Apartment 3B

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘My dear. One word of advice,’ said Incarna seriously. ‘Be careful of that man. He ees unprincipled and makes his wife most unhappy with his philandering.’

  ‘Oh! I see,’ said Liz, in some surprise. She had often seen photographs in the papers of Marcus and his glamorous wife Angela as they attended various functions. They were a high-profile couple in the jet-set life of the capital city. She supposed Incarna knew what she was talking about. After all, she did mix in those circles, and it was clear to Liz, even from their brief acquaintance, that Incarna was extremely well known. All the time they were talking, people had passed by and saluted her by name. Well it didn’t matter if it was Marcus Kennedy or Harrison Ford, Liz wasn’t the slightest bit interested. No man would ever take the place of Matt so Incarna had no need to worry about her succumbing to the charms of the suave restaurateur.

  ‘Let’s forget about him and return to our discussion,’ Incarna urged, catching a waiter’s eye and appropriating two glasses of champagne. ‘Would you care to come out to my house to see where I wish to place thees mural?’

  ‘I’d love to,’ Liz responded warmly. This was going to be an interesting assignment and very unusual. Imagine wanting a mural of a cathedral on one of your swimming-pool walls. Imagine having an indoor swimming pool, she thought enviously. She’d have to go for a swim in it to see what the best position would be for viewing the mural from the pool. That would be a treat. To her surprise she found herself looking forward to it. Meeting Incarna had lifted her spirits to a surprising degree. She wondered what the vivacious Spanishwoman’s husband was like. Incarna lived on Vico Road in Killiney and it was obvious from the elegant black jersey silk cocktail dress that moulded her ample curves, the glitter of gold at her throat and the diamonds sparkling on her fingers, that she was not short of a penny or two. Like a lot of the people at this reception.

  ‘Can I be your assistant? I’ll hold your paint-brushes and things,’ Christine grinned when Liz told her of her encounter with Incarna. Privately Christine was delighted to hear about it. It was something just like this that her sister needed to give her a little boost. Christine knew that Liz was still grieving deeply for Matt although she put a brave face on things.

  Three weeks later, having knuckled down and finished the rest of her commissioned work, Liz was ready to start Incarna’s mural. She and Christine drove to the house one weekend at Incarna’s invitation, so that she could make her plans. The house had been an eye-opener. A dormer bungalow set in an acre of ground, Vista del Mar was a plush modern residence commanding magnificent views of Dalkey Island and Killiney Bay. The emerald lawns that surrounded the house were immaculate and there was a profusion of daffodils and multi-coloured crocuses heralding the arrival of spring. The house was beautifully decorated and Incarna’s Spanish heritage was much in evidence. Tiled floors covered with expensive rugs, heavy oak furniture whose wood gleamed with polishing, archways leading to rooms and balconies all gave the impression of Spain. Brightly-coloured scatter cushions dotted the pastel sofas and chairs and there was a bright airy feel to the house that was at the same time relaxing and homely.

  ‘Wow!’ murmured Christine, as Incarna, chattering gaily, led them to the indoor heated swimming pool where Liz was to execute the mural. All one wall of the room was glass with big patio doors leading on to a veranda from where could be seen the beautiful vista from Dalkey to Wicklow with the purple-hued Sugar Loaf dominating the skyline. It would be no hardship, thought Liz, to spend lazy hours lolling about in the pool with a view like that to survey.

  ‘It ees nice, ees it not?’ Incarna smiled, delighted by the girls’ reaction. ‘My late husband decided we would settle here. The view reminded him of Naples. He was a sailor, you know.’

  So Incarna was widowed too, thought Liz sadly. Another bond. Liz wondered how long she had been widowed but didn’t like to ask. Later, over tea and delicious pastries, they discussed the mural. It was a big wall and although Incarna had photographs of the magnificent and imposing cathedral, they just were not detailed enough or focused enough for Liz to do it justice.

  ‘Would you be able to get a professional photographer in Spain to take some shots from different angles for me, Mrs Fitzgerald?’ Liz asked as she examined the photos in front of her.

  ‘Oh please call me Incarna, it ees much more friendly,’ the older woman insisted in her warm breathless manner. ‘Yes, I can get the photographs that you require. You just tell me what you want and I will organize it.’

  Liz looked at the photo in her hand, took out her notepad and wrote down a series of instructions. ‘Usually I would take the photos myself and make a study of the building, but if the photographer takes these shots it should do fine.’

  The following day, Liz received a phone call from Incarna. ‘Liz, I was thinking, would it not be much better for you to see the cathedral yourself? Then you can study the angles and get a good impression of what it ees really like instead of having to try and get an idea from photographs.’

  ‘Well it would be the ideal thing. But I’ll manage from the photos, don’t worry,’ Liz assured her cheerfully.

  ‘Can you be ready to travel with me to Majorca as my guest the day after tomorrow?’ Incarna queried, and Liz could tell that she was smiling. A paid trip to Majorca in the spring! How lucky could she get. Just wait until Christine heard about it. It was just what she needed, really. She hadn’t done much travelling abroad: a trip to Paris with the school, an Inter-rail trip across Europe during her student days and her honeymoon in Greece. She had never been to Spain and the artist in her looked forward to it with pleasure. New cultures and experiences always gave her great inspiration and she felt that she badly needed something new to challenge her. Her work would be the big thing in her life now that Matt was gone and so with some of her old vigour she packed her paintbrushes and sketch-pads in preparation for her first trip to Majorca.

  The flight left Dublin Airport at eight-thirty in the morning and by ten forty-five they were circling Palma Airport. Below her, Liz could see the coastline caressed by a sparkling blue sea and forests of green pine trees interspersed with fields and villages. It looked absolutely beautiful. She had really enjoyed the flight with Incarna who had told her all about herself and how she had met and married Gerald Fitzgerald, the most dashing Irish-man in the world.

  He had sailed into Montevideo one day on a cargo ship and, as the captain, had hosted a party for various ships’ agents and chandlers. Incarna had been on an extended holiday with her mother’s family who came from Montevideo and had accompanied her aunt, uncle and cousins to the party in a state of great excitement. Since she had come to Montevideo she had attended so many balls and parties, much more than her strict father in Majorca would have liked, had he known. She had never been on a ship and this was going to be a new experience. Climbing the steep gangplank she had caught her heel in a ridge at the top and fallen into the arms of the captain, who was standing on the deck to greet his guests.

  He was dressed in his tropical whites, with a flaming red beard and a head of red hair. Incarna had never seen anyone like him. She had recovered her composure, thanked him, met his twinkling blue eyes and fallen head over heels in love. For the two weeks they were in port Captain Fitzgerald called upon her, much to the dismay of her aunt, who was certain that Incarna’s father would not approve. Incarna, too, knew very well that if her father knew that she was seeing Geraldo, as she called him, he would most certainly forbid her ever to see him again. Wasn’t a match arranged for her at home with Jose Del Montoya, the son of a prestigious landowner in Majorca. For her father’s only daughter only the best was good enough. And the Montoya family was allied to Spanish nobility. For this, Incarna did not care a fig. Comparing Jose to Geraldo, Incarna knew she would never be happy married to her countryman.

  Although she had only known Gerald Fitzgerald for two short weeks, their souls had touched and she felt as though she had known him a lifetime. That he was as enamoured of her
as she was of him was evident. They both had a sense of humour that was to be a great bond through their lives. And Incarna’s memories of her first weeks with the flame-haired Irishman were of laughter and giggles. Captain Fitzgerald was a strong, tough, muscular seaman and Incarna saw a side that few others saw. To her he was kindness and gentleness itself, treating her like a precious jewel. The night before they were to part, she clung to him, weeping. To think she would never see him again was worse than death. He tried to comfort her, promising that he would write, but she knew her father would never permit her to see his letters. Gerald was almost as distraught as she. Her elder cousin, who was acting as a discreet chaperone, was in tears as well, thoroughly enjoying the romantic drama being enacted in front of her very eyes.

  ‘Incarna, will you marry me?’

  Incarna, her black eyes glittering at the memory, reminisced to Liz as they winged their way down along the French coast. ‘I did not have to think twice, Liz. I said yes yes yes, Geraldo, I will marry you!’ Liz could just imagine Incarna throwing caution to the winds in her impetuous fashion. Naturally, her family was horrified and forbade the match but Incarna, strong-willed and deeply in love, tried to persuade them that Gerald was the man for her. When they remained adamant that she give him up, she packed her bags and eloped with him. Her father disowned her but she was with her Geraldo and they sailed the world over before settling on a ranch in Brazil. The discovery of an emerald mine on their land made them wealthy and they returned to Ireland to live. In time, Incarna’s father became reconciled to his daughter’s marriage and they visited him at home in Majorca. Before long her parents came to appreciate their affable son-in-law, and Incarna’s happiness was almost complete. The only sadness of their marriage was that she could not have children.

  ‘But we loved each other deeply. Our love grew stronger over the years and no woman was ever loved by a man as I was loved by my Geraldo. Throughout the years of my marriage I was forever smiling. He was my soul mate,’ Incarna said with a distant look in her eyes.

  Liz nodded in empathy. She knew exactly what Incarna meant. She too had spent most of her brief marriage smiling. It had been ridiculous, really. Sitting on a bus, walking through the park, engrossed in her painting, she only had to think of Matt for a smile to come to her lips and light up her eyes. She could quite happily spend five minutes daydreaming about her husband, smiling to herself and oblivious of everyone. Or else when they were together Matt and she would catch one another’s eye and share a special little smile that always brought a glow to Liz’s heart. Christine was always chiding her good-naturedly. ‘You’re worse than a lovesick teenager. Everybody in the universe knows when you’re thinking of Matt – which is most of the time. Girl, you’d better grow out of it or you’ll get terrible crow’s-feet before you’re thirty!’ But she hadn’t grown out of it and when she looked back on the photographs of their wedding the happiness in her smile was almost tangible to her. Liz knew that if Matt had lived they would have had an exceptionally happy marriage.

  She sighed deeply and Incarna took her hand. ‘My dear, I know just how you feel. When Geraldo died of a heart attack I was as devastated as you are now. I wanted to die myself; my grief seemed almost too much to bear. It took many years before the pain of it left me. But you will survive it even if you never quite get over it. I was luckier than you, my dear, I had my husband for thirty-five years, but what I will say to you ees thees. Just say to yourself every day, “I was lucky to have known such a love.” Because it ees something given to very few people.’

  Liz nodded, unable to speak, tears streaming down her face. This woman knew what she was going through. Christine, Eve, her mother, although they tried to comfort her, couldn’t understand how she felt or comprehend her enormous sense of loss because they hadn’t experienced it. But Incarna, who had, could. And it comforted Liz more than anything had done in the months of her mourning. Incarna was by now in tears herself and the two of them sat on the plane with tears sliding down their cheeks. A passenger who had partaken very freely of the duty-free passed by on his way to the loo, did a double-take at the sight of them, gave a horrified hiccup and ambled on. Liz and Incarna caught one another’s eye and they got a fit of the giggles which lasted a good five minutes and left them feeling quite cheerful.

  The days Liz spent in Majorca brought a balm to her wounded soul. From the minute the plane doors opened and she breathed the warm flower-scented air of the island, she knew that Majorca was going to be special to her. Driving through Palma, looking at the green-shuttered terracotta houses with the waving palms dotted here and there, Liz was entranced. Passing the huge picturesque marina she could see fabulous yachts, sleek and graceful and gleaming white. Seeing her interest, Incarna told the driver to slow down. ‘There ees King Juan Carlos’s yacht. Every year the Spanish royal family spends a holiday on the island. Their villa isn’t that far from here.’ They drove slowly by and Liz could see beautiful women and handsome men sitting on the decks of their vessels, sipping champagne and watching the world go by.

  ‘Oh, for the life of the idle rich,’ she laughed.

  ‘My dear, with your talent you may yet enjoy the life of the idle rich,’ Incarna smiled. ‘Which is something else we must talk about. The price you quoted me for the mural ees outrageously low. No, don’t argue with me,’ she said firmly as she saw Liz about to protest. ‘You must market yourself, my dear. I know what I am talking about. I am a businesswoman too, you must remember. If people get something cheap, shall we say, they will put no value upon it. But if it is expensive and they have to suffer a little to get it, they will treasure it all the more and others will see what pride is taken in it and they will want one for themselves. Then if they have to pay more they will feel that they have got something more valuable than their friends – and so it goes. You must never undervalue what you have to offer.’

  She gave a twinkling black-eyed glance at Liz. ‘I think I should be your agent, hmm? You would make a lousy businesswoman. You are much too soft.’ She rubbed her hands with glee. ‘I shall be your agent and we shall charge Marcus Kennedy an outrageous amount for his mural. Ha! Ha!’ She chuckled devilishly. ‘And he will pay it too, because now that he knows that I’m getting a mural painted by you he will not rest until he has one also. Ooooh, this ees going to be the greatest fun! We will be a team, you and I, and Liz, my dear, if in twenty years’ time you can’t afford a yacht like so,’ she waved a beringed hand at the yachts berthed in the marina they had just left behind, ‘it will surely not be my fault. Now feast your eyes on thees.’

  She pointed ahead and Liz caught her first glimpse of the stunning cathedral outlined against a deep blue Mediterranean sky and overlooking the highway they were driving on. Majestic, classical, its beauty took Liz’s breath away. What would it be like in the dawn? In a sunset? Or was this the way to paint it. In the bright blue heat of almost noon, with the palm trees swaying in the scented breeze and not a cloud in the sky.

  ‘Tomorrow, Antonio will drive you in. Today we will unpack and relax,’ Incarna said firmly as the car picked up speed and they began to leave the city behind them and head towards open country. Liz was amazed by how green the island was. Now it was verdant and beautiful although no doubt after a long hot summer it would get quite parched.

  ‘We used to live in Palma in an old house with a view of the cathedral and overlooking Parc de la Mar, but I sold the house when my parents died and moved to a villa in Santa Ponsa. When I bought the villa, twenty years ago, Santa Ponsa was a small undeveloped village with a beautiful bay. Now unfortunately it has become somewhat built up. But not too much where I am, up in the hills, and it ees still very beautiful. You can see right over the bay to Paguera from my villa. It ees magnificent in the sunset. You will love it.’

  Before long they were driving along Avenida Rey Jaime 1, heading into the centre of Santa Ponsa with its open-air restaurants, shops, bars, apartments and hotels. Liz couldn’t wait to explore. They drove past
the white plaza, past the beach, along the main street and then they were climbing up into the wooded hills past beautiful villas. Finally they came to a pair of ornate gates which opened to reveal a delightfully secluded villa set amidst rolling lawns and a myriad flowering shrubs that outdid each other in colour. Liz’s fingers itched for her paintbrush. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the turquoise kidney-shaped pool glittering like a blue diamond in a beautiful patio. Loungers covered with fluffy cushions and shaded by matching umbrellas lay around the pool waiting for bodies. Beneath them Liz could see the town of Santa Ponsa and the bay that stretched across to Paguera, ringed by low hills. It was breathtaking. And pure luxury.

  Incarna smiled at the expression on Liz’s face. ‘You see, I told you it ees beautiful. Now, my dear, Maria will show you to your room, where you can freshen up and we will have lunch and a little siesta and then tonight I will take you out to dinner. Tomorrow you may start work if you wish.’ Maria, a plump smiling woman, showed Liz to her room which overlooked the pool. Decorated in shades of blue and white, it was a cool haven from the heat of the noonday sun. With a sigh of pleasure Liz stripped off her clothes and walked into her en suite cool tiled bathroom where she had a refreshing shower. This was the life, she thought. Christine would really enjoy it here.

  The next day she began her studies of the cathedral. Antonio, Maria’s husband, drove her to Palma where she took photos of the imposing structure from every angle. She then began to do some preliminary sketches. She went at dawn, she went at dusk and marvelled at the different lights and how the whole image changed according to the time of day. Her favourite moment was on the day she arrived to find the cathedral wreathed in an early-morning fog. It looked almost ethereal. After much consideration, though, Incarna and she decided that the cathedral in the hot blue-skied noonday sun was the quintessential Spanish image and the one Incarna wanted painted on her wall. It was the one that would most remind her of home.