by Iris Danbury
‘That’s right,’ agreed Paul, smiling. ‘But wait a year and you II see what will rise in their place.’
‘Why bother to have finished the two new villas if they’re going to be demolished?’ she demanded.
‘Because that way we get reimbursed for two completed villas, instead of half built affairs.’
‘I think Paul has managed the whole affair quite splendidly,’ asserted his aunt, giving him an admiring glance.
‘I couldn’t have done it half as well without Caran’s help,’ he countered modestly. ‘You excelled yourself, Caran, by knowing just how much to encourage Don Ramiro, then withdrawing. You played your cards like an expert.’
Caran instantly recalled that other occasion on the way back from the visit to Don Ramiro in Almeria when Paul had remarked lo Julie that Caran knew how to play her cards.
Now she said with flat bitterness, ‘Apparently I’ve played them so well that Don Ramiro has asked me to marry him.’
‘What!’ Paul’s hand holding his glass shook so violently that some of the champagne spilled on the table. ‘Why, that’s marvellous news. Congratulations I Oh, we shall have to drink a separate toast to that!’ He was already signalling to the waiter for more champagne.
‘You’d better wait before you order,’ Caran said quietly. ‘I’m not going to accept Don Ramiro.’
Paul’s pent-up breath came out in a huge gasp. ‘Not accept him? You’re crazy! Remember how’ I told you ages ago that he’d really fallen for you and you wouldn’t believe me? I said then that if you wanted to, you could end up by being a Mendosa.’
‘As it happens, I don’t want to end up that way.’
After a long pause, during which Caran noticed that Mrs. Parmenter remained silent and unsmiling, Paul said sadly, ‘Well, you can’t be compelled to change your mind, but I hope you’ll give yourself time to think it over. Chance in a million.’
‘I’m aware of that,’ agreed Caran with a faint smile. ‘Aristocratic Dons aren’t lying around waiting for me to give them my gracious favours.’
‘Why, you even managed to get Brooke Eldridge out of the way,’ Paul continued. ‘He soon hopped it when he saw that he had no chance with you—or Julie, either, for that matter.’
‘I don’t think he went because of any personal reasons.’ Caran kept her voice steady. ‘It was merely because of a job elsewhere.’
‘Anyway, his villa is empty, so it saves me the necessity of turning him out.’
He poured more champagne. ‘Let’s at least drink a toast to our new venture—the Hotel Peninsula. Remember, Caran, you christened it?’
She shook her head. ‘No, Paul. You did.’
He filled her glass and she held it near her lips so that the bubbles gently spattered her face, but she did not drink. She would have preferred to fling the contents into Paul’s face, and perhaps to a lesser degree, Mrs. Parmenter’s.
‘Of course, Caran,’ began Paul, ‘even if you don’t choose to marry Don Ramiro, you’ll still be in clover. We’ll make you a director and the rewards will be handsome. If you want to occupy your time, you’ll have a free hand to dabble in anything you choose, interior decoration, supervising the sales—we shall have all kinds of boutiques in the hotel and elsewhere.’
Paul’s enthusiasm ran on into a brilliant future. Caran reflected that she was asking too much if she expected him to be sensitive over her disappointment. He was not made that way. He saw’ his objective and drove straight towards it, thrusting sentiment or the misfortunes of others aside without a qualm.
When Paul drove her and Mrs. Parmenter back to the villas, he said, ‘Come into mine, Caran, and I’ll show you all the plans.’
‘Not tonight, Paul. I’m rather tired. You can show them to me another time.’
He accepted her refusal, but his aunt had another purpose in view.
‘Would you come into Cristal for a few moments?’ she asked Caran, and it was useless refusing that request.
Paul saw them to the outer door of Cristal and bade them good night.
‘You’re upset about our future plans, aren’t you?’ Mrs. Parmenter began when she and Caran were in the living-room of the villa.
‘I’ve no right to be, I suppose,’ Caran answered, ‘but I think you should have told me when you engaged me that you intended to put the villas into working order and then sell them.’
She wanted to say that Mrs. Parmenter and Paul had encouraged her to accept a post under completely false pretences and then used her as a pawn in the game of bargaining with Don Ramiro.
‘But at that time we had no intention of doing that,’ Mrs. Parmenter now asserted. ‘I’d lost money in previous years through bad management and my only idea was to have someone trustworthy on the spot. It was Paul who had ideas about development, but only after you had already left England.’
‘Oh, I thought he spoke as though such ideas had been in his mind a considerable time, more than a year, in fact.’ Caran was not to be coaxed so easily.
‘In a vague way, yes,’ admitted the other woman. ‘But what really sparked him off was the fact that you’d met Don Ramiro before Paul came. Then he discovered that Don Ramiro had bought the land here and was virtually our new landlord. Paul soon saw that he had to work fast to make the villas an attractive proposition.’
It was all very plausible, Caran thought. So Don Ramiro had been involved from her first day in Spain. She saw now, or perhaps imagined she saw, why the mere mention of the villas was enough to make people in Albarosa shake their heads. The bills not paid, the refusal of maids to give service, the reluctance of builders and others to do the repairs, all these hindrances were no doubt contrived by the most influential man in the neighbourhood, Don Ramiro. If the villas failed, he would be able to buy them at knockout price.
Instead of that, Caran had been subtly persuaded to put in a certain amount of hard work and a great deal of enthusiasm, with the result that the villas were worthy of greater compensation.
‘I was quite surprised at your news about Don Ramiro,’ Mrs. Parmenter broke in on Caran’s thoughts. ‘Of course, it would be a tremendous chance for you to marry him, although I believe that it’s not always easy to be integrated into one of these proud Spanish families.’
‘You need not worry about that, Mrs. Parmenter. I shan’t marry Don Ramiro.’
Mrs. Parmenter’s face brightened. ‘In one way I’m glad to hear that, and obviously you have your reasons.’ She looked away from Caran, then back again quickly. ‘I’ve had the idea lately that you and Paul would make a splendid pair.’
‘Paul—and me?’ echoed Caran. Belatedly she schooled her face into a less appalled expression, ‘Oh, no, that wouldn’t please either of us.’
‘I like you very much, Caran, not because you’ve worked well here, but because of your good qualities in a personal way. You’d be very good for Paul, have a steadying influence on him. He’s a dear nephew, but inclined quite often to be attracted to the wrong girl.’
Caran smiled gently. ‘He’s not attracted to me.’ It was on the tip of her tongue to add that if he were attracted to anyone here, Julie was the girl.
‘That may be, but I can see that he’s attracted to your friend Julie.’ Mrs. Parmenter took the words straight out of Caran’s thoughts. ‘Now I don’t want to be harsh and she’s your friend, but she isn’t at all suitable for Paul.’
‘She has a good business head,’ put in Caran in Julie’s defence.
‘Too good, perhaps, in some directions. That girl is out to make a successful financial match and she sees a comfortable future in Paul.’
‘I think you’re wrong, Mrs. Parmenter. Julie has quite other ideas.’
‘Then in that case she’s leading Paul on for no purpose,’ was the other’s crisp reply. ‘Well, for the time being we shall have to allow matters to settle themselves, I suppose. One thing I’m glad of, and that’s getting rid of Mr. Eldridge. I know his rent was useful when all the other villas were empty, but he
was so untidy and gave a bad, shabby air to the whole place.’
Caran laughed. ‘He won’t trouble you again. He’s gone to the opposite end of Spain on another irrigation scheme.’ She rose to go, for evidently Mrs. Parmenter’s little chat was finished.
‘You will stay on with us whatever happens, won’t you, Caran?’ queried Mrs. Parmenter.
‘I shan’t leave you in mid-season,’ Caran declared coldly. ‘I was engaged to manage the villas during this coming summer and unless you have other plans, I shall do so. Paul says there are bookings running into September, so I take it that the villas won’t be knocked down until after then.’
Mrs. Parmenter smiled. ‘No question of demolition for a long time vet, not until the hotel is built and occupied, and that will be well into next year. So I hope we shall keep you here for some time.’
With that reassurance Caran said good night to Mrs. Parmenter and returned to her villa. The savour had gone out of the whole project now. Paul and his aunt might be delighted at events to come, but Caran was depressed. If only Brooke had been here to talk to, to tell him of her disappointment, she would have borne with good humour his sarcastic remarks.
Julie was sympathetic when the two girls met next day. ‘You’re upset about all the business deal, aren’t you? Don’t worry. It will sort itself out. That’s what I say about slogging in a job, any job. You give out your heart’s blood to do more than you need and what happens? Your employers say “Oh, thanks very much” and you find yourself looking for a new job, for one reason or another.’
In spite of her depression, Caran laughed at Julie’s philosophy. ‘These people are your employers, too.’
‘Yes, but I summed up Paul long ago. As for his auntie, she’s one of those helpless middle-aged women who need half a dozen friends or relatives to keep them from sinking under the weight of their bad investments, but actually, they’re tough as old boots and end up frightfully rich, leaving someone else to pay the death duties.’
At that Caran laughed without restraint. ‘Dear Julie, you really are a tonic when I feel low. Aunt Alison wouldn’t be flattered by your opinion of her.’
‘And you needn’t tell me her opinion of me. I know what she thinks. That I’m out to grab her darling Paul. Well, you know, Caran, what I think about him. As for you, my pet, if matters really get you down, you can always marry the Don. I’m off to the town. Anything you want?’
‘Yes. Will you bring a few packets of assorted sewing needles and some reels of thread? Black and white, half a dozen of each. I thought I’d make up small boxes of mending materials for the villas. People often forget to bring such items with them and they don’t know enough Spanish to ask in the shops.’
Julie stood, arms akimbo, and gave Caran a long, admiring glance. ‘You never really stop working, do you? In spite of a clout over the head.’
‘It passes the time,’ murmured Caran, smiling. She opened her wallet and gave Julie a five-hundred-peseta note.
‘That’s a handsome wallet you have there,’ commented Julie. ‘Did you buy it here?’
Caran coloured furiously. ‘No. It was a present. New Year.’
Julie took it from Caran’s hands and examined the designs on back and front. ‘H’m. I remember that Paul gave you perfume. Don Ramiro would never compromise himself in the matter of gifts before engagement, so who could it be but Brooke?’
Caran nodded. ‘Just a farewell trifle, that’s all,’ she said offhandedly, as she took it back from Julie.
‘A token of his regard. You fared better than I did. That necklace—the amber beads—that wasn’t from Brooke. I bought it myself.’
‘You—bought it?’
‘Thought it might make you jealous. ‘Bye!’ Julie dashed along the path to the road.
Caran leaned against the door lintel. The more I know of Julie, she thought, the more astonishing I find her. Was it true that she had brought her own necklace and pretended it was a gift from Brooke? Or was she just saying that now that she knew Caran had also received a present? Caran was conscious of a tiny glow of warmth towards Brooke. But the spark soon died. Why imagine that he had been drawn towards her, even in preference to Julie, when he was now so far away and unlikely to be sparing her a single tender thought?
Three days before Good Friday, Caran received a letter from Don Ramiro inviting her to attend the processions and ceremonies on that day in Granada.
Without hesitation Caran replied, regretfully declining on the grounds that the first visitors to the villas would be arriving just before Easter and she would be extra busy.
She knew quite well that if she accepted, Don Ramiro would interpret her acceptance into at least a provisional acceptance of his offer of marriage. She would be seen in Granada in his company in public and that would designate her as his intended bride.
Paul apparently knew of this invitation, for he told Caran that she could take a day or two off.
‘I suppose Don Ramiro will come and pick you up to drive you to Granada?’
Caran gave him a cautious glance. ‘I’m not going to Granada,’ she said quietly.
‘Oh, that’s bad news! Why not?’
‘You of all people, Paul, ought to know why net. If I go, it’s tantamount to saying that I’ll marry the man—some time.’
Paul sighed. ‘It means a lot to us, Caran, not to offend him. Perhaps you’ll change your mind?’
‘No, I think not. Besides, we have people coming in on Thursday. I ought to be here to settle them in.’
‘Aunt Alison and I will do everything that’s necessary for the visitors,’ he promised eagerly.
But Caran was not to be swayed. She would stick to her resolve not to go to Granada. It was a pity, she thought, to miss such an interesting spectacle in Holy Week. Apart from that, she would have liked to visit Granada to see the Alhambra and the gardens of the Generalife, but perhaps later on she would be able to do that.
On Thursday morning there was a peremptory knock on the outer door and she rushed to open it, thinking that Felipe had brought some more of his clay dummies for display. Instead, Brooke stood there, smiling, unwontedly tidy in jacket and cavalry twill trousers.
‘Happy Maundy Thursday!’ he greeted her. He stepped inside with as little ceremony as if he were still living at his villa and had come to bring her the morning paper.
‘Oh, hallo, Brooke!’ she muttered fatuously, annoyed with herself that he should have the power to throw her off balance. ‘On holiday?’
‘Yes. Too difficult to get the men to work during this week. They’re all involved in various processions and then the Easter gaieties. So I’ve taken some time off myself. How about you? Any time to spare?’
She shook her head. ‘Not a hope. We have our first visitors coming today.’
‘Pity. Thought I’d like to see the Good Friday turn-out at Murcia. I couldn’t see it last year because I went to Lorca for theirs. No chance of coming with me—if only to take shorthand notes?’
She was tempted and he knew it, but did he think he could just march in and invite her to a day’s outing when two months ago he had left his villa without a word, without even telling her to what district he was moving, let alone trust her with his address?
‘Sorry,’ she murmured, ‘but I’ve already refused one invitation.’
The moment she had spoken she realised she had made a mistake. Never tell one man that you have already turned down another’s offer, Julie had once counselled her. It merely makes the second one keener to overcome your opposition and score off his rival.
‘All the more reason for coming with me,’ said Brooke, seizing his advantage as she knew he would. Yet one part of her mind rejoiced that he was taking the trouble to persuade her.
But she would not surrender quite so easily. ‘I’ll have to let you know later,’ she temporised.
‘How late? This afternoon when you’ve squared it with Paul? We have to leave at seven tomorrow morning if we’re to arrive in Murcia in time to se
e the important parts of the processions.’
She recovered her poise and some of her spirit. ‘You never think of anyone but yourself and your festivals, do you? Here am I trying to put on a good show and create an excellent impression for the tourists and you barge in with offers of a day’s secretarial work in Murcia!’
Brooke’s raised eyebrows looked comic. ‘You could do with a day off from the grind here. You look peaky.’
‘I’ve worked here all the winter, even though it wasn’t very hard, and now I’m looking forward to the summer. If I don’t have too many interruptions, I might even have a chance to get tanned.’
Brooke pushed his hands into his jacket pockets and laughed rudely. ‘Flying off the handle as usual. Ah! Summer at Albarosa. A fine prospect. I wish I could be here to enjoy it.’
‘I should never get any work done then.’
‘Who would be interrupting you? Not I. All right then, I’ll take myself off—I’d have given you lunch in the town if you’d been in a more gracious mood. I shall take Benita instead.’
‘Do. She’ll enjoy a good meal.’
‘I’ll be in the car park tomorrow morning. If you’re not there sharp on seven, I shall go without you.’
‘Taking Benita there?’ she queried impudently.
‘Oh, I’ve the pick of the girls in this town.’ He went out without another word and a few moments later she heard the sound of his car behind the villas, then roaring up the winding road.
Caran stood for a moment or two in the porch, dazed by the unexpectedness of Brooke’s visit. Had he really come specially to invite her to a fiesta at Murcia or because he had a few days to fill in and was at a loose end? Going to fiestas and ceremonies on his own was too dull for words. One might as well have the company of a girl. Any girl? She could almost imagine the way his mind worked. She was still uncertain whether to go or not.