by Jane Corrie
similate the change of landscape the savage beauty of the mountains was clamouring for your attention. It brought home to Mary the vastness of the country that she was visiting whose moods were as variable as those of a temperamental woman.
She dragged her eyes away from the snow capped mountains that loomed up in front of the small inn where they sat taking their refreshments, and then looked down at the small villages nestling on the hillsides below them. She could find no words to express her feelings of the sheer exuberance that flowed through her veins. She was content just to look and absorb the grandeur of the scene, and as with the fountain at the villa she felt that she could stay there forever and never tire of the view.
Rafael directed Enrique's attention to a team of mules climbing up a distant mountain, and from that distance they looked like a column of ants on the march. As Mary saw them move to the edge of the plateau for a clearer view, she saw Isabel rush to join them and gave a sigh of exasperation. Surely she did not begrudge the child just a few moments alone with Rafael? But apparently she did, and Enrique's swift change of expression on her intrusion could not have been lost on someone as perceptive as Rafael, thought Mary, and felt a little stab of justification as she saw Rafael direct a distinctly chilling look at Isabel that might have had an impact on a less determined person,. but went seemingly unnoticed by her. Either she was completely insensitive, or so dead set on her goal to capture Rafael as a husband that she was immune to all else, and Mary was inclined to think that it was the latter.
The rest of the afternoon passed in what might have
been an idyllic way had it not been for the fact that Enrique and Isabel continually vied for Rafael's attention. Mary, having changed into' a demure one piece costume after they had arrived on the surprisingly uncrowned beach of the coastal resort, lay , back and watched the interplay feeling curiously detached from the gambits adapted. It made a change for her to stand on the sidelines and watch battle commence 'Without having to continually attempt to smooth things over as she had had to do with Enrique and Derek.
Even, she thought, if she had been inclined to act as a buffer between the parties and made some definite attempt either to direct Enrique's attention or Isabel's from their desired goal of holding Rafael's interest, it would not have worked, and she would have received no thanks from Rafael for what he would have termed her interference.
Having had some experience of the part now designated to Rafael, who must be fully aware of the tactics employed by his nephew and Isabel to gain his attention.
Mary had to, concede that he was doing very well without her assistance. She assumed that he was well used to being the centre of attraction, and no wonder, she thought as her eyes lingered on his tanned lithe body as he relaxed on the sands between Enrique and Isabel.
There was nothing puny about Rafael Alvarados, she decided; there was strength in every line of his body, and in some way his strength reminded her of the mountains that could still be seen hovering in the distance. Their moods of beauty and savagery were in her mind closely aligned to the man who was Enrique's uncle. He, too, could be gentle with those he loved, but as savage and as terrifying as an avalanche against
those he considered his foes.
Mary shivered at the thought and then shook herself out of her fanciful musings. No wonder the Spanish were a proud race, their heritage was steeped in history, a history as turbulent and as awe inspiring as the country itself, mused Mary as she recalled the drive down the mountainside when the car seemed to take wing as it hurtled down the pass towards the resort, and how even Enrique had forgotten his grievances and had shouted for sheer joy at the exhilaration of the experience.
As the warmth of the sun caressed her bare shoulders, Mary lay back and removing her sunglasses, she closed her eyes and relaxed in utter contentment. She thought of the letter that she had received from Sarah in reply to her request that she keep an eye on Mary's house until such time as she could return, either to stay or to wind things up, and to find herself another job and possibly a flat to live, in near whatever job she had been able to obtain.
At no time had she envisaged herself accepting Don Emilio's offer of staying permanently in Spain, not even if Rafael Alvarados returned to England and made the spasmodic returns to his home in Seville that judging by Don Emilio's remarks had been few and far between in the past.
Sarah had been delighted that 'Paul' had settled down so happily, but mentioned that Michael was missing him, particularly as it was the summer holiday period. She had told Mary not to worry about anything, she would keep an eye on the house and water her geraniums in the kitchen for her. The letter had left Mary with a glow of gratefulness for the kindness of Sarah Holland, and she was thankful that she had left
the keys of the house with her before her trip to Spain.
She must not leave it too long, she thought, before she settled her affairs in London. Not now that Enrique's future was settled and he would not be returning to England with her. She would have to stay in Spain, of course, until she was sure that he did not need her constant presence. On this thought she bit her lower lip. It could be years, or months, who knew? How could you measure such things? Mary couldn't, and she, doubted if anyone else could.
The only thing she did know for certain was that she would not be needing a three bedroomed house any longer, and that her life had changed out of all proportion from what she had expected. To the loneliness in , front of her she resolutely dosed her mind; time enough to think of that when it came.
To turn her mind to other matters she glanced. across towards Enrique and saw that he was listening with rapt attention to something that Rafael was telling him, and she caught snatches of the conversation. He was relating how once he and Enrique's father had taken a mule trip into the mountains. As she listened to his deep voice she thought how perfect his English was, and if she had half the command of the Spanish language that: he had of her native tongue, she would be well satisfied.
Her thoughts then turned to Rafael's brother and the fact that he had to have extra lessons to improve his English, and she wondered why then she vaguely remembered Don Emilio mentioning the fact that his younger son had not had robust health when a child, and this, she thought, had probably held up his education.
As if her thoughts were communicated to Isabel,
who was now picking up handfuls of sand and letting the golden grains slip through her scarlet nailed fingers, she said something in rapid Spanish too fast for Mary to translate, but whatever it was it showed her impatience at their immobility, closely aligned, Mary thought sardonically, with the fact that Enrique was receiving more attention than she was.
Rafael went on with his narration, but it ended shortly after Isabel's intervention, and Enrique, who felt that he might have said more but for her remarks, turned towards her. `I did not understand what you said,' he stated coldly, and for all his age and slight stature his words held a ring of autocratic censure that made Mary swallow hastily to prevent a chuckle from escaping. Was this her Paul? she thought in wonderment.
The fact that Rafael had taken due note of his nephew's censure of Isabel's impatient intrusion into the conversation was shown by a slight twitch of his firm lips and a look of—what? mused Mary; could it be approval?—in his dark eyes as they rested on Enrique.
Isabel's eyes flashed as they went from Rafael to Enrique, then she shrugged 'and addressed Rafael as if to say she had not been talking to Enrique anyway, and spoke again in Spanish, and this time Mary understood what she was saying. `Why do we sit here when we could be swimming? You have plenty of time to reminisce about the past. Not that I want to remember. I'm still trying to forget,' she ended pettishly, glancing up at Rafael from under her dark thick lashes and giving him a helpless pleading look.
'Speak in English, Isabel,' Rafael said gently yet firmly; `then we shall all understand you.'
Isabel gave him a look that spoke plainly of her disappointment at his refusal to play
a game of passing comments on to one another that excluded the present company, but nevertheless she obeyed his order. 'I was merely suggesting we took a swim,' she said to Enrique, only remembering Mary's presence as an afterthought and looking towards her. She then turned back at Rafael. 'I'll race you to that platform,' she said challengingly.
Mary followed her glance towards a diving platform a little way out in the bay, and although she could not judge its exact distance she knew that it was further than the length of the swimming pool at the villa. With this thought in mind she was considerably alarmed to see that Enrique had every intention of taking part in the race that Isabel had obviously only expected Rafael to participate in.
If we go along the beach,' Mary said swiftly to Enrique, 'we can watch the race and see who wins,' she suggested hopefully, and gave Rafael a pleading look. He surely would not allow him to take part in the race, and the stubborn set of Enrique's chin told her that only his uncle could prevent him; he would not listen to her.
If Rafael saw the look he did not acknowledge it, but patted Enrique's head with a gesture of approval. 'Very well, Enrique, I shall pace you, and haul you on to my back if you tire.' He gave the now fuming Isabel an amused look and then looked back at the twice a stall Enrique glowing with pride at his uncle's confidence in his swimming prowess. 'Are you ready?' he asked with a note of amusement in his voice.
Mary watched them wade out until the water was deep enough for them to start the race, then take off
in their different styles. Rafael, with a slow lazy crawl, paced as he had said to match Enrique's snatched strokes at the crawl style that must be more exhausting than the actual stroke because of his effort to make progress without completing the arm strokes that would give him the speed he desired.
Isabel, Mary saw, favoured the breast stroke and was on a par with her own swimming proficiency that was not particularly outstanding, and Mary was grateful that she had not been invited to join the race, as she would have had to refuse. The sea held no attraction for her, because she had had a near escape when she was a child and had been carried out to sea on a rubber lilo. It was an experience she had never forgotten and had no wish to repeat, and she had since confined her activities to the' safety of a swimming pool.
Really, thought Mary, as she watched the now tiring Enrique being, hauled on to Rafael's back halfway to the target yet still ahead of Isabel, she might not have been present, and she wondered if anyone would notice if she just wandered off on her own pursuits. She felt just like a nanny asked to accompany a family to keep an eye on the children, yet should she adopt this role ' she knew that Rafael Alvarados would take exception to it. Look how he had completely ignored her silent plea not to let Enrique take part in the race—and so it would be with ally other wish of hers, and not only where Enrique was concerned.
She thought of his attitude towards her that day, that had been one of silent yet watchful observation, making her wonder just what she was expected to do or say that would mar the enjoyment of the day for them. When she recalled her outburst at flintier the previous
evening she was not really surprised at his attitude,
and was a little sorry that he was going , to be disappointed in his expectancy that she would again let her feelings get the better of her common sense, and in his eyes show herself up for the self seeking, mercenary type that he had labelled her.
At this 'point the swimmers reached the platform, Rafael and Enrique just ahead of Isabel, and Mary's thoughtful eyes watched as Rafael lifted Isabel out of the water with an ' effortless action and placed her on the wooden boards. Did he hold her a little longer than was strictly necessary, she wondered, or had Isabel clung on to him? Mary's lips twisted—not that it was any business of hers, he could marry her for all she cared. At this thought her smooth forehead creased suddenly. No, she did not want Rafael to marry Isabel because if he did Enrique's position would be just as precarious as it would have been if she had married Derek, from the happiness point of view if not from the material, and it was happiness Mary wanted for Enrique. Money could ease many situations, but it counted for nothing against the blessing of happiness.
A nasty thought then entered her reasoning; did Rafael have some thought in mind of relieving her of her responsibilities by taking a wife? The thought made her bite her lower lip in anxious worry. He would be quite capable of taking such an action to gain his target in removing her as soon as possible from the scene.
On recalling his reaction to Don Emilio's suggestion that he propose to her her heart beat faster in agitation. It might well have planted the seed of thought in his mind. Enrique still needed a mother's care and would turn to Mary until he was old enough to spurn such maternal guidance. He must also, she thought miser
ably, have taken this into consideration, and must have been just as aware as she herself had been that it could take several years. She was not unmindful of the fact that such a thought must have been extremely distasteful to him, since it would mean her constant presence in Seville.
Her worried eyes rested on the small group on the diving board now stretched out relaxing in the sun, and as Enrique waved at her she returned the wave, glad that he was not near enough to see the misty gathering in her eyes at the thought of what the future might hold for both of them.
By the time they had returned to the beach Mary had convinced herself that Rafael would marry Isabel. He would not concern himself with the fact that Isabel and Enrique did not get on—or if had, he would have assured himself that given time things would work out to a satisfactory conclusion. Isabel would do what he told her to do; typically Spanish, she knew her place in the home, but what about the times when Rafael was away on business? How would Isabel and Enrique fare then? There was Don Emilio, of course, but this thought gave her little comfort; Don Emilio would not always be there to see fair play.
On the return journey Mary was so quiet that even 'the excited Enrique, exhilarated because he and Mary had been allotted the front seat for the homeward run, noticed her reticence and asked her, 'You don't feel sick, do you?'
At this solicitous query Mary's despondency lightened and she had to give a little· smile as she replied that she was quite well and not liable to ask for the car to be stopped at some convenient spot, as had been the case on past occasions when Enrique had over
indulged in an orgy of ice creams when a similar trip had been taken in the past.
After this little interlude Mary was left to her miserable musings again, and this time she was left in peace.
CHAPTER NINE
FROM then on Mary made a point of observing Rafael's attitude towards Isabel to try and ascertain whether her suspicion that Rafael would propose to the other girl was correct.
As the days went by and Mary attended every outing planned by Rafael for the enjoyment of his guests, she was forced to come to the conclusion that if he had not already made up his mind, he was certainly considering it.
Not that there was anything she could definitely pin down in terms of extra affection from him to Isabel, it appeared to be all on Isabel's side, but then he was not a demonstrative man, Mary decided, and was just as likely to casually ask Isabel to marry him as sweep her into his arms and demand her acceptance of his proposal.
Whether it was because she was more attentive to his different moods, or because she was on the alert for any change in his behaviour towards Isabel, she soon became aware of receiving the same amount of scrutiny from the man she was surreptitiously watching.
At first she was inclined to think that she had imagined his silent attentiveness to her presence, whether she was just sitting listening to the conversation or attending to Enrique's wants, but an incident that took place not long after she had become aware of his scrutiny soon proved beyond all doubt that it was not her imagination but a disturbing fact.
It happened while they were visiting the Cathedral; a visit Mary had been longing to make, but had hoped to be alone and able to absorb the ageo
ld atmosphere without the vexing presence of Rafael and Isabel, not to mention a bored Enrique who could barely contain his impatience as the next stop on the agenda was to be the bullring and he had no intention of overstaying the Cathedral visit in favour of such a treat.
There was so much to see, so much to try and take in, and 'although Mary tried she knew full well that it would take several visits to do the Cathedral justice. A quick walk round and a few observances about this and that was of no use to Mary. She wanted to Iinger and to wonder at the rich tapestries, to gaze at the glorious paintings painted by masters of the art, and to hear the sombre but beautiful masses being said in the numerous chapels of the vast building that not only formed the perfect background setting but enriched and enhanced it.
When Enrique asked for the third time if it was time to go, Mary felt a stab of disappointment, and the thought of their next stop made her say to Rafael, `Please go on. Perhaps I could meet you all later?'
To her delight and relief Rafael agreed to her proposal, and suggested that they all meet later outside the Cathedral, asking with what she was surprised to note was a suspicion of a twinkle in his dark eyes if she thought an hour would be long enough for her, and on