The Mermaid Garden (50 page)

“He is waiting for you up at the house,” said the stranger.

“But I was to meet him tomorrow.”

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“The plan has changed,” the stranger continued. “You are to

come now.”

“Can I pack my things?”

The man nodded. “Of course.” She marched past them into her bed-

room and closed the door behind her.

Her first instincts were to climb out of the window and run away.

But what if the man
was
speaking the truth? What if her father
had
informed Beppe and he had given him money to support her? What

if Dante
was
waiting for her at La Magdalena? After all, there was no way of letting her know with no telephone in the house. Perhaps Beppe

was now taking control of the situation, which would surely be a good

thing? In which case they wouldn’t have to skulk about anymore but

could declare their love openly.

With these thoughts she began to put her few belongings into a bag.

It didn’t take long. She was anxious to get out of the house and as far away from her father as possible. There was something callous about

his eyes, something she didn’t recognize or like.

When she emerged, her father tried to embrace her, but she recoiled

in disgust and hurried down the stairs after the swarthy man who

smelled of cheap cologne. She looked around for Signora Bruno, but

she was nowhere to be seen. She climbed into the little black car that

was parked in Via Roma, as her spirits fluctuated between excitement

and fear. It didn’t look like the sort of car Beppe Bonfanti would own, and she hesitated, her instincts crying out that something wasn’t right.

But she was incapable now of doing anything about it. As Floriana’s

pulse thumped in her temples, the stranger started the engine and the

car rattled up the street.

Floriana didn’t say a word. She was too frightened. She kept her

eyes on the road ahead. At least they were going in the right direction.

She noticed the man’s hands. They were large and strong and gripped

the steering wheel very tightly. Then her gaze strayed past them to the door, and she saw that it was locked. They were
all
locked. Her breath caught in her chest, and her head grew dizzy with terror. The gates of

La Magdalena reared up in front of them and she felt a tremendous

wave of longing wash over her, forcing her back in her seat. She began

to knot her fingers, and her palms grew damp with sweat. Slowly, they

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approached, so slowly it was as if she was outside her body, looking

down. As if she was watching a movie of someone else’s life.

At that moment, Good-Night ran out into the road, breaking the

spell. She sat up and gazed at him in desperation. He seemed to know

that she was in the car and strained his neck to see her. The car didn’t slow down, but sped past the dog and the gates of La Magdalena. She

swiveled around in her seat and banged on the window. “Good-Night!

Good-Night!” The dog recognized her at once and bounded speedily

after her.

“Sit down!” commanded the man. “Or you’ll make me crash.”

“Where are you taking me?” she demanded. When he didn’t reply,

she began to sob. “You’re not taking me to Dante, are you?” She stared

out of the rear window as the dog slowed down to a trot and grew

smaller and smaller, until he was a little dot on the tarmac. “What are you going to do with me?” Still he didn’t answer. He had his orders. He clutched the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

The following day it poured with rain. Dante waited for Floriana under

an umbrella by the wall, as they had arranged. He paced up and down,

up and down, every now and then looking at his watch, wondering

why she didn’t come. Good-Night stood in the middle of the road, ears

back, tail between his legs, as restless as his master. He whined, trotting in circles as Dante grew ever more anxious, but he had no way of letting his master know what he had seen.

Heavyhearted, Dante drove into Herba. He encountered Signora

Bruno at the door, but she was as mystified as he was. She had assumed

the girl had gone to see
him
.

He found Elio drinking at the bar in Luigi’s. The old man was sob-

bing into his glass. “I’ve lost my daughter,” he wailed.

“Where has she gone?” Dante demanded.

“Just like her mother,” said Elio.

“What are you talking about?”

“Run off with her lover.”

“What lover?”

“A man she met at the market.”

“You’re confused,” snapped Dante.

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“No, she’s a whore!” The old man cackled. “And you thought the

child was yours. Ha! That’s the funniest part of the story. I’d laugh if I wasn’t so bloody miserable. Just like her mother. Now I am well and

truly alone.”

Dante left the bar reeling. He knew in his heart that what Elio said

could not possibly be true. The man was drunk and hallucinating. He

had
to find her, but where in the world would he start looking?

When he arrived back at La Magdalena, Good-Night was waiting

for him at the gates in the pouring rain. At first Dante barely recog-

nized him: he was sodden and bedraggled, and the fur about his face

was gray, making him look old and sad. Dante climbed out of the car

and ran over, lifting the animal into his arms. But as he staggered back to the car he was overcome with loss and sank to his knees. He buried

his face in the dog’s soggy neck and cried.

“Where is she? Where has she gone?”

Good-Night wriggled out of his embrace and limped into the mid-

dle of the road. Then he lay down with a whine and placed his head

between his paws.

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29.

Devon, 2009

Rafa awoke to Biscuit jumping onto his bed with an enthusiastic leap.

For a second he defended himself, forgetting about the rescue the eve-

ning before. Then, just as suddenly, it all came rushing back, and he

laughed, pulling the dog into his arms affectionately.

“Oh, it’s you, Biscuit!” he said in Spanish. “You want to go out, I suppose?” Biscuit seemed to understand, for he sprang off the bed and

waited by the door, wagging his tail.

Rafa dressed and made his way downstairs with his new companion.

The hotel was gently stirring to life. He could hear the creaking of the water pipes beneath the floorboards and the gentle clatter from the

dining room where a few early risers were already having breakfast.

Shane was in the hall with Tom, while Jennifer was at reception, check-

ing her mobile telephone for messages. When Biscuit clattered down

the stairs, they all stopped what they were doing and greeted him en-

thusiastically.

“He’s none the worse for his fright,” said Shane, giving him a

firm pat.

“He’s had a good sleep,” Rafa informed him.

“Isn’t he adorable?” Jennifer gushed, crouching down to tickle his

ears. “I’m glad he’s allowed to stay.”

“By the skin of his teeth,” said Tom with a smirk.

Rafa took Biscuit round to the front of the hotel and watched him

run down the lawn. It was a beautiful June morning. The sky was veiled

in a light mist, the sun already burning through to reveal patches of

blue. He put his hands in his pockets and thought of Clementine. The

mental picture of her made him feel light inside. He imagined her

smile and the way it transformed her face. Then his thoughts clouded

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a moment as he remembered why he had come. He knew it wouldn’t

be in his interests to get too close, especially at this stage. But he was beginning to feel a warm sense of belonging, and he was beginning to

care
. The thought of seeing her later filled him with anticipation, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to wait until the end of the day. He strode into the vegetable garden while Biscuit sniffed the ground excitedly, taking in all the new, unfamiliar smells.

Rafa pulled out his BlackBerry. He felt the urge to call her, just to

hear her voice. He scrolled down to her number and pressed it. It rang

a few times before going through to her answer machine. He grinned

as he listened to her recorded message: “Hi, it’s Clemmie. Not a good

moment. Sorry. You know the drill.” There followed a long bleep.

“
Buenos días
, Clementine,” Rafa said. “I’m in the garden with Biscuit.

It is a beautiful day. I don’t feel right taking our dog for a walk without you. He’s just found a very interesting hole in the grass. Luckily, it is not big enough for him to climb into. We need to buy him food, no? Let

me know when you are free. Have a good day in the office.
Ciao
.”

As he hung up, he saw Biscuit accosting Harvey as he came out

of his shed at the bottom of the vegetable garden. The old man was

surprised to see a dog on the property and looked around anxiously to

see where he had come from. Rafa hurried down to explain. “Ah, Rafa.

Does this little fellow belong to you?”

“He’s called Biscuit. Clementine and I rescued him from the rocks

last night.”

“Has Marina seen him?” Harvey looked concerned.

“She says we can keep him.”

“She does?”

“Yes. She wasn’t too happy about it, but his owner tried to murder

him.” Rafa shrugged. “I guess she felt sorry for him.”

“I’d keep him away from her as much as possible, all the same,” Har-

vey advised. “I think she’s afraid of dogs.”

“A bad experience in the past perhaps.”

“Perhaps.” He bent down to stroke him. “Affectionate dog, isn’t he?

I don’t think it’ll be long before he wins her over.” Then he spoke to

Biscuit. “You’re not going to frighten anyone, are you?”

“I don’t think he’ll see off Baffles, do you?”

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Harvey chuckled. “You’re right about that. He’s no rottweiler. Still,

a dog is better than none. He may surprise us and bring the thief in

by the collar.” Rafa watched him straighten his tweed cap then walk

slowly up the garden. Biscuit ran off in the opposite direction, and Rafa was left no alternative than to follow him.

As he walked down the path to the beach his BlackBerry bleeped

with a message. He knew it was from Clementine before he pulled it

out of his pocket, and his heart swelled with joy.

Good morning indeed! You’re out early. We’ll have to train Biscuit to
sleep in. Pick me up after work and we’ll go together. Don’t forget to
bring the client. He might be choosy. C

He returned to the hotel with a spring in his step. Jennifer informed

him that a group of six girls were arriving on the train from London

for a hen weekend and might be keen to do some painting. She added

that a couple of bird-watchers from Holland were due that evening

and might be interested, too. Rafa shrugged nonchalantly. If there were enough paint brushes, he was happy to tutor them all.

He breakfasted with the brigadier, Pat, Jane, and Veronica, while

Grace had hers in her bedroom. Biscuit lay obediently at his feet, oblivious that he was the subject of their conversation.

“How could anyone be so cruel?” asked Veronica when she heard

how Biscuit had been left in the cave to drown.

“There are some very nasty people in the world,” Pat added. “Sue

McCain says you can’t trust a person who doesn’t like dogs, and I think she’s right. Anyone who ill-treats a dog has a heart of stone.”

“Hear, hear!” exclaimed the brigadier, winking at Jane, who hid her

blush behind her cup of coffee.

The brigadier and Jane had much in common. Rafa noticed the en-

thusiasm with which she told him about her childhood in an army

garrison in Germany, and how the brigadier listened with great in-

terest, nodding his agreement and reminiscing about his own army

days. It was as if they were at a table of their own. He wasn’t surprised when they declared they’d pass on their painting lesson and walk to

Salcombe instead. The look that passed between them was at once

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tender and mischievous. Pat was on the point of suggesting she go, too, when Veronica interrupted briskly, proposing another outing in Grey’s

boat. Nothing could tempt Pat as surely as the sea, and the brigadier

breathed a heavy sigh of relief and smiled gratefully at Veronica.

The morning passed slowly. Rafa took his students down to the

beach, and they positioned themselves on the rocks to paint the sea.

The six girls on their hen weekend giggled and flirted with him so bra-

zenly that they barely touched their paints, while Grace scowled from

the other end of the beach and complained about their lack of refine-

ment to Veronica and Pat.

After lunch, Rafa retreated to his bedroom. He looked out of the

window, at the magnificent view of the ocean, which never ceased to