That night, unable to sleep, Carlos considered Maria-Clara’s earlier words. ‘I won’t come to the villa, Rosa’s already shown me the photos. It looks beautiful and I’m sure you’ll be very happy there. You know Carlos … I only ever wanted you to be happy.’
‘And there’s only one way I can be,’ he sighed, determined to ring Victoria Villas first thing in the morning.
Dreading an answer phone, Carlos was surprised and delighted to hear a voice – even if it wasn’t Sophie’s. ‘If Sophie’s been working nights and sleeping, please don’t disturb her,’ he begged. ‘Tell her I’ll ring again this evening.’
‘It won’t do no good if you do.’
‘You mean she won’t want to speak to me?’
‘I dunno, ’cos Sophie don’t live ’ere no more.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Course I am! There’s only me and me mum living ’ere. As the place ’aint big enough to swing a cat, Gawd knows where Sophie would sleep if she did!’
Carlos froze. Where was Sophie sleeping ... and even worse with whom? ‘Do you er – have her new number? When she left did sh…?’
‘Nah. ’Cos she left in February and the council di’nt move us in ’til March. I suppose I could go an’ check with me mum if you like?’
February! How could Sophie possibly move and Rosa not know. Surely she would have sent a forwarding address, or had Rosa decided not to tell him? Rosa whom he knew only too well was renowned for keeping secrets!
Absentmindedly doodling long trailing R’s and S’s on his telephone pad, Carlos heard a voice suggest. ‘Mum says why don’t you call by and ask the two old tarts next door. They might know where she went.’
Not bothering to explain he was ringing from Lisbon and hardly in a position to call by, Carlos stared blankly at the phone. Where was Sophie?
‘Isn't it obvious?’ a voice echoed in his head. ‘She might not be living at Victoria Villas but she must still be working.’
‘The hospital!’ he called, startling his secretary, who was bringing in the morning’s post.
‘The hospital! Surely not your uncle taken ill again?’
‘No,’ Carlos reassured. ‘It’s nothing to worry about.’ Highly relieved when his secretary left the office, he proceeded to ring Beckford General.
‘Accident and Emergency,’ a voice answered, out of breath.
Sensing despair in the nurse’s voice, Carlos realized time was of the essence. There was no time for pleasantries. ‘I’m trying to contact my – er – cousin, Sophie Fuller. She works in casualty. It is rather important.’
‘I don’t know any Sophies I’m afraid. I’ve only just qualified. I’ll ask Sister.’
Moments later, when the young nurse returned, she explained hurriedly. ‘Sister Norris said to tell you Sophie’s on maternity leave.’
‘What!’ Carlos gasped, his heart sinking. ‘You mean she’s having a baby!’
‘No. Apparently she’s already had it. She had a little boy at Easter.’
Numbed, Carlos slumped at his desk and buried his head in his hands. Sophie … a baby in the spring? That was impossible, wasn’t it? Unless, of course, she had married Gavin … How could she possibly have done that? Quite easily, he concluded bitterly, his gaze alighting on a photo of Rosa and Sophia by his OUT tray. Deciding that’s exactly what he needed to do – to get out – Carlos left the office, scattering papers to the floor.
*
‘Honestly Carlos. It’s no bother,’ his mother reassured him. ‘I can easily shut the shop. It’s almost lunchtime anyway. Come upstairs and I’ll get us some lunch.’
‘No lunch. Thank you. I’m not in the mood for eating but if you’ve got a drink?’
Intrigued by this unexpected visit, Helena Martins poured two glasses of dry port and waited for an explanation.
‘I see...’ she said, at length. ‘And I agree you have every reason to be angry with Sophie. So tell me, what upsets you the most? The fact she became pregnant or the fact she didn’t tell you about it?’
‘I’m not sure I understand.’
Helena gave a delightful smile. ‘My dear boy, you who were always so serious and worldly wise – yet at other times so naive. You really don’t understand do you?’
‘Mother, please! I’m in no mood for riddles. I’ve a hundred and one things I need to deal with at the office before I leave for Alvor this weekend. The decorators are finally due to leave the villa – then of course there’s Elisabete’s fiftieth birthday celebrations.’
‘But surely,’ Helena broke in softly. ‘None of that is important now you’ve discovered Sophie’s given birth to your child.’
‘My child? How can Sophie’s baby be my child? She went back to her ex-fiancé!’
Walking to her desk, Helena picked up her diary and sitting down beside Carlos placed it firmly on his lap. ‘Listen carefully and I’ll explain. Now, it’s common knowledge – because she made no secret of the fact – Rosa conceived little Sophia when José was in hospital.’
‘There’s no need to remind me!’
‘Sorry! So, if Rosa conceived in August … then for Sophie to have given birth at Easter, she must have conceived in July. Where was Sophie last July?’
‘In Portugal with Rosa and with ... me?’
Helena patted Carlos’s hand. ‘There you are then,’ she announced brightly. ‘I’m not talking in riddles. The mystery is solved. That’s why Sophie made up the story about returning to her ex-fiancé and even moved away. For some reason, known only to herself, she didn’t want to tell you about the baby. By the way – do you know what she had?’
Carlos nodded, his ashen face registering shock and disbelief. ‘Yes … she had a son.’
‘Which means you also have a son,’ Helena replied, with a satisfied smile.
*
With the family gathered round the table for Elisabete’s fiftieth birthday, the conversation was mainly about the family business, children, grandchildren and great grandchildren.
‘Nothing changes,’ Maria-Clara announced wearily, shifting to face Augustina. ‘Everything turns full circle in the end. Births, marriages and deaths, though thankfully not in that order.’ She sighed, looking pointedly at Rosa.
‘But we’ve had no deaths in the family,’ Augustina replied, crossing herself. ‘And José is now fully recovered.’
‘I wasn’t thinking of José. I was thinking of myself. I’ve been on this earth for far too long, Augustina. It’s probably time I...’
‘Nonsense Maria-Clara! You’ll go on for years. Besides, you said only yesterday you’ve some unfinished work to do.’
‘Did I?’ Maria-Clara puzzled.
‘Your son Eduardo and his wife for a start ... and what about Carlos? Just look at the state of him! I offered him one of my remedies but he refused point blank and practically bit my head off.’
‘You and your remedies Augustina! We all know they’re just bottles of coloured water.’
‘They most definitely are not! What about that cream I made up for Rosa’s friend, Sophie. As I recall she got terribly burnt. My cream certainly worked for her.’
‘Oh, yes. The pretty little girl who came to my rescue when the fish bone got stuck in my throat. I do believe Carlos even entertained the idea of marrying her at one time. I wonder what happened to her? She never came to the wedding.’
Attracting Rosa’s attention Maria-Clara called across the table. ‘Augustina and I have just been talking about Sophie. Do you ever hear from her?’
Laying down her spoon and fork, Rosa looked unusually pensive. ‘No. Which is very sad because we were such good friends. I sent her a wedding invitation and photo and even news of the baby, yet I never had an acknowledgement.’
‘That’s not so surprising, surely?’ José continued. ‘Your mother told me the latest photo of little Sophia came back with "not known at this address" and "gone away" written on the envelope?’
Rosa nodded, studying the remains of her pudding. ‘
I can only assume she went to live with her aunt and uncle in Norfolk. They were quite old I believe. Although...’
‘Although what Rosa?’ Helena queried on her son’s behalf. Because looking at Carlos she sensed he was totally incapable of asking anything without drawing attention to himself.
‘Sophie always told me when her aunt and uncle retired they wanted to come and live in Portugal.’
At the end of the evening, waiting for his wife to say her goodbyes, Eduardo Martins was intrigued to see his wife in animated conversation with her daughter-in-law.
‘Hmm. Rosa’s not such a bad girl after all,’ Helena conceded, when Eduardo escorted her to his car.
‘Does that mean you’ve changed your mind about my earlier proposal?’
‘Your earlier proposal, Eduardo? What was that?’
‘About coming to stay at the beach house. It would be just like old times. We could even have the annexe to ourselves … now that Carlos has the new villa.’
Helena shook her head. ‘No, Eduardo. Not this time.’
‘But you said you could do with a holiday.’
‘I know,’ she replied studying his downcast face. ‘And I do need a holiday. I also intend to take one – but not at Alvor.’
‘Then let me come with you?’ Eduardo begged, reaching for her hand. ‘We’ve missed out on so many years together, Helena. I can’t let you walk out of my life again’
Brushing her lips gently against his cheek, Eduardo heard his wife whisper. ‘Perhaps this time I shall stay ... in the meantime however, you must be patient.’
Helping Maria-Clara prepare for bed, Augustina couldn’t believe her ears when she demanded the telephone directory.
‘The what? Why do you want the telephone directory? You never use the phone.’
‘That’s none of your business Augustina! So do shut up and just bring it to me!’
Muttering something about it being ‘too late to ring decent people at this time of night,’ Augustina did exactly as she was told. Minutes later and from behind closed doors, she heard Maria-Clara deeply engrossed in conversation.
Only later, checking to see the old lady was settled for the night, did the mystery unfold. Maria-Clara, Augustina discovered to her amazement, spying the telephone number circled in red, had been ringing Helena Martins!
*
At Coniston Avenue, Callie rushed to answer the phone and discovered Edna wanting to speak to Sophie. Exchanging pleasantries for a few moments, she called out.
‘I’ll see to Nicholas if you like?’
‘It’s okay,’ Sophie said, moments later handing over the gurgling baby. ‘I’ve seen to the worst. If you can just hold him for a bit?’
‘With pleasure!' Callie said, her face radiant.
‘Sorry about that, Aunt. Nappy-changing in progress. I expect you’re ringing about next weekend? I still don’t think we’ll be able to make it.’
Edna seemed almost relieved when Sophie confirmed she would not be joining them after all. ‘If you’re really sure, dear? Only I’ve just had a frantic call from the NTB.’
Confused why the Norfolk Tourist Board should have any connection with herself, Sophie waited for Edna to explain. ‘It would appear they’ve got a Spanish lady waiting in their office – desperate to stay with us because we’ve been highly recommended.
‘How lovely,’ Sophie said.
‘It is in a way,’ Edna continued. ‘Only the problem is we’re fully booked and it makes things a bit difficult … unless we give her your room?’
‘As I’m unable to come it seems the obvious solution doesn’t it?’
‘It does in a way. But you know Monty. He insists that’s your room and we ought to ask you first. You might not like a stranger sleeping in there.’
‘Aunt Edna! Since when have you had to ask my permission to let a room? It’s not my room! Get Uncle Monty to shift all my stuff down to the cellar and ring the tourist board immediately. Tell them this lady can come and stay.’
*
‘Oh, my goodness! She’s already here!’ Edna gasped, moving a trio of Portuguese cockerels to peer from the window at the newly arrived taxi. ‘The NTB didn’t waste much time. Monty, what on earth shall we do? There’s all Nicholas’s bits and pieces to pack away – let alone his cot to dismantle.’
With introductions to their newly arrived guest completed, Edna signalled to Monty to lead the way.
‘Of course, we’ll move everything out while you’re having dinner. It’s simply that we weren’t expecting you quite so soon.’ She said as they climbed the stairs to Sophie’s room. Opening the bedroom door for their guest, they motioned her inside.
‘Oh, please don’t bother on my account. I have children and grandchildren of my own. I’m quite used to it. All I need is a bed and a bathroom,’ she replied.
When talk of children and grandchildren forged an immediate bond between the two women, Monty breathed a sigh of relief and hurried downstairs to the kitchen. Proud of his themed ‘European nights’ at Casa Edna, he thought what a coincidence. Tonight was Spanish night and he was cooking paella. With a satisfied smile, he reached in the drawer for a corkscrew and set off for the cellar in search of some very special Rioja.
*
‘I’m just ringing to see if you did as you were told,’ Sophie teased, two days later when she rang Casa Edna.
‘Yes and no,’ Monty began. ‘Your aunt rang the NTB but we didn’t have to move Nicholas’s things after all. Martina said to leave them where they were.’
‘Martina?’
‘Our Spanish lady. Apparently she’s got grandchildren of her own so she’s used to baby paraphernalia everywhere. Which is just as well really, considering she didn’t give us much time to get the room ready.’
‘Oh dear! And I know how particular Aunt Edna is about having everything just right for her guests.’
Sophie heard Monty’s familiar chuckle echo down the line. ‘You’re right there, Sophie. But in this instance she needn’t have worried. Martina’s hardly ever in her room. Most of the time she spends chatting to Edna about Nicholas. In fact they’re having coffee together at this very moment. Edna’s showing her the latest photos you sent of Nicholas. Just as well I’m chief cook and bottle washer, eh?’
Sophie smiled. ‘In that case I’d better let you report back for duty. Give Edna my love and tell her I’ll ring again at the weekend.
Mention of coffee prompted Sophie to make one for herself and Callie.
‘Mum says you’ll be getting sick of the sight of me at this rate,’ Callie said, reaching for her cup. ‘Only I’ve been so bored while Patrick’s been visiting his parents in Ireland.’
‘I’m not sick of the sight of you,’ Sophie, assured. ‘But I do think it’s a shame you couldn’t have gone with him.’
‘So do I. But we’re far too busy at the General and I did have two weeks off for our honeymoon.’
‘Speaking of the hospital reminds me, I must think about returning to work. It’s going to be a real wrench leaving Nicholas at the crèche.’
‘Sophie ... About the name ... Nicholas I mean. Did you choose it because of Carlos? I only ask because sometimes when you’re on the phone to Edna, it’s almost as if you’re saying Ni-car-losh.’
For a moment Sophie sat in silence. ‘How very perceptive of you Callie. To be honest I never thought anyone would notice.’
Callie shrugged her shoulders. ‘I don’t know about perceptive. I probably know you better than most – that’s all.’
‘Then you must also know I can’t stop thinking about Carlos. Even though it’s been over a year since we... ’
‘Oh, Sophie! And there was me thinking you were beginning to get over him, until I saw you’d been playing that record again.’
Looking down at the cover of The Jazz Singer LP, Sophie bit her lip. ‘July was the worst month. I wasn’t too bad until then. I even plucked up courage to have a quick peep at the wedding photo Rosa sent all those months ago. As expe
cted, she looked absolutely beautiful.’
‘What about Carlos? How did he look?’
‘Handsome as ever but deeply serious.’
‘Can I ... would you mind if I had a look? Of course if you’d rather I didn't?’
Walking to the sideboard Sophie opened a drawer and withdrew an envelope. At the same moment Nicholas began to cry. ‘He’s teething,’ she said, running upstairs ‘Feel free to look at the photo and put it back in the drawer when you’ve finished.’
Callie studied the Martins-Ramirez wedding group for a few minutes, silently agreeing with both Sophie’s observations. Rosa had indeed looked beautiful on her wedding day and there was certainly no difficulty recognising Maria-Clara and Augustina! They looked like two black crows!
‘As for Carlos, “serious” isn’t the word I’d choose,’ Callie muttered to herself. In fact he looked a picture of abject misery! Not at all like the happy, smiling guy on Sophie’s holiday snaps, taken little more than a year ago.
Thinking of happy smiling faces, Callie reached for her handbag. ‘Got you!’ she said disentangling a small photo wallet from assorted scrunchies, keys and till receipts. Flicking through the mini-collection of her favourite wedding photos, she gazed lovingly at the pictures of Patrick and herself together.
‘Drooling again Mrs Murphy?’ Sophie teased, coming back into the room.
‘Drooling and dribbling – just like Nicholas,’ Callie said, blowing her nose. ‘I never realized just how much I’d miss him. Roll on next weekend when he comes back. We’ll have a lot of catching up to do.’
‘Lucky you. Because apart from your Hallowe’en party – which I’m really looking forward to – there’s not a great deal happening in Beckford at the moment,’ Sophie said, watching Callie slip Rosa’s wedding photo back into the drawer.
*
Not a great deal happening in Beckford could also describe events leading up to Christmas, other than a few furtive phone calls between Callie and Edna and equally mysterious conversations between Edna and her special autumn guest.
When Summer Fades Page 25