The Mermaid Garden (27 page)

“I don’t think you’re at all funny, Clementine,” he huffed, which

made Clementine laugh all the more.

* * *

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That evening she returned to the Polzanze with a bounce in her step.

Rafa was on the terrace having tea with Marina, Grey, and four old

ladies, who Clementine presumed were the four painters from the year

before. The sight of Rafa caused her heart to expand with joy. They were all talking at once, isolated in their mirth. They didn’t even notice her as she walked towards them.

When she reached the table, her father looked up. “Ah, Clementine.

Come and join us?”

“You haven’t met my ladies, have you?” Marina interjected.

Clementine swept her eyes over their expectant faces and smiled

only because Rafa was watching her. If it hadn’t been for him, she

would have avoided meeting them altogether. Marina introduced each

one, and Clementine shook their hands. She was grateful that her fa-

ther squeezed a chair between him and Rafa so she didn’t have to waste

her time talking to them.

“So, how was your day?” Rafa asked, drawing her away from the

general conversation, which had revved up again.

Clementine basked in the warmth of his eyes. He had a way of look-

ing at her with such intensity, as if she was the only woman in the world he really wanted to talk to.

“My boss took me shopping to help him choose a bracelet for his

wife. Though we all know she’s never going to see it.”

“Ah, he has a mistress?” asked Rafa.

“Yes, though I can’t imagine anyone wanting him.”

“There is someone for everyone.”

“That’s the miracle of life.” She smiled. “Lucky, eh?”

“Are we going out in the boat this evening?”

“Of course,” Clementine enthused, although she knew it wasn’t pos-

sible to go just the two of them, as she wasn’t sure how to work her

father’s boat. “I’ll have to ask Dad,” she added, prodding Grey.

Her father turned round. “Yes, darling?”

“Will you take Rafa and me out in your boat this evening?”

Grey’s face lit up in surprise. “What a good idea. Beautiful evening

for it.” He looked out over the calm waters and clear sky. “We can go to Smuggler’s Cove and do a bit of crabbing. What do you say?”

Clementine had only unpleasant memories of crabbing in Smuggler’s

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Cove, of sitting on the rocks, bored to her core, while Jake and her father had tossed bits of bacon on string into the sea. The bucket of crus-taceans had repulsed her, all climbing on top of one another in their

futile attempts to escape. But the thought of spending dusk in the quiet seclusion of the cove, just the three of them, was very appealing. “Great idea,” she replied, sure that she could suffer a few crabs for the pleasure of spending time with Rafa.

Just as Clementine was enjoying the romance of their impending

excursion, Marina leaned across the table. “Did I hear the word
crabbing
?”

“Yes,” Grey replied. “I thought I’d take Rafa out to sea. Show him

Smuggler’s Cove and a few crabs.”

“Why don’t you take my ladies with you? There’s room in the boat.”

Clementine was scarcely able to conceal her horror. Astonished, she

watched her stepmother sabotage her plan. “Mrs. Leppley, would you

like to go out in Grey’s boat this evening?”

Veronica’s eyes opened wide. “I’d love to,” she said, clapping her

small hands. “How delightful.”

“Did I hear the mention of a boat?” Pat interjected.

“You certainly did,” said Grey. “I’m taking Rafa crabbing.”

“Then count me in. Nothing like a bit of crabbing to work up an ap-

petite for dinner. I was going to take a route march along the cliff, but this sounds much more fun.”

Clementine’s heart sank. Rafa didn’t seem at all put out. “I’ve never

caught a crab before,” he said, at which the ladies roared with laughter, and Pat volunteered to show him how it was done. At least the other

two bowed out. Grace declared that she would like to have a long, hot

bath and read her book, while Jane said that she’d prefer to wander

around the gardens, suffering as she did from seasickness. Clemen-

tine scowled at her stepmother, sure that she had kiboshed her eve-

ning on purpose.
She can’t have him, so she doesn’t want me to have him
, she thought crossly.
Well, I have all summer. One setback is not going to
deter me
.

Marina offered to give Jane Meister a tour of the garden, which

the old lady gratefully accepted, disappearing up to her bedroom to

get a headscarf. Marina watched Rafa leave with Clementine, Grey,

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Mrs. Leppley, and Mrs. Pitman, and knew that she had infuriated her

stepdaughter—but what alternative did she have? If the girl hadn’t

learned by now that leaping into bed with a man was not the clev-

erest way to win him, she’d have to be forced to hold herself back.

Marina knew men like Rafa—before meeting Grey she had had her

fair share of love affairs. They were used to girls rolling over for them, sleeping with them, then they discarded them when they ceased to

pose a challenge. But she couldn’t talk to her; Clementine thought she

knew better. Marina had to watch it all from the sidelines, powerless to help.

Clementine sat between the two old ladies as they drove down to the

quay. Mrs. Leppley smelled of roses and talcum powder. Mrs. Pitman

was extremely hearty, holding forth about her own adventures on the

sea. Rafa sat in the front with Grey, listening to her stories with interest. Clementine wondered whether he really was interested, or whether

he was just being polite. If it was the latter, he was a very good actor.

They reached the harbor and Grey parked the car. Shelton was a

quiet village, but this evening it had spilled out onto the waterfront.

There were children eating ice creams and young women chatting be-

side their pushchairs. A few old people sat on the benches enjoying

the sunshine and the view of the ocean. Seagulls swooped down to

scavenge for food, brawling over scraps left behind by careless grown-

ups and mischievous children. Craggy-faced sailors fussed about their

boats while fishermen returned with their small hauls. Clementine

cheered up in spite of herself and led the way to her father’s boat, tied securely to a bollard.

Mrs. Pitman was overjoyed to see the boat, aptly named
Marina
. It wasn’t anything special, but by the fruitiness of her voice and her ec-static exclamations, one could have been mistaken for thinking she had

just clapped eyes on the
Lady Moura
. “Oh, I say. What a stunning boat!”

She put her hands on her sturdy hips and smiled appreciatively. “What

luck with the weather and the sea’s calm. We’re in for a jolly ride.”

“It’s lovely,” Veronica agreed, tying her silk scarf at her throat. “I shall sit by the cabin, out of the wind.”

“If you want to stay out of the wind, Veronica, you’d better sit inside.”

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“And miss all the fun? No, I’ll huddle. I’m good at making myself

small.”

“All aboard, then,” said Grey.

Rafa jumped down and turned to help the ladies. Clementine no-

ticed the way he looked at them as they took his hand and stepped

onto the deck. His smile was as seductive, his eyes as intense, as when he looked at
her
. She awaited her turn, then gave him her hand. She felt the warmth of his skin and the way his touch made her tingle all

over. She laughed, embarrassed, as if the tingle showed through her

clothing.

“Your brother told me that you don’t like boats,” he said.

“I don’t know what he’s talking about,” she replied coolly, not want-

ing him to know that
he
was the only reason she was going anywhere near a boat. “What’s there not to like?”

He shrugged. “Seasickness?”

“I find if I keep my eyes on the horizon, I tend to be all right.” She

took her place on the bench at the back, next to Pat. Veronica sat as

near to the cabin as possible. Clementine hoped that Rafa would come

and sit beside her, but he jumped back onto the quay to help untie the

ropes. She watched him crouch down and pull them free, appreciat-

ing the vigorous energy of his movements. He looked accustomed to

physical labor, and Clementine imagined his working with his father

on the pampa. Grey started the engine, and Rafa pushed the boat away

from the side, then leapt back in.

“You girls look comfortable,” he commented cheerfully as the boat

chugged slowly out of the harbor.

“Haven’t been called a girl for a very long time,” said Pat with a

chuckle. “Hurrah, off we go! Isn’t this jolly!”

“He’s very naughty,” said Veronica.

“Sue McCain would like him,” added Pat, watching him join Grey

at the helm. “Her Argentine was a terrifically good lover.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Veronica agreed. “The difference between Latin

men and Englishmen is the way they feel about women. Latin men

love women. Englishmen prefer to be with other men, which is why we

have so many men-only clubs in this country.”

“Is that true?” Clementine cut in, suddenly interested.

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“My husband prefers sport to women. That’s not to say he doesn’t

like
women, but if he had the choice, he’d be on the golf course with his chums,” said Pat.

“Rafa’s a terrible flirt,” said Clementine, longing to talk about him if she couldn’t talk
to
him.

“They’re all like that,” said Veronica.

“Oh, yes. Sue McCain told me that chatting up women is an Argen-

tine national sport.”

Clementine felt her spirits sink. “Do you think Rafa is like that?”

“No, I don’t,” said Veronica, sensitive to the blush that had just ex-

panded onto Clementine’s cheeks. “I think he’s very kind. Why other-

wise would he bother with silly old bags like us?”

“That’s true,” Pat agreed. “He takes trouble with everybody. I think

he’s just one of those rather unusual men who likes
people
.”

“Really? Do you think so?” Clementine cheered up again.

“You can see it in his eyes: he empathizes. He’s an old soul; wouldn’t

you agree, Veronica?”

“Most certainly.”

Once the boat sailed out into open sea it picked up speed. Grey left

Rafa at the helm and disappeared inside, returning with blankets. “It

can get pretty cold,” he said, handing them to the women. “Right, do

you want to see how fast this lady can go?” Pat whooped with joy while

Veronica cowered against the cabin, holding her headscarf in place.

“Oh, yes, this is the way to go,” Pat shouted over the roar of the en-

gine. “I love the wind in my face. Reminds me of the time I crossed the Atlantic in my little
Angel
. Gosh, that was a rocky ride, I can tell you.

No fooling around in those seas.” Her enthusiasm was infectious, and

Clementine laughed with her.

“Tell her about the time you nearly got eaten by a shark,” Veronica

asked, and Pat needed no further encouragement.

At last they turned inland, motoring slowly into Smuggler’s Cove. It

was dark there in shadow, and quiet out of the wind. The sun had sunk

low, turning the sky a pale, flamingo pink.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” sighed Veronica, emerging from her sheltered

corner.

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“You can just imagine the smugglers bringing their loot here to hide

in those caves,” said Rafa, edging around to join them.

“Enough of loot, young man, you’re going to catch a crab,” said Pat.

“What do we do after we’ve caught it?”

“Put it back,” said Clementine knowledgeably. “Unless it’s big and

tasty, in which case, we’ll eat it for supper.”

“Run away, crabs! Run away!” he pretended to shout into the water.

“That’ll do no good. They’re suckers for bacon,” said Grey.

“Undone by their own greed,” said Pat.

Grey sailed as near to the pebble beach as he was able, then turned

off the engine and dropped anchor. Rafa wasted no time in taking off

his shoes, rolling up his jeans, and jumping in. The water reached mid-

calf. “You coming, Clementine?”

“What is it about you and water? You just can’t resist, can you?”

He laughed. “Perhaps it’s got something to do with you.”

“I can’t pretend I enjoy getting wet. But here goes.” She tossed the

blanket aside and pulled off her trainers.

“I’ll carry you,” he offered, holding out his arms.

“I’m much too heavy,” she protested.

“Trust me, I’ve carried calves far heavier than you.”

“Well, all right then. But if I
am
heavy, don’t let it show on your face.”

She fell into his arms. He pretended to stagger, his face twisted into a grimace. “Oh, stop, you fool!” she laughed.

“I . . . think . . . I’m . . . going . . . to . . . have . . . to . . . drop . . . you.”