by Anne Mather
On Thursday evening, Jason asked Miss Holland if he could have a few words with her in his study once supper was over. Alexandra, who had half hoped he would include her in the invitation, was left to face the unpalatable realisation that so far as Jason was concerned she was still a child, and as such, not worthy of inclusion in their discussions. She guessed he was giving Miss Holland instructions for their journey, and that lady’s later revelations that they were to spend the first few days at an hotel while she looked for a suitable house to lease confirmed this assumption. Alexandra went to bed without seeing Jason again, and the first painful seeds of distrust were sown.
Although she hardly slept that night, first light found her down at the stables, saying goodbye to Jave. She bestowed a tearful kiss on his gnarled cheek before bidding farewell to Placida, the little mare who had so patiently borne her first stumbling efforts. She couldn’t say goodbye to the chestnut mare. She had not returned, and she hoped with all her heart she would not fall victim to the jaguar, who still ran free somewhere in the mountains.
Her farewell to Jason was a stilted affair. He appeared as she was having breakfast, and seemed irritated to find her already at the table. Perhaps he had hoped she would break down, she thought maliciously, cloaking her vulnerability in a shell of indifference. Well, she wouldn’t. She would not give him that satisfaction.
Instead, after Ricardo had loaded their cases into the Range-Rover and Miss Holland had said her goodbyes, Alexandra held out her hand for Jason to shake, and saw the kindling anger in his eyes. It was as if they were strangers, she thought, unfriendly strangers, wary of further contact.
But short of causing a scene, there was little he could do, she realised that. She realised, too, that he had probably expected to kiss her goodbye. He had enjoyed kissing her—he had made no secret of that fact. And she was glad of the little victory her coldness afforded. But once aboard the Boeing that lifted off the airport at Valvedra, she locked herself in the toilet and gave in to the weakness of tears.
To begin with, she had cried a lot, usually into the secrecy of her own pillow, and her face grew pale and drawn. But gradually her vulnerability gave way to a certain hardness, a cynical contempt for her own immaturity, that gave her the strength to go on. Jason had been an experience, she told herself coldly. Her first experience—and the one and only time she would give her heart to anyone.
This decided, she gave herself up to a determined effort to enjoy life again, but by the end of her first month at Mountsey Square, she knew she was bored. Miss Holland’s outings to museums and theatres bored her, as too did the prospect of spending the rest of her life searching for artificial pleasures. She had never been used to needing entertainment on the grand scale. At the convent, she had had to amuse herself, and her thoughts had never been a trouble to her as they were now. It was frightening to realise that what she was really trying to do was fill her days so that she would have no time to think, and that was no life at all.
But she hated London, with its close, narrow streets and noisy traffic. It gave her a feeling of claustrophobia, and she yearned for the open spaces of the pampa, and the feel of the mare’s strong muscles between her thighs. It took her some time to realise it, but gradually it came to her that what was really happening was that like the recurrence of some awful disease, she was having a second attack of homesickness for San Gabriel, and Jason. It was useless telling herself she hated him. The longer they were apart, the harder it became to put him out of her mind. And no matter how he had treated her, she would never forget him.
That was when she decided she would have to get a job. But what? A discussion with Miss Holland was not satisfactory, since that lady proffered the belief that Alexandra should give herself more time before rushing into anything so binding as a career. Wait until the end of the summer, she said, knowing nothing of that terrible scene Alexandra had shared with Estelita. What had happened to her determination to return to South America? Was she already regretting that decision, or had she some other plan in mind?
Alexandra put her off with vague excuses that she was not happy doing nothing, that she would prefer to be occupied, and hoped that sooner or later it would filter through to the older woman that all was not as straightforward as it had at first seemed. It was too soon to talk about her future, she averred, realising as she did so that Miss Holland would probably think she had changed her mind, and put it down to her extreme youth.
The six-months lease on the house had been paid by Jason, but Alexandra decided that as soon as she had regular employment, she would suggest to Miss Holland that they moved into a flat of her choosing. She realised that Jason was paying Miss Holland’s salary, and she couldn’t be absolutely sure what that lady would do once Alexandra broke free of her guardian, and for the present she had to accept his largesse. But she still had the nest-egg provided by the sale of her father’s house, and surely that would provide enough funds to furnish a small apartment when the need arose.
She said none of this to Miss Holland, however. The older woman was enjoying a well-earned rest, revisiting all her old haunts and meeting up with old friends. After her strenuous stint at the hacienda, she deserved a break, and there was no point in worrying her unnecessarily.
During those early weeks Alexandra had visited her father’s solicitors and cleared up the matter of her father’s letter. She crossed her fingers as she maintained that he must have forgotten having written to Jason, and as she was obviously fit and well cared for, the elderly solicitor was more than willing to let the matter drop. He would write to the convent, he promised, and she left his office feeling an overwhelming sense of relief.
It wasn’t easy finding a job, however, without either references or qualifications. Office jobs all needed good passes in English and an ability for typewriting which Alexandra did not possess, and the more menial type of post paid such low wages. She realised if she wanted to earn a salary suitable to maintain a reasonable standard of living, she would have to go back to school and take examinations, and while she was willing to do this, there were no courses starting again until September.
In consequence, she eventually accepted a job as a waitress in a coffee bar in Chelsea. It wasn’t a very fashionable coffee bar, and it was owned by a rather sleazy-looking Greek called Stefanos, but at least it meant she had somewhere to go through the long daylight hours.
Miss Holland was horrified. She had never dreamt Alexandra would go through with actually taking such a job, and her disapproval was more than eloquent.
‘How do you think I feel, knowing you’re working in that dreadful place?’ she protested. ‘What will Mr Tarrant think when he finds out I’m living here in the lap of luxury, while you’re spending every day in that unhealthy atmosphere?’
‘I really don’t care what Mr Tarrant thinks,’ Alexandra retorted tautly, adding cream to the coffee Mrs Beesley had served after dinner that evening. ‘As—as a matter of fact, I’d rather you didn’t tell him.’
She knew Miss Holland was obliged to write a weekly report to her employer, and she had often wondered what she found to write about, but in this instance she would rather her affairs remained private.
‘I don’t understand you,’ exclaimed Miss Holland now, shaking her head. ‘Less than two months ago, you told me you loved him, and now, here you are, taking a job you know he wouldn’t approve of, and asking me not to tell him!’
Alexandra heaved a sigh. ‘Yes, well—I’ve been meaning to tell you about that,’ she mumbled unwillingly. ‘I—Jason and I—we’re washed up—finished. You know—it’s all over.’
‘All over?’
Miss Holland stared at her disbelievingly, and Alexandra closed her eyes against the astonishment in her expression. ‘Yes,’ she insisted, pressing a hand to her churning stomach. ‘I’ve wanted to tell you for some time, but—well, you know how it is.’
‘No, I don’t know how it is,’ retorted Miss Holland impatiently. ‘Alexandra, are you telling
me you’ve changed your mind?’
‘And if I was?’
‘I wouldn’t believe you.’ Miss Holland’s fists clenched. ‘Good heavens, girl, you’re eaten up with love for that man, even I can see that! I just don’t understand what you’re trying to do.’
Alexandra rested her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her knuckles. ‘You don’t have to understand,’ she said unevenly. ‘It’s over, I tell you. He doesn’t want me. He never did. I was just a—a diversion while Estelita was away.’
‘You don’t believe that!’
‘I do. I do.’ Alexandra sniffed, feeling the smarting sting of tears behind her eyes. ‘If you only understood…
‘Understood? What’s to understand?’
‘About—about Estelita…’
‘What about her?’
‘She—Jason’s going to marry her.’
‘I doubt that, very much.’ Miss Holland looked disbelieving. ‘If he had been going to marry Estelita, he’d have done so before now.’
‘Well, she wants to marry him.’
‘Might I remind you, I wanted to marry Lord Carleon? Much good it did me.’
‘But if—if you’d been pregnant…’
‘Estelita’s not pregnant!’
‘No, but she might be.’ Alexandra caught her lower lip between her teeth. ‘If she—let it happen…’
‘You’re implying that Mr Tarrant would be responsible?’
‘Yes.’
Miss Holland snorted. ‘I never heard anything so fanciful! Do you honestly believe that a man like Mr Tarrant, with his experience of the world and its vagaries, wouldn’t take damn good care something like that didn’t happen unless he intended it to do so?’
Alexandra stared at her, her lips trembling. ‘You accept then that they do sleep together?’
‘I don’t accept any such thing. I’m not saying that they might not have, in the past. She’s obviously willing, and Mr Tarrant is very much a man, after all.’
‘Oh, Miss Holland…’ Tears oozed down Alexandra’s cheeks. ‘If only you were right!’
‘Well, at least give me the benefit of the doubt.’ Miss Holland leant across to pat her arm. ‘My dear, surely you’re not going to let a woman like Estelita keep you from finding out the truth for yourself?’
‘How?’
‘Go back at the end of the summer. See—Jason.’ It was the first time Miss Holland had used his given name. ‘Do that, if you do nothing else.’
Alexandra rubbed her palms across her cheeks, noticing as she did so how the scars were fading. They were pale, of course, and still very painful if she used them unwarily, but no longer raw and vulnerable. If only the same could be said for her!
‘You don’t know everything,’ she admitted at last, when Miss Holland continued to look at her with expectancy. ‘I lied to Jason. All the time I was at San Gabriel, I was living a lie.’
Miss Holland frowned. ‘Go on.’
Alexandra hunched her shoulders. ‘Well…’ she began reluctantly, ‘my father didn’t write that letter asking Jason to be my guardian, I did.’
‘You?’
‘Yes.’ Painfully, Alexandra explained the situation, making no excuses for her behaviour. ‘I didn’t want to go back to Sainte Sœur. I just wanted to be free,’ she finished lamely, and Miss Holland felt a surge of sympathy for this girl who had known no other life but that of the convent.
‘Why didn’t you tell Jason?’ she asked now, squeezing Alexandra’s arm. ‘I’m sure he’d have understood. I’m sure he will understand.’
‘No.’ Alexandra shook her head. ‘There was a letter, you see. Estelita brought it that day she came back from Valvedra. It was from the convent. They—they must have contacted Daddy’s solicitors, and learned that he was dead and that I was living in Santa Vittoria. At any rate, they had written to Jason, telling him that my father had telephoned them, asking them to look after me when—when he died.’
‘Who told you this?’
‘Can’t you guess? Estelita. She had opened the letter, you see. She showed it to me, but not to Jason.’
‘Where is the letter now?’
‘Estelita destroyed it, I suppose. I don’t know. I never saw it again after that night she came back to San Gabriel.’
‘I see.’ Miss Holland was thoughtful.
‘Do you?’ asked Alexandra now, shifting on her chair. ‘Can you see how Jason would react if he learned the truth? He—he never wanted to take me to San Gabriel, you know that. If he found out I’d deliberately deceived him…’
‘Nevertheless, I think you should tell him,’ declared Miss Holland at last. ‘If, as it appears, you do not intend to return to San Gabriel, what have you to lose?’
‘No.’ Alexandra shook her head. ‘No, I couldn’t do that.’
‘Why?’
‘Estelita threatened to make the letter public knowledge if I didn’t leave the hacienda. She said Jason would hate being made to look a fool.’
‘What a nasty piece of work she is!’ exclaimed Miss Holland impatiently. ‘I can’t imagine why Jason ever made her his housekeeper.’
‘She was a widow, and she needed the work,’ replied Alexandra practically. ‘Besides, not everyone would want to live so far from the city.’
Miss Holland nodded. ‘That’s true, of course. And I suppose she does care for him in her own way. Even so, I think he deserves to know the truth. Perhaps I should—’
‘No. Oh, no.’ Alexandra shook her head again. ‘Don’t do anything. This is between me—and Jason. Whatever happens, I have to handle this myself.’
* * *
It was approximately two weeks later that Alexandra had an unexpected visitor to the coffee bar. She was clearing tables when a voice behind her said: ‘Buenos días, señorita. Cómo está usted?’
She swung round eagerly, half believing it might be Jason, to gaze in amazement at Manuel Goya. ‘Manuel!’ she exclaimed bewilderedly. ‘Heavens, what are you doing here?’ Her eyes darkened. ‘Do you have bad news? Is anything wrong? Is Jason well?’
‘No, no, and yes,’ he responded, his eyes twinkling with wry amusement. ‘That answers your questions, si? As to why I am here, I came to see you, of course.’
‘No, but…’ Alexandra glanced round nervously. ‘How did you find me? What are you doing in London?’
Manuel smiled. ‘We cannot talk here, in the middle of a coffee house. Can you have lunch with me?’
Alexandra hesitated. ‘Lunchtime is our busiest time,’ she confessed. ‘I could have dinner with you this evening.’
‘Unfortunately, that is not possible,’ said Manuel sadly. ‘I am passing through London on my way to Rome. I have to leave on this evening’s flight.’ He sighed. ‘I did not realise you had a job. Jason did not tell me.’
‘Jason doesn’t know,’ said Alexandra unhappily. ‘Oh, Manuel! If only I’d known you were coming!’
‘Si.’ He looked disappointed, too. Then his expression lightened a little. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I will have lunch here, at the coffee bar, no? Then, in between times, we can talk.’ It wasn’t very satisfactory, but it was the best they could do. Alexandra was kept busy from twelve o’clock onwards, but in between serving hamburgers and toasted teacakes, she managed to snatch a few words here and there.
It appeared that Manuel had taken his father’s advice at last, and was working for the Fredrikson organisation. Because the firm had offices in Rome, Manuel was being sent there for three months to learn European methods of engineering, and it had been his father’s suggestion that he stop off in London to see Alexandra. Knowing Ricardo’s pride in his son, Alexandra guessed the older man had wanted her to see how successful Manuel had become, and maybe he hoped that their friendship would develop now that there were fewer miles between them. It was sad, she thought, that Manuel had not been the one to capture her heart. He would have been so much easier to love.
Once in London, Manuel had gone straight to their address in Mountsey Squ
are, and from Miss Holland he had learned where she was working. Like her, he was distressed that Alexandra should not have asked Jason’s advice before starting on such a career, but he gave an unwilling promise not to interfere.
Talking about Jason was less easy, Alexandra found. It was difficult to ask the questions she wanted to ask without giving away her feelings, but it seemed that the situation at San Gabriel was much as usual. At least he was not married, she thought with relief, although she acknowledged bitterly that such things took time. Nevertheless, so long as he remained unmarried, she could entertain thoughts of going back there, even if the chances of her doing so were slim indeed. Jason had never written to her. So far as she knew, he had never even sent a message to her. And he must know that she could never return without his invitation.
Manuel left to catch his plane, and Alexandra watched him go with a terrible sense of isolation. For a time, she had felt close to Jason again, and hearing Manuel talk about the estancia and its problems had brought it all into painful focus. But now he had gone, and she was left with the unpalatable knowledge of her own duplicity. If only she had told Jason right at the beginning! she thought despairingly. If only she had confessed to her ploy before the letter arrived, condemning any hope of his forgiveness.
* * *
June was a hot month in London, and working in the sweaty atmosphere of the coffee bar, Alexandra was sapped of all strength by the time she got home. She didn’t even have the energy to go seeking a flat, and the realisation that in less than three months the rent on the house would fall due again filled her with anxiety. She could pay it, she supposed, using the money her father had left her, but it would take a sizeable slice out of the funds she had hoped to use to furnish her own apartment. Besides, there was Mrs Beesley’s wages to consider, too. She was part of the deal, without the added burden of what they would eat. That was a detail Jason had not neglected in his arrangements with Miss Holland, and knowing the price of food, Alexandra dreaded the thought of how much money he had already spent on them.