The Sanchez Tradition

by Anne Mather

  Rachel found it difficult to go on. Her brain spun in the effort to think clearly and lucidly, and Madam Sanchez’s words of explanation did nothing to ease her unhappiness.

  At last she swallowed, and said: ‘André said if I had a baby I’d have less time to cause trouble!’ She sighed. ‘That’s exactly how he put it, during a row we had!’ She chewed her lower lip. ‘You—you can’t imagine how I felt when he said that! Until then, I’d wanted a baby, but André had said we needed time to be alone together.’

  ‘He was jealous,’ remarked Madam Sanchez calmly. ‘He wanted nothing and no one to distract you from him.’

  ‘But wasn’t that selfish?’ pleaded Rachel desperately. ‘My reasons for having a baby were possessive, too. But I wanted part of André inside me! I wanted to feel his baby kicking in my stomach and know that whatever happened I would have his child!’ Her impassioned voice quietened. She drew on her cigarette. ‘Anyway, I said no, then. When he threw the idea at me, I said that nothing would induce me to give him more of a hold over me!’ Her voice broke and she had to compose herself before she could go on. ‘Any—anyway, as you know, I did become pregnant. Of course we had made up our quarrel. I could never resist André if he really set his mind to it, and he knew it. But when I found I was pregnant, I accused him of taking advantage of me, and we had another row. Oh, it was terrible!’ She buried her face in her hands, and Madam Sanchez rose to her feet and leaving her alone crossed to the french doors that opened on to the veranda. She stood there for a while, giving Rachel time to recompose herself, and then returned to her seat when Rachel looked up, wiping her eyes vigorously.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Rachel self-consciously. ‘But it’s not easy.’

  ‘No, I realise that,’ replied André’s mother gently. ‘Do you want to go on?’

  ‘Oh yes. Now I’ve started, I’ll tell you everything.’ Rachel sniffed. ‘Well—afterwards, after this row, we became civil with one another again, but André never touched me, never slept with me, after that. He—he—moved his clothes into the spare room, and although outwardly things looked the same, underneath it was awful!’ She sighed. ‘I was hurt at first, too hurt to retaliate, but later my temper got the better of me, I’m afraid, and I started to be unco-operative and silent when he was around. Ramon came often to visit us, as you know. I think he enjoyed my company, and I enjoyed his, in a purely platonic way, of course. I didn’t tell him about the baby. I suppose I should have done, but I didn’t want to talk about the thing that had caused this rift between André and me.’ She looked into Madam Sanchez’s eyes. ‘Can you understand how I felt? Can you?’

  André’s mother frowned. ‘I’m beginning to. Go on, Rachel.’

  ‘Oh well, Ramon used to take me out for days, swimming and fishing and so on, and I continued to accompany him. Then, one trip, the trip, we went skin-diving.’ She hunched her shoulders. ‘I know I got breathless as I went down, and I felt this awful choking feeling. I told Ramon I was going up, you know—by gestures, and he followed me. But I think the continued exertion of so many sporting activities had got the better of me, and I felt weak and shaky. Ramon brought me home, but the damage was done.’ She gave a cynical shrug of her shoulders. ‘No grand gestures, no dramatic scene, just a miscarriage that was agony, both physical and mental.’

  ‘Did you tell all this to André?’

  Rachel gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Do you imagine he would have listened? Oh, no, when he came home and found the doctor in attendance, he was in no mood for conversation.’ She sighed. ‘Besides, I was in no fit state to be coherent, myself. You won’t believe this, but I wanted that baby, really wanted it! Oh, I said all sorts of things to André, but it was pure and utter stupidity on my part that made me act that way, I see that now. Afterwards, when André could see me, could talk to me, he accused me of deliberately attempting to bring a miscarriage upon myself. I was too weak to disagree with him. It was no good anyway. He never wanted to see me again. That was his attitude!’

  Madam Sanchez clucked her tongue. ‘But, child, couldn’t you see that he was hurt, terribly hurt? Didn’t it occur to you that his anger was directed as much against himself as at you for causing you to have to suffer this terrible thing? In all this, you seem to have lost sight of the fact that André loved you. You might hurt him, cause him agonies of self-recrimination, but he still loved you.’

  Rachel stared at her. ‘How can you say that?’ she gasped.

  ‘Because I know what he was like when you left!’ retorted André’s mother sharply. ‘He was like a man demented! Twice he came to London to see you, and twice he returned without attempting to do so.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Of course. Do you think he let you go without ascertaining that you were safe and well? Both times he saw your father, but of course, your father was prevailed upon not to tell you.’

  Rachel was speechless for a moment, then she said: ‘It seems my father has kept many things to himself,’ she murmured bitterly. ‘Why didn’t André want me to know?’

  ‘Your father told him you were still very depressed. That you were only slowly recovering from your illness, and that André’s appearance might create more difficulties for you. In return, André made your father promise that if at any time you were in doubt or should need him, he would contact André immediately. I suppose that was why your father sent you to André now.’

  Rachel shook her head, still slightly bewildered. ‘I see,’ she said huskily. ‘And now it’s too late!’

  Madam Sanchez rose to her feet and sighed. ‘Yes. André is to marry Leonie. She will make him a good and dutiful wife, I have no doubts about that. What troubles me is whether André will make her a good and dutiful husband.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Rachel looked up at her.

  Madam Sanchez shrugged her shoulders. ‘I heard you with André in the hall, remember,’ she said quietly. ‘Though he may never admit it, you are not out of his system yet.’ She turned to Rachel with a half-smile. ‘Oh, Rachel, what problems we create for ourselves!’

  Rachel bent her head in silent assent.

  The older woman sighed again. ‘Ah, well, child, you are going to Rio, with Maria, and I cannot say I am not glad. It will do you the world of good to get away from everything you have known for a while. And the weather there is marvellous at this time of the year. Marcus’s house is near the beach, and I am sure you will like Olivia. She is not hard like Irena, or brittle like Leonie. She is a girl like yourself, young and attractive, and very much in love with her husband.’

  Rachel glanced Madam Sanchez’s way swiftly, but her expression gave nothing away. ‘And afterwards?’ she ventured quietly.

  Madam Sanchez lifted her shoulders and then let them fall again. ‘Who knows?’ she said, with a frown. ‘What is certain is that you need a rest, a real rest, and that is what you will get with Marcus and Olivia.’

  ‘Do they know I am to stay for so long?’ asked Rachel, rising now, aware of that awful frustration that comes when one feels one’s life is being taken out of one’s hands and there is absolutely nothing one can do about it.

  Madam Sanchez nodded. ‘Yes, they know. Do not concern yourself on that score. Olivia was not here five years ago to pass judgements, and I doubt that Marcus would bear a grudge. You remember Marcus, I’m sure.’

  Rachel nodded. Marcus was like Ramon; intelligent, gentle, and kind…. She stubbed out her cigarette and straightened. It was no good railing against a fate that so many people were mapping out for her, starting with her own father. And besides, what else could she do? Where else could she go? She didn’t really want to return to London and the store so soon after her father’s death, and here she was only a nuisance to her in-laws, whatever they might say. It was far better to accept the trip to Rio, let André obtain his divorce, and eventually return to London when the long summer days were beginning, and there would be fewer shadows to haunt her….

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE sun was beginn
ing to slide down the sky as Rachel mounted the veranda steps and turning smiled encouragingly at Maria who lagged some few yards behind. The child’s sturdy little legs were shortening their step and she looked rosy-cheeked and healthily tired. She carried a bucket in one hand and a spade in the other, and Rachel carried their two pairs of sandals. Maria clambered up the steps, and grinned triumphantly up at her aunt.

  ‘You see,’ she exclaimed. ‘I told you I didn’t need to be carried.’

  Rachel gave her tousled hair a gentle tug, and pushed her before her into the cool tiled hall of the villa. It was refreshing to be out of the glare of the sun, but Rachel had grown quite used to its intensity during the four weeks she had been staying with Marcus and Olivia, and it no longer troubled her by its brilliance.

  Maria turned as they entered the hall, and said: ‘Will you give me my bath tonight, Rachel, please—oh, please!’ She pulled at Rachel’s hand appealingly, but just at that moment a slim attractive girl emerged from the room to their right, and said:

  ‘Now, Maria, you’ve only just got home. Give Rachel a chance to sit down and have a drink. You’re far too demanding! She’ll be getting sick and tired of you, if you’re not careful.’

  Rachel smiled at her sister-in-law, and shook her head. ‘No, I won’t, Olivia,’ she said reassuringly. ‘But run along and see Tottie now, Maria. Like your mother says I want a nice relaxing cup of tea and a cigarette.’

  Maria wrinkled her nose. ‘Then will you bath me?’

  ‘Most likely,’ agreed Rachel, nodding, and giving the little girl’s behind a sharp pat she sent her scampering off to the kitchen to find Tottie. Then she accompanied Olivia through the wide doors which led into the lounge of the villa. This was a long, low room that ran from front to back of the house, with plain white walls decorated with Brazilian carvings. The furniture was plain too, but very comfortable, and Olivia had added touches which were wholly feminine in the ribbons that looped back the heavy curtains, and the hand-embroidered cushions. It was a friendly, lived-in kind of room with toys stacked in one corner instead of stowed away in a nursery somewhere. Maria was very much a focal point in this small family, and Rachel thought that that was how it should be.

  A maid had just brought a trolley of afternoon tea, and Rachel sank down thankfully, and accepted a cup from Olivia eagerly. Olivia poured her own, and then lying back in her chair, she said:

  ‘Honestly, Rachel, I don’t know how I managed before you came. You take that wretch of mine off my hands so much I’m able to do all the things I’ve never had time for.’

  Rachel smiled. ‘You must know I adore her,’ she returned enthusiastically, ‘and we have some good times together.’

  ‘I can see that,’ nodded Olivia, sighing. ‘You wouldn’t consider staying here indefinitely, I suppose?’

  Rachel’s cheeks coloured slightly. ‘Oh, I don’t know…’ she began uncertainly.

  Olivia compressed her lips. ‘You don’t have to decide right away,’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s just that—well, I’ve discovered I’m pregnant again.’

  Rachel’s eyes widened. ‘You are? Oh, how marvellous!’

  Olivia looked doubtful. ‘Do you think so? Don’t you think Maria’s a bit young to take to a new baby?’

  ‘Heavens, no!’ Rachel shook her head. ‘She’ll be four by the time it arrives. I think that’s a good age. She’ll be able to help you so much and she’ll enjoy that. Besides, you know she’s always wanting playmates.’

  Olivia nodded. ‘Oh, I suppose so,’ she said, shrugging. ‘It’s just that—well, we haven’t planned this baby like we planned Maria. I don’t even know whether Marcus will be pleased or not.’

  Rachel gave her an impatient glance. ‘You haven’t told him?’

  ‘No. I—well, I’ve put off doing so. I suppose I shall have to sooner or later. But I shan’t tell Maria until it’s almost the time. Otherwise she’ll grow impatient.’

  ‘Oh, I agree with you,’ said Rachel thoughtfully. Then she lit a cigarette and Olivia said quietly:

  ‘You’d have made a marvellous mother, Rachel.’

  Rachel’s cheeks burned now. ‘Anyone can get along with children,’ she said disclaimingly.

  ‘No, they can’t,’ replied Olivia, shaking her head. ‘I just can’t understand—–’ Then she halted. ‘I’m sorry. I was about to do what I promised Marcus’s mother I wouldn’t do—pry!’

  Rachel sighed. ‘It’s not prying, Olivia,’ she said uncomfortably. ‘Naturally you’re curious about me. I would be in your position. Did you know I had a miscarriage?’

  Olivia nodded. ‘Oh yes, I know all the facts. I just can’t connect them with the woman I know.’

  Rachel bit her lip. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ she commented wryly. ‘I really believe I’ve matured somewhat since those days.’

  Olivia sipped her tea, and Rachel wondered what thoughts were going through the other girl’s head. From the beginning, she and Olivia had liked one another. Although Olivia’s family had money and lived on the continent, the boarding schools and finishing schools she had attended had not spoiled her at all, and she was very much a home-loving girl. Marcus and Maria were her whole world, and she was not interested in any other career than that of being a good wife to her husband. But their friendship had developed in rather a limited way, for Rachel had avoided speaking about André, and Olivia had done likewise, apparently now, as Rachel had discovered, on Madam Sanchez’s orders. Yet in spite of that they had become close friends, and Rachel could understand Olivia’s curiosity about her situation and the uncertainties involved. Even so, she did not feel inclined to talk about her problems too much. She had successfully managed to push them to the back of her mind during her weeks here, and although she knew when she was alone in her room that nothing had really changed, she could cope with her life during the daylight hours without much difficulty, and in truth, Maria had helped enormously.

  ‘When does Marcus get back?’ asked Rachel now, changing the subject.

  Olivia stretched lazily. ‘Oh, the day after tomorrow,’ she said, hunching her shoulders and then straightening her back. ‘I usually miss him terribly when he goes away on these trips, but this time it hasn’t been so bad.’

  Marcus had been away for ten days. Rachel wasn’t sure where he was at the moment, but the last cable they had had from him he was in New York. He had been only too glad to welcome Rachel into their home, knowing that his absences depressed his young wife when she was left alone.

  Rachel smiled. ‘You’re only saying that,’ she said patiently. ‘You know you’re absolutely dying to see him! You don’t have to pretend indifference on my account.’

  Olivia stood up. ‘Oh, Rachel,’ she said, shaking her head, ‘I do like having you here. You will think about what I said, won’t you?’

  Rachel nodded. ‘All right, I’ll think about it,’ she agreed, and getting up too, said: ‘Now I’d better go and see about young Maria’s bath. And you take it easy. You know you mustn’t exert yourself now.’

  Olivia rubbed a hand over her flat stomach. ‘Oh, I’m all right,’ she replied. ‘It’s almost seven months away yet. Just imagine, all the summer months in shapeless dresses!’

  ‘You’ll survive,’ retorted Rachel unsympathetically. Then she chuckled. ‘You know you’re really delighted. When are you going to tell Marcus?’

  Olivia lifted her shoulders. ‘Oh, when he comes home, I suppose. Would you?’

  Rachel felt a slight pain in the lower region of her stomach. ‘Oh yes,’ she said, turning away so that Olivia couldn’t see her face. ‘I wouldn’t wait. I’m sure he’ll be delighted.’

  Later, in her own room, changing for dinner, Rachel sat at her dressing-table and buried her face in her hands. Somehow, Olivia’s condition had brought back all the agony and misery she had hoped to forget, and there was real envy inside her for the simple happiness of Olivia’s marriage. Why had she been such a fool all those years ago? If only her father had told he
r that André had actually followed her to London, things might have been different. But of course, he had been acting in what he thought were her best interests, and certainly from her attitude he would not have thought she wanted to see her husband. But that had all been bravado. If she had suspected André had really cared, had really forgiven her for behaving so carelessly, she would have gone to see him willingly, eagerly…. But she had thought she had killed their love and she would never have believed that André would humble himself in that way.

  Getting up from her dressing-table, she walked across to the open doors that led on to a balcony. The balcony was over the veranda and her room overlooked the same sweep of Juanastra Bay as did the lounge downstairs. Below the villa, although it was now dark, there was an incline which led on to the beach, and beyond, the sweeping rollers of the Atlantic. It was a beautiful place, just outside Rio de Janeiro, with an ideal climate all the year round. There were several houses in the area, and together with some smaller cottages, they formed the village of Juanastra. It was quite a beauty spot, some of the villagers indulging in wood carving to attract the tourists. There was an old church, and some magnificent waterfalls nearby, and it was quite a busy place in the peak of the season. But where Marcus Sanchez had his house, above a private beach, it was quiet and peaceful, and until today Rachel had felt at peace there.

  She supposed it was silly to let Olivia’s pregnancy affect her in this way, and she would get over it; and she might, she just might, stay on as Olivia wanted her to do. After all, why not? It was a way of avoiding responsibilities, and right now she couldn’t cope with them.

  During the next couple of days Olivia prepared herself for her husband’s return. She had her hair done at a salon in Rio, while Rachel took Maria shopping along the Rio Branco. The little girl was fascinated by the window displays of the huge stores, and they wandered round the departments admiring the variety of goods offered for sale. Rachel bought Maria a large drawing block and some crayons as this had become a favourite pastime of hers, and some tights and cosmetics for herself. Later they went to a coffee bar, and while Rachel had coffee Maria tackled a huge strawberry sundae topped with fresh cream and nuts. Afterwards, when they rejoined Olivia, Maria could talk of nothing else, and Olivia said good-naturedly: ‘She doesn’t show as much excitement as this when I take her for an ice-cream. I obviously haven’t the touch!’