Like One of the Family (46 page)

Sheena shoved a tissue at her sister and said disgustedly: ‘Wipe your face, silly,'

‘I much prefer Stella,' Ruthie said, thrusting her face close to the dog's muzzle and Stella obligingly used her tongue again to great effect.

‘Honestly, Ruthie,' Sheena scolded. ‘You can't be taken anywhere. What would Mummy say if she were here.'

‘Mummy would approve,' Ruthie said serenely. ‘She's always telling us to use natural rather than artificial resources.'

‘Isn't she incorrigible,' she appealed to Fernando with such affectionate pride that he grinned back at her, liking her a little more than he had formerly.

Claire was oblivious of them all as she chatted to Elena. She discovered that Elena was almost as great an admirer of Charlotte Bronte's novels as she was herself.

‘I cannot decide which I like better,' Claire confessed after some thought.
‘Jane Eyre
or
Villette?

Elena smiled. ‘I have no hesitation in deciding upon
Villette,
' she said. ‘I think if you have ever had to leave home and live for a time in another country you would share a fellow feeling with poor Lucy Snowe.'

Claire considered this. At present she was away from home but she supposed that she wasn't really qualified to judge since she wasn't entirely amongst strangers. Oddly, she felt more at home here in Spain than she had anywhere else in her life, and had done so from her first day on Spanish soil.

‘Have you had such an experience, Señora?' she asked shyly, wondering if she should be so personal.

Elena nodded and sighed. ‘When I was eighteen I lived one whole year in England. Ah, but how I missed Spain. Alas, I did not have the consolation of Doctor John or Monsieur Paul Emanuel to alleviate my loneliness.' She laughed gently to show she was not serious. ‘But, of course, I cannot complain having by that time already found my
novio
.'

Claire remembered Fernando's father, a big untidy man with bushy eyebrows and curly black hair.

‘Sadly these days I do not read as much as I would like,' Elena was saying. ‘I get tired easily and find it difficult to support a book for long.'

Claire had noticed how twisted the woman's hands were and how restricted her movements. She had an idea, but hesitated to express it for fear of seeming presumptuous. But when Elena leaned back, looking ill and exhausted from all the effort of talking, Claire offered to come to the house and read to her.

‘Any time you want me,' Claire said earnestly, her own eyes meeting Elena's with such a look of concern that the older woman was startled.

‘I would like that very much,' Elena said slowly, and was surprised to find it was true. There was something about the girl's look that went straight to her heart. From the first moment Elena had felt an immediate rapport with her and now, watching her son's eyes fixed ardently upon the young Irish girl as he strolled across the grass to join them, she perceived with a slight sense of shock that his interest in Claire was more like that of a lover than the family friend he claimed to be.

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.