It was only the unconscious gesture of a man who has many sisters. It meant nothing.
“So, Helen,” Marcio said, as they found an empty table and he helped her to her seat, “What causes you to wander the streets of Barcelona?”
“You make me sound like a tramp or worse!” Her voice rose in indignation, but a quick glance into her green eyes showed Marcio she was teasing him. It had been a long time since he had sat alone with a woman and he wasn’t certain he hadn’t offended her. Marcio, you’re losing your touch old man.
“I apologise! I only wondered why a beautiful lady like you was unescorted in this busy city. Apart from by him or her of course,” he nodded at her bump.
“Maybe both.”
“Sorry?”
“Him and her maybe, I don’t know.”
Marcio raised his eyebrows. “Twins?”
Helen nodded.
“Twice the joy,” he said automatically.
“Funny, some old lady on the Metro suggested the same thing earlier today.”
“You don’t think so?”
Helen interpreted his glance as disapproval that she wasn’t totally committed to her babies. “Twice the fear is probably more accurate,” Helen admitted, wondering why she felt the need to defend herself.
“Fear is natural, but so is parenthood. You’ll be fine.”
“You sound as if you know first-hand. Do you have your own children?” Helen ignored the gnawing sensation in her tummy. He doesn’t have a wedding ring, part of her mind observed. Another, louder, voice reminded her that not all men wore them these days and it was none of her business
“No, no children,” his face hardened, then relaxed, “But plenty of nephews and nieces. As I said, I come from a large family.”
“And they love their mischievous Uncle Marcio, who gets into as much trouble as they do?”
“What makes you say that?” It was his turn to sound indignant.
“I’m not sure actually,” Helen admitted, “instinct I guess!” As she looked up at him through her eyelashes she realised she was flirting, and her face and neck flushed hot.
What must he think, a woman in my condition coming on to a man she hardly knows?
Marcio wasn’t conscious of her flirtation, his mind had fixed on her words and he was brooding on the fact that trouble had come on him uninvited. Looking up he realised Helen was gazing at him expectantly, slightly worried, as if awaiting his reaction. He realised he’d missed her next comment and looked awkward.
“Sorry my mind wandered for a moment, what did you say?”
Helen didn’t know whether to be relieved or irritated that her flirtatious moment had missed its mark. Deciding to move the conversation on to more neutral territory, she started a new tack.
“You said you live in London, do you get much chance to come out and visit your family? You must miss them.”
“Yes and I do. I’m a writer so some of the time I’m location-independent. When that’s the case, I come out here to write. I love taking the boat out, mooring somewhere away from everyone and getting immersed in my own private universe.”
Helen wasn’t sure what to react to first. The information that he was a writer and not the sharp-suit she took him for sent her brain in one direction. But then he had a boat, so he obviously had money. She didn’t know what to make of this man of contradictions.
“What type of novels do you write?” She decided to stick to safe ground.
“I’ve tried different genres, I like science fiction but I also love writing murder mysteries.”
“Have you had many published?”
Marcio looked slightly embarrassed. “None, actually. I’ve tried with one or two, but mostly I’m too nervous of rejection.”
“How do you afford a boat, if you haven’t sold any of your novels?”
He could see that Helen had asked out of genuine curiosity, not meaning to make him feel uncomfortable and so he reined in his initial instinct to be defensive.
“I freelance,” he replied with a shrug.
“Oh, me too!” Helen was glad of common ground, sensing that he didn’t want to talk about money. “Well, obviously not as a writer, I can barely pen a postcard.” She gestured at the camera, as if that said all he needed to know.
Marcio nodded. “I guessed that was it. I couldn’t work out why else you would be here on your own. There must be someone at home waiting for you?”
It was Helen’s turn to look defensive. “Why must there?”
“I’m sorry, no offense intended. I just meant a beautiful lady like you, with babies on the way, should have a man to love and cherish her.” His face tightened.
Helen studied the faraway look in his eyes, considered his words, and was not offended. He wasn’t making judgements on her single state but rather battling ghosts in his own past. She felt a need to know more about him but it was not in her nature to pry. She decided to be honest, in the hope that it would distract him from his demons.
“There is no father, as far as I’m concerned.”
Her tone, as much as her words, made Marcio look up. He couldn’t have imagined such controlled rage could appear suddenly in her serene face.
I guess I’m not the only one with a broken past. It comforted him, made him warm to this gentle lady with the core of steel. He looked into her eyes, trying to convey empathy and support.
Helen’s heart stilled within her, before beating double time in her temples. The depths in his eyes, which had turned a deep indigo, pulled her in until she was drowning in them. She could feel that he understood her resolve; that he too had been hurt and he supported her need to go on alone. It was an understanding that she hadn’t felt in anyone else.
Yes, her family were supportive and naturally indignant at Daniel’s behaviour. Friends labelled him a git and told her she was better off without him. But so far no one had truly understood the betrayal, the end of hope, the crushing of a vision of the future, leaving only blankness. In Marcio’s eyes she saw that he had lived it. She was dying to ask but again didn’t want to pry.
Marcio saw the question in Helen’s face, in her slightly parted lips, the words thought but not formed. For the first time since it happened he felt able to share. Maybe it was easier to confess the worst to strangers.
“My fiancée left me on our wedding day,” he paused and held up a hand as Helen was about to spill out platitudes. “She left me,” he continued, “for her maid of honour.”
Helen looked at his face; the bruised male pride, the utter rejection of not just himself as a person but of his sexuality, of everything that made him him. She could see how it must have torn him apart but to her horror her first inclination was to laugh. He looked so woebegone, like a boy who just found out Father Christmas was merely an old man in a fake beard and a red anorak.
Helen reached her hand across the table and laid it gently over his but at the same time her eyes sparkled and her lips threatened to betray her.
Marcio felt the pressure of her hand and looked up into her face, expecting to see dreaded sympathy. Instead he saw the barely concealed humour and felt as if he had been slapped. He pulled his hand away.
“How dare you laugh at me?” His voice rang out, causing several couples at nearby tables to turn and stare.
Helen’s face was on fire. “I’m not laughing at you.” She considered. “But you have to admit, it is a bit funny.”
“No, it isn’t. No more funny than being a single mother to twins.”
“Well, no, that terrifies me. There was nothing funny about being told get rid or get out either,”
Marcio looked shocked but she ploughed on, not letting him speak.
“Any more than it was funny that your fiancée left you at the altar. But the way you said it, as if her leaving with a woman made it a zillion times worse. You couldn’t have looked more the stereotypical Mediterranean male, with his virility called into question. Would it have been better if she’d left with the best man?”
>
“Yes!” Marcio’s voice was still angry. Helen continued to hold his gaze, willing him to listen to himself. For the first time since his wedding day Marcio was forced to really think about his reaction. Would it have been better? Did it really matter who she loved more than him?
“The way I see it,” Helen continued, figuring she couldn’t make it any worse, “Leaving with a woman rather than another man should make it less painful, not more. It meant it wasn’t really you at all that was wrong, only that your fiancée was battling with her own sexuality. She must have been petrified, approaching her big day knowing it was not what she really wanted but not knowing how to confess.”
Helen thought about it some more. “Is she Spanish?”
Marcio nodded mutely.
“And from a god-fearing Catholic family?”
He nodded again.
“And she felt her life would only be complete if she lived in sin with a woman, rather than marry a handsome man and raise a dozen children? And she had the bravery to admit that in front of all your friends and family? She sounds like quite a lady to me, someone you should be proud to know.”
Marcio opened his mouth to protest, to ask how come his fiancée had become the good guy. But his innate fairness had to admit that Helen had a point. Mia must have been terrified, admitting she was gay in front of her awe-inspiring grandmother, not to mention more or less the entire community. And if he really thought about it, it probably did seem quite funny to an outsider.
He felt some of the strain leave his face for the first time in weeks. As if the lack of tension freed them, his cheeks rose in a smile and suddenly he was laughing until tears filled his eyes. It felt amazing, like he had been freed from a huge burden. If only the endless bills from the aborted wedding could be banished as easily. They didn’t seem quite so huge now at least.
Looking up at Helen, he wondered what lucky star had delivered her into his life, if only to be the bringer of truth. He still couldn’t imagine trusting a woman not to break his heart but she had shown him a new way to view his past and he was grateful for that.
“Would you like to meet some of my naughty nephews and nieces?” He blurted out the words like a schoolboy asking someone out on a first date.
“Sorry?” Helen looked askance at Marcio, wondering where the sudden change in conversation had come from.
“There’s a family party, tomorrow, up in the hills. I’d love you to come, meet the family, see what it means to have lots of kiddies running around. It might make you feel less scared about having two of your own.”
Understanding dawned. She had helped him with his grief and now he was trying to return the favour. She was about to explain that, assuming her publisher liked her pictures, she was intending to fly home the following morning. Something inside made her pause before the words were spoken. Why did she need to fly back tomorrow? To save a night’s hotel fees? The hotel wasn’t that expensive. Didn’t she deserve to have some fun for a change? She sensed that a party with Marcio’s family would be extremely entertaining and she did like the idea of spending some time with children. Part of her crippling fear was her lack of experience. Simon was too busy travelling the world to settle down and she had no close cousins or friends with kids. They were an alien species. Maybe you only fear what you don’t understand.
“Why not,” she shrugged. “I can delay my flight another day.”
“Great!” Marcio was genuinely pleased. He felt surprising gratitude for the words that had helped him come to terms with being jilted and he was eager to return the favour, nothing more.
“Where are you staying? I can pick you up mid-morning. I’m assuming you didn’t hire a car?”
Helen told him the name of her hotel and he took a note, forbearing to comment on its cheapness or seedy location. As a single mum-to-be money was obviously tight. No wonder she reacted at the fact that he was staying at the Hotel Arts – she wasn’t to know he was no more paying for his room than he did many of his meals. Once word was out you wrote reviews, people were amazingly accommodating.
He walked Helen to the nearest Metro station and resisted the urge to take her right back to her hotel. She could clearly take care of herself if she lived in London and it wasn’t his place to shield and protect her.
Chapter Seven
Marcio threw his coat on the bed and went to stand at the window without turning on the lights. The bed pulled at his body like a gravitational field but his mind fizzed too much for rest. There was no point lying down: no amount of smooth Egyptian cotton was going to rock him to sleep. He selected a decaf from the pile by the coffee maker and waited while the machine burbled into life. Through gauze curtains he could see the moon’s reflection dancing on the sea.
Beautiful night for sailing. Except it’d be dawn by the time I got her out on the water.
When his drink was ready he carried it to the corner of the room and pulled himself onto the window ledge. With his back resting against the glass he let his eyes track the bobbing rays of moonlight while he tried to make sense of the thoughts drifting round his mind.
Helen’s words had stuck like a catchy song. Bravery. Quite a lady. Proud to know. Bravery. Quite a lady. Proud to know. For the first time since his wedding day Marcio felt his heart unclench. All the love that had congealed into hatred ran to liquid again and pumped free. His eyes itched and he rubbed at them impatiently. There’s no point regretting it now. Or missing her. She made her choice. Just because it makes sense now doesn’t mean it doesn’t fucking hurt.
Marcio sipped his coffee and gripped the cup, resisting the urge to hurl it across the room. Anger at his fiancé turned inwards. I was so wrapped up in my own humiliation I never considered what she had to go through. I might have all the bills but I can pay them off. How long will the scars of that day take to heal in her family? He shuddered.
He knew and loved her folks, as much as he once loved her: the church was central to their lives. They would perhaps have come round eventually to the idea of a gay daughter, even if they chose to ignore it as much as possible. But to tell them in such a way, on such a day. To stand at the altar, turn to face the congregation and calmly announce there had been a mistake must have taken courage he could only dream of.
Considering the scene now as a reporter, rather than a principle in the bad drama that played out that day, he had to admire her dignity. She had taken Leandra’s hand, looked her in the eye and smiled. With a nod in return to say that she too could face the consequences, the girls had stood calmly hand-in-hand amid the chaos, leaving him red faced and gawping like a landed fish. Thank god the priest let me escape. Helen is right: I would have laughed myself sick if I’d been watching rather than participating.
Helen. It kept coming back round to her. He didn’t want to consider another woman in his life but she kept turning up both in his mind and in body. And what a gorgeous body it is. Cool cream skin, all curvy with her approaching motherhood. It made him yearn after a future he thought he had left at the altar.
Her throwaway comment of what the father had said, Get rid or get out, echoed in his mind as he drained the dregs of his drink. Marcio could feel the heat flooding his face as he thought about it. Who thinks of getting rid of their own kid, however badly timed the announcement or whoever the mother is? In any circumstance it would be unthinkable. But his own fiancée? And someone as smart and sexy as Helen? What kind of monster does that?
When he did eventually sleep, Marcio’s mind was full of screaming babies and a swish of copper hair that kept disappearing around out of view.
Helen didn’t sleep any better, but due to heartburn and Ty-Kwando kids rather than because of thoughts of Marcio. Too tired and uncomfortable to worry about the party, she tossed and turned on the lumpy hotel bed and cursed the thought of spending another night there.
When Marcio arrived to collect her mid-morning she was all but ready to tell him the party was a mistake and what she yearned for was her own bed, complete with f
eather pillows and clean sheets.
Coming out the lift, she saw him standing in the lobby, clean-shaven and smartly dressed for the party, and her heart skipped about like her unborn babies. He looked like a shy school boy who was unsure how he had ended up in his current predicament. She guessed that he wasn’t a novice when it came to women, so surmised that his nervousness was because she was the first woman he’d spent any time with since being jilted at the altar. If she had known his nervousness derived from the wave of desire that had swept over him seeing her in the sea-green summer dress, she would have legged it up the stairs and packed her bags immediately. She found it hard enough dealing with being single and pregnant, without considering the idea that she was still sexy and desirable.
Silence filled the car like fog as they drove into the hills.
This feels like a date, Marcio thought ruefully, glancing sideways at Helen who was staring straight ahead, her face inscrutable. I’m meant to be staying away from women and here I am, heading out of the city to a family party with a hot chick I hardly know.
Eventually they managed a stilted conversation about wine making but as Helen knew little about wine and Marcio kept losing his train of thought, they were both relieved when Marcio swung the car into a private driveway and announced their arrival.
Helen peered out the window, taking in the ancient farm buildings, the vineyards stretching in each direction, the bunting hanging from the trees. A lead weight dropped into her stomach.
“Marcio, this is a private celebration. Should I be here?” She heard the wobble in her voice. Maybe you should have thought to ask before you left the city.
“Not at all, mother’s parties are neighbourhood affairs, it isn’t just family; you’ll be fine.”
Another doubt assailed her. “I don’t speak a word of Spanish and all I can say in Catalan is On es el lavabo?”
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