Stars of Spring

by Anne Hampson

  Joanne replaced the picture on the table.

  ‘No, Lynn, it can’t,’ she returned confidently. ‘I now believe he cares for me. He did say, quite openly, that he didn’t love me, but I’m sure it was only because he thought I didn’t love him.’

  ‘He knows now that you love him?’

  Joanne’s grey eyes lit with humour.

  ‘He’d be obtuse if he didn’t,’ she admitted with a little self-conscious laugh. He still had not actually said he loved her, but then Joanne had not seen much of him for the past week. Two days after Christmas he had taken Helena and her children home, and had then gone on down to his other estate in the Algarve, which he visited periodically in order to have business discussions with his manager.

  ‘I’m ever so glad it’s turned out all right.’ Lynn’s voice, warm and sincere, broke into Joanne’s musings and she glanced up. ‘You haven’t yet made your confession?’ A statement rather than a question and a rueful shake of Joanne’s head was the only answer, though she made a mental resolution to acquaint her fiancé with the truth the moment he returned.

  But Joanne did not happen to be in on his return, for she had gone over to Pendela Farm to do a little tidying up—not in the house itself, but outside. For Luis had left some rubbish about and Joanne decided to start a fire and burn it.

  Glee had not yet gone back to school after the Christmas holiday and she accompanied Joanne, helping her and becoming decidedly grubby in the process.

  ‘Shall I put these on the fire?’ she asked, her arms full of sticks and other rubbish she had collected from around the back of the house.

  ‘Just drop them down; I’ll put them on the fire.’ Joanne’s eyes twinkled with amusement at the picture her niece presented. Truly she should have been a boy—no matter how much Manoel asserted that it would be a waste.

  ‘I’ve got a secret,’ Glee said, on dropping her load. ‘And I’m not telling anybody except Uncle Manoel.’

  ‘No?’ Joanne picked up a long pole and stirred the fire. ‘You won’t even tell me?’

  Glee shook her head.

  ‘Only Uncle Manoel, and nobody else in the world!’

  Joanne did not persist, considering Glee to be merely teasing her.

  ‘See what’s in the shed—but don’t pick anything up that’s too dirty.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Glee blithely, running off in the direction of the shed. ‘There’s a mouse in there,’ she observed a few minutes later on bringing out some old papers. ‘Look, it’s been chewing these.’ They were brown paper bags which had contained com for the fowls, and should have been destroyed by Luis, and Joanne began putting them on to the fire. And then a white envelope, also partly chewed, caught her eye and she picked it up, a sudden frown appearing as she held it between her fingers, staring at the handwriting.

  Her brother ... And the date—This would have arrived the day before yesterday. Baffled, Joanne turned it over and over, as if by doing so some explanation would occur to her. All she saw was—‘Miss J. Barrie ...’ How had this got into the shed? And where was the letter it had contained?

  As Joanne told Lynn, all her letters were delivered to the farm, and she collected them herself. Manoel had a key—but no one else ... Joanne’s eyes glinted. The key of Pendela Farm was kept in a drawer in the small cabinet in the salon. Had someone else been to the farm and picked up this letter? Stupid question, she realized. Of course someone had picked up the letter, because she herself had never set eyes on it.

  ‘Come,’ she said to Glee. ‘Let’s see what else we can find.’

  They searched about, with Glee picking up odd bits of straw and wood that lay scattered about the floor, but there was no sign of the letter.

  ‘What are you looking for, Mummy?’

  ‘The letter that was in this envelope. Have you seen it at all, Glee?’

  ‘No ... the letters go to our farm, though.’

  ‘Usually they do.’ Joanne pursed her lips thoughtfully as Glee wandered around, picking up rubbish off the floor. Manoel had never been interested enough to ask about her mail. If he thought of the matter at all he would probably conclude that it came to the Solar de Alvares and that Diego took it up to her immediately it arrived. But Rosa—Could it be that, with her unusual interest in all that concerned Joanne, Rosa had noticed that her letters did not come to the house? That Joanne received letters would be certain, and if they weren’t coming to the Solar de Alvares then they must be still going to the farm. Why? That would be a question Rosa would be sure to ask, and once her curiosity was aroused she would have no scruples about investigating the matter for herself. But no, surely even Rosa would not go as far as to take the key, enter her home and pick up one of her letters. ‘But who else is there?’ murmured Joanne softly. ‘What did you say, Mummy?’

  ‘Nothing, Glee dear. Come on, let’s tidy out this shed and burn all this rubbish.’

  Immediately on their arrival back at the house Joanne sent Glee upstairs to wash and change; then she went in search of Rosa. She was in the small sitting-room, Diego informed Joanne, and as she opened the door and entered the room she realized with a start that Manoel was also there. He stood by the window, his hands thrust into his pockets, listening to all Rosa had to say. At Joanne’s entry the Portuguese girl stopped speaking, but Joanne had heard sufficient to convince her that Rosa had already passed on her information to Manoel. Manoel’s attention was transferred to Joanne; his hard eyes travelled over her, slowly, the expression in their depths a mingling of bewildered disbelief and contempt. Flushing hotly, Joanne moved further into the room, pushing the door to behind her and at the same time noticing the unmistakable air of triumph about Rosa, who was sitting on the sofa, leaning back, her elegant legs crossed, and one manicured hand resting on the cushion at her side.

  Manoel spoke, in tones so soft and dangerous that Joanne’s spine tingled in spite of her knowledge that apart from his anger at her deception, she had nothing to fear.

  ‘Perhaps you will tell me, Joanne, why you’ve been deceiving me all this time?’

  Joanne’s eyes flickered from Manoel to Rosa, and back again.

  ‘Rosa has told you I’m not a widow?’

  ‘So it’s true?’ He looked at her incredulously, and Joanne had the impression that although he had just questioned her, he had half expected a denial. ‘You’ve never been married?’

  Joanne stood there, clasping her hands, her face as white as her blouse.

  ‘I’ve never been married, Manoel—and of course I meant to tell you this. However, it’s not really important, because Glee—’

  ‘Not important!’ He stared speechlessly at her, while Rosa murmured in smooth and even tones,

  ‘You see, Manoel, I was perfectly right in my estimation of this girl’s character.’

  Her character? Swiftly Joanne glanced from Rosa to Manoel. So ... It was not merely that she had posed as a widow—

  Turning on Rosa, her eyes blazing, Joanne demanded to know just what was Rosa’s estimation of her character. But the Portuguese girl had no chance to reply, for Manoel was saying, in a dazed sort of way, but with fury in his tones, ‘It’s not important? You tell me you’ve never been married—and it’s not important. Are you quite shameless!’ Silence—the silence of amazement. Now of course was the time to take warning ... but unfortunately Joanne scarcely heard those cautious whisperings that clamoured for attention. For at the sight of these two watching her, Manoel with fury and contempt and Rosa with triumph, her own eyes kindled dangerously. And as on a previous occasion, when Manoel had treated her to his manner of arrogant superiority, that troublesome streak of obstinacy reared up, dominating her to the exclusion of every other emotion.

  This was his opinion of her. Love. ... Joanne’s mouth curved bitterly. He had not declared his love and the reason was not, as she had supposed, that a suitable opportunity had not yet come, but simply because no love existed. For with love came trust, and with trust came the confidence of some quite fea
sible explanation of everything the loved one did. But Manoel desired no explanation; he was perfectly willing to believe Rosa’s accusations, to accept without question the validity of the information she had obviously been waiting to impart to him immediately on his return. Looking at Rosa, Joanne said quietly,

  ‘Perhaps you’ll tell me exactly what you’ve said to Manoel?’

  Rosa shrugged, and said in careless tones,

  ‘I’ve had my suspicions from the start. And then the other day I happened to come across a letter—’

  ‘You happened to come across it?’ interrupted Joanne softly, aware of her fiancé’s interest in this interchange between herself and Rosa. ‘A letter was stolen from my house. I found the envelope in the shed.’

  ‘So that’s where it went. It blew out of my hand.’ She sent Joanne an untroubled glance from under her long silken lashes. ‘I don’t quite know what you mean by stolen. The letter, which I imagine should have been dropped into your letter-box at the farm, was in some bushes in the field. It had apparently been wet through and then dried, for the envelope came off and, as I said, it blew away, and I never saw it again. It was addressed to Miss J. Barrie.’

  That explanation could be the correct one, Joanne generously conceded. There was no door on the shed and the envelope might have blown inside.

  ‘You knew the letter was mine. Why didn’t you give it to me?’

  ‘I would most certainly have done so. But as I’ve explained, the envelope came off. The letter blew open and I couldn’t help reading its contents.’

  ‘How very convenient all this was. The letter in the bushes, the wind blowing it open—’ Joanne was no longer willing to give Rosa the benefit of the doubt. ‘A postman usually makes sure the letters are put in the box,’ she submitted, and, when no response was forthcoming, ‘As you did not consider it your duty to pass on my property you have the advantage of me regarding its contents. Perhaps you’ll enlighten me?’

  ‘The letter’s here!’ Picking it up from the cabinet at his elbow, Manoel flung it across the room. Stooping, Joanne took it from the carpet. Opening it out, she read,

  ‘My dear Joanne,

  I’m sorry I haven’t written before, but I’ve been ill for nearly three weeks. That’s why I haven’t sent you any money for Glee’s Christmas present. How is my little daughter?’ There followed more questions about Glee and then, ‘Life isn’t always pleasant with Mavis, and I sometimes wish I’d stayed with you and Glee. Give her a big kiss from her daddy.

  Love,

  Roger.’

  Slowly Joanne folded it up. Damning it most certainly must appear to anyone not in possession of the facts, but as she looked across at Manoel, and saw the contempt and condemnation in his eyes, her chin lifted and she stubbornly refrained from commenting on the contents of the letter in her hand.

  ‘You’ve nothing to say?’ Bitter disillusionment now in Manoel’s dark eyes, and for one brief moment Joanne wondered if he cared. But even in her moment of indecision his eyes darkened again with blame and disgust and he turned away, as if he never wanted to set eyes on her again.

  Suddenly her sister’s remark about the proud boast of the Alvares came to her. What was he thinking?—that Glee had tainted his noble home? She turned, and probably would have left the room, but Rosa’s sneering, triumphant face caught her attention and she whipped round. The rein on her fury was released and she told them both what she thought of them.

  ‘And as for you,’ she finally cried, tossing her head as she turned to Manoel, ‘I always did consider you pompous and proud and conceited!—and I wouldn’t marry you now if you went down on your knees and asked me!’ She stopped for breath, and noticed the raising of his brows. The noble and aristocratic Dom Manoel Alvares going down on his knees! That was a silly thing for her to say but she went on blindly, her words born of a deeply injured pride, ‘You’re the most detestable man I’ve ever met! I thought you really cared for Glee, liked her for herself—but you’re so wrapped up in your own superiority and your stupid possessions that you can’t get your values straight! Glee’s just as good as you are—better, in fact—!’ And some mischief suddenly entering into her caused her to add, just for good measure, ‘—even if I’m not married to her father!’ But no sooner had the words left her lips than she regretted them; it was not only that Manoel had actually flinched or that Rosa’s sneer had reappeared, but Joanne herself felt thoroughly ashamed of uttering such wild impetuous words.

  However, before she could decide what to do the awful silence that had settled on the room was broken by the entrance of Glee. For a brief moment she stood there, her short little dress starched and flouncing, her nose gleaming from the soap she had vigorously used upon it.

  ‘Uncle Manoel—oh, I’m so glad to see you!’ Running to him, she grabbed his hand and put it to her cheek in a little habit she had adopted with him recently. Breathlessly Joanne awaited his reaction ... and to her amazement and disbelief he smiled down at the child, and ruffled her hair with his other hand. Rosa stared incredulously, and opened her mouth to speak, but Glee was before her.

  ‘I’ve got a secret, Uncle Manoel, and I’ve been waiting a long time to tell you.’

  ‘Glee dear,’ said Joanne, in a trembling, yet much quieter tone, ‘Uncle Manoel isn’t interested in what you have to say. Come—’

  ‘But I’ve waited a long time,’ repeated Glee. ‘I can tell you, can’t I?’

  ‘Yes, Glee,’ he said, his eyes fixed on Joanne’s flushed and angry countenance. ‘What is it you have to tell me?’

  ‘I know who it was who knocked me down. It was Dona Rosa.’

  The slow, heavy tick of the grandfather clock was the only sound in the room for several moments after Glee had made her pronouncement. Rosa’s face had gone a sort of sickly yellow; Manoel’s was merely a mask.

  ‘Glee—’ began Joanne, when Manoel raised a hand.

  ‘That is a very serious thing to say, Glee. Are you quite sure it’s true?’

  ‘Of course it isn’t true! The child romances all the time; you can’t believe a word she says!’

  ‘I found my hair-slide.’ Glee looked up at Manoel, her eyes wide and frank. ‘I lost my slide that day, and I found it, fastened in Dona Rosa’s lamp. And I remember now that it was a black car,’ she added, twisting round to look up at Rosa. ‘You said it wasn’t, but it was.’

  ‘You said it wasn’t?’ Frowning, Manoel transferred his gaze to his cousin. If he had any further doubt it was swept away by the guilt on her face.

  Leave them to it, decided Joanne, glancing disdainfully from one to the other and, beckoning to Glee, who came to her at once, she and the child went out, and up to their own private rooms.

  Lynn was there, sitting comfortably on the couch, reading. She raised her head and smiled as Joanne and Glee entered the room, but instantly the smile faded as she noted Joanne’s expression.

  ‘Is anything wrong?’

  ‘Everything’s wrong!’ Joanne sat down and snatched up a magazine that lay on the chair. But of course she didn’t attempt to read it and after a moment she tossed it down again, and as Lynn was obviously waiting for some explanation she proceeded to tell her all that had happened.

  For a while after she had finished speaking her friend could only stare in a sort of dumb amazement.

  ‘Joanne, are you quite mad! You’ve allowed Manoel to believe Glee’s ...? Really, you must be out of your mind. Why didn’t you tell him she was your niece?’

  ‘Because he condemned me out of hand, that’s why!’

  With a firm decisive movement Lynn put down her book and rose from the couch.

  ‘I’m going right down there and putting things straight! This attitude of obstinacy’s absolutely ridiculous!’

  ‘Don’t you dare, Lynn! If Manoel likes to think that of me, then let him! Besides, it doesn’t matter, because I’ve told him I’m not marrying him.’

  ‘You’ve thrown him over?’ Lynn’s face went pale. ‘Joann
e, you can’t do this; it’s your whole life’s happiness you’re throwing away!’

  ‘I have my pride.’ Joanne’s mouth was quivering in spite of herself, and the tears were pricking the backs of her eyes. ‘If he doesn’t trust me, then how could we ever have been happy? No, Lynn, I’m going home, and—and I’ll s-soon forget Manoel Alvares and this place. I’ll f-forget in n-no time at all!’

  A great sigh left Lynn’s lips.

  ‘I’ll make you a drink of tea,’ she said practically, and went off to fill the kettle.

  ‘Mummy... are we leaving here?’

  Joanne turned; Glee was sitting on the rug, looking up at her, her little face puckered and her eyes bewildered and questioning.

  ‘Yes, Glee. It’s better for us to go home to our own country. You’ll see Auntie Chris and Uncle Miles,’ she added, forcing a smile for the child’s benefit. ‘And you’ll see your daddy. That will be better than staying here, won’t it?’

  ‘I won’t see Uncle Manoel, though.’ Glee shook her head. ‘Next to you I love Uncle Manoel best in the whole world.’

  ‘No, Glee dear, your daddy is the one you love most.’

  ‘Uncle Manoel’s like my daddy—and he loves me, because he said so.’

  ‘He said so?’ Joanne looked down at her in puzzlement.

  ‘I asked him if he loved me and he said yes.’ Her thoughts switched, as they often did. ‘Do you think he’ll be very cross with Dona Rosa for knocking me down with her car?’

  ‘Perhaps, Glee. Why wouldn’t you tell me about it? Why did you have to save it for Uncle Manoel?’

  ‘Because he asked me—two times—if I could remember what kind of a car it was that knocked me down. He said if ever I remembered I must tell him—so I did.’

  Lynn returned with the kettle and soon they were drinking the tea she had made.

  ‘It was a disgusting trick of Rosa’s, to take one of your letters. I wonder what put the idea into her head?’

  ‘It was a shot in the dark, I think. She’s known from the first that there was some mystery, and as I told you, she intended making inquiries about me when she went to England. She was prevented, as you know, but when Manoel announced the date for the wedding she became desperate. The actual idea of intercepting one of my letters could have come from Dona Clementina,’ Joanne added as the idea occurred to her. She looked resignedly at her friend. ‘I didn’t stand a chance with the two of them.’