Read Like One of the Family Online

Authors: Nesta Tuomey

Like One of the Family (29 page)

BOOK: Like One of the Family
7.19Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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.

EIGHT

Claire was well into her second term at Belfield before she settled to college life. The buildings were so big and sprawling and it seemed to take half a day to get from one place to another. The library was miles from the sports centre and another long distance from the students' canteen. Although they were initially supplied with a plan of the college, she found it difficult to put it into context and for the first few weeks wandered late into lectures because she had been too shy to ask the way.

She had decided to take an Arts degree and in the first year chose for her subjects English, philosophy and classical studies. Her English class was split up into tutorial groups. Her tutor was an American woman in her forties, thin and slightly witch-like, who was never in her office although she was meant to be available for consultation during college hours. When, in desperation, Claire rang her home number it was invariably busy. Now she had given up expecting help and resigned herself to spending even more time in the library.

One evening as she got off the bus, she saw Sheena ahead of her and called to her friend. Sheena turned around and waited for her.

‘Hi, Claire. Were you downstairs? Just wait till you hear...' Sheena was lugging her portfolio and was dressed warmly against the crisp March weather in a blue duffle coat and a black felt hat pulled right down over her ears, hiding most of her glossy dark hair. She chatted away full of her news. ‘What do you think? Mum got word this morning the apartment is ready for occupation. Isn't it great?'

Claire nodded, infected by her excitement. She felt her heart lift at the thought of returning to Spain. She was living for the moment.

Claire had seen very little of the McArdles since the summer. Although Sheena always invited her in for a chat whenever they met, like this, on the way from the bus, she seldom took up her invitation. Apart from being genuinely busy studying, she felt that her lines of communication with Sheena had become somewhat blurred. Sheena had taken to speaking in an ultra modern kind of jargon and she herself, through her contact with classical literature, seemed to have taken a step back in time. ‘Prithee sweet maid' as opposed to ‘Move it, baby.' Besides, these days Sheena was mixing with an older, more liberated crowd and spoke and dressed differently to the way she had before. Claire missed their old easy relationship but consoled herself with the thought of the summer when they would all be heading off again to Spain.

‘Mum's going over for a quick visit some time after Easter,' Sheena was saying. ‘She's waiting until Terry can go with her.' Sheena flashed her a sly grin. ‘Aren't you going to ask how he is?'

Claire blushed. ‘Of course.'

‘Well...he's flying solo now and doing all kinds of dangerous things...not sure what...' Sheena wrinkled her brow in concentration, ‘but really dangerous. He almost crashed a load of times.'

Claire looked anxious. ‘Is he all right?'

Sheena laughed. ‘Oh yes. Terry has nine lives. Hey, I've got a great video. Want to come over tonight and watch it?'

‘Wish I could but I have an essay to hand up tomorrow,' Claire told her with regret. ‘I expect I'll be up late finishing it.'

‘Pity,' Sheena said. ‘It should be good. Robert de Niro and Meryl Streep.'

‘I'll come over another time.'

‘Sure.' Sheena went through her gate then impulsively turned back. ‘What's wrong with right now? Come on in and say hello to Mum. She's always saying how seldom we see you.'

‘Okay.' Claire followed Sheena into the house, her mind still distracted by this latest bulletin on Terry. She wondered how Jane was feeling. She must be out of her mind with worry.

‘Claire!' Jane looked around with a welcoming smile. ‘Come in and sit down. This is a nice surprise.' She rose to pour coffee and soon placed mugs of milky brew in front of them. ‘How's college treating you?'

‘Great.' Claire sipped the hot liquid gratefully. Now that she was into her second term she was gaining more confidence, felt less timid about speaking up at lectures.

‘I suppose Sheena told you we were down in Baldonnel last month for Terry's ceremonial parade,' Jane said. ‘It was a beautiful cloudless day and the Air Corps' acrobatics team provided a marvellous air display. You really must come to his Wings in May, Claire.'

‘Thanks. I'd love to.' Claire was glad of an opportunity of asking the question that was bothering her. 'Don't you worry at all about Terry flying?'

BOOK: Like One of the Family
7.19Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Past Present by Secret Narrative
Reprise by Joan Smith
The Perils of Pauline by Collette Yvonne
Demon Storm by Justin Richards
The Shark Who Rode a Seahorse by Hyacinth, Scarlet
Who Am I Without Him? by Sharon Flake
Holy Scoundrel by Annette Blair
The Crime Studio by Steve Aylett
Beautiful PRICK by Sophia Kenzie