discussed May’s condition since her revelation soon after their reunion. Now, unexpectedly, Carmen patted her shoulder. ‘You must not worry so much, it will do you no good. I will care for you, as I said.’
‘Thank you, Mama,’ May said, unconsciously using the old, affectionate term.
Henry didn’t let them down: he had already been waiting an hour for the train to arrive. It was the first time he’d seen Carmen, but there was no mistaking the likeness between the two women. He greeted them in turn with a warm handshake; found a porter to wheel the luggage to the car.
May sat with her mother in the back seats. Carmen shivered. ‘It is so much colder here,’ she complained. ‘I had forgotten how different the climate is from my country. Where is the sun?’
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a month or two for that,’ May reminded her. ‘You will need a warm coat.’
Pomona was hovering on the doorstep to greet them. ‘I’ve put the kettle on, and dinner is almost ready. Mum, you look just the same!’
‘You know that is not true,’ Carmen said crossly. ‘But you,’ her tone softened, ‘my darling, are more beautiful than ever.’
She didn’t hug me like that, May thought; Pomona was always her favourite. But she can’t deny the fact that I am like her in looks, if not in character.
‘So clever,’ Carmen enthused, ‘You make me very proud, Pomona. What is it you are cooking?’
‘Henry’s favourite, not a Spanish dish, I’m afraid, you’ll have to show me how to make those. This is cottage pie – about my limit. Cooking is not my main interest.’
‘You like to dance now?’
‘Not flamenco. May gave that up long ago, so I never learned the steps from her. But Henry and I enjoy an occasional dance together, don’t we, Henry?’ Pomona added, with a sidelong glance at May. ‘I’ll show you your room, Mum.’
‘I hope I do not put you out,’ Carmen said.
‘No, in fact you will be sharing the big bedroom with me. May, I moved your things into the other room, I hope you don’t mind?’
I am the only one paying for my board, May thought, but of course she didn’t say it. She shook her head instead.
Later she rang Tatiana to let her know she was back and that the crates of china were on their way. ‘I can come back to work as soon as you would like me to,’ she offered.
‘You will need time to settle your mother in and to enjoy your sister’s company before she returns to Cambridge. Next Monday will be soon enough. I look forward to seeing you then. I am sorry you had to cut your holiday short because of the situation over there, but thank you for seeing Maria as promised.’
After Carmen and Pomona had gone to bed May went out into the kitchen to see if Pom had done all the washing up, as she’d promised airily to do.
‘You must be tired after all that travelling, May,’ she had said.
As she suspected, the
baking dish and saucepans had been left to soak in the sink, and rinsed crockery was piled on the draining board.
With a sigh, she bent over the sink, and began to scour the pans. Henry came up quietly behind her, put his arms round her waist to support her. ‘Let me do that, you must be exhausted. Pomona expects too much of you.’
‘She always has. It’s my fault, I indulged her.’ She turned suddenly, rubbing her wet hands on his jersey. ‘I’m sorry, Henry – maybe I’d better get it over with now. I have something important to tell you – you may think badly of me when you know what it is.’
‘I would never do that,’ he said quietly. ‘Look, leave that stuff, I’ll do it later. Let’s go back in the living room and talk.’
‘There’s no easy way to tell you, Henry, but I’m expecting a baby.’
He didn’t remove his comforting arm. ‘Ah,’ he said.
‘It was Paddy, of course – but you mustn’t think badly of him. It just happened, that’s all. I hope you can understand?’
‘If you mean, do I mind – well, of course I do. If only it had been you and me. What does he say about this?’
‘Nothing! He doesn’t know, and I don’t want him to. It happened to him once before, and he had to get married, but he has this dear little daughter, and he is struggling to make ends meet. She’s the one he must look after, with the help of his parents.’
‘You are thinking of coping with this on your own? May darling, you don’t have to. Marry me, I have no objections to a ready-made family. I love you, you know that.’
‘Henry! I couldn’t expect this of you—’
‘Why not? You often tell me how fond you are of me – we are the best of friends, too, and I believe that’s a good basis for marriage. When’s the baby due?’
‘November, I think. I haven’t seen the doctor yet.’
‘Well, if you agree let’s get married as soon as possible. Have you confided in your mother?’
‘She guessed. She doesn’t know who the father is.’
Young May Moon Page 17