Question of Love

by Oliver, Marina

  Suddenly contrite she took his hand as they crossed the road.

  'I'm sorry, Frank.'

  'Then you'll change your mind?' he asked, stopping and taking her shoulders in his hands as he turned her to face him.

  The furious hooting of a car made him release her hurriedly and drag her onto the narrow pavement, where he again turned her to face him. Pippa wriggled out of his grasp.

  'Let's find lunch before talking, we can't concentrate here,' she said as a group of people pushed past them and a delivery man balancing several cartons in his arms shouted to them to make way.

  *

  When they had ordered, Pippa took a deep breath and looked at Frank. He was gazing at her hopefully and she had to steel herself to deal the hurtful blow.

  'Frank, I don't know what I feel about us,' she said slowly. 'At the moment I don't think I love you well enough to get married. Perhaps, later, after I've been on my own a while - '

  'We've been separated while I've been in London,' he said quickly.

  'I know, but it wasn't quite the same because I was at home with the family and all my friends. I didn't need you or I didn't feel that I did,' she added as she saw the hurt in his eyes. 'Oh dear, I'm making a rotten mess of this. I must make my own way for a time. I shall have time to think, to see whether I can be self-sufficient or whether I miss you unbearably.'

  'But I love you,' he insisted.

  'I know, and that's what makes me feel so mean. But I don't know what love is. I can't tell whether I love you. I need to find out, Frank, before I commit myself to marriage, because I believe marriage is for keeps. One has to be absolutely sure and I'm not.'

  'Do you have to do it so far away?' he asked.

  'Yes, because anywhere in the States there would be the chance of you or Dad flying in for the weekend,' she said frankly. 'Or I could get home if I felt low. Anyway I've accepted the job and I can't let Mr Watson down. Besides, it sounds an exciting job, helping him write his memoirs.'

  'What's he like?' Frank demanded suspiciously.

  'Old, you needn't be afraid I shall fall for him,' she said with a slight laugh. 'He's a Californian I think, or at least has lived there. He knew of Dad.'

  'Is he married?'

  'I don't think so. He mentioned a Spanish couple who looked after him, there may be others, but I have the impression there's no wife.'

  'Will you be living in the same house? Your parents won't like that.'

  'Oh, don't be silly! He must be well over sixty and I'm not an idiot!' she snapped. 'It's settled, Frank. Now let's eat and talk about something else, and then I have to go and buy some guide books and see about getting a flight.'

  *

  To her relief he accepted this and she agreed to see him again that evening. Then she went to make enquiries of travel agents and in search of books about the Balearic Islands, thrusting to the back of her mind her doubts and the concern, mingled with slight irritation, at the hurt, bewildered expression in Frank's eyes.

  During the next few days as she made preparations for her journey Frank's attitude was a constant worry. Why could she not love him as deeply as he plainly loved her?

  'How can I tell?' she demanded one evening after Frank's alternated pleas and hurt silence had ruined her enjoyment of the film he had taken her to see.

  'You'll know when it hits you,' Dolores had reassured her. 'If you don't want to spend every possible moment with Frank, and can't bear the thought of not spending the rest of your life with him, he's not the man for you. You don't love him, Pippa. You're just conditioned into accepting your family's wishes. You've probably never given any other possibility a thought.'

  That was true, Pippa silently agreed.

  Until she had come to England she had never really questioned the plans everyone had for her. The sudden independence of a trip abroad seemed to be encouraging her into other forms of rebellion also.

  'Dad was livid when I phoned him,' she commented. 'He even threatened to come and fetch me home. I told him that if he did I would never marry Frank, but if I had some time on my own to think it over I might go back to him after all.'

  'You mustn't. He's not right for you, Pippa. Can you bear the way he is pleading, almost whining to you not to leave him?'

  'He's hurt and it has been sudden,' Pippa said defensively, but she had a sneaking feeling Dolores was right.

  'So what? I would respect a man who went away more than one who stayed to beg. Or one who acted the cave man and carried me off,' she added, giggling. 'Cheer up, Pippa, the job will last the next few months and anything may happen. Have you found out who your Mr Watson is and what sort of memoirs he's writing.'

  'No. It was stupid of me not to ask him more. It's odd. I have a feeling I've seen him before somewhere but I can't think how or where. Well, I shall find out on Friday.'

  *

  Chapter 2

  When she was about to step onto the plane at Gatwick on Friday, however, Pippa almost turned back. What the devil am I doing, she asked herself in dismay. How can I be going off to a small island to work for a man I don't know, living in his house, making Frank so miserable, all for some whim about the need to find a job for myself?

  She hesitated and then moved on. The last sight she had had of Frank's pleading eyes across the barrier decided her. Dolores was right. She didn't love him and the sooner he accepted it the better it would be for them both. When she did return home there would be no way of avoiding him permanently but in the meantime he might have accepted her decision. If she went back now he never would.

  She had a seat by the small window, and a young man carrying several expensive looking cameras squeezed into the seat beside her, giving her a brief smile as he began to stow away the cameras under the seat.

  'There's so little room on these charter flights,' he said as he sat up again, 'but I daren't trust this stuff with the rest of the baggage.'

  'It is rather cramped,' Pippa agreed, mentally contrasting the spacious luxury of the transatlantic flight with this one.

  She had discovered the cheapest and easiest way of getting to Mahon was on a package holiday flight. The agency had offered her a last minute bargain and her thrifty mind made her accept eagerly. She was glad it was only a two hour flight, though, in such a small cramped plane.

  'Good, no hold up,' her neighbour said as the doors were shut and the captain's voice filled the passenger cabin. They taxied along the runway and were soon airborne. Pippa gazed entranced as they passed over the towns and fields of southern England and then over the sea, the cliffs of Dover gleaming down on her left.

  'Is that France?' she asked a few minutes later as they crossed another coast line.

  'Yes, ever been there?'

  'No, it's my first trip to Europe.'

  'And you choose to go to Minorca? Have you friends there?' he asked. 'By the way, my name's David Nightingale.'

  'Pippa Dawson. Not friends, I'm going to work there for a few months.'

  'Tourist trade?'

  'No, secretarial, for an American.'

  'Pity. I was hoping we might be staying in the same place.'

  He paused to speak to the stewardess who was distributing the plastic packed trays, and Pippa concentrated on seeing what she could of the French countryside with the meandering rivers and woods clearly visible before the plane rose into the clouds and they were surrounded by thin, floating cotton wool. Soon they were above the clouds, the sky brilliantly blue, and she sighed with satisfaction, at last happy that she was doing the right thing in leaving Frank in England.

  *

  David, having tossed her a few casual remarks as they ate, had produced a book from his pocket and was immersed in it. She saw it was one of the guides she had herself bought and wished she had thought to leave hers accessible. The paperback novel she had in her bag did not appeal at the moment, for it had reached the stage where the heroine was agonising over which man she loved most, and in Pippa's currently lovelorn state she had little patien
ce with reading about a girl who thought that she could be in love with two men at once.

  She was peering unobtrusively over David's shoulder at the map he was studying when he looked up at her and grinned.

  'Where are you staying?' he queried as she blushed and began to apologise.

  'Near the western end, somewhere close to here - I can't say the name,' she replied, pointing.

  'Cuidadela. The easiest way is to think of the C as Th, and that helps. Try it.'

  Pippa did, and after a few attempts which made her laugh, made a creditable pronunciation.

  'Do you speak Spanish well?' she asked.

  'Moderately. Enough to get by and ask the questions I want. My work, and therefore my vocabulary, is rather specialised.'

  'You are working?' Pippa asked in surprise.

  'I'm doing the photographs and helping with some of the drawings for a book on the archeological remains. The whole island is littered with them and half of them still haven't been properly surveyed.'

  'Have you been before?'

  'Not to Minorca. I went to Majorca, the largest of the group, recently. Minorca is further north and totally different. There are no mountains for a start, and the terrain is rocky, less fertile than in Majorca. No cultivated olives, and only a few orange trees in gardens. Majorca has hundreds of orchards.'

  'What is there, then?'

  'Cattle mainly, and leather goods, especially shoes. Far fewer tourists which is an advantage for those of us who have to work. It's warmer than in London. You'll soon need something lighter,' he added, and cast a swift admiring glance at Pippa's trim pants suit in a fine dark red wool, under which she wore a cream sweater.

  'I never learned Spanish despite living in California,' she said hurriedly. 'Do you think I'll be able to understand?'

  'Lots of people speak some English,' he reassured her. 'The island has been occupied several times, the Arabs were here until the thirteenth century, then both the French and English spent some time in control during the eighteenth century, so the dialect is not pure Spanish, there are quite a few foreign words. I'll be happy to be your guide and interpreter when you have some time free,' he added. 'My base is here,' he said, pointing to the map. 'Cala Santa Galdana is perhaps the loveliest bay on the island, and although there are new hotels and houses it is still very pleasant. There's a good new road and it's not far from Cuidadela.'

  'There are no coast roads,' Pippa remarked, evading replying to his implied invitation. She had found him a pleasant companion but after her rupture with Frank and the distress that had caused her did not wish to plunge straight into another friendship. If she relied on David Nightingale for company too much things could become difficult again.

  'No, just this main road connecting the two capitals. Mahon is the modern one, mainly because it has a magnificent natural harbour, but Cuidadela was the original one. Most of the time to get from one part of the coast to another you have to come back to the main road. There are a few other roads connecting some of the resorts but the rest are mere tracks.'

  'You have done your homework to know so much already,' Pippa said ruefully. 'I skimmed through my guide books but I didn't learn nearly as much.'

  'Have you got this one?' David asked, and Pippa nodded.

  'But I packed it in my case.'

  'Would you care to look at it now?'

  'Thank you, but I'll wait to read my own when I'm settled. We should be there soon, I think.'

  'Another twenty minutes or so. Are you being met?'

  'Yes. Mr Watson, my employer, said his chauffeur would be waiting for me. I hope I'll be able to spot him.'

  'I expect so, Mahon must be a very tiny airport.

  *

  'I've so little idea what to expect,' Pippa confessed, and thought ruefully that this remark applied to more than just the size of the airport.

  They landed soon afterwards. The plane taxied along the runway and drew up a few yards away from the small airport building, and the passengers were waiting within minutes for their cases to appear on the conveyor belt.

  David's soon arrived and he heaved it to the floor.

  'Look, I'll go and check if the hire car I ordered is waiting, then make sure you are met. I'll see you just outside,' he said and walked off while Pippa waited for her own two cases. She looked after him, half wishing to call him back.

  He was just under six feet tall, with short curly brown hair. Dressed in casual brown slacks with a darker brown sweater over a white tee-shirt, his slim figure looked confident and at ease as he spoke for a moment to the officials at the customs desk, showing them the cameras slung over his shoulder. By the time he had dealt with them Pippa had seen one of her cases on the belt, and as she turned to lift it off he disappeared. When her other case had been retrieved she carried them past the customs officers, who gave her a cursory glance and waved her through, to find David waiting immediately outside by the glass doors which opened onto a large car park.

  'I suspect that chap is your chauffeur,' he said, nodding to a small dark man in a smart green uniform. 'Look, here's my hotel phone number. Ring me as soon as you can and I'll take you out as soon as you have a free day. I'll check that you're O.K.'

  So saying he picked up the larger of her cases and carried it across to the chauffeur, speaking to him rapidly in Spanish, and then turning to grin cheerfully at Pippa. She had already recognised the man who had been in London with Mr Watson.

  'This is Luis, Pippa. See you soon, I hope. Good luck.'

  'Goodbye,' she managed, and watched rather bereft as he waved and strode away to a small car some distance away.

  *

  'Miss Dawson, welcome to Minorca,' Luis said in a heavily accented voice. 'Please get in the car, I will see to your baggage. It is an hour to the Casa Blanca. There is a map in the door pocket so that you can see where we go.'

  Soon they were driving out from the airport past the outskirts of Mahon and along the central road. Pippa stared out at the stone walls, the fields littered with rocks and stones, and the scattered, white-painted houses.

  There was little traffic on the road which had clearly been widened and improved in places recently. It went through the three inland towns of the island and the only stretch of low hills, but Pippa noticed one hill larger than the others standing alone near the centre of the island.

  'That is the Sanctuary of Mount Toro,' Luis explained in his precise English. 'The church is kept by the nuns and is a popular attraction for visitors.'

  'How do they get to the top? Is there a road? It looks very steep.'

  'There is a twisting road, but only small buses can traverse it. A large coach which made the attempt once became stuck at one of the sharp turns.'

  'How unfortunate. What happened?' Pippa asked curiously.

  'Oh, the driver had to reverse until he reached a quarry further down where he could turn round. The passengers all got out and walked up to the summit,' Luis added, flashing her a grin which revealed even white teeth.

  'I'm not surprised,' Pippa laughed. 'I would not like to be in a bus reversing along hairpin bends.'

  'You must visit it. Perhaps if the Senor stays he - oh, this is Mercadal where shoes are made from old car tyres and the skin of cattle. The islanders wear them in the fields, they last a very long time, they are so strong.'

  From Mercadal the road twisted more and soon after they had passed through Ferrarias, the next town, Luis turned the car into a small lane, little better than a track, and drove towards the southern coast.

  The lane was deep, enclosed either side with high stone walls edging the fields or dense plantations of pine trees, so Pippa could see little of the landscape. She gasped as the car left the last of these plantations and in front of her the blue sea glittered far below.

  To either side stretched headland after headland of low grey cliffs, and as Luis began to drive carefully down a steep track she saw on her left a small deserted cove with a beach of golden sand and a scattering of low rocks
at the edges of the cliffs.

  'It belongs to the Casa Blanca,' Luis said casually. 'No one else can reach it except by boat, so it is usually quite private. Do you swim?'

  'Yes, but not very well,' Pippa answered, gazing entranced at the variable green and brown and blue patches of water in the shallow bay.

  'It is best for even a strong swimmer to stay within the bay, no further out than those two rocks on either side which curl inwards towards each other,' Luis warned. 'There can be a strong current outside.'

  *

  At that moment the track curved and Pippa saw in front of her a long, low, white house set in the flat floor of the narrow valley, surrounded by lawns and flower beds. A large patio faced southwards, and on the upper storey wide balconies in front of green shuttered windows provided several sunbathing or lounging areas.

  Luis drove into a paved space to the side of the house and brought the car to a halt near a porticoed entrance. The huge door stood open revealing a cool, spacious interior, with oriental rugs scattered across the cream tiled floor and modern paintings, bright and large, on the walls.

  'I'll fetch Maria, my wife, to show you the room she has prepared for you,' Luis said as he dropped Pippa's cases on to the hall floor at the foot of a wide curving staircase which filled the centre of the large hall that ran across the whole depth of the house. 'Mr Watson is most likely resting and will see you before dinner.'

  He disappeared through a door beyond the staircase and Pippa looked about her with interest. Several doors opened to both sides of the hall, and dozens of potted plants were scattered about the room on the floor and tables and suspended from the ceiling. It added to the cool cream and green elegance, and just as the rugs and paintings provided vivid splashes of colour so did the blossoms and variegated leaves of the plants.

  She then became aware of a murmur of voices coming as far as she could tell from a nearby room. It appeared that Mr Watson was not resting as Luis had supposed, and Pippa wondered whether she ought to make her presence known to whoever was in the room. Yet her new employer might have visitors and she did not wish to interrupt them. She stood irresolute, and at that moment a door beside her opened.