The Mountains of Spring

by Rosemary Pollock

  ‘Oh … does she?’ Normally, his arrogance would have provoked her to rather a sharp retort, but at the moment she seemed to have neither the spirit nor the energy. So she simply walked quietly over to the sports car, where Isabel greeted her with warmth and enthusiasm.

  ‘I have heard,’ she said, ‘that my mother and Diego wish you to be a companion to me. That is very nice news. You agree, yes?’

  ‘Yes, I agree. I have told your mother so.’

  ‘It will be wonderful,’ said Isabel with touching simplicity, ‘to have someone to talk to.’ And then she laughed, and spread her arms wide in an extravagant gesture. ‘Today,’ she announced, ‘I am happy. Diego is no longer angry with me.’

  ‘I’m glad,’ said Caroline, rather dryly. At the same time she wondered precisely why Diego was no longer angry with her. Had they discussed Peter? , And if so, what had the outcome been? It was on the tip of her tongue to ask, but something stopped her. Instead she smiled, and remarked that she had better not keep Diego’s grandmother waiting. ‘I’ll see you later,’ she said. ‘At Teotihuacan.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Isabel dreamily, ‘at Teotihuacan.’ And she settled her slight person more comfortably against the scarlet upholstery.

  The road winding northwards out of Mexico City was a fine modern highway, like the road to Toluca, and although they were in no particular hurry they made very good speed. Within half an hour they had left the city behind altogether, and in all directions they could see a distant line of mauve-coloured mountains. It was an almost painfully beautiful morning, and the brilliance of the colours all around them made Caroline catch her breath in admiration. All at once Senora Rivel said quietly:

  ‘You begin to like our country very much, do you not?’

  ‘Yes. Oh, yes, I do. It’s all so vivid, as if … well, as if it were encrusted with jewels.’

  The Senora smiled. ‘Like the walls of our churches. We are a flamboyant people, and our country resembles us. Or perhaps we resemble our country!’

  ‘But you are really Spanish,’ Caroline reminded her. She hesitated, and then asked the older woman something that interested her. ‘Do you feel very Mexican, senora?’

  ‘Very Mexican, my child. Oh, I was born in Spain, of good Spanish stock, and there I lived until I was twenty. But one day a Mexican gentleman named Ricardo Rivel was invited to dinner…’ She smiled, and her eyes took on a faraway expression. ‘Happily my father approved of him, and six months later we were married in Madrid.’ He brought me back to Mexico, and from that day to this I have never once gone home. Nor have I wanted to. My children and my grandchildren have visited Spain—Diego, like all the boys, was partly educated there—and the younger of my two daughters is married to a man whose home is near Granada, but for me it has become an alien land.’ She shrugged. ‘I would not know it now.’

  Caroline was silent. Life, she decided, could be rather frightening sometimes.

  It was still only half past eleven when they came in sight of the ruins of Teotihuacan, and the sunlight was white and fierce. Everything seemed to waver slightly in the heat, and the English girl watching from a window of the Rivel Mercedes knew that if she were to live to be a hundred years old she would never forget the moment when she caught her first breathtaking glimpse of the pyramids and palaces that had been old when Cortez was born. The ruins of the city, she was told, covered dozens of square miles, and as they drew nearer, and the immensity of the place was revealed to her, she began to feel a sensation of overpowering awe. The two cars slowed, and when the white car, which was leading, came to a halt the Mercedes stopped also.

  Just as he had done once before, Diego got out and came back to them, leaning in at the window, and addressing his grandmother first.

  ‘You are comfortable, madame? The journey was not too fatiguing?’

  ‘No, no, of course it was not.’ The old lady sounded mildly irritated. ‘You make too much fuss of me, my child. With two attractive young ladies in the party you should have better things to think about!’

  He looked startled. Isabel, after all, had been in possession of his undivided attention ever since they left Mexico City, and Caroline decided that he was probably wondering who the second attractive young lady could be. It certainly wasn’t difficult to believe, for he really seemed to have forgotten her own existence, and it was only when the Senora suggested that her young companion might like to alight and walk around for a while that he paid his third guest any attention at all. And then he looked rather doubtful.

  ‘Just now the sun is very strong, and Miss Ashley reacts badly to heat.’ That evidently lingered in his memory.

  Not knowing quite why she did so, Caroline protested, ‘The sun doesn’t really affect me, senor. Not seriously, anyway.’

  ‘Of course it does not.’ The Senora seemed obligingly determined to support her. ‘Take Caroline for a walk, Diego. Show her the Pyramids of the Sun and the Moon, and the Temple of Quetzalcoatl. It is what she came for!’

  Her grandson’s lips seemed to tighten. ‘Naturally, later on, I shall be happy to show Miss Ashley the pyramids, and anything eke she wishes to see. It is what we all came for! But Isabel would prefer to see the ruins later in the day, and you, madame, must by now be feeling in need of a little refreshment’—he looked as if he believed only Caroline could have been so unfeeling as to overlook such a point. ‘That being the case the first thing we should do is drive to a suitable hotel—there is an excellent place not far from here. Later, when we have had lunch, and you have rested—’

  ‘My child, you make me feel one hundred and twenty years old! However,’ resignedly, ‘if it will make you happy I suggest that Carlos drives Isabel and myself to your excellent hotel without delay! Caroline can remain here with you, and when she has satisfied her curiosity a little you can bring her to join us—in time for lunch.’ She looked pleased with herself. ‘That is an excellent plan, don’t you agree?’

  Diego hesitated. His expression was unreadable. ‘If the arrangement suits Miss Ashley …’ he began.

  Caroline’s tongue refused to function. She knew that she ought to say no to the idea, and fall in with her host’s obvious desire to postpone all sightseeing until later in the day, but somehow the words wouldn’t come. And while she hesitated the matter was settled for her.

  ‘Of course the arrangement suits her,’ said Senora Rivel. ‘There is no more to be said. It is ideal!’

  But ten minutes later, as she and Diego stood at the edge of the road, watching the Mercedes glide away from them in a cloud of dust, Caroline decided that the situation was anything but ideal. The man beside her was at his coldest and most unapproachable, and even the golden splendour of the scene around her couldn’t lighten the dark cloud that once again seemed to have descended on her. She couldn’t think of anything to say, so she said nothing, and for some time he guided her forward over the rough ground in complete silence.

  Then suddenly they were standing in front of the Temple of Quetzalcoatl itself, and as she gazed upwards at the great mountain of stone a little thrill of fear ran through Caroline. Without knowing quite what she was doing, she clutched at her companion’s sleeve.

  ‘It’s … rather uncanny, isn’t it?’ she said.

  ‘Uncanny?’ He looked down at her. ‘You mean it’s strange—frightening?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That is because you have never been here before. If you had been here as often as I have you would not be afraid.’

  ‘But it’s almost as if the stones were alive.’ Her voice had sunk to little more than a whisper. ‘As if they were alive with vibrations … with echoes, somehow. Echoes of all the people who have climbed those steps…’ She broke off in confusion, and forced herself to speak more normally. ‘That sounds very silly, I know.’

  ‘No. It’s not silly, senorita. The stones are alive with echoes. But they are only the echoes of men and women, of people like ourselves. The Aztecs were a noble people, and if their noble spirits haunt
this place why should we be afraid of them?’

  She looked up at him in surprise. ‘I don’t think their being noble makes very much difference,’ she admitted rather shakily. ‘But—but I see what you mean.’

  ‘You do?’ He looked at her with a faint smile in his eyes. ‘Then climb the steps with me, and I will explain the whole city to you.’

  She hesitated, and, quite unexpectedly, he took hold of one of her hands. ‘Don’t be afraid,’ he urged. ‘Hang on to me. I’m not a ghost!’

  Her heart began to pound as it had done the evening before, in Senora Dominguez’ salon, and she made no attempt to withdraw her fingers. Instead she allowed herself to be drawn forward towards the towering bulk of the Temple, and five minutes later they had reached the top of the steps. There was a kind of terrace at the top, and when they had reached it they stood still.

  ‘You are afraid?’ Diego asked, still retaining his hold upon her hand.

  She flushed. ‘Not really. It’s … wonderful up here.’

  ‘It is, isn’t it?’ He guided her along the terrace-like walk. ‘Often, when I was a child, my grandfather used to bring me here. He told me all the legends of the place. He thought it right that I should know it well, for it is said that in our family there is Aztec blood.’

  Her eyes widened as she looked at him. ‘You mean that some of your ancestors may have lived here?’

  ‘It is possible.’ His eyes grew quizzical. ‘You find the idea alarming?’

  ‘Of course not. It’s … very interesting.’

  ‘I am happy to hear you say so. It means there is, after all, something about me that you do not entirely hate.’

  As he spoke his voice was cool and matter-of-fact, and he didn’t even turn to look at her.

  Caroline bit her lip. ‘I don’t hate you,’ she said, as if it were a point that had to be cleared up.

  Now he did turn to look at her, and as she stared out across the sunlit valley of Teotihuacan she felt as if his eyes were boring into the top of her head.

  ‘No?’ he answered softly. ‘Not even when you think about Peter?’

  She felt as if there were some kind of constriction in her throat. ‘It’s irrational,’ she said, ‘to hate anyone. Unless they’ve done something—well, terrible.’

  ‘And I am not quite as bad as that?’ He laughed, but it wasn’t a very lighthearted laugh. ‘Tell me,’ he said abruptly, after a pause, ‘what makes you want to stay in Mexico?’

  ‘Why, I… Mexico is a beautiful country,’ she told him a little lamely. ‘And of course, Peter is here.’

  ‘Of course. And Mr. Weldon, the American—he is here too!’

  She looked up at him in astonishment. As usual his expression was unreadable, but nevertheless she seemed to see a kind of tension in the lines of his face.

  ‘Mr. Weldon is nothing to do with me,’ she assured him.

  ‘Oh, come now, senorita. Only yesterday I saw you together at the races, and this morning Isabel told me—’

  ‘What did Isabel tell you, senor?’ Caroline was standing very still.

  ‘She told me she believed that you and the American had fallen in love. In fact,’ rather slowly, ‘she seemed to be looking forward with satisfaction to the early announcement of your engagement.’

  ‘But that’s nonsense!’ She coloured brilliantly. ‘I hardly know Mr. Weldon. And in any case …’ She stopped.

  ‘Yes?’ He was watching her closely.

  ‘In any case there isn’t the slightest likelihood … I mean, I wouldn’t want to marry him, and I’m quite sure he wouldn’t want to marry me.’ She knew there was a strong possibility that the last part of this statement might not be strictly true, but that didn’t matter in the least. The important thing, for some reason, was that she had to make the position absolutely clear.

  For several seconds Diego was silent, gazing down at her. Then:

  ‘Is that … absolutely true?’

  ‘Of course it is.’ She was trembling a little, but she tried to speak normally. ‘Of course it’s true.’

  He took a step towards her. ‘And there’s no one … no one in the wide world who—interests you?’

  This time her lips moved, but the words wouldn’t come. She looked up into his face, and what she saw there startled her. She tried to turn away from him, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. And then all at once his arms were round her, and he was holding her so tightly that she had difficulty in breathing.

  ‘Oh, amada …’ he whispered. ‘My little white rose! Is there really no one …?’ And then he kissed her, and as all her doubts and conflicts and bewilderment faded away she knew with complete and shattering certainty that Diego Rivel was the only man in the world she would ever love. Quite unashamedly, she clung to him, while overhead the sun beat steadily down from a cloudless azure sky, and the living stillness of Aztec Mexico wrapped them about like a mantle.

  They didn’t hear the warning murmur that should have told them a car was approaching, and it wasn’t until a man’s voice cut across the silence that Diego lifted his head to listen. But as he listened something in his face changed, and gently but firmly he put Caroline away from him. They both turned round, and to her astonishment Caroline saw the uniformed figure of Carlos the chauffeur running across the rock-strewn ground towards them. As he ran he was calling to his employer, and when at last he caught sight of the figures at the top of the Temple steps he was obviously very relieved. He climbed the steps about as fast as it was humanly possible to climb them, and by the time he came to a halt in front of Diego he was almost totally devoid of breath.

  His employer looked at him sharply. ‘Well?’

  Carlos gave vent to a flood of Spanish, and Caroline, watching Diego closely, saw the chiselled lines of his face become set. She knew that something was very wrong, and when at last he turned back to her her anxiety showed in her eyes.

  ‘My grandmother has collapsed at the hotel. They think she has had a heart attack.’

  ‘Oh, no!’

  ‘Apparently a doctor has been called, but when Carlos left the hotel he had not yet arrived. I must go immediately, and I’m afraid you will have to go too. I am sorry.’

  ‘But of course—of course we must go immediately.’ Caroline felt as if the world were spinning round her. In the last few minutes she had made what to her was a shattering discovery—the discovery that she was in love—and as a result she was still a little dazed. Just for a short time she had known what it was to live in a kind of wonderful dream … and then this terrible interruption had come, and the dream had ended. And now Diego was looking at her as if she were a stranger, and as she stood quite still, exactly where he had left her, she knew that the icy numbness spreading through her was not only a result of anxiety for the old lady of whom she had become so fond. It was also due to a sort of anguish of spirit—anguish because a golden moment had passed, and she felt very strongly that it might never come again.

  They both drove to the hotel in Diego’s white sports car, but the journey was accomplished in almost total silence. The midday sun was blindingly strong, and Caroline was glad that she had brought a light silk headscarf to tie over her hair, but the man beside her, who scarcely took his eyes off the sunbaked road ahead, didn’t seem to feel the heat at all. He looked remote and completely unapproachable, and much as she sympathized with his anxiety and longed for him to speak to her, Caroline had neither the heart nor the courage to attempt to bridge the gulf that had opened between them.

  The hotel to which Senora Rivel and Isabel had been driven was a smart modern one on a height overlooking the Aztec ruins, and as the long white car slid to a standstill in front of the wide main entrance a commissionaire sprang forward immediately to open the doors. There was an air of uneasy bustle about the place, and as soon as Diego gave his name to the receptionist she uttered a soft, sympathetic exclamation, and came round from behind her desk to conduct them personally to the lift.

  As they reached it Carolin
e hesitated, and looked up anxiously at Diego.

  ‘Will you mind if I come up?’ she asked quietly. ‘If you’d prefer it I’ll stay down here…’

  He seemed to look right through her, but he shook his head. ‘You will come up. It would be my grandmother’s wish.’

  The receptionist conducted them along a wide, cool corridor, and then they stopped outside a numbered door, and she knocked. Somebody on the other side called ‘come in’ in Spanish, and as Diego opened the door he gravely signed to Caroline to precede him into the cool hush of the room beyond.

  For a moment or two she could see nothing at all, for the shutters had been closed to exclude the harsh whiteness of the sunlight, and coming straight from the vivid glare outside it took time for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. But after a few seconds she saw that a man who had been sitting beside the bed had risen, and was walking towards them. He was obviously a doctor, and she stood back while he spoke to Diego in Spanish.

  The old lady was lying on the bed, apparently asleep, and from out of the shadows Isabel’s wheelchair came gliding towards Caroline. The Mexican girl looked pale, and her expressive face once again bore the traces of an outburst of tears, but she smiled as she drew near, and her first words were encouraging.

  ‘I hope—I think it is going to be all right. The Senora collapsed, and of course everyone thought she was very ill, but the Senor Doctor thinks perhaps it was only that she fainted. The heat was so very bad … But we must wait and see. I have been praying to the Holy Virgin—when such things happen one can do nothing else.’

  Diego turned from the doctor to Caroline and spoke quietly in English, confirming what Isabel had said. He added: ‘I understand that until tomorrow it will be impossible to be sure. I shall of course remain here, and I would be grateful…’ He hesitated, although his manner was perfectly detached. ‘I would be very grateful if you also would stay. It would perhaps please my grandmother.’

  ‘Of course.’ She spoke quickly, automatically. ‘I’ll do anything I can to—to help.’