Silent Crescendo

by Catherine George

  'I didn't know a thing about it. I slept like a log once—once I was warm.'

  'Like an angel, chica, not a log. I watched you after I woke up.'

  Judith glared at him.

  'That wasn't fair! I must have been a sight—hair like. greasy string and swollen eyelids—ugh!'

  'You looked so horrible I was obliged to leave immediately,' Rafael agreed solemnly, looking into his coffee.

  'Well thanks a lot!'

  'De nada.' He smiled at her indulgently and got up. 'Are you hungry?'

  'Starving! Shall I cook us something?'

  'Not this morning. Breakfast I am good at, and I have prepared some of it already—Spanish omelettes, of course. You can make the toast.'

  It was an effort not to wolf the food down when Rafael presented her with a golden omelette filled with potatoes, peppers, onions and tomatoes, bits of bacon and sausage, and Judith savoured the first mouthful with rapture.

  'I thought you said you couldn't cook,' she said, mouth full.

  'Basic things I can do. But more complicated dishes, with vegetables that must all be ready at the same time—this I find difficult. It is the timing.' He gave her a bright, topaz look across the table. 'Timing is very important, Judith, both on stage and off it, no?'

  'I've never thought about it.' Judith refused to be diverted from enjoyment of her breakfast, and went on with her omelette, feeling better by the minute. 'Truly magnificent, Rafael,' she pronounced, as she finished the last mouthful. 'You can cook my breakfast any time.'

  His eyes danced as he buttered a slice of toast.

  'You must not say such things, Judith. They are bad for me.'

  She smiled serenely. 'You know very well what I mean. I'm a very uncomplicated straightforward sort of person, you know, Rafael.'

  'There is no such thing. All humans are complex.'

  'Only some more so than others!'

  'Es verdad!' They laughed together and Judith poured out fresh coffee.

  'You were hungry too,' she commented, looking at his empty plate.

  'Yesterday I was too anxious about you to think much about eating, and today I have been up since six.'

  'Six! What on earth have you been doing since then?'

  'Press-ups,' said Rafael, holding her eyes.

  'For an hour or so?' Judith looked away, his bright, compelling gaze too much for her. Rafael shrugged, and leaned back in his chair.

  'I cannot run here. I need the exercise. So I do press-ups—and skip.'

  'Skip? Sounds fun.' Judith smiled. 'I'll join you when my legs feel more like mine again. At the moment they'd be more at home on a new-born foal.'

  Rafael frowned. 'It is not surprising, Judith. You were not very well at all yesterday. I was on the point of ringing for a doctor several times.'

  Tm very glad you didn't. I'm basically very healthy, and strong. Which is just as well in my job.'

  Rafael drew patterns on the cloth with the tip of his spoon. 'You like your job, Judith?'

  She nodded, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. 'Yes. It's very satisfying. Most of the time, anyway. Usually I feel I'm helping people to feel better, move better, utilise their bodies properly. But occasionally I treat someone I know I can only supply with a little temporary relief, if any at all. I still get very depressed when I'm in contact with a terminal case, I'm afraid. Not so much now as in the beginning—one learns to be more objective, to keep part of oneself back.'

  Rafael looked up quickly. 'And your doctor friend? Do you keep part of yourself back with him, too?'

  Judith opened her mouth to say something cutting, then changed her mind, and shrugged. 'Perhaps that was the trouble,' she said reflectively. 'I was bringing the same detachment to personal relationships that I've been learning at the hospital.'

  'Was?' pounced Rafael immediately. 'Is your medico no longer in attendance, then?'

  Judith shook her head, avoiding his eye. 'No. He went off in a huff.'

  'What is "huff"? You had a disagreement?'

  'I suppose you could call it that. I—I wasn't romantic enough for him.'

  Rafael's eyebrows rose. 'Lo siento, Judith.' Not looking all that sorry as far as Judith could see.

  'Don't be. I don't think I'm a very romantic type, really.' Judith got up and began to gather the dishes together.

  'Everyone is romantic at some time or another; I refuse to believe you have no romance in your soul.' Rafael followed her over to the sink with the coffee tray and leaned against a counter top while she dealt with the plates.

  'But then, your whole life has been spent in dishing it out on the stage,' she said tartly.

  Rafael's face darkened. 'No longer, remember.'

  'There's no point in getting all uptight again.' Judith looked at him militantly. 'We can't pretend you've never sung on a stage—it's better to talk about it naturally. I'm just not the type to go pussy-footing around trying to avoid the subject—I'd be sure to forget and open my big mouth at the wrong moment.'

  To her relief he relaxed at once, turning very deliberately to stare at her lips. it is a very beautiful mouth, Judith. Do not insult it.'

  'I'm glad you like it,' she said demurely. 'But to return to the matter in hand, I must admit that the sight of you on the stage of the Gresham Theatre with a flower in your hand and a dagger in your belt was enough to satisfy the most romantic of souls. You certainly got to me, and I'm not even a music lover!''

  He frowned, puzzled as he picked up a cloth to dry the plates.

  'But that is how I always sing the Flower Song, whether in concert or in the opera.'

  'Yes, I assumed it was pretty routine for you, but I would be less than honest if I denied a very strong personal reaction,' said Judith candidly. 'As I said to Honor, sex and violence never fail.'

  He laughed involuntarily, and reached over to give her cheek a reproving pat. 'I think you make fun of me, Judith.'

  'And it's very good for you,' she retorted, grinning. 'Too many women have been licking your handmade boots for far too long, Rafael David. It's time you had a change.'

  'Ah, but why were they "licking my boots" as you put it, querida! If I had played second violin in the orchestra pit would there have been the same interest, do you suppose?' There was no bitterness this time, to her relief. His query seemed purely academic.

  'But you wouldn't have been wearing a stiletto then, would you?' Judith giggled as he cast his eyes heavenwards before making a lunge and giving her a slap on her denim-covered behind. 'Ouch! That hurt—' Judith plucked a wooden spoon from a drawer and chased Rafael round the kitchen brandishing it until he backed up against the door with his hands in the air in grinning surrender.

  All at once Judith was out of breath to her disgust, her knees buckling a little.

  'What is it?' Rafael's laughter changed to concern and he pushed himself away from the door to turn her face up to his. 'Come—sit down, chica, you are not fully recovered yet, I think.'

  Judith sighed impatiently and flopped down at the kitchen table, her eyes rueful as they met his. 'Obviously not. I'm not as fit as I thought.'

  'Give yourself time, Judith. Yesterday you were quite ill; you cannot expect to be one hundred per cent fit so quickly.'

  'No, I know. It's just that I hate having anything wrong with me.' She stopped, stricken, and could have bitten her tongue the moment the words were out as a shadow descended on Rafael's face. Impulsively she jumped to her feet and put a hand to his cheek. 'I warned you, Rafael. I'm not a bit tactful, but I really didn't mean to hurt—'

  'Then kiss it better,' he said savagely, and pulled her against him, kissing her with a sudden ferocity that took her by surprise.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Judith struggled for only a moment, then gave in. Rafael's breath caught and he drew her even closer, bending over her, moulding her against the arch of his body, until with a sigh she melted against him in boneless reaction to his caressing mouth and tongue, kissing him back with an unashamed ardour that sent t
remors through his body she could feel right through her own. At last he tore his mouth away and pressed her head against his shoulder, his breath rasping through his chest.

  'Querida, I apologise, I am sorry. Dios, no, I am not sorry—to kiss you is a delight, but I know myself. I would want more; all of you, Judith, so run away quickly, while you can.' Rafael's arms slackened and Judith stepped back, looking up at him, her dark eyes considering. His own eyes blazed back at her. Colour tinged the olive skin that was taut along his jaw with the self-control he was exerting over himself. She felt a surge of triumph. Here was a different man from the recluse of two days ago. She could sense the tension in his body, and he was breathing unevenly, but the lack­lustre numbness was gone. Life and vitality vibrated from every pore again. Judith's mind ticked over at a furious rate as she looked at him in silence while her own breathing slowed. Was this what it took to bring him back to life? Mere physical contact with a woman? And if so could it have been any woman, or was it just remotely possible it could be herself?

  'I don't want to go, Rafael,' she said at last. 'Must I?'

  'It would be wiser, Judith.' A pulse throbbed at the corner of his wide, expressive mouth, and he stiffened as she moved closer to him again. 'Judith,' he warned, 'must I explain in more basic terms? For various reasons it is a long time since I made love to a woman, and to have you here alone like this—it is not—not easy. I should not have asked you to stay, it was sheer self-indulgence.'

  Judith retreated obediently, seating herself on the table, long legs swinging idly. 'Do you feel better since my arrival, Rafael?' she asked.

  'You know very well that I do.' He flung round and stared through the window at the windswept patio. 'But you must not regard yourself as someone with a mission, Judith. I must learn to recover, to re-shape my life on my own. You are young; you have your own life to live. I was selfish, crazy to suggest you stay here. Go back to Hardwick and forget about me.'

  Judith scowled at his back in exasperation. 'My God, Rafael, can't you come off the stage for a bit? I know your stupid operas are choc-a-bloc with sacrifice and unhappy endings, but this is the real world. I'm not offering myself as a virgin sacrifice on the altar of your rehabilitation programme, merely as a companion to help you stave off the blues you were very obviously wallowing in when I arrived.'

  With his back still obstinately turned Rafael began to speak rapidly, his voice suddenly hoarse again. 'You made things clear when you arrived, Judith. Everything platonic and laid back, with no sexual overtones.' Suddenly he thrust both hands into his thick black hair. it is different for a man, you little idiot—I cannot look across the table at you without thinking how beautiful those great dark eyes are, how shining and soft your hair. I want to touch your skin, have you near to me all the time. Call it emotional, melodramatic if you like. But that's the way it is; the way I am.'

  Judith's anger died. She slid off the table and went to stand beside him at the window. 'Was that the reason for the press-ups this morning?' she asked softly.

  The tension visibly drained from Rafael at the tone of her voice, and he turned to her with a rueful smile. 'They did not help nearly as much as they should have, alas!' He laughed, his good humour restored. 'Once again I apologise, Judith. I was—was frustrated, and I lashed out at you.'

  'So can I stay?' she challenged him, her eyes impudent.

  He spread his hands in an eloquent gesture of resignation, his teeth a sudden flash of white in his dark face. 'If you really want to, Judith.'

  She nodded with assurance. 'Yes. I really want to. Besides I can hardly turn up at the Anchor again, so where would I spend my holiday?'

  'You should be lying on a sunlit beach in Spain or Portugal, querida.' Rafael grimaced as he went over to fill the percolator. 'This part of Wales is beautiful, but a trifle cold for my taste in September.'

  'That's your Latin blood complaining,' laughed Judith, taking down pottery mugs from a cupboard. 'Besides it's pretty windy up here, and these old cottages have such thick stone walls.'

  'Which has given me an idea of how to occupy myself, as well as repay Bryn in some small measure for the loan of his house.' Rafael gave her rather a smug smile, obviously pleased with himself. 'At the back of the house there is a small valley with a stream running through it.'

  'A dingle.'

  'Dingle? Yes? After the recent storm there are branches and wood scattered in all directions, so I shall bring it up little by little to the woodstore and chop it up into logs and kindling for Olwen's fireplace.' Rafael poured a strong, black brew into their mugs, looking up at Judith with a gleam in his eyes. it will also serve to channel the surplus energy I never suspected had returned in such force since my stay in the clinic'

  'The human body has remarkable recuperative powers.' Judith eyed him with a clinical look. 'And yours should be ultra rapid, judging by your passion for exercise. I thought all singers ran to fat.'

  'I jog instead—perhaps I'll get fat later.'

  'Salad for lunch then. Now let's go and inspect the dingle, I can give you a hand—'

  'Oh no. You are still recovering from your chill, little invalid. You prepare the lunch, I gather the wood; fair distribution of labour, no? You can help when you feel stronger.' Rafael was smiling, but there was a steely glint in his eye which Judith resented a little, but good sense prevailed and she nodded philosophically.

  'O.K. But don't you overdo it either. You're still fairly convalescent yourself.'

  Rafael shrugged indifferently at this, and peered at the unsettled sky. 'I'd better make a start, it looks like rain.' He went off to collect a sweater and went out with a casual wave, leaving Judith to tidy up the house. She made her bed, hesitated, then went along to Rafael's room to make his, but it was already done, the room tidy, bare of nearly all signs of occupation. The only personal possessions in view were a Walkman cassette player with accompanying pile of tapes, and a silver-framed photograph on the dressing table. Judith picked it up and looked at a young woman with hair drawn back into a knot, her eyes large and luminous in the pure oval of her face. The photograph was in black and white and Judith stared at it in fascination. Was this Lucia? And if so why did Rafael keep her beside his bed? A sharp little pang of jealousy stung her and Judith put the portrait down and hurried from the room, running down the steep stairs to whisk a duster round Olwen Tudor's small, cosy sitting-room.

  At intervals she could see Rafael returning through the gate in the back wall with a barrow full of wood, emptying it out on the space in front of the woodstore near the garage. He was obviously a man of his word, and meant to keep on at his self-imposed task until he dropped, by the look of it. Judith smiled wryly and began to prepare a salad, and after some thought made some quenelles from a tin of salmon from the store cupboard in the 'back kitchen', where enough tins and dry goods were stored to see them through a siege. To her delight there was a small sheltered herb garden at the side of the house when she went exploring, and she was able to salvage the last of the parsley to add to her quenelles and flavour the sauce she intended to serve with them. Rafael seemed likely to be in need of something fairly substantial after his labours so Judith made a jam sponge pudding and put it to steam, then had thoughts about dinner, eventually taking two sirloin steaks from the freezer and leaving them to thaw while she prepared lunch. When the quenelles were ready, sautéed to crisp perfection, she gave Rafael a shout from the window as he emptied out a load of wood.

  'Lunch-time—hurry up.'

  He looked up, pushing the hair from his eyes with a grimy hand, then stretched, wincing a little as he strolled into the kitchen, sniffing the air with anticipation.

  'Something smells good. I warn you I am starving, so I hope you prepared a great deal of food.'

  'Enough,' said Judith briskly. 'Now have a wash in here so you won't mess up the bathrooms—I've just cleaned them.'

  Rafael did as he was bid with mock subservience. 'Si, señorita. Is this how you order your poor patients about?'


  'No indeed. With them I am all sympathy and compassion—do get a move on, or my quenelles will be spoiled.'

  The emotional scene of the morning might never have happened. They talked easily over the meal, Rafael consuming a gratifying amount of food, including second helpings and most of the pudding.

  'I have not eaten this before. It is very British, Judith?'

  'Very. Nursery fare. And you wouldn't be eating it now if you didn't intend chopping all that wood up this afternoon—too many calories.'

  Rafael pulled a face. 'Are you so concerned with my weight?'

  'You were the one who said you might get fat.'

  'And then you would love me no more!' In mock tragedy Rafael folded his hands together and cast down his eyes in a look of such utter despair Judith had a sudden vivid glimpse of his supreme artistry.

  'Who's that?' she asked drily. 'Otello?'

  'Or Cavaradossi, or Don José again, if you like.' His face was full of laughter again in an instant and Judith shook her head in wonder.

  'How can one ever be sure how you really feel, Rafael? With you it's impossible to tell whether the curtain's up or one's behind the scenes.'

  Rafael drank the last of his coffee and stood up, biting his lip as he flexed his shoulder muscles.

  'You should know better than most, Judith. I display my soul to you with rather disturbing frequency for such a short acquaintance, no? Believe it or not it is by no means a habit of mine.'

  'Why me?' she asked quietly.

  He shrugged. 'Quien sabe? Although you are so strong and independent I have seen you wounded and ill, and in need of care and protection. Perhaps you appeal to the paternal in me.'

  'Great,' she said glumly. 'That doesn't do much for my self-esteem, amigo?

  He bent to turn up her downcast face with his forefinger, placing a chaste fatherly kiss on her brow.

  'At the present time, chiquita, my concern is with my own peace of mind. Your self-esteem must take care of itself.' He smiled into Judith's affronted eyes and went off whistling to make a further attack on the wood. The tune he whistled was familiar. Even Judith could easily identify it as the Flower Song from Carmen.