Clutching nervously at her porto branco aperitif, Sophie felt someone touch her elbow. ‘Rosa has asked me to look after you,’ Carlos whispered. ‘She tells me you find the prospect of meeting our grandmother daunting. Don’t be alarmed. Her bark is far worse than her bite. She also doesn’t speak a word of English.’
‘What do I do if she speaks to me?’
‘Just nod in all the right places!’ Carlos said, a wicked glint in his eye.
To Sophie’s relief, lunch wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d anticipated. Maria-Clara appeared far too preoccupied with her only granddaughter to take any notice of her friend. Only occasionally did she look in Sophie’s direction, and smile. At such times, taking heed of Carlos’s advice, Sophie nodded and gave a shy smile in return.
‘That wasn’t such an ordeal, was it?’ he enquired, when the family left the table and drifted into the sitting room.
‘I suppose not. At least your grandmother acknowledged me. Augustina didn’t look at all friendly.’
‘That’s because she’s forgotten how to smile.’
Looking up into those deep blue eyes, Sophie realized Carlos was only teasing. She was about to reply when she sensed she was being watched.
‘My mother is very concerned for you, Sophie,’ Elisabete Ramirez, began, ‘She says with your fair skin you must take care in the sun. You must keep yourself covered.’
Fixing Maria-Clara with a grateful smile, Sophie asked Elisabete to explain she had every intention of heeding the old lady’s advice. She knew from bitter experience how unwise it was to spend too long in the sun. Nodding approvingly, Maria-Clara and her dour-faced companion prepared to leave. Saying her goodbyes, Augustina also had something to impart. This time it was Carlos who translated.
‘Augustina says, if you do burn, you are to ask for her special cream.’
‘Special cream?’
‘One of Augustina’s magic potions. I’ve no idea what she puts in them – frogs and toads, I expect – but they always seem to work. Perhaps that’s why she’s lived so long?’
‘I wasn’t expecting her to be quite so old,’ Sophie said, lowering her voice. ‘In England when Rosa kept talking about Augustina, I always imagined someone younger.’
‘Fussing over Rosa since she was a baby is possibly what’s kept Augustina young in spirit. Such a pity Rosa doesn’t have that same effect on me,’ Carlos added, ruefully.
It was these words Sophie considered when the family departed for a siesta – Maria-Clara and her companion to their quiet apartment only five minutes’ drive away, Elisabete and José Ramirez to their king-sized bed, Rosa back in the comfortable surroundings of her pink and white bedroom and Sophie in the guest suite. But where was Carlos, she pondered, remembering how attentive he’d been all through lunch, not only to herself, but also to Rosa. Assuming Carlos to be resting elsewhere, Sophie closed her eyes with a murmured ‘I wonder if Augustina had a potion for curing love-sickness.’
An hour later when she woke, she was saddened to discover Carlos had already left for Lisbon.
‘Carlos said to say goodbye,’ Rosa shouted from the terrace. ‘He insists if we go to Lisbon, we must ring his office. He will take us to lunch. If that can’t be arranged, he hopes to join us at Alvor next weekend.’
‘Alvor?’
‘The beach house. My mother has agreed to let me borrow her car. We can go as soon as we like after breakfast tomorrow.
‘Won’t your mother be needing her car?’
‘No. She plans to spend the week in Lisbon with Father, finalizing plans for Grandmother’s eighty-fifth birthday and my engagement party.’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Sophie. ‘I’d forgotten your engagement.’ Liar! A voice echoed in her head, as she watched Rosa propel herself nonchalantly in the swinging hammock.
‘Of course, it is not the proper engagement party,’ Rosa explained, playing with the deep cotton fringe of a floral-patterned cushion. ‘That will be later, on my nineteenth birthday, when Cristovao is home and my parents’ friends are back from their summer holidays.’ Sensing Sophie’s confusion, Rosa stopped swinging and sat up.
‘Grandmother is very superstitious. Because my father is fifty and Carlos is thirty five, she thinks she should announce my engagement on her eighty-fifth birthday. Thirty-five and fifty added together make eighty-five, don’t they?’
‘Yes. But I fail to see the connection.’
‘Augustina reads the cards.’
‘You mean she tells fortunes?’
‘Something like that,’ Rosa said, flicking her long, glossy hair away from her face. ‘One day she tell my Grandmother eighty-five is a special number. And if I am not betrothed by the time she is eighty five, she will not see me marry Carlos.’
‘Your grandmother actually believed her?’
‘Exactly,’ Rosa said, setting the hammock in motion again.
Rising slowly from her chair Sophie headed towards the welcome shade of a pergola completely engulfed by pink and purple bougainvillaea. Reaching up she let her hands drift through the paper-thin blossoms, causing petals to fall like confetti and settle in her hair. Earlier today, Maria-Clara had advised against sitting in the sun. She’d certainly heeded that advice – or so she thought. Now she wasn’t so sure. With Carlos and Rosa referring to magic potions, with subsequent dire warnings, she began to have her doubts. Confused, she brushed away stray petals from her face and shoulders. Perhaps she was already suffering from sunstroke?
Early next morning, Sophie and Rosa headed in the direction of Alvor. Dismissing all thoughts of Maria-Clara and Augustina from her mind, Sophie unwound the car window and breathed in the balmy salt-laced air. It was another beautiful day, and she was at peace. Sometime during the past twenty-four hours, she’d convinced herself she was perfectly capable of dealing with the Carlos/Rosa relationship. You’ve simply been reading too many romantic novels, she’d reproached herself, while preparing to leave. Of course you found yourself deeply attracted to Carlos; who wouldn’t be, following your disastrous engagement to Gavin? No, Sophie, you were simply in love with love – or at least the mere idea of it. Deciding she mustn’t let thoughts of Gavin spoil her holiday, Sophie turned her attention to Rosa and the surrounding countryside.
‘This scenery is simply breathtaking.’
Rosa flashed a satisfied smile in her direction. ‘Now you know why I wanted you come. On our right are the Serra do Caldeirao Mountains and in that direction is Loulé – a very famous market town, where I must take you. First, I insist you see our beach house. It is there. Across the bay.’
‘That is a beach house!’
‘Sim,’ Rosa grinned, proudly. ‘I think it is a very grand beach house.’
‘It certainly is, when you consider English beach houses. Ours are merely huts, with barely enough room for a couple of deck chairs and a camping stove!’
Looking across the sheltered sandy bay to ‘Casa Maria-Clara’, Sophie gazed in wonderment at the pretty white beach house with its pink pantiled roof. ‘How do we get there? It looks as if it’s built on an island.’
‘That is why Grandfather bought it. It was a wedding present for Grandmother. It isn’t an island, but many people do not know that, which is good. So it is very private. If you look carefully, you will see a narrow road to the left of those two trees. We will park the car there before taking the path to the bottom of the hill.’
Thinking of the frail Maria-Clara and her companion, Sophie enquired. ‘Surely your grandmother and Augustina can’t possibly cope with such a steep path?’
‘Not now. It is far too difficult for Grandmother to manage. But over there beyond the trees, where the ground is level, you will see two smaller buildings.’
Shading her eyes against the sun Sophie picked out two sugar-almond-coloured bungalows, half hidden by trees and swathed in bougainvillaea and hibiscus.
‘Grandmother and Augustina stay there,’ Rosa said. ‘They are on the left, Bernado and Filomena are on the right.’
‘Bernado and Filomena?’
‘Sim. Bernado is Augustina’s nephew, and Filomena is his wife. When we are not here, they look after everything. That is why, despite the climate, the garden at Casa Maria-Clara always looks so beautiful. Bernado is a very keen gardener.’
Parking the car, Rosa tooted the horn and in a matter of minutes two people came scurrying down the path towards them.
‘Ola! como esta.’ The curly haired Bernado called in greeting, his gleaming white teeth flashing in a leathery, tanned face.
Filomena, Sophie noticed, stood shyly by her husband’s side. Pretty and slim she waited for Rosa to announce her guest. Introductions completed, Bernado hurried to the car to collect the luggage. Filomena meanwhile, moved gracefully through Casa Maria-Clara, drawing back blinds and shutters and opening windows.
‘Here, you will again have the guest suite,’ Rosa directed. ‘In fact, this is the annexe, which is mostly used by Carlos and Cristovao. When they are staying here with friends, it means Bernado and Filomena don’t have to open up the rest of the house.’
‘This is simply amazing.’ Sophie whispered, walking from room to room, where she took a mental note of the sitting room, kitchen, two bedrooms and shower room. This annexe was even bigger than her flat back at Victoria Villas!
‘Don’t forget the balcony,’ Rosa called, flinging louvre doors aside. ‘If you look down there, you’ll see you even have your own path leading to the beach.’
‘Oh dear! I understand now.’
‘You understand what Sophie?’
‘Why Carlos was so angry.’
‘When was Carlos angry?’
‘When he first came to Victoria Villas and found you staying at my flat. Oh, Rosa! What made you decide to stay with me, when you could have chosen to—’
‘Because I liked you, and you were very kind to me.’
Touched by Rosa’s honesty and consumed with guilt at the earlier romantic notions she’d had about Carlos, Sophie felt tears prick her eyelids. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘Just say you will enjoy your stay at Casa Maria-Clara.’
‘Oh, I will,’ Sophie said, dabbing at her eyes. ‘Yes, Rosa. You have my word. I’ll
get up early every morning and go for a swim and—’
Rosa gave one of her delightful laughs. ‘As long as you don’t expect me to go with you. I hate getting up in the morning, which is why I thought you’d prefer the annexe. As you know, I much prefer the nightlife. That reminds me. Now that I’m here I must ring all my friends and arrange a party at the club.’
‘Then I’ll beg to be excused,’ Sophie pleaded.
*
Stretching contentedly, Sophie opened her eyes, momentarily confused by her surroundings. It took only a few moments to register she was at the beach house and not the Ramirez family villa. Filled with renewed optimism, she leapt from the bed, threw back the shutters, and opening the balcony door gasped with delight. The view from Victoria Villas was never like this!
With everywhere bathed in early-morning sunshine, Sophie rapidly took in the narrow, winding path through the trees to the beach. It was so beautiful. No, not just beautiful, she told herself. It was more breathtaking and mystical – like something from a fairy tale. Had Augustina and her magic spells been at work here already?
With a smile, Sophie slipped out of her nightie and reached for her swimming costume and pareo. It was as much as she could do to stop herself from singing. Reminded that Rosa was still asleep, and wondering how anyone could possibly stay in bed on such a day, she tiptoed from the annexe in the direction of the beach. What could be more perfect, she asked herself. On her right was a sweeping curve of golden, sandy beach, and on her left a vast expanse of turquoise sea, dotted with sunshine stars and tiny fishing boats, bobbing their way back into Alvor harbour.
Secretly pleased that she’d been given a room in the annexe, and that Rosa always slept like the proverbial log, Sophie left her pareo and sandals on the deserted seashore, and stepped into the water. Much as she enjoyed Rosa’s company it was good to be alone for once. As for partying and clubbing, she concluded, launching herself into an energetic breast stroke, for the moment she’d prefer to leave that to Rosa and her young friends.
Refreshed from an invigorating swim, Sophie combed her wet hair back from her face and made her way slowly back to the beach house. If there was such a thing as heaven then this must be it. She sighed, looking up in the direction of Casa Maria-Clara.
The magic was suddenly broken. Rosa was not only up, she was also on the phone. Standing on the balcony, the phone pressed against her ear, Rosa turned and waved.
‘That was Carlos,’ she announced, moments later. ‘He was hoping to spend the weekend here but now has to attend an important meeting on Saturday. It is most annoying! Can you believe someone from the Milan office is flying over on Friday evening? Perhaps we can go to Lisbon instead? I can visit some of my old school friends and later we—’
‘We?’
‘You and me. Carlos says he will take us to lunch on Friday. We can spend the night at my parents’ apartment, and travel back to Alvor with Carlos on Sunday. He says after such a hectic week of dealing with problems in the Milan office, even twenty-four hours at Casa Maria-Clara will soothe his jagged nerves.’
Finding it hard to think of Carlos with jagged nerves, apart from the never-to-be- forgotten moment when he’d discovered Rosa at Victoria Villas, Sophie said, ‘Rosa, why don’t I stay here? You and Carlos can have lunch on your own. And while he is in his meeting on Saturday, why not arrange to see some of your friends?’
‘But I want you to come!’ Rosa insisted, stamping her foot. ‘In the meantime however, we must go to Loulé and buy you a hat.’
‘Not today surely? I feel as if we’ve only just got here. Besides I already have a hat. I've been borrowing one of yours.’
‘Hmph! That old thing! You need a proper hat. At Loulé they have esparto, which is a grass the locals weave into baskets and hats. I shall buy you one with a with a lovely wide brim…’
*
‘You see,’ Rosa announced triumphant, two days later when they sat drinking coffee near the museum. ‘The new hat is simply perfect for you.’
‘I’m not sure. It feels enormous.’
‘It needs to be if it is to protect your neck and shoulders from the sun. Your skin is so pale. Will you ever go brown?’
‘Sorry to disappoint you Rosa. As I’ve already told you, it takes me ages to get a sun tan. I usually go a bright shade of pink, similar to that disgusting lobster-coloured nail polish you wore in Beckford.’
Giving a mischievous grin, Rosa examined lime green fingernails painted to match her lime-green T-shirt and shorts.
‘And you’d better not let your grandmother see those,’ Sophie teased. ‘Otherwise I shall get the blame.’
Only too aware of the midday sun, which was already generating an intense heat, Sophie finished her coffee and followed Rosa on a whistle stop tour of the ruined monastery, the castle and museum. Relieved that at least the interior of the museum was cool, and that their next port of call (Loulé’s gothic church) would be even cooler, she paused to get her breath back. Rosa, she soon discovered, had other ideas.
‘Now you have seen everything, and you have your hat, we can go back to Alvor.’
‘Back?’ Sophie puzzled, looking down at the picture in her guide book, ‘I thought we were going to the church?’
‘Sim – but I change my mind. Churches are boring. They are only good for weddings. If we leave now, we will be home in time for a siesta. Unlike you, I’m not used to getting up early. Perhaps we can also ask Filomena to prepare us something special for dinner this evening.’
Hiding her disappointment – she’d so wanted to see the church – Sophie was in for further disappointment when they reached the car. Unlike Carlos’s exquisite C70, Elisabete’s car did not have the luxury of leather upholstery and air-conditioning. Slowly ea
sing herself into the furnace hot interior, where black vinyl upholstery stuck immediately to her back and legs, Sophie felt distinctly uncomfortable. ‘Definitely not a good idea to wear a backless T-shirt with my shorts,’ she murmured.
‘But you’ll never get brown if you keep yourself covered up,’ Rosa said, reaching into the rear of the car. ‘Why don’t we put the pareos across the seats like this? Perhaps that will help keep us cool?’
Watching Rosa drape her exotically patterned pareo across the driver’s seat, Sophie followed suit. Made with three yards of inexpensive cotton fabric purchased on Beckford market, her own attempt at a pareo was far less glamorous. Luckily, the effect was just the same. Draped across the two front seats they would offer some relief from the searing heat and anyway – as Rosa kept reminding her – it wouldn’t be too long before they were back in the cool of their shuttered bedrooms at Casa Maria-Clara.
‘Sophie ... I think we have a problem.’
‘You mean there’s something wrong with the car?’
‘Not exactly, I think perhaps we have run out of petrol. I – er – forgot to fill the car before we left.’
When the car ground slowly to a halt, Sophie looked about her. There didn’t appear to be a petrol station for miles.
‘Don’t worry. I have a map,’ Rosa announced, unperturbed, reaching into the glove compartment. ‘Look, here is Loulé and there is Albufeira, all we have to do is walk to the nearest petrol station and buy a can of petrol. It won’t take long.’
The words ‘won’t take long’ reverberated in Sophie’s head as the early afternoon sun beat down upon her back. Trudging the long dusty road, she discovered to her cost, Rosa was no great map-reader!
Several hours later, eventually making their way back to the beach house, Rosa was deeply apologetic. ‘I’m so sorry Sophie. If only I hadn’t suggested we leave the pareos in the car.’
Examining her badly burnt back, arms and legs, Sophie flinched and dabbed on after-sun lotion. In hindsight, it would have been far more preferable to return to a hot car seat than suffer excruciating sunburn. Thank goodness she’d worn her hat. The rest of her was lobster coloured.
When Summer Fades Page 11