The Man From Madrid

by Anne Weale

  The invitation surprised her. She thought she had seen and heard the last of Nicolás, apart from possible chance encounters in the street. She was also surprised that he had included her parents in the invitation. Although he had never been anything but polite to them, intuition told her he didn’t like them, though the reason for his antipathy was something she couldn’t fathom.

  For her own peace of mind, she was tempted to invent an excuse for declining the invitation without telling her parents about it. But then she realised it could lead to one of those ‘tangled web’ situations that were better not embarked on.

  Having relayed the invitation to them, she replied to his email. Thank you, we’d all be delighted to come to your party.

  That evening she was called to the telephone by her mother. With her hand over the mouthpiece, Mrs Haig said, ‘It’s someone called Luis. He wants your London telephone number.’

  ‘Luis?’ Cally said blankly.

  Then she remembered the art dealer she had met at the Drydens’ party. All that had happened since then had erased him from her memory.

  Taking the receiver from her mother, she said, ‘Hello, Luis…how are you?’

  ‘I’m fine…all the better for hearing that you’re here, not in London. I’m going to be in London in the New Year and I wanted to ring you to ask if you would have lunch or dinner with me. But as you are here and I shall be driving from Valencia to Alicante tomorrow, perhaps I could have the pleasure of your company sooner than I’d hoped. There’s a restaurant at the south end of Benissa that’s not at all bad. I’ve eaten there before.’

  Before she had time to reply, he said, ‘I have something very interesting to tell you about a mutual acquaintance.’

  The only mutual acquaintances Cally could think of were the Drydens.

  But then Luis added, ‘The good-looking guy who was at our table at Leonora’s dinner party.’

  ‘Nicolás Llorca?’

  ‘Yes, Llorca. But don’t ask me to tell you what I’ve found out about him over the phone. The price of this information—which, believe me, would make headlines in Informacion if they knew about his presence in your village—is the pleasure of your company at lunch. All I will say now is that the way he described himself when we introduced ourselves was the most stupendous understatement I’ve ever heard.’

  Cally did not like being pressured into having lunch with a man whom, though she had found his company quite agreeable, she had no real desire to meet again. At the same time she was intensely curious to know what information he had unearthed about Nicolás.

  He was waiting for her when she arrived at their rendezvous in a town on the main coast road.

  ‘What takes you to Alicante?’ she asked, when they were settled at a table. ‘An art exhibition?’

  Luis nodded. ‘I’ve been invited to the inauguration party for an art festival at the Castle of Santa Barbara. I’ll drive home tomorrow, or perhaps the day after. I thought you’d be back in Spain for Christmas, but not as soon as this.’

  ‘I’m changing jobs,’ she said. ‘My new one doesn’t start until the New Year.’ She felt the white lie was allowable. She didn’t want to discuss her job situation with him.

  Nicolás wasn’t mentioned until they had finished the main course and were waiting for the pudding.

  ‘You have your curiosity under very good control,’ he said. ‘Most women would have asked me what I’ve found out long before now.’

  ‘Perhaps I’m not curious,’ she said. ‘What made you think I would need a bait to have lunch with you?’

  ‘Because I have no illusions about my powers of attraction,’ he said, rather sadly. ‘I am not in Llorca’s league. He can have any woman he wants.’

  ‘I doubt that,’ she said dryly. ‘What makes you think so?’

  ‘His looks, his personality…and the fact that he’s a billionaire.’

  ‘He may be very well off, but a billionaire…I don’t believe it.’

  ‘Time magazine does. They’ve published a profile of him, and they don’t do that for every Internet whizz-kid. I asked a librarian I know to do some “digging” for me. The stuff he came up with was an eye-opener. The service provider Llorca mentioned is only one of his enterprises. In the last ten years he’s launched half a dozen companies, the most recent being a fibre optic network that will link most of Spain’s larger cities by a voice and data network. I don’t understand the technicalities of that but perhaps you do.’

  Cally shook her head. ‘Only dimly.’

  ‘Apparently Llorca has been a speaker at most of the international economic forums. He’s an innovator…a force to be reckoned with.’

  ‘Did you find out why he’s spending time in this part of Spain?’

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ said Luis. ‘Either it’s something personal or it’s not in the public domain yet. Have you seen any more of him since the dinner party?’

  She hesitated. ‘We’ve had lunch, but I don’t expect to see him again.’

  ‘Probably better not to,’ said Luis. ‘People like Llorca are not like the rest of us. I’ve known several of those “driving force” types and they’re not good at personal relationships. They’re too ambitious…too focused. They tend to have serial marriages or a string of mistresses.’

  ‘You don’t have to warn me off, Luis. I’m not an impressionable twenty-year-old, and I’m well aware that Nicolás inhabits a different world from the one I live in.’ She changed the subject. ‘Have you discovered any up-and-coming new artists recently?’

  In the light of Luis’s information, Cally regretted even more that she hadn’t declined the invitation to Nicolás’s party.

  ‘I wonder who’s cooking for him?’ said Mrs Haig, as she and her husband and daughter were about to set out for La Higuera. ‘Juanita says someone called Alicia looked after the place when Cameron Fielding was a bachelor. But I don’t know if she does now. I gather Juanita and Alicia aren’t on good terms. She didn’t say why, but I knew by her expression she doesn’t think much of Alicia.’

  Cally made no comment. She was increasingly nervous about the evening ahead. Would her father drink too much? Would her mother choose tonight to air some of her more extreme views? Why was it so important to her that they made a good impression? If she were a truly loving daughter she would be more concerned about whether they liked the other people, not vice versa. That was how she would have felt if her grandmother had been going to the party. But it wasn’t the way she felt about Mum and Dad. With them it was she who felt like a parent with two children who might behave perfectly…or throw embarrassing tantrums.

  Her hope that all would be well rose when her father said to her mother, ‘You look very nice tonight, dear. Is that a new dress?’

  But then, instead of making the most of one of his rare compliments, her mother spoiled it by saying tartly, ‘That’ll be the day. It must be at least ten years old. Shows how much notice you take.’

  ‘You know men don’t notice details, Mum,’ Cally said quickly. ‘They take in the general impression, and you are looking nice tonight.’

  Mrs Haig gave one of her sniffs and Cally’s nervousness increased. It was going to be stressful enough, being with Nicolás and trying not to remember what had happened at La Soledad, without having to keep a watchful eye on these two as well.

  As they were turning into the street where Nicolás lived, they had to step onto the narrow pavement to allow a car to pass. It was an expensive car and Cally wondered if the couple in it were also bound for La Higuera.

  It turned out they were. By the time the Haigs reached the front door, the Spanish couple were also approaching it. The man was still handsome despite being considerably overweight and the woman was fashionably coiffed and wearing a fur coat, furs not being frowned on in Spain.

  They were introduced by the husband as Enrique and Angeles Gonzalez. Knowing that her father wouldn’t, Cally introduced her parents and herself. They were still shaking hands when Nicolás, who
must have heard the car draw up, opened the door to welcome them.

  The Drydens had already arrived and, after further introductions, the three male guests formed a group, and the three older women another, while Nicolás handed round flutes of champagne and Cally gazed at a wonderful painting which now filled the formerly empty space on the chimney-breast.

  ‘Is that a Sorolla?’ she asked, as he brought her a glass.

  ‘Yes…do you like it?’

  ‘It’s beautiful. I like all his paintings, especially El Caballo Blanco…a naked boy in a straw hat leading a white horse out of the sea.’

  ‘This picture used to hang in the drawing room at La Soledad. I shall probably put it back there when the place is habitable again.’ He turned to speak to her mother. ‘You were away when I spent a night or two at your house, Mrs Haig. Have you had any news about the man who had to be taken to hospital?’

  ‘We’ve heard he’s made a good recovery.’ After they had been chatting for a few minutes, she said, ‘Can we do anything to help? Entertaining is difficult for a man on his own.’

  ‘Thank you, but no, everything’s under control. I’ve found an excellent caterer who came in earlier today and left me with nothing to do but open the bottles. Excuse me’—this as someone rang the front doorbell.

  Moments later he returned with two more guests, the couple Cally had met at the arts and crafts fair. Tonight Simón’s English wife was looking even more beautiful in a loose beaded chiffon top and plain silk trousers, both the colour of violets. As soon as the introductions had been made, she made a bee-line for Cally.

  ‘I was hoping you might be here. We go back to Madrid tomorrow and I wanted to see you again.’

  Touched by the warmth of her manner, Cally responded equally warmly.

  As his email hadn’t stated what form the evening would take, she had wondered if ‘a party’ meant only tapas and drinks or something more substantial. But when Nicolás folded back the doors that had closed off the seating area, she saw that the table was laid as for a dinner party and the long counter that partially divided the dining and cooking areas had been converted into a buffet with an inviting array of food.

  If her father had been the host, where people sat would have been left to chance. But place cards indicated that Nicolás had worked out a plan. When everyone was sitting down, her mother was on his right with Mrs Dryden on his left.

  At the other end of the table was Cassia Mondragón with Mr Haig on her right and Todd Dryden on her left. Cally was between Enrique and Mr Dryden with Angeles opposite her.

  All three were good conversationalists and presently she began to relax and enjoy herself, though she couldn’t help keeping a watchful eye on her father and wondering how her mother was getting on with their host and Leonora Dryden.

  It was soon agreed that the caterer Nicolás had used was a notable find. The starters included a curried courgette soup on a hot-plate, salmon fishcakes also hot, a Brie tart and a green salad made with celery, cucumber, endive and lettuce heart leaves to which had been added walnuts, pickled garlic and the baby gherkins called pepinillos.

  It was when dinner was over and Nicolás and Simón were serving coffee and liqueurs to the older members of the party, now relaxing on the comfortable sofas in the living area, that Cassia said to her host, ‘I love looking round other people’s houses. Is it all right if Cally and I have a snoop?’

  ‘Of course…look wherever you like.’

  As they went into the hall, Cassia said, ‘First, I must have a pipi. What’s the betting that door at the end is the downstairs loo?’

  While she was gone, Cally looked at the paintings and photographs on the walls in the hall. Although she didn’t watch much TV, she had seen Cameron Fielding, the owner of the house, and knew that he had reported the news from many parts of the world. His paintings and other possessions reflected his nomadic life and reminded Cally that Cassia had also described herself as a nomad before meeting Simón.

  She learned some more about Cassia as they explored the house and, when an opportunity arose, she said, ‘The other day someone told me that Nicolás is rather more famous than he lets on.’

  ‘Oh, yes, in his field he’s a big name,’ Cassia agreed, ‘but you wouldn’t guess it from his manner. He never flaunts his brains. Simón has a lot of time for him.’

  This, Cally gathered, was the ultimate accolade in Cassia’s eyes.

  ‘Do you like him?’ she asked.

  ‘I haven’t known him long but, yes, he seems very nice,’ Cally said, thinking that her answer had to be the understatement of the year. She wondered what Cassia would say if she confided that she was hopelessly in love with him.

  The Haigs were the first to leave.

  ‘Did you enjoy yourself?’ Cally asked her mother, as they walked home.

  ‘I’d like to know what that buffet cost,’ said Mrs Haig. ‘There was a lot left over. We could have done with doggy bags. I hate to see good food wasted.’

  Cally smothered a sigh. Her mother’s comments were so typical of her. After spending an enjoyable evening in a lovely house among interesting people, all her reactions were negative. How differently darling Granny would have reacted.

  Aloud, she said, ‘I’m sure it won’t be. Nicolás will eat what was left.’

  She felt sure that he would. Billionaire or not, she couldn’t see him tossing eatable food into the garbage.

  ‘Leonora Dryden is a very amusing woman. I wasn’t much taken with Mrs Haig. She has a discontented mouth,’ said Simón, driving away from Valdecarrasca.

  ‘Perhaps that’s her husband’s fault. His only topic is golf. Luckily I had Todd on my other side and he’s great fun,’ said Cassia. ‘Cally can’t help having dull parents,’ she added. ‘She must be a changeling or a throwback. We found we had lots of favourite books in common. But I didn’t pick up any clues about how she feels about Nicolás.’

  ‘I didn’t see any evidence to support your theory about his feelings,’ said her husband. ‘The fact that he never mentioned her the evening he came to supper with us would suggest to me that he wasn’t interested. How you can interpret that as a sign that he’s in love with her is beyond me.’

  ‘But then you didn’t have a clue that I was in love with you, my dense darling,’ said Cassia. ‘Men are hopeless at picking up vibes. Of course it’s never as easy when one is an interested party,’ she conceded. ‘I didn’t guess that you were in love with me. Maybe I’m wrong about Nicolás. Maybe he only fancies her in a love ’em and leave ’em way.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  AT BREAKFAST the following morning, Leonora said to her husband, ‘I have a sinking feeling that Cally has fallen for Nicolás.’

  ‘He probably has a lot of girls falling for him. What makes you think she has?’

  ‘I intercepted some looks she gave him…and he her. But if they have an affair, she’s the one who will be hurt when it ends.’

  ‘She’s a nice girl. Maybe it won’t end,’ said Todd. Talking to Cally the night before had led him to believe she had a lot going for her.

  ‘He won’t marry her,’ said Leonora. ‘Just because one of the Spanish princesses has married a basketball player, it doesn’t mean that the entire Spanish aristocracy is going to start marrying commoners. Mostly they’ll stick to their own kind.’

  ‘I doubt if Nicolás thinks of himself as an aristocrat, first and foremost, and his mother certainly hasn’t observed the conventions,’ said Todd. ‘La duquesa is notorious for her liaisons with unsuitable partners.’

  ‘The children of people like that often react to their parents’ peccadilloes by becoming extremely conventional,’ said Leonora. ‘Augustus John—’ referring to one of her favourite artists ‘—was a complete bohemian, but his son joined the Royal Navy and became an admiral. Do you remember John’s beautiful illegitimate daughter, Amaryllis Fleming? We went to one of her concerts soon after we were married.’

  ‘The red-head who played the cello�
�yes, I remember her. Wasn’t she related to the guy who wrote the James Bond books?’

  ‘She was Ian Fleming’s half-sister,’ said Leonora. ‘Her mother was like Nicolás’s mother…madly attractive and notorious for the number of her lovers. I suppose it’s possible that Nicolás, despite his looks and charm, could, by temperament, be more suited to the role of a faithful husband than a successful womaniser. But I shouldn’t like to bet on it and, given his eligibility, I think he’s unlikely to pick someone like Cally. She’s what I call a connoisseur’s beauty, and he may recognise that, but she’s also encumbered with terribly tedious parents. Mrs Haig has one of the most pedestrian minds I’ve ever encountered.’

  ‘Your parents were an odd pair, but I took the chance that you wouldn’t turn out like them,’ her husband reminded her teasingly.

  Leonora laughed. ‘I doubt if Nicolás is as reckless as you were. Men who’ve stayed single till his age don’t embark on marriage as lightly as we, who married in our twenties, did.’

  The letter from London was delivered by Juan the cartero who, unlike British postmen, did not have a uniform and drive an official van, but wore a sweater or, rarely, an anorak, and drove his own car.

  If he had a package to deliver to the casa rural, he would open the door and put the mail on a nearby table. This morning he rang the bell because he needed a signature for an expensive laid-paper envelope sent by registered post.

  Stamped on the flap at the back was a name that made Cally’s heart leap. Founded in 1784, Quarles & Co (Publishers) Ltd was one of the last surviving independent publishing houses in London, with a reputation for finely produced scholarly books.

  The letter inside was typewritten but topped and tailed with the elegant handwriting of someone who used a fountain pen.

  Dear Miss Haig, she read—the writer obviously didn’t consider Ms an acceptable form of address—We have been offered the opening chapters and an outline of a book by Mr Rhys McGregor. We are interested in seeing more of this work and have been in correspondence with the author who tells us...