Indiscretion (24 page)

‘I don't know,' he reluctantly replied. ‘I've already told you, he's a
vagabundo
, vagabond. Today he's here,
mañana
who knows?' he waved vaguely without looking at her.

‘He has a family, doesn't he?' she continued.

‘He's the sort of lout who doesn't care about his father or mother. He goes to all sorts of no-good places and keeps bad company. You're wasting your time,
señorita
.'

‘Isn't he Marujita's brother?' she added, playing her last card.

The expression of alarm that swept over the man's face was fleeting but unmistakable. Alexandra would have missed it had she not been
expecting a reaction of this sort. Marujita was the kind of gypsy feared by the likes of Miguel.

When she repeated her question, he did not reply but busied himself raking and filling his bucket. His face was stony and Alexandra knew that their interview was over. Nothing now would induce him to talk.

She strolled back pensively. It was late afternoon and the heat of the day had died away, leaving the air cool and scented. Alexandra loved the garden at this time, when the sounds of nature, the very light itself, took on softer tones before reawakening to greet the night. The conversation with Miguel was niggling at her more than she wanted to admit. It was the man's withdrawn and wary attitude, rather than the seriousness of his words, which perplexed her. Alexandra had never before encountered shiftiness and deceit quite like this.

She didn't know what to think any more and wondered whether Pablo was hiding, and why. Somehow, despite Miguel's reticence, she could not bring herself to believe that the young gypsy was guilty. Instead, instinct told her to look elsewhere for the culprit, though who could it be?

Lost in thought on her way back to the house, she had inadvertently followed the stone wall that marked the boundary between the hacienda and the gypsy camp, unaware that her footsteps were leading her to the very part of the estate she had avoided during the week. After a long detour, she found herself facing Marujita's cottage.

The dwelling had a deserted air about it. Turquoise shutters were pulled to and, as dusk approached, only the warbling of birds in the shrubbery disturbed the silence. In its mute and abandoned solitude, the squat white-stone house with its cape of golden mimosa appeared even more secret and mysterious to her.

She was about to leave when the door flew open and Salvador marched out. His face was flushed, eyes shining with anger. Alexandra had scarcely time to hide behind a bush. He stalked by without seeing her and stormed off towards the big house.

Alexandra watched him disappear. Once she'd recovered from her surprise, she pondered whether or not to face Marujita now that she was here, and finally get an answer to the questions that were tormenting her. She hesitated briefly. Reason urged caution, reminding her of the frightening consequences of her nocturnal escapade to the wake. On the other hand, her feelings for Salvador, her curiosity and her reckless nature, pressed for a more daring approach. She had fallen in love, she knew that now: shouldn't she grasp the opportunity to defend that budding love, as Agustina had encouraged?

Looking around uncertainly before making up her mind, she took a deep breath and strode firmly to the door; she crossed the threshold. There, it was done! Her heart was racing, her palms clammy. There was no thought in her head of what she might say or do once confronted with the gypsy girl; she was there and, for now, that was all that mattered.

Inside, the wide, low-roofed room was gloomy, lit solely by two paraffin lamps. A rancid smell of oil and damp filled the place. The walls were whitewashed and bare, with the exception of a few sacred pictures. The furniture was simple and scant: a divan by one wall, with a rocking chair beside it. A rustic wooden table and three chairs filled the space in the middle, while an old deeply carved chest that served as a storage place had been pushed away to the far corner, next to the window, where the black cat snoozed peacefully.

The house was still; shrouded in silence; it seemed deserted. Alexandra thought of Salvador's dead child and morbid images of the wake swam into her head, making her shudder. Fear and doubt crept back like a cold finger on her spine. She asked herself what she was doing there. Surely she must flee this place and its ghosts; she was being foolish and unreasonable. The cat opened its phosphorescent eyes, narrowed them to green slits, and closed them again.

Alexandra had almost turned to leave when a muffled sound caught her ear. Her eyes, which had grown accustomed to the dim
light, could only just make out the shadow of a huddled heap in the right-hand corner of the room. Cautiously, she approached it. Pablo was squatting there, tears streaming down his face, his thin arms folded around bony knees.

‘Pablo,' she uttered gently.

Recognizing Alexandra, the lad was seized with panic and began to gabble at her. ‘
No fui yo
, it wasn't me! I don't know anything. I
swear
it wasn't me.'

‘Listen to me, Pablo,' she interrupted. ‘I know you didn't shoot the arrow, but I also know you saw who did.'

‘I don't know anything. Don't ask me anything,
por favor señorita
!' he implored, reaching up and grabbing hold of Alexandra's hands, attempting to kiss them in a desperate gesture.

Disconcerted, she was momentarily thrown off-guard but then she knelt down beside the boy, seized his thin shoulders and shook him gently. ‘Stop this at once, Pablo, and listen to me,' she said firmly. ‘You must …' Alexandra stopped short; someone had come into the room. She turned to see Marujita standing behind them.

‘What is a
busno
woman doing in our house?' the gypsy asked her brother, not deigning to look at Alexandra.

‘I've come to talk to Pablo,' said Alexandra, placing a protective arm around the young lad's shoulders.

Marujita considered her opponent with contempt, hands on hips, her head with its rich raven-black hair thrown slightly back in a stance that epitomized the scornful arrogance of her people. Briefly, the two women assessed each other defiantly, the gypsy girl's eyes dark and fiery, Alexandra's glittering with restrained anger.

‘You are not welcome under this roof,' the young Romany stated with cold disdain.

‘So I gather,' Alexandra retorted sarcastically and stood up. ‘But I'm not going before I get what I've come for.'

Half-smiling, Marujita countered, ‘We'll see about that!' Then, with the lithe speed of a young panther, she threw herself on to her adversary and, claws out like a wild cat, grabbed her by the throat.
Taken by surprise, Alexandra struggled, trying without success to free herself from the long iron fingers that were strangling her. The strength of the
gitana
was staggering; choking and fighting for air, the more Alexandra moved, the more the vice around her neck tightened. Suddenly, she jerked her head backwards and the gypsy girl's hold loosened slightly. Alexandra managed to free herself for a few seconds before her opponent's hands caught her again — long, gripping fingernails digging into her shoulders, penetrating the fine material of her blouse and drawing blood.

Marujita, though scarcely out of adolescence, was by far the stronger and more agile of the two women, with the advantage of being used to this way of settling a quarrel.

‘You will pay,
gajo
, for all the trouble you're causing,' Marujita's eyes blazed as she wrestled with Alexandra. ‘You think you're more
honrada
than me, because you're a
busno
, huh? Because you're one of his family?' She swung her forearm under Alexandra's chin and wrenched her backwards in a choke-hold. ‘You'll never have the power over him that I do. I am pure
gitana
, pure Spanish, more woman than you'll ever be, and he knows it.'

‘You're nothing … but a harlot … and a witch!' Alexandra gasped between breaths.

‘
La mujer que no ha pecado es bruja, le juro a Dios
! The woman who has not sinned is a witch, I swear to God!' The gypsy girl hissed in Alexandra's ear. ‘You want to know how the people of this land settle their disputes?' In a few moments, without knowing quite how, Alexandra found herself lying outside on the cottage steps, bruised and bleeding, while the young gypsy, arms folded, leant against the door, her dark eyes burning with hatred.

‘Go back to your cold and colourless land,' Marujita hissed. ‘There's nothing for you here. The
Conde
's mine and there's nothing you or anyone can do about that.' Hands on hips, she looked down at Alexandra, her eyes glittering malevolently. ‘This is only a warning. Next time you may not live to tell the story.' Her voice was loaded with contempt.

Smouldering with rage, Alexandra was beyond listening. She lifted herself up slowly and set about straightening her clothes with careful deliberation under the unwavering stare of her adversary. Then, quick as lightning, using all her strength, she delivered an almighty punch, catching her rival in the eye. Turning coolly, she started back to the house. As she went, she could hear the string of insults, threats and curses that the young Romany hurled after her. But she didn't care. She had never felt so good.

Night had fallen. The air was cold and a breeze whispered in the trees. The great leafy branches swayed gracefully with a swishing sound that reminded her of soft footfalls as they threw fantastic shadows over the pathway, dimly lit by a wan moon. Alexandra shivered and quickened her step. In spite of the humiliation she'd suffered, she smiled to herself. A new sense of power swept over her, finally making her feel that, in some small way, she had just taken back control. What was happening to her? Even a month ago, she would never have contemplated such a brazenly physical response and she wondered what Salvador's reaction would be when he heard about the catfight. Alexandra pushed that thought to the back of her mind; it was a problem she would have to face later.

When she arrived back at the hacienda all the lights on the ground floor were on; they had company. A car was parked in front of the house and, as Alexandra drew closer, she recognized it as Doña Isabel's. She sighed; no doubt the young noblewoman was visiting Salvador. This is what it must have been like to fall in love with Casanova, she observed wryly.

Before she could ring the bell, the door opened and Doña Isabel, accompanied by Salvador, appeared on the steps in all her splendour.

‘Ah, there you are Alexandra.' Salvador greeted his cousin with a broad smile. ‘We were looking for you. The bullfighting season started a few weeks ago at Castellon de la Plana and Doña Isabel has come to invite us to the next big
corrida
on Sunday, at La Plaza de Toros in Ronda.'

‘It's a rather special occasion,' explained the
Marquesa
, still gazing up at Salvador, ‘because my father will preside at the bullfight in
which my brother Felipe will take part. Felipe is one of our most famous
toreros
, and the bulls used during the
temporada
are the bravest and most ferocious. It promises to be an exciting spectacle.' She gave Alexandra an affected smile, her eyes wandering over the young woman with disdain.

‘Thank you for your kind invitation, Doña Isabel,' said Alexandra. ‘I look forward to seeing Don Felipe in the ring and discovering the pleasures of bullfighting. And now,' she added, a little too hastily, hoping her cousin would not notice her torn blouse, ‘if you would excuse me, I must dress for dinner.'

‘Just a moment, Alexandra,' murmured Salvador, taking her arm as she passed, ‘you've hurt yourself.'

‘It's nothing,' she said, avoiding his eyes. ‘I slipped into a bush.'

Thankful that he didn't pursue the matter, Alexandra fled across the hall to the big staircase, ran up the stairs two at a time and went to her room. But she barely had time to assess the damage caused by her skirmish before there was a knock on the door. Guessing who it might be, she ignored it: she had neither the energy nor the courage to face her cousin.

There was another knock and this time Salvador called out. Alexandra hesitated a few seconds more before reluctantly letting him in.

‘What's the matter? What do you want?' she asked sharply.

‘You disappear all afternoon, you don't come back until after dark, your face is scratched, your clothes are in a sorry state, and you ask
me
what the matter is?'

‘I wasn't aware you were my keeper.'

‘I was worried about you,' he confessed flatly.

Alexandra shook her head without replying.

‘Where were you?' His voice was now soft, concerned.

‘It's no business of yours.' She looked at him indignantly.

‘But it is,
niña
. You're here under my roof and therefore under my protection. I'm responsible for your safety. You still have much to learn about our ways, this is a …'

Alexandra interrupted him heatedly. ‘Spare me your lectures, Salvador, and don't get all patronizing and pompous on me. I learned from an early age to stand on my own two feet. I've done pretty well so far without your help, thank you.' Salvador frowned but didn't answer and, because she feared a scathing reply, she continued relentlessly, her green eyes sharp with defensive pride: ‘And if my attitude at times has led you to believe that I was calling on your chivalry, trust me when I tell you you're flattering yourself.'

‘Alexandra,' he sighed, ‘must we go on like this? Can't we have a truce?' Salvador's voice was low, husky. He stared at her, his brows knitted in a puzzled frown; his handsome face otherwise expressionless. Alexandra stared back silently, trying to decipher any hidden message in his eyes, but once again the hypnotic power he exerted over her was robbing her of her senses. Her mind clouded and she had to struggle to control the irresistible desire to throw herself into his arms.