‘Rose-Marie Callaghan! Has anyone ever told you that you can be really disgusting at times?’
‘Frequently. Which is why I’m beating a hasty retreat. See you at the General tomorrow.’
Sophie groaned. ‘I only hope it’s an improvement on today. After three idyllic weeks in The Algarve, I confess that A& E came as quite a shock.’
*
Carlos’s shock came a fortnight later, when his whole world was suddenly turned upside down. For days he’d been hoping to have lunch with José, to broach the subject of Rosa, but each time they’d arranged to meet, something had always cropped up.
‘Not to worry,’ he reassured Sophie, when he telephoned. ‘Aunt Elisabete has invited me to dinner on Friday. I’ll make sure I speak to José before then, because on Saturday morning I shall be catching the 8.25 from Lisbon to London.’
‘You’re what? You’re coming over on business?’
‘No. I’m coming to see you.’
‘That’s absolutely wonderful! Shall I meet you at the airport?’
‘It depends. I was thinking of hiring a car at Heathrow.’
‘I see … you’d prefer not to repeat the Poppy experience?’
Carlos laughed. ‘No. I merely thought, with you working nights it would be better for you to go home and get some sleep before I arrive. The flight comes in at about eleven, so allowing for baggage reclaim and picking up the car, I should be out of the airport around midday. Will you have lunch with me, Miss Fuller?’
Just listening to the sound of his voice caused familiar stirrings in her stomach. Seeing Carlos again so soon after her holiday was almost too much to bear.
‘Sophie? Are you still there?’
‘Yes. I was having to pinch myself, to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.’
‘I can assure you, you’re not. So, dare I suggest you take every opportunity to dream during the coming week? Next weekend there’ll be little time for sleeping!’
That night, getting ready for bed, Sophie thought that next Saturday couldn’t come quickly enough. Carlos, on the other hand, was relieved she hadn’t asked about Rosa. It wasn’t as if he’d seen a great deal of Rosa since Sophie’s departure, it was simply that when he had seen her, she’d been altogether too much.
Calling unexpectedly at his office, Rosa had flashed huge brown eyes in his direction and asked him to take her to lunch. Whereupon, pressed for time and opting for a simple main course and coffee, Carlos had been forced to watch Rosa tackle a full three-course affair. Hungrily devouring the first course, she’d told him all about her recent escapades with Anna; during the second, she spent most of the time looking guilty and apologizing for neglecting him. As for the third … Carlos shuddered at the memory. Whilst toying with an exotic pudding with one hand, Rosa had reached out and clasped his hand possessively with the other.
‘Yes,’ he sighed, forlornly, his gaze drifting to the latest Martins-Ramirez family photograph, perched on the edge of his desk. ‘Rosa, my dear, just like my brother Cristovao, sometimes I find you all too much!’
*
Elisabete Ramirez drummed her fingers impatiently against the table. Looking up at the ornate ormolu clock, she rose from her chair and walked towards the kitchen.
‘This is really most inconsiderate of José! He’s been late every night this week. He promised faithfully to be here in time for dinner.’
Rosa reached for yet another handful of pistachio nuts. ‘We could always start without him?’
‘Of course we can’t start without your father and Cristovao! Maria-Clara retorted indignantly. ‘And watch what you’re doing! You’re dropping nut shells everywhere.’
With a nonchalant shrug, Rosa scooped up the shells only to deposit them in a pile on the coffee table. Maria-Clara tut-tutted in Augustina’s direction. What was wrong with everyone just lately? Rosa spent half the time at Anna’s, Carlos was adamant about not marrying Rosa, and as for Cristovao…
‘Hmm,’ she mused, despite the unfortunate incident at her party, Cristovao was at least starting to take an interest in the family business.
‘Perhaps José has been held up in traffic,’ Carlos suggested, desperate to ease the mounting tension.
‘Then why hasn’t he rung from the car!’ Elisabeta snapped.
Five minutes later, the door of the apartment swung open. ‘Elisabete, my dear. I’m so sorry! I can only apologize for keeping you all waiting.’
‘And so you should! Dinner was ready ages ago, and we’ve … José? Are you all right? You’re looking extremely pale.’
‘Don’t fuss, Elisabete. It’s only indigestion again. I blame it on the meal Cristovao and I ate at lunchtime.’
‘So, where is Cristovao?’ Maria-Clara demanded.
José hurriedly loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar. ‘Unfortunately, he’s made other arrangements for tonight. However, he sends his love and profuse apologies, and says he’ll call to see you next week.’
‘Hmph,’ Maria-Clara grunted as Cristovao suddenly went down in her estimation. Why was it becoming so difficult to get the family together these days? First Carlos’s father had cried off with some feeble excuse, and now Cristovao. It wasn’t asking too much – was it? Even Rosa, who was again brushing pistachio shells from her lap to the floor, made it quite clear she would far rather be elsewhere.
‘I’ll get something for your stomach,’ Elisabete announced to José, when Augustina disappeared into the kitchen.
Declining an aperitif, José settled for one of Augustina’s stomach remedies, which he took with him to the bedroom. He wanted to freshen up before the meal. In passing him, his gaze rested upon his nephew. ‘Carlos. I was forgetting. You wanted to have a word. Do you want to talk now or can it wait?’
Sensing Elisabete wouldn’t welcome further delays to a meal already in danger of spoiling, Carlos shook his head. ‘Let’s eat first, Uncle. After dinner will do just as well.’
Unfortunately, as the evening progressed, it became clear José was definitely not in the mood for talking. For once, unable to cope with Elisabete and Augustina’s combined culinary delights, he was forced to excuse himself.
Watching her father dash to the bathroom, and wishing she could have been somewhere less boring, Rosa was heard to mutter. ‘I only hope Cristovao is suffering, too.’
When Carlos flashed her a look of disapproval, Rosa gave a disgruntled sigh and spooned the last of her pudim Molatov into her scarlet painted mouth. Even Carlos had hardly spoken to her to this evening. Strangely quiet and morose, it was as if his thoughts were anywhere but here with the family.
*
Early next morning, telling himself he could easily speak with José first thing on Monday, Carlos turned his attention to more immediate concerns. Did it really matter that he hadn’t told his uncle of his proposed trip to England? Considering I’m only going to be with you for less than thirty-six hours, there’s really little point, he thought, smiling in the direction of Sophie’s photograph. In half an hour he would be leaving, and by tomorrow night he’d be home again.
Checking he had his passport, tickets and mobile phone, Carlos headed for the door, his spirits lifting at the very thought of not only seeing the woman he loved but also holding her in his arms again.
The same thoughts were still occupying his mind as he headed towards the departure lounge. Suppressing the desire to ring Sophie, he dug his hand into his pocket, and seconds away from disconnecting his mobile, was startled to hear it ringing.
‘Carlos!’ A hysterical voice wailed. ‘Thank heavens I’ve found you! Where are you? I’ve been ringing and ringing your apartment.’
‘Rosa? What on earth’s the matter? Has something happened to Maria-Clara?’
‘It’s not Grandmother,’ she sobbed. ‘It’s Father! He’s had a heart attack!’
‘What?’ Recalling José’s ghostly pallor when he’d arrived home last night, plus his later flushed appearance during the meal, Carlos was suddenly reminded how they�
�d all believed José was suffering from indigestion. Only now, by all accounts it wasn’t indigestion – it was his heart!
‘Carlos, please will you come and fetch me? Mother’s gone with Father in the ambulance. They said there was no room for me, and she told me to ring you. When you weren’t there,’ Rosa sobbed, ‘I thought I couldn’t possibly ring Grandmother. I’m convinced the shock will kill her too!’
‘You mean your father’s d—?’
‘No!’ Rosa cried, confused. ‘At least, he wasn’t when the ambulance left. But he could be by now. Oh, Carlos! Please come as quickly as you can!’
In stunned disbelief, Carlos switched off his mobile. Rubbing his hand across his face, he looked about him, hoping someone would announce it was all a bad dream. Rosa hadn’t really called with such alarming news, had she? Surely it was still perfectly all right for him to proceed towards the departure gate and board his flight for London?
*
Thrilled at the prospect of seeing Carlos again, and far too excited to sleep, Sophie decided to surprise him. She stepped from her uniform and into the shower. Washing away all traces of Friday night in A&E, she planned her route to Heathrow. First she would catch the bus to Beckford Junction, and from there make the connection with the train to the airport.
‘I’ll cat nap on the way to Heathrow, ’ she told herself, once she’d finished dressing. Thirty minutes later and checking hair and make-up for the umpteenth time, she reached for her jacket and handbag, and hurried to the front door.
*
With furrowed brow, Carlos opened the car door for his tearful cousin. ‘If only Sophie had been here,’ she cried, through trembling lips. ‘She would have known exactly what to do. Mother and I simply panicked. You do think he’ll be all right, don’t you?’
Not knowing how to reply, Carlos merely nodded, and patted Rosa’s shoulder.
Relieved to see her nephew at last, Elisabete fell into his arms. ‘Carlos! I’m so glad Rosa managed to find you. I simply didn’t know what to do. You realize it’s all my fault, I should have called the doctor last night when José came home. This morning, while we were waiting for the ambulance, he … he…’
‘Shhh. Don’t distress yourself, Aunt. I’m here now. Can you tell me what happened? What did the doctor say?’
Elisabete shook her head in despair. ‘Nothing other than José’s had a heart attack, he’s in intensive care. What are we going to do?’
Carlos closed his eyes. Intensive care! Two simple words that were to turn his whole world upside down. He couldn’t possibly turn to his aunt and cousin now, and announce, ‘Well, as long as Uncle José is being well cared for, would you please excuse me? I’m supposed to be catching a plane to England.’
Leading mother and daughter to a quiet corner, Carlos did his best to reassure them. ‘He’ll pull through you’ll see. Uncle José’s always been a fighter. By the way, what about Maria-Clara, have you rung her?
‘Oh, no!’ Elisabete replied, horrified. ‘I’m sure the shock would kill her. I thought we should wait until we know more. Perhaps you – or Cristovao, when he arrives – could pick the right moment to tell her?’
Convinced Maria-Clara would probably live until she was at least a hundred, Carlos agreed. ‘Mmm, perhaps that would be best.’ Moments later, he turned to see the doctor in charge, walking towards them. Watching Elisabete being led away to her husband’s bedside, Carlos remained with his cousin.
‘I can’t bear the thought of seeing him wired to a machine,’ Rosa cried, hysterical. ‘Hospitals always terrify me.’
Passing her a handkerchief, Carlos was reminded of the one person who would not be terrified of hospitals … his beloved Sophie. Sophie – who would be waiting for him at Victoria Villas – not long out of her bed, but freshly showered, with her hair gleaming and golden skin glistening. He groaned audibly.
Rosa fixed him with terrified eyes. ‘What’s wrong? You’re not ill, too?’
‘No. There’s no cause for alarm. I remembered I have to make a phone call.’
‘Of course. Were you on your way to an appointment when I rang? I hope it wasn’t too important.’
‘No,’ Carlos lied, desperate for an excuse to leave, if only for a moment. ‘Look, Rosa, we could be in for a long wait; why don’t I go and get us both a coffee?’
‘What if anything should happen while you’re away?’
‘It won’t. I promise.’
Having rung Sophie five times in as many minutes, Carlos could only assume she’d gone shopping. With a heavy heart, he forced himself to return to Rosa’s side.’
‘You were right. Nothing’s happened,’ she whispered, taking her coffee.
*
At Heathrow, Sophie edged nervously towards arrivals, her heart pounding. To think in a matter of moments she would be in Carlos’s arms. He, no doubt, would not only be surprised to see her, but also glad of her company on the drive back to Beckford. Watching the minutes tick away as each cluster of newly arrived passengers emerged, Sophie glanced at the six arrival screens. No, she hadn’t imagined it. They all flashed the same information. Flight TPL 450 from Lisbon had landed half an hour ago.
Perhaps he missed his flight, or perhaps I missed him, she thought, knowing it certainly wasn’t the latter. She’d made such good progress taking the train from Beckford Junction, and had arrived at Heathrow almost an hour before Carlos’s flight was due. Sophie stared about her in despair. Where could he be? Car Rental, she suddenly remembered, looking to her left. Hadn’t Carlos mentioned he was hiring a car?
Trying each of the car-hire companies in turn, Sophie began to lose hope until a cheery voice proclaimed. ‘Martins? Yes. We’ve got a Mr Carlos Martins picking up a car. Even dealt with the request myself. Arriving from Lisbon this morning, and returning home tomorrow evening. Does that sound like your friend?’
‘Yes, but why isn’t he here? You’re sure I haven’t missed him?’
‘Positive. I’ve been on duty since early morning. You don’t think your Mr Martins could have caught an earlier flight?’
Sophie shook her head. ‘No, because there isn’t one. I know the timetable off by heart. There are three flights from Lisbon today. The first left at 8.50, the second leaves at 10.10 and gets in at 12.40, and—’
‘That must be almost due,’ the young man broke in, looking at his watch. ‘I expect you’ll find Mr Martins missed the earlier flight, got caught up in traffic or something, and will be on this one instead.’
‘Perhaps?’ Sophie replied, unconvinced. It wasn’t like Carlos to miss a flight or an appointment.
Sometime later, returning to the same car rental desk, a kindly voice asked, ‘Still no sign of him?’
‘No. And as the next flight isn’t due until 7.15 this evening, I might as well go home.’
‘Before you do, why not try the information desk? Perhaps Mr Martins phoned and left a message for you?’
Sophie bit her lip. Logically, that’s what most people would have done, but as Carlos wasn’t expecting her to meet him, why should he leave a message? Walking quickly to the information desk she knew the answer even before she got there. Wretched and heartbroken, she returned home to Victoria Villas, hoping against hope to find Carlos waiting. All to no avail, there was no shiny hire car in visitors’ parking, only the usual assortment of battered and tired vehicles that had once seen far better days.
‘I know exactly how you feel,’ she murmured to what had once been a gleaming four-door saloon.
Wearily climbing the two flights of stone steps, her heart lifted at the sound of a man’s voice. ‘Carlos?’ she called, mustering enough energy to reach the landing she shared with Lottie and Pearl. To her acute disappointment, it was only Lottie paying the milkman.
Dressed in her purple satin kimono, peroxide curls tumbling about her shoulders, Lottie looked up from where she was delving into her purse. ‘Morning, Sophie,’ she said, sleepily.
‘Actually, it’s afternoon,’ Sophie repli
ed.
‘Is it, ducks? Gawd, so it is! And there’s me thinking Ron here had dragged me out of bed at the crack of sparrow.’
‘Not bloomin’ likely,’ Ron quipped, ‘You might have legs like a sparrow, Lottie, but that’s where the similarity ends. It’s more than my life’s worth to come knocking on your door before two o’clock on a Saturday afternoon! That’s why I always leave you ‘til last. At least now I can go home, do my books and get some kip.’
‘Don’t you be so bloody cheeky about my legs,’ Lottie teased, ‘or I won’t give you an orange for Christmas.’
‘Cor! I’ll expect more than that,’ Ron said, handing over her change.
Waving goodbye and watching him go Lottie turned back to Sophie. ‘He’s a one! You’ll never guess what he said when I—Sophie, ducks, are you OK? You look all in? You haven’t just finished work, have you? I thought you were on nights.’
‘No. I’ve just been to Heathrow. I was expecting a friend. I don’t suppose you’ve seen anyone at my door?’
Lottie shook her head. ‘Like I was saying, me and Pearl haven’t been up long, but we normally hear if someone rings your doorbell. Yours just rings, and ours plays songs. Which reminds me, Pearl asked me to change it. She’s getting fed up with Greensleeves.’
‘Too right I am,’ Pearl said, appearing at the front door holding a mug of tea. Variety is the spice of life, my old mum used to say.’
Lottie emitted a deep, throaty laugh. ‘And we certainly get plenty of variety, eh, Pearl?’
Nodding in agreement, Pearl grinned and asked if Sophie would like a cup of tea.
‘No, thank you,’ she said, suppressing a yawn. ‘I think I’ll go straight to bed.’
‘Then I suggest you ring 1471 before you do,’ Pearl called after her. ‘Your phone’s been ringing non-stop. Someone’s obviously keen to get hold of you. I hope it’s not an emergency. Perhaps you should get an answerphone?’
‘Marvellous things they are,’ Lottie added as an afterthought. ‘We leave ours on all the time – even if we are here. That way we can pick and choose who we speak to.’
When Summer Fades Page 19