by Hilary Wilde
“I’m not so sure,” James said cheerfully. “He looked as if he was enjoying himself.”
“Did he?” Kate ventured to hope for a moment, but common sense prevailed. “I think he feels a bit guilty about me, so wanted to give me a good time.”
James grunted and stopped the car outside the dingy building.
“You’re too modest, that’s your trouble.”
That was something his mother was always telling her. And she repeated it a few days later when Kate had taken Rosa round to the Villa Paradis to tea.
“James says you need more self-confidence, and I agree, dear child,” observed Mrs. McCormack.
Kate had a headache, and Mrs. McCormack made her take aspirin, put an eau de cologne-soaked hankie on her forehead and made her lie down.
Then she took Rosa on her knee and told her about the days when James was a small boy.
Rosa looked relaxed, leaning against Mrs. McCormack’s ample bosom and looking confidingly up into the kind face, as Mrs. McCormack told Kate later.
“... And we walked down Regent Street. That’s in London, you know, Rosa,” Mrs. McCormack said, and then saw the child had gone very white and felt her shiver.
“In London people die,” Rosa said. She shuddered, her small body trembling. Mrs. McCormack tightened her arms, but before she could speak Rosa went on, “Their heads are cut off.” Rosa bent her head and made an expressive movement with her hand across the back of her neck.
Her eyes were wide and terrified.
When Mrs. McCormack had checked her first quick denial, she said gently, “That’s only in history, darling. They did that hundreds of years ago, but not any more. I’ve lived in London — so has James. So has Kate.
We’ve all got our heads on,” she said.
Rosa’s eyes were still huge. Suddenly she clutched Mrs. McCormack round the neck and whispered in her ear, “Kate will take me to London and cut off my head.”
Later, when telling Kate about it, Mrs. McCormack said that her blood had run cold. “I wanted to ask her who had said such wicked things, yet I was afraid it would frighten her more. So I told her that her father would never let anyone do that to her, and in any case, that Kate loved her so much that she would never let anyone hurt her. She asked me why you loved her, Kate. I said it was because you had always wanted a little girl of your own.
‘Like me?’ Rosa asked, and when I said, ‘Yes, just like you,’ that seemed to make her happy. She cuddled up against me and told me that she had not thought you would hurt her, but they said so.” Mrs. McCormack sighed.
“We can guess who they are.”
Kate sighed. “I just can’t believe the Dominguez can be so wicked. My poor Rosa ... no wonder she screamed when she saw me.”
“Has she been better since that afternoon?” Mrs. McCormack asked.
They had met a few days after the event — the first time when an occasion for confidences could arise.
Kate nodded. “Yes, I wondered why.” She gave the older woman a loving smile. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. You solve all my problems.”
“Not all,” Mrs. McCormack said slowly, and Kate could feel the slow betraying color fill her cheeks. “Not quite all, but I do my best,” Mrs.
McCormack finished, smiling sympathetically.
With Rosa’s new-found confidence in her, Kate decided on drastic measures. She and Mrs. McCormack discussed it and then enlisted Natala’s willing aid.
The first time Kate took Rosa through the back of the Pensio and to the small room Natala had arranged for her, Kate watched the child’s face as she showed her the clothes she had bought her.
“For me?” Rosa’s eyes sparkled. She touched the crisp gingham dress and the open-toed sandals with loving fingers. “But ...” her eyes were frightened.
Feeling rather guilty, Kate made a game of it. “Daddy wants you to be an English girl, and these are English clothes — but your granny might be hurt if she saw you in them, so let’s keep it a secret.” Rosa adored that. Like all children she loved doing something to outwit the adult world; to be in league with another adult made it especially thrilling.
Who would have known this child? Kate thought, as they slipped out of the back entrance to the Pensio. An English girl in a pink gingham dress, her hair brushed like a cloud of spun glory, hare white knees, tiny white socks and sandals.
Rosa lifted a radiant face. “I feel so light!” she exclaimed.
Of course she did, poor poppet, as Mrs. McCormack said when they went there to tea. Think of all those starched petticoats!
Gradually Kate made more changes. The first time she took Rosa on the beach, Rosa could not believe it was true. She kept scooping handfuls of sand and letting it trickle through her fingers. As she went for her first paddle, she clung tightly to Kate’s hand and giggled as the water tickled her toes. They built sand castles together, collecting shells and pebbles to decorate them.
It was sheer bliss to watch the change in Rosa. Sometimes Kate thought that the Dominguez and Randel Lister must be blind not to see how she had altered. Maybe they never looked at the child. Sometimes Kate’s anger with Randel for his complete indifference to Rosa was so overwhelming that it was all she could do not to rush down to his office and tell him so.
Rosa did not know her father. If she spoke of him it was with awe. He was very busy, she explained, didn’t like children talking, hated them to climb over him — all things she had obviously been told by Mariana.
Mariana! These days she was always out, so fortunately she had little chance to see Rosa. Both Mariana and the Senhora left Rosa entirely alone now, perhaps hoping to make Kate tired of the child. Kate never had time off, for Anna was still in hospital and had not been replaced. Not that Kate minded. She loved every moment she spent with Rosa.
Mrs. McCormack and James both remarked on the difference.
“She is a different child,” James said slowly, taking Rosa on his knee.
He had come swimming with them and was going to teach Rosa to do a
‘dog’s paddle’ to start with, winning her confidence.
When they came back from their swim in the small pool, Kate was half asleep. She opened her eyes and saw James’s face blurring in the sunshine.
“Lazy!” he teased. He turned to Rosa. “Let’s cover her with sand and make her into a castle.”
Laughing, they were shovelling sand over her with their hands, when two shadows fell on them. Kate felt a chill suddenly and something made her open her eyes.
She found herself gazing up into Randel Lister’s startled face and Mariana’s hostile one.
“Oh!” she said guiltily, and tried to sit up.
“Hullo,” James said cheerfully. “Come to join us?” Randel was staring at his daughter. Kate could not interpret the strange look on his face. She wondered if he was wishing his wife, Candida, could have seen their ‘little English rose’ now. Rosa was wearing a minute green swimsuit, a floppy hat, covered with bright red poppies, on her head. Her bare legs were brown and she was chuckling as she scooped sand over Kate. Then Rosa turned her head and saw her father — and Kate’s heart seemed to turn over with grief as she saw the fright and shock there, and she wondered how Randel felt when Rosa dived for James and he caught her, lifting her up in his arms to sit on his shoulders.
James was smiling as he looked at Randel Lister and Mariana. The angry words that burst from Mariana had obviously been held back only because she had expected Randel to speak to them.
“You see, Randel, I was right. She has an assignation on the sands. Is that the way to care for your bebe! And our poor Rosa ...” Mariana went towards James, and Rosa promptly stuck her face in James’s neck. “Our poor Rosa,” Mariana went on, her voice changing. “She is let run naked in front of all — she will get the sun-madness, and—” Randel turned and looked at her. He said very quietly, “Sometimes, Mariana, you talk the most absolute, nonsense. In England, all our children play like this. We believe it
is the right way to live. No, I suggest you go home. The beach has always bored you, as you have so often said. I’ll telephone later tonight.”
He turned back and looked down at Kate, then at James, who was watching him with open amusement. “Are you really teaching Rosa to swim?” Randel asked, his voice friendly.
James took the hint. “We’re just due for another lesson, aren’t we, my poppet?” He put the child on the ground, but she clung to his hand, still looking worriedly at her father.
Kate watched Mariana walking across the sands, twisting her high heels, stumbling, fury in every movement as she went. Then she watched James and Rosa walk down towards the sea together, hand in hand. Finally she turned and looked up at her employer. He had come to sit by her side and was staring at her strangely. She felt greatly handicapped, forced as she was still to lie on the ground. You could not be very dignified when you were halfway towards being made into a sand castle!
“Well?” Mr. Lister said, and she shivered at the cold note in his voice.
“I think you owe me an explanation, don’t you?”
She moistened her lips nervously. “I don’t think I understand.” He was watching James and the child, and there was the oddest look on his face. Kate thought for one wild moment that he looked almost envious.
“James is good with children,” he observed.
“Oh, he is,” Kate said quickly. “But then James is wonderful with everyone. He is so kind.”
Mr. Lister looked at her frowning a little. “Why the deception, Kate?” he asked, almost reproachfully. “That was what upset Mariana.” Kate stared at him. How blind could a man be?
“Do you think,” she said slowly, “that had I asked the Senhora’s permission to take Rosa bathing, she would have granted it? She would have been hurt to know that when we are alone Rosa wears these clothes.” Kate stretched out and picked up the pink gingham dress and the sandals and showed them to Mr. Lister. “These are English clothes, but the Senhora cannot be expected to realize that. I didn’t want to offend her, so we did these things ... on the sly, I suppose you might say,” she finished nervously.
He was scooping handfuls of sand and letting it trickle through his fingers. “You think I’ve behaved very badly towards my daughter, don’t you?”
The accusation, especially made in such a quiet voice, startled Kate.
“I ...” She stopped as she met his eyes. She could feel the blood rushing guiltily to her face. “I don’t blame you,” she said cautiously. “I think it’s hard for a man to understand a little girl’s needs. You see, really, Rosa shouldn’t live in that dark flat and eat those highly seasoned foods. We rarely get fruit or vegetables. She needs much plainer food. The Pensio is ideal for the Senhora – she has no domestic troubles, can invite friends for bridge or parties — but it isn’t really right for a little girl.” Her voice died away.
He was not looking at her. He was still trickling sand through his fingers. Then he looked across the sands towards where James and Rosa were in the water.
To Kate’s utter amazement, Randel began to tell her about the Dominguez, and how he had never met them until after his wife died.
“Candida worked in London as an interpreter. She was so — so gentle.
We were married a month after we met — a year later, Rose was born. It coincided with a trip I had to make here. Candida was happy — she thought it romantic that Rose should be born here, where she herself was born. Then she died....” There was a silence, and as Kate watched his face, she longed to touch him gently, to comfort him. She could hardly bear to keep still, to wait for him to continue. “I was nearly out of mind,” he said simply. “Then there was the baby. It was then that the Senhora Dominguez came to the nursing home. She brought Mariana ... they were both hysterical with grief. They had been away — had just returned and heard the news.” He looked up as Kate made a little sound.
She stared at him but did not speak. The Senhora had told her a very different story, of hours spent by Candida’s side as she died, how Candida had handed the small baby to her to “love and care for.”
“They did not see ... see your wife before?” Kate began softly.
Randel shook his head. “I think she had quarrelled with her family. The Portuguese do not approve of their daughters roaming the world. Candida allowed me to believe that she was an orphan, so you can imagine what a surprise it was for me when they turned up. And what a scene! Mariana adores scenes, as you know.” He smiled at her — a youthful let’s share a joke smile. Kate was glad for his sake that he could smile. She wanted to cry. How he must have adored his wife. Lucky, lucky Candida!
Suddenly he startled her by saying, “Do you think Rosa is normal for her age?”
Kate stared at him. Was this some more wickedness of Mariana’s?
“Of course she is,” she said stoutly. “It’s just that the sort of experiences English children of her age have had she has never known.
Do you realize that she had never heard of Cinderella, or the little pig that went to market? Nor been to a zoo, nor seen a clown? Never seen an elephant — or seen wild flowers growing — or had a pet of her own.” She stopped breathlessly.
Randel Lister was staring at her strangely. “And you think these things are important?”
Kate began to brush off the sand. “I don’t think they’re important,” she said, cross with his blindness and annoyed with herself for feeling so.
After all, he was only a father — how could he be expected to know? “I think they’re essential.”
C H A P T E R N I N E
IT was later that evening that Kate stood on her balcony, gazing at the wonderful view and thinking with youthful glee that Mariana’s spiteful attempt to cause trouble with Mr. Lister had completely misfired. Instead, it had the reverse effect. Talking on the beach while James and Rosa played in the shallow water, Kate had seen a different Randel Lister, a bewildered man, a man who wanted to do the right thing yet did not know what that was. Then when James had come up to the beach, being chased by Rosa, it had seemed natural for him to ask Randel back to his house for tea.
“Mother is longing to meet you,” James said with that friendly, sweet smile of his. “Of course she adores Rosa. Mariana won’t worry because she knows the child is with you,” he finished with a faintly ironical gleam.
Kate saw the two men look at one another with complete understanding, and wondered again at the strange nature of men. Randel could see Mariana’s limitations, yet he still believed everything she told him.
The tea was an unqualified success. Kate could see that Mr. Lister was impressed by the way Rosa was completely at ease in the Villa Paradis, and Kate’s face burned with embarrassment at the compliments she could hear Mrs. McCormack paying her, as she talked to Randel. Later it seemed easy for James to suggest that he propose Kate’s name for admission to the English Club, and he looked over at Randel hesitantly. Mr. Lister immediately agreed and said he would second it, that he knew he should have done something about it, long ago.
Kate hesitated, looking at Rosa, who was engrossed in her usual fascinating hobby of making patterns with the buttons. James read her thoughts.
“Take Rosa along,” he said, with that easy assured manner of his.
“There are lots of children there and they have their own little playground.
It’s perfectly safe — paddling pool, sand pit, doll’s house, swings.” He looked at Randel. “I think Rosa needs some friends of her own age, don’t you?”
Randel nodded, but Kate noticed that there was a questioning look on his face as he glanced round the lovely room. She wished she could guess his thoughts.
Randel walked back to the Pensio afterwards with Kate and Rosa, saw the Senhora, told her that he was buying Rosa some new clothes and that in future she could go to the sands, or the Club, or ...
“The Club?” the Senhora had said, her voice rising slightly.
Kate could not help but overhear, for she was on her w
ay to the bathroom.
“Mees Williams belong to the Club?” the Senhora asked again.
Kate wondered why Mr. Lister sounded faintly uncomfortable as he said that Kate was going to be a member.
Now, as she drank in the beauty of the greeny-blue sky with the tiny golden crescent of a new moon suspended in it, the silhouetted palm trees and the string of bright lights sparkling along the bay, Kate hugged herself.
It had been a wonderful day. Somewhere nearby, a bird rustled in the leaves of the trees. Who knew what results this day might not bring? She had heard Mrs. McCormack saying something about how much nicer it was for a child to live in a proper house with a garden and animals. And Mr.
Lister had been very firm about the clothes for Rosa, and her expeditions, even though he had — eventually — taken Mariana, a sulky, dignified Mariana, out to dinner to smooth her hurt pride. Even that had given Kate a warm feeling of satisfaction, for Mr. Lister’s eyes had been twinkling as he told her he would take Mariana out.
“As you said to me once, Kate, I must be the soul of discretion and not cause offence,” he said.
Back in her bedroom, Kate dosed the mosquito netting and began to write one of her thrice-weekly letters to her mother. Sometimes she was conscience-stricken because she was not homesick, yet she still worried about how her mother was managing. Despite her energy and cheerfulness, there were many things that were difficult to do from a wheelchair, and friends, while helping a great deal, were not the same as one’s own child.
Still, her mother wrote happily, and the only way Kate could do anything constructive was to write long chatty letters. Tonight’s was easy, for there was so much to write. She wrote ten pages and then finished:
“It was odd seeing James and Mr. Lister together. They are so completely different. James is essentially a kind man — you have only to look at him to feel warm and safe. But perhaps a little dull? Somehow you always know when and what he will do, how he will react. He is a most wonderful friend, of course. Mr. Lister, now, is the opposite. You are always on edge with him, wondering how he will behave. He is a man of moods. Sometimes I could almost hit him for his stupidity, and the next moment I’m so sorry for him I could cry. He hasn’t got a clue about children. He even asked me if I thought Rosa was ‘normal.’ I ask you, Mummy! Of course that is Mariana.