Claire went to Elena’s house and read to her as she had promised. In the beginning she was careful to keep the sessions short, fearful of tiring the sick woman, but she soon found that Elena could be relied upon to say when she had had enough.
Fernando insisted on driving Claire, although she had assured him she was quite happy to walk. Once there, he would escort her to where his mother sat and ring for limonada and iced tea. Sometimes he lingered in the room while Claire was reading, sitting so quietly that she forgot all about him until Elena addressed him. Claire had not thought it possible to be so unselfconscious in his presence.
Each afternoon Claire closed the book with the greatest of reluctance and went to replace it on the shelf. At the end of the first week when she held out her hand in farewell Elena clasped it and said in heartfelt accents,
‘Muchas gracias, mi querida. I look forward more than I can say to your next visit.’
As though, Claire thought, she had never read Villette herself and couldn’t wait to find out what happened. When she said as much Elena smiled and nodded, ‘Yes, Claire... because you are making it come alive for me. In truth, I feel as though I am hearing it all for the very first time.’
Claire had experienced this herself when reading a favourite book again after a long time, seeing nuances she had missed and gaining new insights into the workings of the characters.
The following day she was ready again for Fernando when he called. Ruthie and Teresa were planning to walk to the hotel and take a swim in the pool with Adela. Once she knew that the little girl would be looked after for a few hours Claire found herself eagerly anticipating her visit to Fernando’s house. Influenced by Elena’s keen analysis of the vagaries of Lucy Snowe’s mind, Claire was coming to a new appreciation of Villette and no longer had any doubts as to which of the Bronte masterpieces she liked best.
And so the afternoons repeated themselves, and it was turning out to be one of the most enjoyable periods of Claire’s life. She felt as if she had always been making this daily trip to this Spanish house. She was reminded too of how she had felt years before when she had happily read her favourite childhood stories to Ruthie. In time she was moved to share this memory with Elena.
‘Ah yes, but now, querida, I am the fortunate one,’ Elena said. ‘Your coming here puts an entirely different complexion on my day and gives me so much joy.’ There was a flush on her normally pale cheeks and she was more animated than Claire had ever seen her. ‘Where before there was so little now there is so much,’ Elena told her with tremulous sincerity. ‘Truly my cup is overflowing.’
Claire’s own eyes misted with tears. She felt both moved and embarrassed. ‘It means a lot to me too,’ she said gruffly. And felt it was a gross understatement. One afternoon, as Claire sat opposite Elena in the shaded room and removed the bookmark from the spot she had left off reading the previous day, Elena said gently. ‘Would you mind if we talked for a bit?’
‘Of course not. I’d love to,’ Claire readily agreed.
‘Tell me some more about your life in Ireland,’ Elena suggested, relaxing back in her chair. ‘You have a younger brother and are friendly with the doctor’s children, that much I know...’
Claire gladly chatted away about her friendship with the twins and Ruthie, stressing how good Jane had always been to her, including her year after year in their holiday plans and treating her like one of the family.
`’She is kind the doctor, and clearly you are very fond of her.’
Claire nodded and went on to talk of Sheena and Terry. She did not know it but whenever she mentioned Terry’s name her expression was full of yearning. Elena watched her quietly.
‘And the children’s father?’ she asked. ‘He died some time ago, I believe.’
‘Yes.’ Claire dropped her eyes.
‘I can see you are very fond of them all,’ Elena smiled. ‘But I think you have an especially soft spot for your friend’s twin brother.’
‘Well, yes,’ Claire admitted, meeting Elena’s eyes reluctantly. ‘Terry is in the Air Corps and he’s a terrific pilot. He and I...’
Elena waited.
Terry and I were lovers, but he cannot forgive me because he found out that when I was thirteen I became pregnant by his father.
Her mind sealed up again. She avoided Elena’s eyes and, changing tack again, began speaking about Ruthie.
‘She can be so funny at times and says things far older than her years. She’s really great because ...something happened a while back but she seems almost over it now.’
‘Something bad?’ Elena enquired gently.
‘Yes...’ Claire faltered. ‘She was tormented by some boys and they cut off all her hair. She was only eight at the time and she was terrified.’
And I was only thirteen but Eddie was always kind to me... he never hurt me physically but he hurt me in other ways ...
‘Can we read now,’ Claire whispered, ‘before you become too tired?’
Elena looked at Claire with a blend of curiosity and compassion, but she nodded.
‘Yes... please do.’
Terry left by the side door of Crowley’s pub, glad to be out in the air again. He bent to tie his shoelace, before setting off at a jog down the road that led to the quay. He had spent the past hour sitting at the counter chatting to the publican’s daughter and when she had gone to the other end of the bar to pull pints, he had seized his opportunity to slip away.
Terry had taken the girl out a few times. Her company had kept him from brooding overmuch on Claire, but he could see that she was becoming too attached to him and it would be wiser to end the relationship. She was a nice girl, Terry told himself, but there was no future in it. Next thing old man Crowley would be putting questions to him and he’d be lucky not to find himself one of the family. He shuddered between amusement and horror at the thought.
There was a moon, partially obscured by cloud. Terry gazed at it as he jogged along and wondered if Claire was looking at it in Spain. As always when on his own he found himself retracing the circumstances leading up to her confession on their last night together, and agonising afresh over the whole sordid story. He was conscious of a niggling unease that he had been grossly unfair to her.
Terry kept a wary eye out for potholes while inwardly engaging in further analysis and heart-searching and was, at last, able to admit that what it all finally came down to, what had upset him most, was not the unsavoury aspect of the affair but the fact that Claire had obviously loved his father. Terry couldn’t understand this at all. The man had despoiled her innocence and yet she didn’t hate him for it. Every time Terry thought about it he felt a rush of helpless anger and found himself hating Eddie even more.
Troubled by the thought of his own intractability, by strong memories of Claire, and by the sadness of his father’s betrayal, Terry slowed to a stop. Below where he stood the sea held a dark, opalescent shine and even as he watched he saw reflected in its depths a spreading blob of silver as the moon broke free of the restraining cloud and majestically rode the high heavens.
Terry stared upwards, entranced by the sight and was taken by the sudden fancy that if only he could bounce a message off that shining orb it would bounce right back at Claire. What would he say? That he missed her like hell and wished he’d never been so stupid as to let anything come between them. No, he wouldn’t!
Terry’s heart hardened when he remembered that she had gone away without making contact with him. Right now she was probably in the arms of that smooth-talking Spaniard. He was passing a warehouse and he bent and picked up a rock and hurled it with all his strength, hearing it smash into the corrugated roof.
Sadly, Elena’s health was deteriorating, and the readings were frequently interrupted. Often it was the doctor coming to take Elena’s blood pressure or Christina with her tray of pills and lotions to tend to her mistress’s needs. There were times too when the sick woman dropped into a doze or became too exhausted to concentrate, and Claire was learning to recognise and anticipate these moments. But although much of the time was spent waiting about and the hours passed in the stuffy, darkened room were undeniably trying, Claire never regretted the offer to come and read to Elena.
Despite intrusions and delays Claire began to have an idea of the fortitude and intellectual scope of this uncomplaining woman. She grew very fond of her and felt it a privilege to be allowed help her. Elena had the mind of a poet and a sweet generosity of spirit which was particularly inspiring in a woman who had known so much suffering. She felt no bitterness for her ill-health and allowed it as little space in her life as she was physically able. She was deeply spiritual and put the welfare of others before her own comfort or desires. In some ways Claire was reminded of Jane, whom she was missing deeply.
One afternoon Fernando came in at the end of an unusually prolonged session and waited quietly until Claire had stood up and made her farewells to Elena. On the drive back to the apartment he spoke little and seemed in low spirits.
At last he asked, ‘How was my mother today?’
‘She slept a lot,’ Claire admitted. Elena had seemed devoid of energy and was unable to concentrate for long. They were making so little progress with Villette that Claire was now convinced they would never finish it.
‘She has become very frail,’ Fernando agreed soberly. ‘I think my father will see a great change in her when he returns... and my brothers also.’
Antonio was in Almeria, where he was supervising the completion of their newest apartment block. In the two weeks since he had gone away Fernando had been kept exceptionally busy at the office and Federico was seldom at home, completely taken up with running the restaurant in his father’s absence. Claire had met him only once and thought how unlike Fernando he was. In looks, he favoured his mother but his speech lacked Elena’s sweet, humorous inflection. He took life muy seriamente, according to Fernando, and was very different from his other brother who was away in some military academy. About this potentially more interesting sibling Fernando furnished no details, not even his name. But then Fernando did not talk much about his family. Claire was learning what a private person he was.
‘It is a great relief knowing you are with her,’ Fernando was saying. ‘It is a debt I can never repay. If it wasn’t for you ...’ Sadness swamped him and he could not go on.
Claire laid a gentle hand on his arm and softly repeated that she was only too delighted to do it and it gave her a lot of pleasure too.
The following day Claire had hardly begun when Elena’s head dropped suddenly forward on her chest and she slept. The chiffon scarf she used wrapped about her wrist, to lift her paralysed hand, slipped from her grasp and slid to the floor.
Claire read on for a minute, but when it was clear that Elena was not just dozing, but deeply asleep, she relaxed back in her chair and fell to thinking about her mother. Lately, she was troubled by vague feelings of guilt that if only she had been a different, better kind of daughter or made more of an effort, they might have succeeded in closing the widening gulf between them. But the rift, which had started with the death of her little sister, had deepened with her parents’ separation, and now Claire was convinced that, even with good intentions on both sides, it was beyond their power to heal it. She sighed and turned her thoughts instead to Jane.
Since coming to Spain Claire had been missing her adopted mother to an astonishing degree. Perhaps this was pearly because Sheena, with whom she normally felt so much in accord, was spending all her time with the attractive young Alejandro. Some nights Sheena did not return to the apartment at all. She worried about her friend and only hoped that Alejandro was as decent as he seemed. Thankfully, Miguel Delgado seemed to have completely faded from the scene.
The door opened and Fernando entered. He gazed sorrowfully down at his mother and Claire was deeply touched by his expression.
’What, sleeping again?’ he said, gently laying Elena’s scarf back in her lap.
Claire closed the book and stooped to pick up her bag, knowing that there would be no more reading today. As she straightened up she felt suddenly sick. She thought it might be migraine from sitting so long in the darkened room with just one lamp directed in a blob of light on the page.
The attacks were occurring with disturbing regularity, which was puzzling now that the strain of the exams was over. Claire put a trembling hand to her hot forehead and swallowed dryly.
‘What is the matter?’ Fernando moved forward in concern, and gently helped her up. Claire stood dizzily for a second while he supported her without a word, patiently waiting until she had regained her balance.
‘I was feeling a bit light-headed,’ Claire confessed, conscious of his arm about her as he helped her out into the air. She pulled away from him and sank into a chair, a hand to her eyes, and concentrated on not bringing up her breakfast. As she gratefully sipped the glass of mineral water he brought her, Stella came bounding up and covered her bare ankles with affectionate licks. Claire stroked the Labrador’s smooth head, feeling ashamed of all the fuss.
‘I’d better go,’ she told Fernando. ‘but I’ll come again tomorrow if your mother wants me.’
Fernando nodded, his sombre expression softening in gratitude. As he walked with Claire to the car, unspoken between them hung the fear that there might not be many more such visits, and they drove the short journey to the apartment in silence.
While Claire spent her afternoons in a shaded room reading to Elena, Sheena spent hers in bed with Alejandro. Two days after the flamenco show, when Sheena had returned from sketching on the beach and found Alejandro waiting for her outside the apartment, she had gone with him on a round of the local bars where the young Spaniard seemed to be known and regarded well everywhere. They had finished up the evening dancing in a night-club and afterwards he had brought her back to what she believed was his apartment, but later discovered belonged to his friend Miguel, who had lent it to him in his absence. Miguel had helped him out in various other ways too, it seemed. Once when he was drunk Alejandro had laughingly admitted to Sheena that he owed a lot to the man, too much maybe, grinning sheepishly when she questioned him and murmuring vaguely about gambling debts and other matters.
Alejandro gave her a spare latch-key and they met there each afternoon. They had a pre-arranged signal - two short rings followed by one long one - and Sheena, who was usually there first, felt very daring as she slipped out from the shower to open the door wearing only the briefest of towels, and pulled him giggling inside.
Sheena had thought she was in love before, but had never felt quite so helplessly besotted as she felt about this vital young Spaniard. Since she had lost her virginity to Killian three summers previously Sheena had experimented with a succession of schoolboys, but never any mature men. Sean, her sculptor, was the most sexually experienced of anyone she had known, but he did not even come close to Alejandro.
In the slumbering heat of the Spanish siesta they made love on rumpled sheets, behind shuttered windows, and Sheena was willingly initiated into the art of the orgasm. Each time she would think that nothing could surpass her sensation of excitement and satisfaction, and then Alejandro would surprise her again. ‘Bebé, princesa, bebé,’ Alejandro moaned contentedly. He leaned over the side of the bed and reached for his wine glass, feeding Sheena little sips as if she were the infant he called her. Supporting himself on his elbow, he looked down in approval at her smooth tanned body. He slopped a little wine into her navel and chuckled at her squeals as he bent his head and neatly lapped it up.
‘You are just like a cat,’ Sheena praised, loving his firmness, his flat belly and swelling manhood. She held him to her and sighed, ready for love again.
With a perceptive chuckle Alejandro disengaged her arms and rolled off the bed in one smooth movement. Pouting, Sheena turned over on to her front and rested her chin on her arms to watch him.
‘Ah, what perfection.’ Fondly, he smacked her plump brown bottom. ‘Espléndido...incréible!’
He lifted a lock of her hair and looked deep into her eyes. ‘And, of course, you do not sunbathe nude, Señorita,’ he chuckled.
Sheena threw a pillow at him and snuggled deeper into the bed, reluctant to get dressed, her senses satiated by wine and lovemaking. She did not give any thought to the future. Alejandro seemed to have cast a spell over her mind, as well as her body, and when she was with him she was incapable of thought or action. There was only him. She grew heavy with sleep and barely registered his murmured goodbye and the slam of the outer door, before she had drifted off. She was not conscious that someone had entered the apartment until she gradually became aware of hands stroking her buttocks and thighs. There was a dreamlike quality about it and she lay there unresisting until she felt herself being pulled gently, but firmly, to the bottom of the bed. Behind her, the skilful fingers continued to stroke and caress and, as her pleasure increased, she seemed to have no will or shame. The seductive touch moved to her breasts. With difficulty she opened her eyes and she glimpsed slim brown fingers with unusually long nails, before she began to gasp and shake out of control. She felt her hips lifted and she moaned and instinctively arched her back. Her body heaved and shuddered in response to the thrusting from behind. When Sheena opened her eyes again she was on her own in the room and the sun had gone down outside the window.
In Spain in the last week in July the temperatures were in the high nineties. Claire could hardly draw a breath. It was warm and close in the apartment during the day and if she forgot to close the heavy curtains before midday, the rooms became unbearably hot.
One morning early there was a phone call for Teresa. ‘I don’t believe it,’ the girls heard her whoop. ‘You’re having me on,’ and then, ‘Go on, she never did. I don’t believe you.’ When she put the phone down Teresa reached for her cigarettes and tottered into the kitchen to make tea and recover from the shock.
‘Twins! Would you believe it! Babs has gone and had twins and they nearly three weeks early,’ she told the girls, still amazed. ‘Two little boys. One five pounds and the other seven and a half. Now where in the world did they come from?’ she wondered, bemused. ‘There’s never been twins in the family, not that I heard tell of.’
Claire and Sheena exchanged sleepy, amused glances before hastening to congratulate her.
‘I’ll have to go at once,’ Teresa said, ‘I gave her my word. She has three little ones waiting on her at home, God help her.’ And in the next breath in a doomed voice, ‘Oh dear, what am I going to do about you and your Mammy counting on me to stay with you till she comes.’
‘We’ll be all right,’ Sheena said. ‘Why wouldn’t we be?’ And Claire murmured in agreement.
‘What about little Ruthie,’ Teresa nodded towards where the little girl was still asleep. ‘I could take her back with me. Maybe that’s what I should do.’
But Ruthie refused to leave Sheena and Claire. ‘Don’t send me away,’ she begged. ‘Let me go and stay with Adela.’
‘But you’ll be back again with Mum in a few weeks,’ Sheena reminded her.
‘I don’t care. I want to be here now. Oh, it’s not fair,’ Ruthie began to weep noisy pitiful tears.
‘Ah, the poor lamb. Don’t take on like that.’ Teresa stroked Ruthie’s hair soothingly and looked helplessly at the girls for guidance.
‘Maybe she could stay with Adela,’ Claire said hesitantly. ‘Why don’t we ask Ignacio and his wife. We can ring Jane and find out what she wants us to do.’
Teresa looked relieved. ‘If you think it will be all right.’ Ruthie, sensing that the battle was nearly won, sobbed more quietly.
Suddenly, Teresa became conscious of time passing. ‘Oh my! I’d best get myself packed and be on my way.’
The girls rushed to help her. Claire got her case out of the cupboard and Sheena made her a pile of toast, which Teresa gratefully nibbled while hurriedly piling clothing on the bed. Thirty minutes later she was ready to go. The girls helped her with her case to the taxi rank some yards up the street.
‘We’ll ring Mum,’ Sheena promised her, as with a last fond hug all round Teresa heaved her plump bulk into the back of the taxi and leaned out of the window.
‘Are you girls sure you’ll be all right?’ Teresa asked, yet again.
‘Yes, of course,’ Claire reassured her. ‘You mustn’t worry about a thing.’
They all waved and Ruthie, hopping on one leg, happily blew a kiss after the departing taxi. They had just time to see Teresa, misty eyed, return the kiss and then she was gone from their sight.
Claire brought Ruthie to the hotel later in the morning. Sheena saidthat Claire would do better on her own. Otherwise, Ignacio might get the idea that they were all pushing to be taken into the hotel. At any rate, she needed to buy a new sketchpad and it would save time if she got it while Claire was away. What she was saving time for wasn’t clear but Claire accepted her excuses with her usual forbearance and set off with Ruthie.
Clare thought how much she would have appreciated Sheena’s support. For all she knew Ignacio might not be that keen to take responsibility for the little girl. But she need not have worried. Ignacio gave them his usual warm welcome and seemed more than delighted to have la hermanita to stay with them. He called his wife out from the dining-room where she was setting tables for lunch, and as soon as she heard they both insisted that since the chaperone had left all the girls must come and stay at the hotel. Claire was touched by this generous gesture, but assured them, however, that for the time being they would be fine in the apartment. Ignacio and his wife threw up their hands in protest but then, seeing that she was adamant, they did not press her any further. Claire left saying she would be in touch with them as soon as she had spoken to Jane.
When she returned to the apartment Claire found a note from Sheena saying that she had gone to the beach to sketch and would be back later. Why couldn’t she have waited while she rang Jane? Claire thought. ‘It wouldn’t have killed her to wait. She felt daunted at the prospect of having even more explaining and apologising to do. Oh well, she would just have to manage as usual without her.
Feeling thirsty again, Claire went to the fridge. These days she made a point of boiling water first thing in the morning to cool in the fridge. Limonada left her feeling bloated and faintly sick. But that morning in the rush she had forgotten. She would have to make do after all with the fizzy drink.
Claire grimaced as she sipped the sweetish liquid. How nice, she thought rather wistfully, to have been able to take Ignacio up on his offer and stay at the hotel, already she was finding it quiet at the apartment with Ruthie gone and Teresa no longer bustling about. Right now, she told herself, Ruthie was probably splashing about in the pool, having a great time and undoubtedly cooler than she was. Nevertheless, Claire was conscious that she had neglected her on this holiday, but once Elena had become dependent on her visits, she had felt obliged not to disappoint the sick woman. At any minute now Claire expected Fernando to collect her so that she might make her daily visit to his mother.
She went out to sit on the balcony and work out what she would say to Jane when she rang her. Now was a good time to get her while she was still at the clinic. Claire only hoped that Jane would approve their decision to keep Ruthie with them. When she heard how terribly upset Ruthie had become at the thought of leaving Spain, she would surely understand.
As Claire sat there, putting off the moment she suddenly realised that Fernando was late. She was just beginning to wonder if he was coming at all when there was a prolonged ring at the door. She jumped to her feet and ran back through the apartment. As she released the door catch she felt suddenly dizzy and leaned against the wall until her head cleared. Fernando stood outside, looking hot and dishevelled himself, and he stepped quickly inside with none of his usual polite greetings.
‘Ah Claire... mi madre... my mother... is very ill,’ he stammered. ‘She has been taken to the hospital.’
Claire felt the shock of his news. Although Elena’s condition was clearly worsening, there had been no indication that she was so dangerously ill. Listening to Fernando she realised that there was no hope of recovery and that her death was only a matter of days, if not hours, away.
‘Oh Fernan! I’m so sorry,’ Claire cried, unconsciously using his mother’s name for him. Fernando winced, then reached wordlessly for her. He held her close to him, his cheek pressed against her hair. Claire stood startled and unmoving in his embrace. After a moment she felt the tension go out of him and he said tiredly, ‘Will you come with me to the hospital, please?’
‘Of course.’ Shyly, she squeezed his arm and stepped back. Fernando stared solemnly at her and, on a long drawn-out breath, repeated shakily, ‘Claire... Claire. Mi preciosa. What in the world would I do without you!’
Elena was conscious but very weak. She held Fernando’s hand but kept her eyes fixed on Claire. A nurse sat in a corner of the room and whispered to them not to stay long.
Unable to reach his father, Fernando left a message for Antonio to ring home. Federico had come at once from the restaurant and sat outside his mother’s room, awaiting his turn. Too many visitors would tax her waning strength and they were terrified she might not live until Antonio arrived.
Fernando gently released his mother’s hand and got up from the bedside. He had still to make contact with his youngest brother.
‘I’ll send Federico in,’ he whispered to Claire. ‘Please stay while I go and ring Alejandro.’
Claire heard him and yet didn’t hear him. She was watching Elena’s face intently, conscious of the pulse beating feebly in her temple and superstitiously afraid to look away in case it stopped.
Fernando rang the military academy and was put through at once to his brother’s commanding officer. When he replaced the receiver, he wore a stunned expression. Alejandro had been away without leave these past three weeks and was facing a court-martial when he returned. Now Fernando cursed his stupidity in not following his instincts and insisting that Alejandro come home at once, when he met him near thevapartments..
Fernando’s features set in even grimmer lines as he went to join the silent figures grouped about his mother’s bed. His father would have to be informed of the situation, he told himself, and his wayward brother would have to be found. This was not the first time that Alejandro had been AWOL and he was on his last chance. So his commanding officer had crisply pointed out. Fernando sighed, this time Alejandro would almost certainly be expelled from the academy.
All that evening Claire and Fernando sat at Elena’s bedside. Federico had departed earlier with a promise to return when the restaurant had closed for the night. Elena was on a drip and lay with her eyes closed, pale and unmoving. When it grew late Fernando drove Claire back to the apartment. She wanted to stay with him at the hospital but he would not allow her.
‘You must get some rest,’ he said, looking pale and weary himself. ‘I will come for you in the morning.’ And with that she had to be content.
Next day Fernando picked Claire up early, Elena had passed a fairly good night and, thankfully, seemed to have grown a little stronger.
Claire sat with her, feeling a bit sleepy after the late night and early rising. She had managed to speak to Jane before Fernando arrived. When Sheena had not come back to the apartment the previous night and was still not home by the time Claire got up, she had considered it was high time someone told Jane that Teresa was gone. Although news normally travelled fast in the neighbourhood, she had not heard that Babs had given birth. She had been working late at the clinic, she said, which probably accounted for it.
‘You say she had twins?’ Jane sounded surprised. It was a bad line and Claire found herself having to say everything twice. She gave Jane as many details as she could remember.
‘But how are you managing on your own. What about Ruthie?’
Claire reassured her that Ignacio and his wife were taking great care of the little girl. She held back the bit about Elena being so ill. She was worried that Jane might not approve if she knew that she was not spending much time with Ruthie. It would only worry her unnecessarily, Claire eased her conscience.
‘Get Sheena to ring me. I’ll need to talk to Ruthie often. She may get homesick away from the pair of you.’
Claire said that she would tell Sheena while, at the same time, mentally resolving to leave her a note in case they missed each other again.
‘Mind yourselves and be sure and keep in touch,’ Jane had rung off.
During the morning Claire had used the hospital telephone and finally spoken to Sheena, who was grumpy at being woken from sleeping off her late night. Sheena promised, however, to ring her mother and Claire put down the receiver satisfied.
By midday Elena had rallied enough to ask for Antonio.
‘He will be here soon, Mother,’ Fernando assured her with a helpless look at Claire, who returned his look sympathetically. Despite repeated telephone calls to the site office in Almeria, there had been no word as yet from Antonio.
‘He must have gone to one of the other sites,’ Fernando fretted in an undertone. ‘I cannot understand why he has not telephoned the office. He is usually so punctilious.’ He went to the window and stood there, staring out. Claire noticed the way Elena’s anguished brown eyes followed his every movement and wished with all her heart there was some way she could find and bring Antonio to her.
Just before midday a nurse came in to tell them that Señor Gonzalez had telephoned to say that he was on his way. Fernando’s face brightened and he looked as if a great load had been lifted from him.
Claire was conscious of the immense strain he had been under, trying to cope on his own and unable to trace his brother. She thought of Sheena’s recent admission that she was deeply in love with Alejandro and wondered if there could possibly be any connection between the two Alejandros. Claire could not quite say why, but she was beginning to be convinced there was.
Antonio arrived within the hour and took his son’s place at Elena’s side. Fernando waited just long enough to greet his father then left for his office, hoping to get in an hour’s work before coming again to the hospital. When the door closed behind him Claire stood up.
‘I’ll come back later,’ she whispered.
Antonio nodded blindly and she left him holding Elena’s limp hand between his two strong ones, his unruly dark head, shot with grey, bent close to his wife’s pillow as he listened anxiously to her frail breathing. Thank God he had arrived in time, Claire thought, as she slipped away.
Sheena turned into the familiar alleyway that led to Alejandro’s apartment and entered the building. The memory of what had happened there, her utter abandon filled her with hot shame and a tingling of excitement. She had not seen the face of the man, which had somehow made it even more decadent. She would not recognise him again but he would know her.
She was standing under the cool spray, lathering her hair, when she heard Alejandro’s two short rings followed by one long. She grinned in relief and reached for the towel to pat her eyes, before running to let him in. The key scraped the lock and the door swung open.
‘Alex,’ she cried, then stopped in confusion when she saw who it was.
Miguel stepped smiling inside the door and closed it after him. Sheena blushed in dismay, then backed away, conscious of his eyes boldly taking in her nudity.
‘Where is Alejandro?’ she gasped, grabbing backwards for a towel and draping it against herself. She felt mortified, yet strangely exhilarated.
‘He asked me to say he would be late.’
Sheena stood, water dripping down her neck, her hair a mass of cooling suds. Something in Miguel’s eyes, some arrogant awareness, told her that this was the man. She trembled, and almost of their own volition her fingers released their grip on the towel and let it fall. She stood naked and helpless before him.
‘You do not want Alejandro,’ he murmured, stepping nearer. ‘You want me... is that not so?’
Elena hung on to life with a tenacity that pained but did not surprise those who loved her. She had always had a great zest for life and she was loth now to release her hold upon it. She was moved to Hospital Belen, the exclusive nursing home where Antonio had arranged for Jane to spend her convalescence. There she would get the expert nursing care needed to make her comfortable until the end came. Sarah Lewis was engaged to be with her and Elena could not have had anyone kindlier or better qualified to care for her in her last days.
Claire came often to sit by Elena’s bedside. Once Nurse Lewis realised that Claire was the great friend of Dr McArdle’s family, she couldn’t do enough for her.
She brought her tea throughout the day and persuaded her to take breaks from the sick room to walk in the garden. Although Fernando and his father took it in turns to come to the hospital during the day whenever they could be spared from the office, their visits were understandably short and only for the nurse Claire would have found the day long and lonely. In Sarah she felt she had found a true friend.
Eventually the sick woman was unable to speak or move any part of herself except her eyes, and was being fed intravenously. Claire thought hard and long to devise some means of communicating with her. Eventually she came up with the idea of using a child’s alphabet. When she explained her plan to Fernando he immediately went out and purchased the abecedario.
Claire held Elena’s hand and quietly explained to her that she was going to ask her questions and wanted Elena to try and answer them with the help of the plastic alphabet
She would hold up letters in front Elena’s eyes, and Elena was to blink when Claire reached each letter of the word she wanted to say.
Claire demonstrated this and then asked Elena to blink to show that she understood. Although painfully slow to begin with, it was to prove a good method of communication between them. At first, Elena was only able for very short sessions but as they grew more accustomed to their ‘game’ Claire found a way of speeding the process by asking first if the word began with a vowel. Claire became so astute at anticipating Elena’s needs that even before she got to the letter ‘i’ of drink she realised Elena was thirsty. Elena was unable to swallow and if anything was put into her mouth she was in danger of choking, but Claire got the idea of wrapping an ice cube in muslin and Nurse Lewis agreed to try it.
‘We are taking a risk, lass,’ she said quietly, ‘but if we are very careful I think it will work.’
Claire held the ice against Elena’s lips and the drops of moisture seeping through in tiny quantities afforded the sick woman a measure of ease.
‘You are so good with her,’ Fernando whispered gratefully as he sat watching them. Claire turned her head to smile at him, relieved that he was present not Antonio, asshe felt slightly in awe of the older man.
Elena soon dropped into an exhausted doze and Claire leaned tiredly back in her own chair to rest.
‘I cannot thank you enough for all you are doing,’ Fernando told her, and his mouth wobbled and he blinked away easy tears.
Claire looked away uncomfortably, and wished he would not make so much of it. She considered she was only doing what any caring person would do, and did not require thanks. From the start she had felt a deep affinity with his mother. She couldn’t say what it was that had drawn her to Elena that first day; she only knew that she felt a deep affection for the Spanish woman. What she did for her stemmed from love not duty.
Sheena was only vaguely aware that Claire was spending a lot of time with Fernando’s mother and that Elena was seriously ill. Most of what Claire told her went over her head for she was totally caught up in her obsession with Miguel, and all reason and restraint had been washed away. If Alejandro had not gone off without a word and left her so totally on her own, Sheena might have recovered her balance, but in his absence and in the absence of any other distraction she could not keep away from the apartment.
All that week she had gone there, drawn by the lure of the other man. Miguel was a strange mixture, rough and gentle by turns. He was a man who was slow to climax and never seemed to tire of bedding her. He used her for his pleasure and that in itself made her excitement more intense. Sheena was a little frightened of him but then fear was half the attraction
Sometimes he made her do things to him that she did not understand, like tying a scarf about his neck until he almost lost consciousness. When he wanted to do it to her she was afraid, but the strange languorous feeling it inspired greatly excited her. Sometimes he slapped her or denied her orgasm, but this too only served to increase her desire for him.
And all the time he kept her on leading strings of hope, telling her Alejandro had sent messages that he was missing her and would soon be back. One afternoon when she came to the apartment she found Miguel putting clothes in a case.
‘Are you going away?’ Sheena asked in dread.
‘Sí...and you too, my little bimbo,’ Miguel murmured, intent on his task. ‘Alejandro has sent word you are to come. He is waiting for us in Gibraltar. We must leave at once.’
Sheena’s heart leapt.
‘I’ll go pack my things,’ she offered eagerly.
Miguel frowned. ‘No, there is no time. We must start at once.’
‘But I’ve nothing with me.’
‘I can give you everything you need. Come, let us hurry.’ He snapped the catches on his case and straightened up. Sheena shrugged and allowed herself to be persuaded. She would stop on the way and buy herself shorts and a T-shirt, she thought, and maybe ring Claire at the same time and let her know where she was headed.
Ten minutes later they were driving towards Malaga, the roof of Miguel’s battered ‘79 Lamborghini rolled fully back. As they sped along, Sheena’s dark hair whipped about her face and she was filled with excitement at the prospect of seeing Alejandro again.
The evening sun was warm on her shoulders as Claire took a short break from Elena’s bedside and strolled away from the hospital, glad to be out in the air. Her head ached from long hours in the stuffy atmosphere of the sick room and her back felt permanently stooped from bending over the sick woman’s bed.
Elena had grown progressively weaker each day and clearly the end was very near. Claire had not left the hospital in the past twenty-four hours except to take the briefest of breaks. Tonight she was prepared for another long vigil by the bed of the dying woman.
Claire had never felt so glad of anything as Ruthie’s friendship with Adela for the little girl seemed more than content in her company. Once or twice, Claire had spoken to Ruthie on the telephone. Ignacio also confirmed that Ruthie was in good spirits and assured Claire that Ruthie was welcome to stay at the hotel until Jane arrived or Claire was free to return to the apartment, whenever that would be. Claire had shivered, not wanting to be free in the way he implied. Elena’s death would be a merciful release, but Claire dreaded it with all her heart. While Elena lived, so too did hope. In her exhaustion and grief, Claire could not see beyond this.
She did a circuit of the streets and went into a church on the corner of the square. She sat near the altar and began to pray, her tired gaze fixed on the ornate figure of the Madonna and child, richly attired in satins and silks. As she sat there, surrounded by tier upon tier of red offertory lights, her senses drowning in the aura of red wax, Claire wondered if Elena had ever come to this church to pray. She wondered too if, before she died, Elena would be able to speak again to her through the abecedario, and found herself petitioning Our Lady that this might be so. When she hurried back to the hospital in the cool of the evening, Fernando was pacing the corridor and his face lit up at the sight of her.
‘Claire! I have made contact with my brother at last,’ he told her. ‘He has returned to his military academy and, in the circumstances, the authorities have agreed to allow him return home. So I must go at once to Cadiz.’
Claire said sympathetically. ‘How dreadful that you have to leave now with your mother so ill...’
Fernando looked pained. ‘There is no help for it. I must go, Claire. She will want to see him and his place is at her side.’ He shook his head dispiritedly. ‘Alejandro is wayward and thoughtless, but he is not a bad fellow.’
‘Yes, he has great charm,’ Claire unconsciously agreed.
Fernando stared. ‘You know Alejandro?’
Claire was confused. ‘I’m not sure... maybe not,’ she stammered in embarrassment. ‘Sheena and I met a Spaniard of that name and she has been going about with him ever since. Really we know very little about him, only that he has a friend called Miguel.’
‘Miguel Delgado?’ Fernando enquired ominously, ‘Qué sinverguenza!’
Claire was startled by the anger and contempt in Fernando’s voice.
‘Delgado is not fit to associate with my family,’ Fernando said haughtily. ‘I have warned Alex against this man many times but my brother is weak and easily led.’
He was only saying what Claire herself had suspected.
Fernando’s expression softened. ‘Ah but I cannot tell you how happy and relieved it makes me to know you will be here with my mother while I am away. You will keep her alive until I return, of that I am certain.’
‘I only wish I could be as sure,’ she admitted honestly, ‘but I’ll gladly stay with her if that’s what you and your father want.’
‘En absoluto,’ Fernando said with a sad smile. ‘In fact, I could not go if you did not assure me of your presence,’ adding passionately. ‘Tu eres mi angel.’
Claire blushed at the intensity of his emotion and felt a little light-headed again. She put her hand to her forehead.
‘Perhaps I ask too much,’ Fernando looked concerned. ‘You have already spent so many hours with my mother. Please tell me frankly if you cannot stay.’
Claire said firmly. ‘Of course I’ll stay. There’s nothing I want more.’
Fernando gave her a glowing look of gratitude. ‘Muchísimas gracias, mi Clara,’ he said fervently. And before she realised his intention, he had bent his head and kissed her full on the mouth.
It was late evening when Elena woke up. She opened her brown eyes and stared at Claire with some deep emotion struggling in their depths. Claire leaned nearer the bed, feeling frustrated and not a little, frightened. Oh, if only there was some way she could help her. She was just about to call for Nurse Lewis when she saw Elena deliberately blinking and, with a thrill of relief, understood she was saying, ‘Get our alphabet.’
As she hurriedly fumbled with the pieces, Claire was all the time conscious of Elena’s anxious gaze trained on her. At last she sat poised with the box on her lap and said quietly, ‘I’m ready, Elena.’
At the beginning of their relationship Señora Gonzalez had asked Claire to call her by her Christian name. She had no daughters of her own, Elena said, but if she had been so blessed she would have liked them to address her in this way. Claire had felt both honoured and embarrassed, but in time grew accustomed to it.
Now she asked, ‘Is it a vowel?’
Elena gave no sign. Claire ran quickly through the first few letters, and when she reached the letter L Elena blinked. This was followed by a vowel which was followed by V and Claire knew Elena meant ‘love’.
The next word began with F. ‘Fernando’? Claire guessed.
‘You love Fernando?’
Elena blinked.
‘He has gone to fetch Alejandro,’ Claire told he. ‘Love’ again, then it was the third letter of the alphabet before Elena reacted again.
‘Is it me?’ Claire asked.
It was, and then it was ‘Fernando’ again.
‘You love Fernando and you love me?’
Elena gave no sign. Claire was puzzled. So what could she mean? Then it broke upon her and she flushed.
‘You mean that Fernando loves...’ She couldn’t go on.
Elena blinked and some of the anxiety eased in those painfully aware eyes. Claire spoke slowly and clearly.
‘You think that Fernando loves me and you wonder if I love Fernando?’
Elena blinked again.
Claire chose her words carefully. ‘I am very fond of him and I would be honoured if he loved me.’ It was true. Any more than that she couldn’t say, but there was no mistaking the relief and happiness in Elena’s gaze. As they continued on with questions and answers, it became clear that Elena’s main concern was that Claire should allow Fernando to take care of her. Claire stared, convinced she had somehow got it wrong.
‘But why should I need anyone to take care of me?’ Claire asked puzzled. When Elena indicated that she believed this would be Fernando’s wish, Claire attributed it to some loss of translation, or perhaps the strange fancies of a dying woman.
‘Is there anything else worrying you?’ Claire gently asked her. But no. Elena was happy now and resigned to whatever would happen. Strangely she did not show fatigue but seemed powered by some tremendous inner resource. After almost an hour it was Claire who had begun to flag. She shifted in her chair and was aware of Elena watching her closely.
The next word was ‘tired’ and then ‘Claire’, followed by ‘concerned’. Elena was concerned that she was growing tired.
‘I am a bit,’ Claire confessed. She took a turn about the room and came back to sit at her bedside again.
Elena wanted Antonio.
When he came, Claire handed the alphabet to Antonio and went out into the night to get some air herself. She felt exhausted but content. Her prayer to the Madonna had been answered.
Claire sat for some time in the garden under the stars, where Jane had sat so often during her convalescence, and felt her mind go blank. After so much concentration she felt all played out. She saw Nurse Lewis bustling towards her in the gloom.
‘My dear, you look poorly,’ Sarah said in her direct fashion, ‘I’ve brought you a cup of tea.’
Touched as always by the woman’s thoughtfulness, Claire sat sipping the warm liquid, feeling some of her weariness fall from her. Soon she went back inside, feeling ready now to cope with whatever the night might bring.
As she sat once more by Elena’s bedside Claire hoped that Sheena would not be too worried when she was absent another night from the apartment. However, since her friend had stayed away herself all night so many times she didn’t think there was any real likelihood of this. She had made several attempts that day to phone Sheena and got the engaged signal so often that she was beginning to think the telephone must be out of order. She yawned and resolved to try again in a little while.
As it grew late Claire began to feel hungry and slightly light-headed, but even when Nurse Lewis tiptoed into the room and laid a gentle hand on her arm, saying, ‘Won’t you come away and have a wee rest, lass,’ she shook her head.
‘I’m fine, Nurse. Honestly. I promised Fernando I’d stay with his mother until he returns.’ Antonio was snatching a nap in another room and Claire feared that Elena would be distressed if left entirely alone.
‘Very well then.’ Sarah came back often throughout the night and tried to get her to sip a cup of tea or eat a piece of toast, but Claire refused everything but the tea.
Claire could feel Elena’s eyes on her face from time to time, but there was none of the earlier agitation mirrored in their dark depths. Elena was at peace now.
Towards morning Fernando and Alejandro arrived at the hospital and with grim expressions hurried down the corridor to their mother’s room. Elena was still conscious but very weak. Hour after hour, by a tremendous effort of her will, she had kept herself from slipping away until her sons arrived.
She looked at her sons long and lovingly and her eyes, the only mobile part of her, were intelligent and bright, and then she slipped into a deep sleep from which she never awoke.
‘She is gone,’ Fernando came out to tell Claire. She put her arms about him and held him close, and he buried his face in her hair and broke into muffled, childish sobbing. When he eventually regained control he gave her a last sorrowful look and went back into the room to join his father.
Claire felt every muscle aching and her mind was floating in a kind of limbo. Elena was dead but she could not really take it in, they were just words.
Sarah Lewis brought her into a nearby room, sat her gently on the bed and began undressing her with kindly, capable hands. ‘You can sleep here,’ she said. ‘You’re in no fit state to go anywhere.’
In her exhaustion Claire hardly heard her and was barely aware of Sarah removing the last of her clothing before she was deeply asleep.
Sarah stared, taken aback by the unmistakable curve of Claire’s belly, her swollen, veined breasts. She had been too many years nursing not to recognise that the girl was pregnant.
Sarah could not repress feelings of shock and disappointment as she drew the night-dress over Claire’s head. She reminded herself that young people today looked on pregnancy out of wedlock in a very different way to older folk like herself. She had different values, she supposed, but she would never get used to it. Such a lovely young girl too. Remembering the way the young Spaniard had held Claire so tenderly in his arms, Sarah assumed that he was the father.
Claire stirred and opened her eyes. Nurse Lewis was sitting on the bed holding out a cup of tea to her.
‘I thought you might like this before you get up,’ Sarah said quietly.
Something in the older woman’s restrained tone surprised Claire. She sat up and took the cup, cradling it in her hands. She had been asleep six hours and could have slept twice as long.
‘I’ll bring you some toast when you’ve drunk that,’ the nurse said. Again there was that cautious intonation, as though humouring a sick person.
‘Thank you but please don’t go to any trouble,’ Claire begged. She looked down at the unfamiliar night-dress, blushed and avoided Sarah’s eyes.
Sarah saw the blush and was puzzled by Claire’s modesty, having already unconsciously judged her to be other than the innocent she had at first assumed. When she returned with the toast she sat down again while Claire nibbled it, and was unsurprised when the girl suddenly hopped out of bed and ran to the hand basin.
‘I’m sorry,’ Claire gasped. ‘For a moment I thought I was going to be sick.’ She raised an apologetic face from the bowl and glanced at Sarah.
Sarah returned her gaze steadily. ‘Sit back into bed, child.’ When Claire slipped back under the sheet she said, ‘How long have you been like this?’
Claire stared at her uncomprehendingly. What was she getting at?
‘How long have you been feeling sick?’ Sarah asked.
‘I’m not sick,’ Claire began, and then she remembered all the times she had felt dizzy and nauseous lately. But that was just migraine. She threw off the sheet, her head whirling. ‘I must go back to the apartment,’ she cried. ‘Sheena and Ruthie will be wondering where I am.’
‘Sit still a moment,’ Nurse Lewis said sternly. ‘Do you really not know what ails you?’
Claire looked at her desperately. She couldn’t be what she read in the woman’s face. How could she? Terry had always used a condom. Even when she had begged him not to he had always insisted. But what about the first time? Suddenly she saw herself and Terry lying on Jane’s bed, both of them carried away by passion. She was filled with panic.
‘I really must go,’ she mumbled. ‘I’ve been away too long as it is.’ She got out of bed and the floor rushed up to meet her. Only for Sarah’s supporting arm she would have fallen.
Claire lay on the bed after Nurse Lewis had left the room and gazed down at her belly, which had always been so flat, and then higher up to her swollen breasts. How was it she hadn’t noticed these changes before? She had a sudden image of herself long ago, lying on a bed in the holiday cottage with Jane bending over her, gently examining her breasts. Claire had to bite her lips hard to keep from crying out as this image was replaced with another: Elena urging her to allow Fernando take care of her. Claire burned with new shame and insight. Did everyone know what she herself had failed to see? She broke out in a sweat and grew dizzy again.
Claire left the hospital without seeing anyone. It was very hot, even hotter than the previous day, and a headache throbbed into life as she covered the two miles to the apartment. There, the rooms were hot and airless and she automatically pulled over the heavy curtains to block the burning light.
There was half a jug of water in the fridge and she drank it, then went into her room and lay on the bed. She was badly shocked, for it had never occurred to her that she would ever conceive. Her head ached and she closed her eyes.
She was awakened by the sound of someone calling her and struggled through the fog of sleep surrounding her, in an effort to take in what the voice was saying. ‘Claire, please Claire, wake up.’ Somehow Ruthie was back. How had she got there? With difficulty Claire opened her eyes and focused them on the little girl’s anxious face.
‘Who brought you, Ruthie?’ she asked through dry lips. Slowly everything began to come back: Elena’s death and her own pregnant condition.
‘Ignacio drove me. He’s waiting downstairs,’ Ruthie was saying. ‘Sheena rang the hotel because she couldn’t get any reply here. She said to tell you she was going away.’
‘Going where, Ruthie?’ Claire tried to take it in.
‘Gibraltar.’
‘Why would she go there?’
‘She has gone to meet Alejandro,’ Ruthie explained, pleased and proud to have such an important message to deliver.
‘But how was she getting there?’
Again Ruthie had it off pat. ‘She said that Miguel was taking her.’
‘Miguel?’ Claire felt shock and dread as she remembered him and the contempt in which Fernando held the man. ‘Are you quite sure she said it was Miguel?’
‘Quite sure,’ Ruthie said brightly. ‘Cierto! Absolutamente!’