With her exams only days away, Claire sat in her room hunched over her work table, reading the same passage of prose over and over without registering any of it. She sighed and pushed away her books.
Two nights before she had allowed Sheena to persuade her to go with Terry and herself to the Wolfhound Bar to celebrate the end of their schooldays. The pub had been packed out with sixth-formers from St Catherine’s and St Gabriel’s and other schools in the area, and everyone was drinking pints and intent on having a good time. One of the sixth-formers from the Dominicans had made a real set for Terry and lured him away to join her group. To Claire’s secret delight, he had come back to Sheena and herself and suggested that, as soon as the pub closed, they should head into town to a nightclub. But then the fun had grown rowdier. Someone lurched into Rory, who fell against an ornamental stone flowerpot, gashing his head. Terry had called an ambulance and gone off in it with Rory, promising that the pair of them would meet up with Sheena and herself in the Grey Lizard just as soon Rory’s head was stitched. Only they had never turned up.
Claire felt again her acute disappointment at the way the evening had ended. In the urgent expression in Terry’s eyes when he’d said goodbye to her she had seen how much he had wanted to meet her. So what could have happened?
Claire heaved another frustrated sigh, and as her gaze wandered down to the street below, she glimpsed a flash of red coming in the gate. Sheena. She got to her feet and ran downstairs.
‘Hope you’ve got graph paper,’ Sheena said, coming into the hall. ‘I’m all out and haven’t time to go and buy any.’
‘Sure,’ Claire said, leading the way up to her room. ‘I’ve plenty. You’re welcome to it.’ She bent and rummaged in the bottom of her wardrobe.
‘Listen,’ Sheena was saying. ‘I’m sure you’d like to know what happened the other night.’
An understatement if Claire ever heard one. Dying to know would be nearer the mark. She straightened up, paper in hand. ‘What did happen?’
‘Well, it seems the boys were kept waiting so long at the hospital that Terry decided to bring Rory to Mum’s clinic,’ Sheena told her. ‘Mind you it was late by the time she stitched him up, nearly one o’clock, but we were at the club till well after two.’
‘Why didn’t they?’ Claire asked, feeling disappointed all over again.
‘Terry never really said but he was out all night, so I think it had something to do with Grainne. She was on with Mum and you know how she’s been after him for ages.’
Claire felt her spirits sink. And to think she had been jealous of the girl in the Wolfhound! A mere sixth-former like herself. She gave Sheena the graph paper and walked downstairs with her.
‘Don’t work too hard,’ Sheena said gaily, and went back across the road to her own house. She was going to a play that night with Rory.
Claire ’s feet dragged as she went back upstairs. So Grainne had got what she was after. If Terry had stayed out all night, he’d obviously gone home with her without a thought for any of them, waiting like fools. Claire felt like crying.
Then she was angry with herself. Was she going to die the death every time Terry McArdle went with a girl? Why allow him do this to her? He probably wasn’t even aware he was doing it. She sighed and doodled aimlessly on her Chemistry notes. Terry was Terry. He wasn’t going to change. People never did. But he wasn’t people, Claire thought sorrowfully, he was Terry.
She stabbed her pen into the paper, making crazy zigzag patterns. Better cut off now before he ruined her life. But her life was already ruined, Claire thought. She had already accepted this. So what difference did it make what she did?
The end of May and beginning of June passed in a blur of exhaustion. Claire was in danger of collapse before the exams and felt so bad that she took Jane’s advice and eased off the few days beforehand. She would well anyway, unless she messed up the papers through exhaustion or nervousness.
Claire wrote good papers and made no slip-ups.
Nothing major anyway. Not the kind of mistakes which would pull her down to a C in weaker subjects or rob her of an A in her best ones, like English and History.
When the whole ordeal was over Claire no longer cared whether she did brilliantly or not. She felt flat, as if the prize she had slaved her guts over wasn’t really worth the winning. Sheena said she understood how she felt, but Jane had given her the good news about her scholarship to the Art College.
It was a terrible anti-climax having nothing to do.
When her exam results were out in August Claire would find that she had done not just well but very well. As in English, History and Physics; B’s in her other subjects. Annette took Claire out for a meal in her own favourite Italian restaurant and shared a bottle of wine with her. But that wasn’t until August. In the meantime Claire went on holidays to Spain with the McArdles.
During the year Jane had decided to sell the holiday bungalow. She got a good price for it, even more than she had hoped for and, feeling the need of a relaxing holiday in the sun, booked a fortnight in Spain for them all. On the day she told them the good news she had the flight tickets in her bag.
‘Yippee!’ Sheena cried when she heard. Even Ruthie was excited, a flush staining her pale cheeks.
‘There’s a ticket for Claire too,’ Jane said with a smile. She had deliberately waited until Claire was there with them before breaking the news. Claire blushed with shock, unable to believe her ears.
‘M..me,’ she stammered. ‘Oh but you shouldn’t... I mean I really couldn’t...’
Jane went over and hugged her. ‘Of course you could. It’s what we all want, isn’t it?’ she asked, looking about at her children. Sheena and Ruthie gave an eager assent. Terry’s yes was a little less hearty than the others but not because he didn’t approve, just that he was struggling with something that had to be said.
‘Mum,’ he said with a frown. ‘Don’t think I’m not grateful or anything but...’
‘Yes?’ Jane prompted.
‘The fact is, I can’t come with you.’ It was out in a rush and Terry looked grimmer than ever.
‘Not come,’ Sheena burst out. ‘Don’t be mad, Ter. Of course you’re coming.’
‘Sheena!’ Jane motioned her to be quiet. ‘Why, Terry?’ she asked him.
‘I’m going to America for the summer.’ Terry looked embarrassed. ‘I’ve promised some of the other chaps. I can’t let them down.’
‘Well, of all the scabby things,’ Sheena burst out. ‘Here Mum goes and books us a terrific holiday and you want to go to America. I’ve never heard anything so rotten in my life.’ Sheena’s expression was so disgusted that, despite her own disappointment, Jane had to smile.
‘It is a pity,’ she agreed gently. ‘It would have been nice, all of us together. A really decent holiday in the sun. In the past your father and I sometimes talked about it, but somehow we never got beyond the planning stage.’’
‘Don’t make me feel bad now, Mum,’ Terry pleaded. ‘It’s all arranged. I’ve booked through the student travel bureau and even got my J1. I can’t change it now.’
‘Well then, I suppose I’ll just have to try and see if I can get a refund,’ Jane said lightly, but there was a pained look in her eyes. She had so looked forward to telling them all.
‘Really rotten,’ Sheena repeated with a disgusted glance at her twin. He glared back at her, then went out banging the door after him.
Sheena looked at Claire, ‘Thank goodness, you’re coming,’ she said. ‘Terry really is a pain, isn’t he?’
Claire smiled weakly, reluctant to take sides. When she examined it later she would be both disappointed and relieved that Terry wasn’t going, but now she was still trying to take in the fact that she would be going abroad. A whole fortnight in Spain. She had never even been out of Ireland before. She was actually reading a book at the moment, all about Spain and bullfighting. It suddenly seemed astonishingly appropriate, she told them.
‘Will we go to a bullfight?’ Ruthie asked suddenly.
‘Bullfights are shockingly gory,’ Sheena teased. ‘Bet you won’t like it, Ruthie. She spent most of Bonnie and Clyde under the couch when it was shown on television,’ Sheena told Claire with a grin.
‘I did not,’ Ruthie said indignantly.
Claire laughed. ‘Don’t mind her, Ruthie,’ she said. ‘I kept my eyes closed most of the time, too.’
‘So there!’ Ruthie said triumphantly to Sheena.
‘Okay, go to a bullfight,’ Sheena said. ‘Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
‘Gosh!’ she said a moment later. ‘I can’t believe we’re really going to Spain.’
Neither could Claire. She felt she simply had to tell someone her wonderful news and, letting herself into her house, ran into the kitchen where Annette was at the stove frying hamburgers.
‘Guess what, Mummy?’ Claire cried. ‘I’m going to Spain with the McArdles.’
Annette stared. ‘I suppose she wants you to help out with Ruthie,’ she said at last.
The glow faded from Claire’s face. ‘I don’t mind if she does,’ she said stiffly.
‘From all she tells me that child is quite a handful,’ Annette went on. ‘You’ll earn your holiday looking after her.’
Claire turned away and began laying the table for the tea, thinking whenever she found herself getting on with her mother a little better, Annette always went and said something that grated on her.
‘Some people have all the luck,’ Annette was saying. ‘He must have left her very well off if she can take the whole family abroad like, that while here am I with hardly enough to pay our television rental.’ Deftly, she turned the burgers and added sliced onion to the pan. ‘How long are you going for?’
‘Only a fortnight,’ Claire said. ‘Usually I’m away much longer.’
‘You’ll need new clothes. Well, don’t expect me to tog you out on the money your father allows me. Let Mr Family Man contribute towards his daughter’s holiday wardrobe.’
As if she could ring her father and ask him for money.
‘I suppose I should be thankful having so much time to myself,’ Annette broke the silence. Christopher was spending most of the summer with his father.
‘What will you do?’ Claire asked, refusing to feel guilty.
Annette laughed mirthlessly. ‘Let me see. I’ve a huge range to choose from, haven’t I? Honestly, Claire. What a question.’ She sounded scornful. ‘I’ll do what I always do when you’re away. Sit here on my own and read.’
And drink. Claire was ashamed of her thoughts. She banished them and gave herself over to the delightful contemplation of two weeks in the sun with the McArdles.
The girls were instantly enamoured with Hotel El Murillo. It was a family-run hotel with an unpretentious entrance and magnificent gardens overlooking the sea. There was one swimming pool of respectable proportions, with a shallow section for younger children and a tiny play area concealed within a flowery arbour. The food was very good, but best of all was the genuinely friendly atmosphere.
Ignacio, the manager, was plump and smiling. He made a pet of Ruthie and when she became friendly with his little daughter, Adela, he encouraged them to come to the bar for free Cokes and limonada. The girls joked about her drinks on the house - they had to pay for theirs! But in reality Sheena and Claire received a similar flattering amount of attention from the waiters, who brought them tit-bits on the sly and blew them extravagant kisses behind Jane’s back. Sheena regally accepted their homage as her right. Claire did not have such a high regard for herself and was just as happy to let Sheena have the limelight.
She fished in her bag for a book and contentedly turned the pages. Close by, Ruthie splashed about in the shallows with Adela and some other little Spanish girls. Claire reflected that on this holiday so little was needed to keep Ruthie amused. She seemed happy to play in the water all day with her new friends, and their excited cries mingled with the shouts of swimmers as they tossed a red beach hall to one another in an endless game of Burro.
Claire glanced over to where Jane was dozing under an umbrella, the most relaxed Claire had ever seen her. Of Sheena there was no sign. Claire suspected she was dallying with one of the young waiters. Now that Sheena had a whole range of handsome young Spaniards to captivate, the lads at home had been quickly forgotten.
With everyone, especially Ruthie, happily occupied, Claire felt free to start working her way through the pile of novels she had brought with her. She lifted her feet back up on to the metal rung of her sun-chair and, gently rocking, was soon absorbed in her book.
Ruthie giggled in high glee as the beach ball shot past Adela and landed with a soft plop on a snoozing sun-bather.
‘Butterfingers, Adela,’ she reproved her friend and the other little girls fell about laughing uproariously.
‘Buttherfeeng-airs,’ they cried joyously.
Jane opened her eyes and propped herself higher to watch their antics. Wonderful to see her so happy, Jane thought with gratitude. It had been a good decision to come away like this to the sun.
The trip had worked out expensive, almost double what a camping holiday in France would have cost them, but remembering the summer holiday she had once shared with Annette Shannon while still at college so many years before, she had opted for Spain. She had even chosen the same area in Nerja, near El Balcon de Europa. This return trip was to be in the nature of a pilgrimage to the scenes of her youth.
She suddenly decided she would take a stroll through the town. Once there, she might stop at an open-air cafe and sip a leisurely café con leche.
She swung her legs off the sun-bed and, crossing to where Claire sat by the pool, asked her to keep an eye on Ruthie while she was gone. ‘You can tell her I won’t be long.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Claire answered, angling her sun-chair so that she could more easily see and be seen by the little girl. ‘Enjoy your walk.’
Jane nodded. Always so conscientious, she thought with a pang as she moved on. Not like that scamp Sheena. She looked for her older daughter but she was nowhere to be seen. Off flirting, no doubt!
Jane strolled through the cool, plant-laden lobby. Ignacio was on the telephone and he nodded and smiled at her. Jane acknowledged his greeting with a wave of her hand and passed out into the sunshine again. She stood and adjusted her sun-hat, then set off down the hill towards the town.
It was siesta time and the shops were closed. One or two people sat outside the cafeterias finishing plates of calamares and salad. Jane wandered past them in the direction of El Balcon de Europa, the area that she and Annette had frequented most during their time in Nerja.
She crossed the road and stood looking down on the small cove. At first glance it seemed as though time had stood still. If it were not for the advertising billboards it could have been twenty years earlier. Groups of Spanish matrons sat on mats near the water; young children played on the sand; a cat poked its head out from behind an upturned fishing boat, one of a fleet of boats drawn up beyond the high water ridges.
Jane let her eyes travel across the beach to where the waves foamed high against the rocks. This tiny cove had been their favourite swimming spot, but it was years since she had swum in a foreign sea.
On impulse Jane started down the sandy steps, removing her sandals as she went. The sand was almost too hot to tread on barefoot and she hopped the last few yards, relieved to be so close to the water’s edge.
The sea was as she remembered it, like tepid milk. She slowly paddled up and down, arms swinging, letting the memories wash over her like the waves gently lapping her ankles. It was to this beach that she had come with an attractive Spaniard late one sultry night after an evening spent dancing in a night-club. They had slipped naked into the water to cool off and floated, fingertips touching, buoyed up by the deep swell about the rocks. That night had been a mixture of pleasure and pain,
Jane’s expression grew serious as she remembered how she had slipped away from Annette, secretly hoping that Antonio might declare his feelings for her if they were on their own. She had known him barely three months and knew very little about him, just that he owned several restaurants and came from somewhere north of Cadiz. Yet in spite of that and the difference in their nationalities and outlook, she would have said yes if he had asked her to marry him. Instead that night he had broken it to her that he already had a wife and child.
Jane hugged her arms to her chest, reliving her feelings of heart-break and shock. She couldn’t remember exactly what had sparked off the confession. Perhaps some half-formulated wish as they had come running out of the sea, laughing and shivering, that she need never go home but might remain in Spain, sharing such moments for ever. In a few brief words he had taken away her hopes. Jane could still remember her feeling of disillusion, of being badly used, for she had given him her virginity only one short week after they had met.
Yet, in all honesty, Jane was forced to admit that in her besottedness she had enticed Antonio to the point where he could not resist her. In the beginning when he had hung back, she had mistaken his reticence for inexperience and deliberately kept alight the flame of his passion. She saw again his heavy-lidded eyes observing her with controlled ardour, until finally beyond all control, he had allowed the storm of his feelings master him, and she had been swept with him to a place no man had ever taken her since. Not her husband or any other man. Their affair had lasted until the night he had confessed that he was married. Two weeks later she had returned home, miserable and distraught. It had taken her months to get over him. Jane could still remember her feeling of sorrow and let-down after all this time.
Now she scooped up water in her hands and splashed it on her hot face, remembering how she had allowed Annette to think she was not in love with Antonio and had turned him down. Annette had been scornfully incredulous, and more than a little jealous. Funny how she hadn’t seen this until years later, Jane thought, not until the summer Eddie died and Annette came to stay at the cottage.
Jane walked back across the sand, her earlier light-hearted mood replaced by a crushing sadness, so deeply enmeshed in her memories that she did not even feel the scorching sand beneath her tender feet and was at the top of the steps before she recollected her sandals. She pulled them on and began walking almost dreamily in the direction of the tree-lined square, where she vaguely recalled Antonio’s restaurant had been. There was, as far as she could remember, an antique shop on the same side. Not, of course, that either would still be there, Jane told herself.
Jane strolled past closed shops, their awnings fully extended to shade the buildings from the hot afternoon sunshine. Music came from an open doorway, one of the few tapas bars open at that time of day. She turned down the other side of the square and had walked almost the length of it when she suddenly came upon the antique shop. She gazed in the window, not too surprised to find it unchanged for its charm, after all, lay in its antiquity.
At a kiosk she bought postcards, before continuing on, intent on laying old ghosts. She had traversed the third side of the almost deserted square, passing a ceramic shop and jeweller’s store, and decided to have the cafe con leche she had promised herself.
She stepped up on the pavement and there, right in front of her, was Antonio’s restaurant. Of course, Jane thought on a long sigh. It wasn’t on the same side as the antique shop but opposite. Her memory had been playing her tricks.
She went closer and deliberately pressed her forehead to the thick glass. Gradually her eyes adjusted to the dim interior and she sighted the expected rows of tables, adorned with snowy napery. In the background, a fish tank bubbled iridescently, speckled crabs heaped in a crustacean Laocoon against the glass wall. She pulled back and with a last glance at the signboard overhead, crossed to the cafe and sat down. When the waiter approached she changed her mind and ordered a brandy instead of coffee. She sat sipping it slowly, her eyes fixed on Antonio’s restaurant without really seeing it, her thoughts full of the past.
She lingered there writing her postcards. The sun had sunk low in the sky and the girls were on the look-out for her by the time she returned to the hotel.
Annette read Jane’s postcard twice. So she had gone back to El Balcon de Europa. Annette was visited by a rush of feeling so strong that she almost got weak.
She picked up Jane’s postcard and read it again, trying to make out her physician’s scrawl. ‘Went on a tour of old familiar spots,’ Jane had scribbled, and ‘Saw Antonio’s restaurant.’
They were back together again!
Annette put the card down and gazed sullenly into space. Her mind began to fantasise a situation where Jane and Antonio got married and returned in a flurry of orange blossoms to live in the house across the street.
Jane had always been luckier than her.
Annette told herself it was ironic that women like Jane got men like Eddie and Antonio, while she got Jim and then couldn’t even hold on to him. It was so bloody unfair. Was Jane, who was over forty and no beauty to begin with, to be the one to get another husband while she, a spurned wife, was left to grow old alone?
Although that week Jane made several trips back to the restaurant at times when she might expect it to be open, she never even got a glimpse of Antonio. Once she thought she recognised him standing in the doorway, looking up the street, but when she nervously approached she saw that it was a much younger man, hardly more than twenty-five or six. His dark eyes settled on her face coolly, impersonally and she was seized by confusion. She hurried on past.
Further up the street she turned abruptly and paused to stare into an estate agent’s window to allow her heart time to slow down. She looked, without really seeing the coloured photographs of villas and apartment blocks, then her gaze focused and she thought how lovely it must be to own an apartment right here in Nerja and have a legitimate excuse to come away every year to bask in the heat and beauty of Spain.
Jane shrugged and turned away. It would cost the earth.
‘Mummy, you’re not listening,’ Sheena scolded.
‘Sorry, love,’ Jane apologised. The truth was she was distracted by thoughts of owning an apartment in Spain. The idea had begun to take hold and now she couldn’t stop dwelling on the pros and cons of it. With so many people wanting to retire to the sun, it would make a very sound investment, besides ensuring a great family holiday each year.
With an effort, Jane shelved her thoughts and set about soothing Sheena’s feelings.
In the shallow end of the pool, Ruthie was swimming her first strokes under Claire’s careful tutelage. The little girl could do a width now, and was learning rapidly.
‘Ready, folks,’ Sheena shouted from the diving board.
‘Go on!’ Jane urged. ‘We’re watching.’
Sheena paused to ensure maximum attention, then launched herself in a graceful somersault into the sparkling depths.
‘Well done,’ Jane praised as her daughter’s head bobbed up, sleek and dripping. Sheena grinned and waved, delighted with all the attention she was getting.
‘Look at me, look at me,’ Ruthie begged, anxious for a share.
Jane watched and enthusiastically applauded her younger daughter’s efforts before returning to her thoughts. She had not seen Ruthie so tranquil since the sudden deaths in the family had deprived her of her father and her brother. All her children had been deeply affected by the tragedy, Jane acknowledged, but Ruthie perhaps most of all. Ever since then she had been on an emotional see-saw and after the trauma of her kidnapping Jane had despaired of her ever pulling out of it. But here in Spain Ruthie was a different child, she thought. Sunny, like the weather, and joyously receptive to any proposal that was made. Clearly, her growing friendship with Adela and the other little Spanish girls was a sign she was emerging at last from the horror of the previous summer.
An answer to prayer.
Jane felt gratitude so intense that tears sprang to her eyes. What had been a wistful longing to return again to Spain crystallised into a burning desire to make it happen. She would give any money, she told herself, to ensure that Ruthie stayed well and happy.
Claire found herself dreading the end of the holidays. She loved Spain and everything Spanish and she might never come back again.
She had no presents to bring home and was glad on their second last day when Jane suggested that they all go shopping for souvenirs.
‘If we head off before it gets too hot,’ Jane told them after breakfast, ‘we’ll be back in good time for a swim before lunch.’
‘I must get something for Terry,’ Sheena said, plumping down on her bed and laying all her money out on the coverlet. ‘Do you think he’d like a leather belt, Claire? I saw some lovely ones in the town.’
‘I’m sure he would.’ Claire thought she might get one for Christopher and, perhaps, a broach or scented soaps for her mother. She still hadn’t any idea what to buy for Marissa’s baby.
‘I’ll go halves with you on Terry’s present, Sheena,’ Ruthie offered. Like her sister, she was laboriously counting out her money.
‘Okay,’ Sheena dismissed her and turned back to Claire. ‘He’s not returning until the middle of September. When Mummy rang him yesterday, he said he’s having a marvellous time in Maryland.’
Claire nodded soberly. Somehow the mention of Terry always left her feeling a bit down. He was bound to be very sophisticated when he returned from America, she thought wistfully. Only another month. Not so very long now.
‘Ready, girls?’ Jane asked, coming back into the room. She was wearing a Kelly-green blouse and a floaty skirt in some fine material, an exotic swirl of colours in peacock blue and green which she had bought in a boutique during the week.
They set off, Sheena walking ahead with her mother, Claire and Ruthie just behind. Ruthie was bubbling over with delight at the shopping expedition.
‘I hate the thought of going back, don’t you?’ she confided, slipping her hand into Claire’s. ‘I wish we could stay here for ever and I could go to school with Adela.’
Claire was surprised at her vehement tone.
‘It would be nice,’ she agreed cautiously, ‘but wouldn’t you miss your home?’ She thought of the McArdle’s lovely house which she had always admired. If she were Ruthie she would feel quite a wrench leaving it. Ruthie shook her head.
‘I wouldn’t care a bit. Not if I could live here.’ Jane glanced back.
‘Would you like it so much, darling?’ she asked.
‘En absoluto,’ Ruthie said, sounding so like Ignacio they all laughed. She pranced along, pleased with herself. Claire, remembering Ruthie’s darker, more ominous moods, wished it could always be this way, so light-hearted and happy.
They reached the bottom of the hill and walked along a street thronged with people. There was an open-air market in progress and they lingered at the laden stalls, gazing at the pyramids of oranges and almonds until Jane urged them on.
‘Don’t forget that swim,’ she reminded them.
Claire glanced into the windows they passed, seeking inspiration. As Sheena had said, the leather belts were good value. She would almost certainly buy one for Chris. But what about baby David? When Claire had seen her half-brother before coming away, he was cutting his first tooth and saying Dada. The latter had really jolted her. In the window of a haberdashery she noticed a furry brown monkey, hanging by one paw.
‘Oh look! Isn’t he lovely?’ She pulled Sheena back with her.
‘Fab!’ Sheena said enthusiastically. ‘Let’s find out how much he is.’ Without waiting for a reply she dashed into the shop.
The other two had gone ahead. With a quick glance at their disappearing backs, Claire followed her friend. They would soon catch up with them.
Jane and Ruthie walked on, unaware that the girls were no longer following. Ruthie had transferred her hand to her mother’s and she skipped along, chatting energetically. Jane couldn’t get over the difference in her.
She guided the still chattering Ruthie across the street to look in a property developer’s window. If she were to go ahead with her plan, Jane decided, the apartment must be situated as near El Balcon de Europa as possible. Now to her delight she saw a notice prominently displayed, advertising a newly erected apartment block in exactly the right area. The siting was perfect, the amenities impressive. If only the price was right, Jane thought, pushing open the door.
A plump, dark-haired woman sat behind a desk working at a computer and when Jane explained what she wanted, she smiled and nodded.
‘Sí, Apartamentos Las Cicadas. Please sit down.’
She waved them towards seats and leaned across her desk to press the intercom switch.
‘Fernando,’ she spoke into it.
‘Un momento, por favor.’
Jane looked towards the door as a fair-haired young man emerged into the small vestibule. For a moment she thought she had met him somewhere, then the impression faded.
‘May I help you, Señora?’
Jane was relieved that he spoke English. She nodded and said that she was interested in purchasing property in Nerja, preferably near El Balcon de Europa, and thought they had just what she required.
‘In the window,’ she prompted.
‘Ah, yes,’ he nodded. ‘If you wish I can arrange for you to view it.’
Suddenly Jane wanted that very much..
‘That would be fine but I’m returning to Ireland the day after tomorrow, so I don’t have a lot of time.’ She smiled at him. ‘Would it be possible to see it today... right away?’ If she liked what she saw, she wanted to leave herself enough time for a second look before making up her mind.
The Spaniard glanced at his watch. ‘I have another appointment around midday, Señora, but if we go at once I do not see why I cannot manage both.’ He smiled disarmingly back at her, and Jane suddenly found herself liking him a lot.
‘Let’s go then,’ she said, almost gaily.
‘Excuse me while I get my car key.’ He disappeared into the other room. Jane could hear him talking to someone, another man by the sound of it, through the half-open door.
‘Mummy, are we buying an apartment?’ Ruthie was almost bursting with excitement.
‘Shush! Not a word.’ Playfully, Jane stopped her mouth. ‘Our secret. Okay?’ Over the masking hand, Ruthie’s eyes were enormous.
Fernando came out and beckoned them to follow him outside to where a white Seat was parked at the kerbside. He assisted Ruthie into the back, then politely motioned for Jane to get in. Very courteous and gallant! Jane smiled to herself as she tucked her skirt about her. Everything but click his heels! Within seconds they were pulling out into the traffic.
Fernando brought them on a quick tour of the show apartment and then retired to the courtyard to allow them time to view on their own. Jane wandered back through the tastefully furnished rooms and out on to the tiny flower-bedecked balcony. The pungent smell of geranium filled her nostrils and below, in the distance, the waves endlessly tumbled and broke on pale sand.
‘Mummy, it’s so beautiful,’ Ruthie came to stand beside her, and together they absorbed the scene.
A tiny tortoiseshell kitten clambered over the apartment wall and toppled into a flower pot, where it clung mewing pitifully. With a little cry, Ruthie extricated it from the tangle of leaves and cuddled it to her chest.
‘You little dote,’ she breathed, and looked up at her mother with shining eyes, ‘Oh Mummy, this makes it just about perfect.’
In that moment Jane made up her mind.
Jane was by no means rich, but Eddie had left her comfortably off. In addition to his pension, there was her salary from the clinic and her own thriving medical practice. She owned her house and had the money she had got from the sale of the holiday cottage, as well as a few other sound investments her husband had made in the years before he died. She had never been extravagant herself. Her biggest expenditure was on her home and her children’s education. If she wanted to buy an apartment now in Spain there was nothing standing in her way.
She glanced down at Ruthie’s entranced face. ‘You really like it?’ she softly enquired.
‘Oh Mummy!’ Ruthie sighed, her eyes like twin stars.
‘Come on then,’ Jane said, feeling suddenly as hopeful and excited as a young girl. With a last fond pat, Ruthie returned the kitten over the wall and followed her mother out of the apartment. They pulled the door after them and ran breathlessly down the stone steps leading to the courtyard.
The Spaniard turned to look at them as hand-in-hand they came hurrying towards him, their faces radiant.
‘You like it,’ he stated, his naturally grave countenance suddenly swept by a smile.
Jane nodded happily. ‘Very much. Can we go back to your office? I think we can do business.’
‘Very good, Señora.’ Fernando moved with alacrity to open the car door.
‘Mummy,’ Ruthie whispered, tugging urgently at Jane’s arm.
Jane looked down at her. ‘What is it, Ruthie?’
‘Claire and Sheena,’ Ruthie prompted. ‘They’ll think we’ve been kidnapped.’
‘Oh my goodness!’ Jane was horrified. She realised that she hadn’t given them a thought in the past hour. Whatever would they be thinking! She bundled Ruthie ahead of her into the car.
‘My girls,’ she explained to Fernando’s mystified face, ‘I’d forgotten all about them. Perhaps we can telephone the hotel when we get to your office.’
‘But of course.’ He turned his eyes back to the road and rapidly weaved his way through the traffic.
By five o’clock that afternoon Jane had signed the conveyancing document on the Spanish apartment. The one she had picked was on the same side of the building as the show apartment, and had a prime view of the beach.
Earlier, she and Fernando had gone to a solicitor together and arranged the financial details. Jane had already telephoned her own bank in Dublin and asked the manager to send the solicitor her deposit of one million pesetas - the balance would be paid on completion of the apartment, in approximately three months’ time - and all that remained was to sign the escritura which was sent off at once to the Registro de Propriedad.
Now they stood outside the property developer’s office and shook hands.
‘May I drive you to your hotel?’ Fernando enquired. ‘It would give me much pleasure to do so.’
Jane shook her head. ‘Thank you but I think a walk is what I need.’ She gave him a tired smile. Her head was aching from the events of the past few hours and she wanted time to be alone and think over what she had done. She had telephoned the hotel and asked the girls to come and collect Ruthie. They had arrived, agog with curiosity, but she had despatched them with a promise to fill them in later on. Doubtless by now Ruthie would have told them. Just now she badly needed a stroll in the air.
‘Sí. Comprendo, Dr McArdle.’ Fernando gave her professional title with quiet courtesy. ‘I look forward to our meeting tomorrow.’
‘Hasta luego.’ Jane smiled and turned away. There were one or two alterations she would like carried out in the kitchen and main bedroom, which Fernando assured her could easily be done. Now was the time to do it before the apartment was completed. Second thoughts were always the most expensive, Jane knew. She sighed, feeling as if she had run a marathon, and set out wearily for the hotel.
Fernando watched Jane walk away, a smile in his dark eyes. He had been infected by her excitement and got almost as much fun out of her buying the apartment that afternoon, as she had herself. He had been greatly struck by the Irish woman. Una mujer hermosa, he thought approvingly, as she vanished around the corner. Alhough, perhaps, on reflection, he mused, not in the strictly physical sense. It was her mind and spirit that was truly beautiful, like that of his own mother. Interestingly enough, Fernando further mused, the doctor’s hair was very similar in colouring to what his mother’s rich auburn hair had once been, though sadly now streaked with grey. He smiled again and went on into the building.
There was no one in the outer office. He went straight through to the inside room.
‘Congratulations, Father,’ he told the man seated behind the desk. ‘You were not here when I returned earlier, but I am happy to tell you we have sold yet another of our apartments.’
Antonio Gonzalez looked at his son affectionately. ‘So Consuelo told me. But you are the one to be congratulated.’
Fernando shrugged and laughed. ‘Perhaps,’ he conceded. ‘However, I think the lady herself deserves much of the credit. She came to us knowing exactly what she wanted and by good fortune we were able to supply it.’ He shook his head and whistled softly between his teeth. ‘Ayee, she took one look and decided it was for her. Olé.
‘If all our customers knew their minds so well we would not be able to build apartments fast enough,’ Antonio said wryly. ‘Still, we are not doing so badly. We shall soon have more than half of Las Cicadas accounted for.’ He swept some papers into a drawer and locked it. ‘You know,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘It might be worthwhile keeping that advertisement in the newspapers until the end of the tourist season.’
Fernando frowned. ‘That is a good idea,’ he agreed politely. ‘But I must point out, Father, that it was not our advertisement in the newspapers, but in our front window, that drew Dr McArdle’s attention.’
Antonio pondered this a moment. ‘All the same,’ he decided, ‘keep the other advertisement running another few weeks.’
‘Very well.’ Fernando took a silver pen from his pocket and made a memo. ‘By the way,’ he went on more enthusiastically, ‘the lady is coming again tomorrow to discuss the interior of her apartment. There are one or two small changes she wishes us to make. I thought we might throw in a few of the additional features as a mark of goodwill.’ He looked questioningly at his father. ‘Such as the vanity unit in the main bedroom and perhaps the glass shower door in the bathroom.’
His father looked surprised. ‘If you think so, Fernan. I leave it entirely to your judgement.’
Fernando smiled. ‘You are thinking that the lady in question is young and beautiful and that I’m hoping to impress her with my generosity?’
Antonio laughed. He came around the desk and clapped his son on the shoulder. ‘Why not? You are young and have been enamoured before.’
‘Undeniably. But Dr Jane McArdle is not a young irlandesa guapa, Father,’ Fernando said reprovingly. ‘She is a medical doctor and almost of an age to be my mother.’
Antonio said nothing.
‘She is not young and beautiful,’ Fernando went on, ‘But - qué alma! Qué espíritu! I feel sure when you meet her you’ll agree.’
Antonio had gone to the window and was looking out on the small patio at the rear of the building, seemingly entranced by a lizard darting in and out of the flowerbeds. If it wasn’t for the pulse throbbing in his forehead - always a sure sign that he was agitated - Fernando might have thought he had not heard. What his father might be upset about he could not for the life of him understand.
Sheena went into raptures when she heard her mother had bought an apartment in Spain.
‘But you never let on,’ she kept saying. ‘How ever did you keep it so quiet?’
‘It all happened rather suddenly,’ Jane admitted. ‘I still can’t get over it myself.’
‘Our own apartment in Spain,’ Sheena gloated. ‘Doesn’t it sound grand, Claire?’
Claire nodded, feeling a little left out of it. A little inner voice kept reminding her that it was nothing at all to do with her. It was wonderful, yes, but only for the McArdles.
Jane laughed. ‘Sounds classier than a cottage in County Waterford,’ she agreed, catching Claire’s eye and smiling at her. ‘What do you think, Claire?’
‘I think it’s great,’ Claire said, her mouth wobbling.
Jane felt stricken by their insensitivity. The poor child, she thought contritely, having to listen to the lot of them rhapsodising about the wonderful time they were going to have and never a mention of herself.
‘Of course you’ll be coming to Spain with us often,’ Jane hastened to reassure Claire and was touched to see the girl flush with pleasure. ‘Our holidays wouldn’t be the same without you, my dear,’ she added quietly. ‘You must know that!’
Claire cast her a grateful look. ‘You’ve been so good bringing me away. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.’ She was on the verge of tears. ‘I’ll never forget it.’
‘Well, it has given us a lot of pleasure too, don’t forget,’ Jane said kindly. ‘Now let’s all go downstairs or Ignacio will believe we’ve deserted him and gone elsewhere for our dinner.’
Jane reread her copy of the purchase agreement and pondered on how quickly she had made up her mind to buy the apartment. Well, she couldn’t rescind the agreement now without considerable financial loss, so she hoped she would never regret her decision. Somehow Jane didn’t think she would.
Fernando was in the outer office next morning. When they all trooped in the door. he advanced with a smile and outstretched hand. ‘Buenos días, Señora... Señoritas.’
Jane smilingly indicated the girls. ‘Ruthie you’ve met and this is my daughter, Sheena, and this,’ she continued warmly, putting an arm about her, ‘is Claire, who is like another daughter to me.’
Claire blushed rosily at the compliment and Fernando looked at her with interest. He was his usual urbane self and, starting with Jane, gallantly shook hands with each of them. Sheena couldn’t take her eyes off him,, Jane noticed, with a mixture of amusement and resignation.
‘If you will come into the other office I will show you the plans,’ Fernando said, leading the way.
When they were grouped about him he discussed the changes Jane wished to make and suggested a few improvisations which would enhance the property. He really knew his stuff, Jane thought, unsurprised to learn he had a degree in architecture from Barcelona University. A very impressive young man, she thought, not for the first time.
The outer door opened and Antonio Gonzalez entered. At once Fernando jumped to his feet and extended his hand towards Jane saying, ‘Father, I would like you to meet Dr McArdle, who has just purchased one of our apartments.’
Jane turned with a polite smile, which quivered and faded as she saw who it was. A lot older, his black hair streaked with grey, but unmistakably her Antonio Gonzalez. Her chest felt as though it had been struck by a bullet.
‘Señora,’ Antonio murmured, his dark expressive eyes, so like his son’s, meeting as he bent over her hand
‘We are just about to pay a visit to the show apartment,’ Fernando was saying. ‘Dr McArdle wishes her family to see it before returning to Ireland.’
Antonio’s eyes strayed from Jane to the girls and back again. ‘When do you leave, Señora,’ he politely enquired.
‘We fly home tomorrow,’ Jane said, feeling as if she were in a dream. She automatically answered the other questions he put to her. When did she intend returning to Spain? And would she consider coming back in the spring for a short visit when the apartment was completed? He waited for her reply, his head on one side, eyes half-closed, regarding her inscrutably.
As she spoke Jane was struggling to cope with the shock of seeing Antonio after all these years. Then, to her relief, they were all standing up and chorusing their goodbyes as Fernando cheerfully led the way to the outer office, clearly pleased she had met his father and happy at the prospect of showing off the apartment to the girls. She heard him answer something Consuelo said and then he ushered them on to the street to where his little car was parked. Jane was acutely aware of Antonio standing in the doorway gazing after them as they drove away.
While Fernando was showing the girls over the apartment Jane stood on the balcony, thinking how much Antonio’s appearance had changed over the years and his voice not at all. She found herself remembering little mannerisms, like his way of pinching his forehead when puzzled and his sleepy, heavy-lidded way of listening. She had not thought of these things in years. Other memories came to her. She seemed to hear his murmuring voice in her ear, uttering little Spanish love words, and her face grew suddenly warm, making her glad she was by herself on the balcony.
Jane had immersed herself in her work in the years following her husband’s death and had been hardly aware of men or the lack of them. But since meeting Antonio, her libido, inert even prior to Eddie’s passing, had received a reviving jolt. She had never expected to feel this way again and believed herself to be immune.
She heard the girls trooping in and out of the rooms, questioning Fernando and sounding the praise of everything they saw. She could not hear his replies but every so often there was a merry burst of sound, suggesting that they were highly amusing.
She took a deep breath and went to join them.
‘The young ladies have seen and approved of it all,’ Fernando announced, his dark eyes meeting Jane’s with amusement in their velvet depths.
So like his father’s. Jane banished the thought and smiled back at him. ‘So what’s your verdict?’ she asked the girls.
‘Estupendo,’ came the chorus, followed by a burst of laughter.
‘See how quickly they learn.’ Fernando beamed. ‘Before you know it they will be speaking like Spaniards.’
Jane felt pleased. He was really quite charming, she thought, and just the person to befriend the girls when they returned often to Spain. What a very satisfactory son-in-law he would make. She was appalled at herself.
Oh God, matchmaking already! thought Jane in horror. She grimaced and vowed never to think this way again. Yet in spite of her good intentions she found herself watching Fernando for signs of preference as he led the girls outside to point out the view.
By the time they had seen everything and returned to the car Jane had come to the conclusion that while Fernando was extremely courteous to each of the girls and treated them impartially, if his eyes ever rested overlong on one of them it was always upon Claire.
They were all a little sad as they sat over dinner that evening, their last in Spain for some time. What made it bearable, however, was the thought that this was not really goodbye, for they would be returning often now.
On the way back to the hotel Sheena had said that she looked forward to bringing her easel with her on their next trip abroad and to capturing the Spanish scene on canvas; Ruthie expressed her intention of inviting Adela very often to play with ‘her’ kitten and Claire spoke lyrically of the view from the balcony and the heady scents perfuming the air. Only Jane had remained silent as she tagged along behind them, her thoughts taken up with the conversation she had had with Fernando.
‘My mother has a natural gift with colours,’ he had told her with pride, when she admired the decor of the show apartment. ‘At one time she was a very successful interior designer, but these days her health is not strong and she confines her talents to our apartment blocks.’
Jane had been startled to hear him mention his mother. Now sitting with the girls she wondered at herself. Why wouldn’t Antonio still be married to her?
Jane made an effort to put thoughts of Antonio out of her mind but, in spite of herself, he kept creeping back in again. That she still found him extremely attractive was painfully evident, judging by her earlier reaction. She sighed and decided she would have to discipline herself with regard to him. Now that she had bought one of his apartments she could expect to bump into him regularly. She would soon grow accustomed to it.
Very well, she wouldn’t, but she wasn’t the inexperienced, besotted girl she had once been. She was a grown woman and a widow to boot, and whatever fate decided to throw her way she could confidently handle. She lifted her glass and happily proposed a toast. ‘To many more holidays like this one.’
The girls solemnly clinked glasses and regarded each other over the rims.
‘Next time we’ll visit the caves,’ Jane promised.
‘And see a bullfight,’ said Ruthie, still disappointed at missing it.
‘And see a bullfight,’ Jane agreed, nodding to the waiter to take away their plates. He did so, his eyes fixed yearningly on Sheena. She was flirting with all of the waiters They took their cues from her and held their hearts behind Jane’s back, or sighed over the gaspacho they carried to the table.
As the evening advanced Sheena’s mood became progressively giddier. When José, her favourite, comically mopped his tears with a linen serving cloth, she went into paroxysms of laughter. The mood quickly spread, and soon even Ruthie was shaking, crimson-faced, behind her napkin.
Jane watched their high spirits with a tolerant smile. She silently made another toast: that although the strong bond of friendship between the girls must inevitably weaken during the coming year while they pursued their different careers in their different colleges, it would continue to strengthen and grow on Spanish soil.