by Amanda Doyle
Again the descriptive shrug.
“Some, Miss Trent, but not all. Our present endeavour is to extend our rural industries of the olive and the grape, and also to introduce occupations such as the making of rugs and baskets, in order to give employment to as many families as is possible. Therefore, while indeed many of these people have lived for generations in these villages, others have more recently come, and as you may observe, we continue to build dwellings even now.”
“Yes, I see.” Anna pointed to a small boy, leading a donkey laden with panniers of jars on both sides. “What has he got there, Senor Conde?”
“He is carrying water to the village.”
Nicolas slowed the car as they passed, so that they could admire the shaggy little beast.
“Buenos tardes, Arturito. Your donkey is well today?”
The boy pulled the animal’s head round the better to be seen.
“Indeed he is well, Senor Conde,” he replied, squirming delightedly at being thus addressed, and having an opportunity of observing the pretty inglesas more closely. “Salamon always is well. He is the strongest donkey in the whole of Spain. Look! See the size of the burden which he bears! Salamon is strong and never lazy.”
“I am very content to hear it,” murmured Nicolas politely, tossing the boy a coin which was caught with dexterity. “You’ll have to buy him something special tonight, if he continues to work well.”
“It is certain, Senor Conde, Muchisimas gracias, Senor Conde.”
Nicolas let in the clutch, and they moved on.
“Water is a problem in many parts of our country, senoritas,” he told them impartially. “In few of the villages is there water conducted through pipes, because there is a natural lack of this precious necessity in so many rural areas, and so it must be carried and conserved with care. For this reason, I choose the making of rugs and baskets for the women of the families, because their manufacture does not involve the use of water.”
Water! How we all take it for granted in Britain! thought Anna. There we have almost too much at times, while here the little donkey-boys carry it through the city streets, selling it to all and sundry. By the time they returned to the Castillo, her own throat was so parched by the dusty atmosphere that water was the one thing on her mind, but Mercedes had prepared a pot of English tea, which was even more acceptable.
They did not see their host again that day.
Anna supposed his business had been set aside temporarily for their benefit, and his aunt more or less confirmed this assumption in the evening, tendering her nephew’s apologies for being absent.
Anna was almost glad. His presence caused her an odd, bitter pleasure, but for some reason they couldn’t even speak to each other without coolness and tension and misunderstandings. Possibly he was genuinely shocked that she had gone out alone with Guy. Anna had no idea how strict his views were on such matters, but the whole thing was ridiculous anyway, she told herself. She wasn’t one of his female relations to be bent or broken into submission, and whatever his Spanish conventions were, they need hardly apply to two English people on holiday.
It was in a somewhat defiant spirit that she departed with Guy the next morning, taking care to ask permission from Senora de Ceverio, explaining that she hoped to see a little more of the beauties of Barcelona, and intimating that she would therefore not be at the Castillo for the afternoon meal.
“But of course you must go, Anna, and I will give you some particular threads of my tapestry in order that you may match them for me. You do not object to doing this small thing for me, child?”
“I’ll be delighted, if you’ll describe to me where I must go, senora. I’ll have plenty of time, and it’s no trouble.”
“Go then, Anna, and enjoy yourself. I would like to think that you will see as much as possible before returning to your own country. It is my regret that I have not travelled far, but I am an old woman and will see no more of the world now. Nicolas is more fortunate, for the commerce takes him to many strange places, you understand, and when he returns he tells of them so vividly that I sometimes feel I have been with him and seen all of these things with my own eyes. It is a great gift, to project one’s pleasant experiences for the benefit of others. I am a grateful woman, if an untravelled one.”
Anna put the samples of thread carefully into the pocket of her handbag, and went to find Guy, who was downstairs talking to Cecily.
“It won’t be very long now before Uncle is able to remove the plaster,” he was saying. “And then you can forget you ever had that accident, I should think. You know, you two girls were incredibly lucky not to be injured more seriously.”
“Anna wasn’t injured at all,” Cecily pointed out tartly, almost as if Anna herself were to be blamed for this oversight. “Thank goodness it was my leg, anyway, and not my face. And in a way, it must all have been meant to be. It’s rather heavenly here, and even Nicolas is always saying it was nothing less than the intervention of Madam Fate herself,” she added, in highly satisfied tones.
Anna experienced a feeling of acute suffocation.
How glad she was to be getting out of here for the day!
When they saw Juanito, he was putting the finishing touches to a pair of shoes worn by a pallid-looking businessman, who read his newspaper while this small service was being performed.
Presently Juanito joined them, as jaunty and cheerful as Anna recalled him.
“Buenos dias, senorita, senor! You wish a shine?” He peered doubtfully at the thin straps on Anna’s sandals. “Ah, but no. It’s true that if all wore shoes such as yours, senorita, poor Juanito would be out of business. Perhaps you wish the soles themselves to be—?”
“No, thank you, Juanito,” returned Anna firmly, hardly daring to sit down anywhere in case he should whip them off in spite of her.
Guy declined likewise.
“Before your departure then, senor. The shoes at present appear clean, but by the time you have walked the streets for a time, you will require the services of Juanito.”
“It’s very likely,” Guy told him, scarcely able to conceal a smile. “We’ll be about for most of the day, we hope, but first I’d like to call on your mother, Juanito. I’ve brought something for her which I’m sure will give her some relief. Is she any better, would you say?”
The melting brown eyes clouded momentarily. “Better? I cannot truthfully say that she makes progress, senor, but she has been greatly cheered by your visit, I assure you.”
He fished in a shabby leather pouch slung from his shoulder on a strap. Carefully he counted out an equivalent amount to the money Anna had lent him.
“I wish to repay you now, senorita,” he told her gravely, counting the change into her palm. “That is correct, I think? You did me a great kindness. I confess I did not care to disappoint the young ones after the unfortunate damage to their merienda, and but for you it could not have been avoided.”
Anna took the money, checking it with equal gravity. She couldn’t risk offending him, not for anything.
“That’s quite correct, Juanito. Thank you. It’s a pleasure to do business with you!”
Together they laughed, and the awkward moment was past.
As Juanito had said, his mother appeared to be more cheerful, although obviously ill. She admitted that the smallest actions tired her to a foolish degree, and that with each day’s passing it was more difficult to keep up a pretence of well-being in front of the little ones. The old man sat. The children quarrelled and played and became hungry, and wished for this and that. Only Juanito understood. What she would do without him, she didn’t know, she told them. He was but a boy, with the heart of a man, and now he had brought the kind senorita and the good doctor, and she would certainly follow these instructions to the letter, and after a few days—pouff!—a new woman, no?
“It won’t be quite as miraculous as that,” Guy told her kindly. “There are quicker ways of treating your condition, senora, but in a hospital. However, if you take
these tablets faithfully, and rest as much as possible, you’ll feel very different, all the same.”
While he had been talking, Anna set about making friends with the children.
The boys remained shy, but Martita soon gave her a wide, gap-toothed smile, and led her out to show her where one fetched the water. By the time they left, order had been restored, and the place appeared clean and tidy.
Anna gave the children some bonbons she had brought, as a reward for helping her, and the last of their resistance disappeared forthwith. Her own reward, as she knelt down to hug each one, was to see the wonder in their eyes, and the excitement in their fingers as they fumbled at the wrappings.
Guy looked on in silence.
When they were walking back through the dingy alleys to the main centre, he remarked thoughtfully,
“You really enjoyed that, didn’t you, Anna? One would have thought you’d see enough of that sort of thing back home at your work, and yet you go to all this bother, even when you’re on holiday.”
Anna pressed his hand gratefully.
“It was you who went to the bother,” she replied, “not me. I’m sorry you got involved, Guy, but what else could I do?”
“Being you, my sweet, absolutely nothing but what you did. Don’t think I mind, either. I’m having a shockingly lazy time, thinking of no one but myself. I’ll probably resent like hell being back in harness when I first go back, I should think.”
“When are you going back? Have you made up your mind?”
Guy looked undecided.
“I’m fit to go any time,” he told her. “Actually, I’ve still got six weeks before my locum leaves, but I’d like to be back in London a while before that”
Anna peeped at him slyly.
“To see Madelaine?”
He laughed a bit sheepishly.
“Of course. How did you guess!”
A friendly silence followed.
What a nice person he was, Anna thought for the hundredth time. Easy-going and kind and patient and tactful, and certainly an ideal holiday companion.
After they had eaten, they roamed around the Spanish Village, a compact model township containing, as its name implied, fine examples of all things traditional to the country. Then they drank pressed lemon drinks, and ate sunwarmed fruit that Guy bought from a street stall.
This became the pattern of their outings together, and on each occasion they saw new parts of the city, and visited galleries and museums, and argued about architecture and paintings and where they should eat next, and if they would see a bullfight. Anna decided she didn’t want to, although she was interested to see the huge arena where they were held.
On each visit, she went to see Senora Moreno, usually going alone while Guy did certain messages for Doctor Lamas. He felt it was but a small gesture of appreciation for the doctor’s unfailing hospitality, and it was little enough to do if it saved an hour or two in the older man’s already overcrowded timetable.
Juanito’s mother at last began to show positive signs of improvement, and Anna was surprised to discover that she had probably been a handsome woman before her illness. Her cheeks would always be sallow, but she possessed a fine bone structure, and now her face had regained some of the animation that returns with health, she appeared quite striking. She had a natural dignity and pride which her son Juanito must have inherited and he had the same independent spirit too.
When Anna visited, she did as much as she possibly could to help, in spite of the senora’s vigorous protests. She dusted and swept and even washed the children’s clothes from time to time, while they willingly showed her how well they could wash themselves also. On these occasions there was lots of fun and laughter, and a mess to clean up afterwards, followed by drinks of chocolate all round.
Anna always waved goodbye feeling gay and young and happy and useful—until she reached the Castillo. Here, the old aches and longings returned with the sight of Nicolas. His aloofness was perhaps an indication of his disapproval of her outings with Guy, she supposed, for he certainly was not aloof with Cecily, who clamoured for attention in her own unsubtle and characteristic way, and rewarded the giver of that attention with bright, inconsequential chatter, and the glamour of her presence, and the feminine flattery of her tongue, all of which devices were a part of the charm of her personality.
The Conde obviously found her company amusing and diverting, and Anna was unsurprised. Cecily was beautiful, even irresistible, and positively at her best in the company of a devastatingly handsome male
Apparently she didn’t find his politeness and formal charm as quelling as Anna did. But then he seemed to reserve for Anna alone that narrow-eyed look, speculative and intent, that made her feel like a butterfly on a pin.
He was looking at her that way now, as she joined them on the patio on Sunday evening.
Guy had taken her to see the people dancing the sardanct in the parks, and they had ended up joining in themselves, each in a different circle of dancers, a stranger on either side. The music was still singing through her mind and feet as she ran over the lawn and reached them, a little out of breath.
The Conde rose swiftly and brought forward a chair.
“Good evening, Miss Trent. You are as fleet as a gazelle moving over the grass. You have had an exciting day, it appears?”
Anna accepted the proffered seat thankfully. Her cheeks still felt hot, and her hair was all over the place.
Cecily, by comparison, was cool and well-groomed in coffee linen and a choker of enormous, spiky white beads. She wore no other jewellery except for the ruby dress-ring, and the general effect was uncluttered, poised and undeniably attractive.
“Yes, I’ve had a wonderful time, thank you,” Anna replied, her breath still coming unevenly, as he handed her a frosty-looking drink in a tall amber glass.
“In the company of the young Doctor Harding, no doubt?”
Anna murmured a cautious affirmation, and kept her eyes on her glass.
“And this is what brings light to the eye, and a flush to the cheeks? They rival the sun-kissed tints of a ripe peach this evening. It becomes you, pequena,” he told her unexpectedly.
Anna blushed furiously, and almost spilled her drink, while Cecily became curiously tense and still. Nicolas laughed softly.
“You are young, Anna—so young that you do not know the manner in which to accept a compliment from a man. One finds it touching, this innocence. But perhaps,” he added smoothly, “you are more accustomed to the compliments of the young doctor, and do not blush uneasily like this for him?”
“No. I—I mean—yes,” Anna stammered. This was the first time he had called her by her name since that awful night in the morning-room. Now he was baiting her in front of Cecily, which was hardly fair. Possibly only Anna knew the significance of that hard green glitter in Cecily’s eyes. It meant trouble!
“It’s not like that at all, Senor Conde,” she said, making her voice as unruffled as she could. “We’re only two people who happen to have struck up a friendship on holiday.”
“Don’t probe, Nicolas. You’ll spoil the happy relationship if you tease too much,” Cecily put in sweetly.
Anna could willingly have screamed at them both. “Let’s leave it,” she begged. “There’s no relationship between us—not in the way you imply, Cecily.”
“Come, darling, don’t be so coy, just because Nicolas is here. You know you’ve told me how you and Guy enjoy being together so much.”
Anna had said that exactly. She had also told Cecily that it was like going out with the big brother she had never been lucky enough to have.
The Conde was watching her with almost clinical interest, and she felt a sudden tide of indignation rise up and threaten to choke her.
Drat them both, they’re spoiling everything, each in a different way, she thought hotly. All that makes life tolerable at the moment is my friendship with Guy, and the fact that he can take me away from this place. He helps me to forget the misery of lovi
ng a man who doesn’t even see me half the time, and having to subdue my feelings and hide my emotions at every turn. I just don’t think I could stick it if I hadn’t him to turn to just now. I’d run away, I think. Well, I won’t sit here and let them spoil it. I’ll set the record straight here and now!
She heard her voice addressing them coldly.
“I don’t know what all the fuss is about, I’m sure. Perhaps you, Senor Conde, will not be so ready to condemn my harmless excursions when I tell you that Guy is engaged to be married to a girl in England—someone he loves very much, as a matter of fact. And perhaps you, Cecily, will not be so quick to read something into our association that simply isn’t there.” Anna had the satisfaction of seeing Cecily looking, just for once, positively startled. Just for once, her poise had slipped a little.
“Guy engaged? Are you sure, Anna?”
“Of course I’m sure,” Anna stated positively. “We’ve been absolutely frank with one another.” Cecily appeared to do some very quick thinking. In fact, it wasn’t until afterwards, when she had recovered a little from the numbness which generally follows shock, that Anna realised just what quick thinking it had been.
“Have you, indeed?” Cecily remarked silkily. “Then presumably, while you were busy exchanging confidences, you told Guy about your own engagement to Basil Hanway?”
CHAPTER IX
For some seconds there was complete stillness in the air. It seemed to Anna that even the birds had stopped singing.
She tried to fasten on to Cecily’s words and make some sense out of them, but her mind was paralysed—a part of the total stillness. She felt something akin to the panic of a drowning person going under the water for the third time, only even worse. It was as though someone—Cecily?—was actually holding her under, and she didn’t know why, and couldn’t do a thing about it.