The Mermaid Garden (57 page)

block. The atmosphere is very tense.”

“I know. I can feel it.” She cast her eyes around the drawing room, at

the other guests who sat in small clusters drinking cups of tea and nibbling on little egg sandwiches, and wondered whether they felt it, too.

“I can’t believe my father will actually agree to sell.”

“He doesn’t want to, Clementine.”

She looked at him seriously. “It’s that bad, isn’t it?”

“I think so. I wish there was some way I could help.”

“Me, too.” She placed a hand on his arm. “But there isn’t. All we can

do is support—and hope the Ruebens loathe the place.”

He grinned at her sadly. “Unfortunately, that is impossible. The Pol-

zanze has a certain magic you don’t find very often.”

“A magic Marina will take with her if she has to leave. They’ll end up

buying a shell.” She walked over to the glass and looked out onto the

sun-drenched gardens. “Fancy taking Biscuit for a walk?”

“You’ve read my mind, Clementine. There’s nothing I’d like to do

more.”

Clementine spent the weekend by Marina’s side, protecting her from

the hyena’s barbed comments and making fun of her behind her back

to make her stepmother laugh.

But it was of no consequence that Celeste had enjoyed her paint-

ing lessons or that Charles had relished going out in Grey’s boat and

catching fish, because if they liked the bones of the hotel and bought

it, they’d gut it anyway, as they had done to all their others, and change it in every way.

On Sunday, Grey and Charles spent a great deal of time in the library

discussing books. Then the door was shut and they remained there until

lunchtime, and no one knew what they were talking about. Marina

had had enough and refused to join them. She sat in her kitchen with

Clementine, Rafa, and Biscuit, drinking cups of strong tea and eating

the shortbread Celeste had declined to taste. “I know he’s making Grey

an offer he can’t refuse,” she said, wringing her hands.

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“He always has the power to refuse,” said Rafa hopefully.

“Not if we’re broke.” She sighed. “There, I’ve said it. You might as

well know, Rafa. We’ve borrowed up to our eyeballs, and we’re simply

not making money.”

“But the place is full now,” Clementine protested. “We must be

making money.”

“Unless you have a fairy godmother who can wave her wand and

give us a great big cash injection, we are incapable of paying back the money we owe.”

“There has to be a way,” said Rafa.

Marina shook her head. “If there is, I haven’t managed to figure out

what it is.” She began to gnaw the skin around her thumbnail, for that

wasn’t entirely true. There
was
a way; it had occurred to her many times in her most desperate moments. At first it had just been the frantic

meandering of a desolate mind. Then, as the possibility of losing the

Polzanze had become a reality, those meanderings had grown more

direct and strategic.

Yet, beneath her desire to rescue the hotel was a need more visceral.

At first she had been too afraid even to contemplate it, but little by

little the idea had grown into a possibility and her heart had filled with hope. Was her plan to save the hotel merely an excuse to enable her to

go back and right that terrible wrong? She pictured the little box at the top of her cupboard and shivered at the prospect of stepping back into

her past.

Clementine confused her shudder for helplessness and took her

hand. Marina smiled at her feebly.

At last the Ruebens left in their chauffeur-driven Bentley, and Grey

appeared at the kitchen door. Even Biscuit lifted his head to hear what he had to say.

“Well?” Marina asked. But she could tell by the doleful expression

on his face. “Oh God, he’s made an offer, hasn’t he?”

Rafa caught Clementine’s eye. They were both thinking the same

thing. They turned to Marina and watched powerlessly as she seemed

to wither before their eyes.

“Is it a very big offer?” she asked in a trembling voice.

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too ashamed to admit that part of him felt relieved that there was at last a way out of their financial nightmare.

“What are you going to do?”

Clementine squeezed Marina’s hand. “You can’t sell, Dad. There has

to be another way.”

Grey sighed and scratched his head. “I can’t think of one.”

Marina closed her eyes. In that brief moment she saw her life flash

before her. She watched the building of the home she cherished as if it were a reel of film passing across her mind. Harvey and she were laughing as they painted the hall; Mr. Potter was mowing the lawns on the

new tractor they had bought; Grey was coming down on weekends and

admiring the progress; they were sitting in the greenhouse as the rains battered the glass, chewing on Mr. Potter’s digestive biscuits, discussing what plants to buy and where to place them. They had planned

together: she, Harvey, Mr. Potter, and Grey. They had been a team, a

family. She had realized her dream with the very force of her will and

watered it with love. It had grown bigger and more beautiful than she

could have ever imagined. No one was going to take it from her. Not

now. Not when she needed it the most.

“There is one person who can help,” she said, lifting her chin. “One

person, if you’ll let me ask.”

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33.

The kitchen fell silent. Rafa, Clementine, and Grey stared at Marina

in amazement. “Who?” Grey asked. He thought they had explored

every avenue.

Marina looked embarrassed. “An old friend.”

Grey frowned. “What do you mean, an old friend?”

“It’s complicated. He’s someone I knew a long time ago.”

“Well, where is he?”

She hesitated, knitting her fingers. “Italy.” The word was released

into the air for them to gaze on in astonishment. No one was more

astonished than Marina.

“Italy?”

“Yes.”

“Who on earth do you know in Italy, let alone someone capable of

bailing you out?” Grey gazed at her across the table. “Darling, this is a big surprise. Why didn’t you tell me about him before?”

The corners of her mouth twitched with emotion, and she took a

deep breath to steady her nerves. “You have to trust me, darling, and

not ask any more questions. Please. It’s a long story. I wouldn’t have

even considered him if I wasn’t desperate. But I
am
desperate.” In the silence that ensued she felt something pull in the deepest depth of her heart. She realized she had been desperate for a very, very long time,

and only now, as she teetered at the frontier where past and present col-lide, did she recognize the real motive behind her plan—and it wasn’t

the Polzanze. The little shoebox hidden away at the top of her cupboard surfaced again, and her eyes welled with tears.

Grey was appalled by her plan. “I won’t have you crossing Europe to

beg for money from a man I have never met.”

“This is different, darling—and I won’t be begging.”

Grey pulled out a chair and sat down. He didn’t like the idea of his

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wife keeping secrets from him, especially when it came to money. He

looked at her steadily. Then he saw something in her eyes that changed

his mind—the same longing he had seen when he had comforted her

after her nightmares, the same craving that drove her to pace the beach and stare for hours across the water. He knew then that the root of her unrest lay in Italy, and for that reason, she had to go.

“All right,” he conceded gently, taking her hand. “But I can’t go with

you.” She understood that he wasn’t comfortable asking a stranger for

help. “This is your business, Marina.”

“I’ll go on my own. I’ll be fine.”

He smiled at her fondly. She didn’t realize how fragile she looked.

“Darling, I don’t think it’s wise to travel alone. Why don’t you take

Clemmie with you, or Jake?”

“No, really, I’ll be fine,” she insisted.

“I’ll go with you.” Rafa suggested. Marina and Grey looked at him.

They had almost forgotten he was there. “I speak the language, for a

start.” He shrugged. “And I’m a good chauffeur.”

“That’s very generous of you to offer, Rafa,” said Grey. He turned to

his wife. “I think that’s a sensible idea. I’d be much happier if I knew you had someone with you.”

“Then that’s settled,” said Marina. She smiled weakly, as deflated as

a tire that has run many thousands of miles and can run no more. “It’s

our last chance.”

Grey nodded. “If it’s unsuccessful, we will agree to sell to Charles

Rueben. We can set up again somewhere else.” But Marina wasn’t lis-

tening. She was already in Italy, walking back down the avenues of her

past.

Later, when Clementine and Rafa walked Biscuit along the cliff top,

they discussed the extraordinary episode in the kitchen. “What was all

that about?” Clementine asked.

“I have no idea. It’s bizarre.”

“Who’s she going to see in Italy? An old lover, perhaps?”

“Anything’s possible.”

“You must text me. I’ll be longing to know.”

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“He must be a very
special
old lover if she’s hoping he’ll write her such a vast check.”

“Who has that sort of money to toss away?” She was aware that he

was looking at her strangely. “Why can’t she just call him up? If he’s

such a good friend, why doesn’t she just telephone him and ask for a

loan?”

“Clementine, there’s something I need to tell you,” he said suddenly.

She turned to find his face had grown pale, right down to his lips.

“Are you all right?”

“No.”

Clementine didn’t want his confession. If he was Baffles, she’d rather

not know. He could go on robbing in secret, and their friendship could

continue undisturbed. She liked the way things were. If he confessed,

he’d ruin everything.

“I was in the stable block—” he began.

“I know. Jake found you.”

“I said I was looking for Biscuit.”

“But you weren’t?”

“No.”

“I’m sure Jake just misjudged you. Don’t worry about him. He’s a

little jealous of you, as you’ve probably worked out.”

“Jake didn’t misjudge me. I was looking for something else.”

“I don’t want to know,” she blurted, putting her hands over her ears.

“Don’t tell me. If you have a secret, keep it to yourself, please.”

He looked at her in astonishment. “But I want to tell you. I want to

come clean.”

“Why? What good will that do? You’ll confess something terrible,

and then we won’t be friends anymore.”

“No, it’s not like that.” He took her hands and pulled them away

from her ears.

“Yes, it is. You didn’t come here to teach old ladies to paint, did you?”

“No . . . but—”

“You targeted us for a reason?”

“Yes.”

Clementine felt a surge of emotion rise up her chest and tore her

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hands away. “So, don’t tell me the reason. I can’t bear it. I trusted you.”

In her confusion she began to run up the beach.

“Clementine, wait! It’s not what you think. My intentions are good.”

She stopped and turned, the wind whipping her hair from behind

and tossing it across her cheeks. “You just don’t get it, do you?”
You don’t
get that I love you
, she called silently. Then out loud she added. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

He watched her go. He could have run after her and told her

everything—he was now pretty sure that he was in the right place—

but Grey knew nothing of Marina’s past, and Rafa hadn’t anticipated

that. How would they feel if he suddenly turned their reality upside

down and told them who he really was? He sat on the sand and put

his head in his hands. Part of him wanted to pack his bags and return

to Argentina, putting the whole messy business behind him. But part

of him knew he had to go to Italy with Marina. If he had any hope of

winning Clementine, he had to know the
whole
truth.

Clementine sobbed into her pillow. She knew she should have waited

to hear what he had to say. Her performance had been as bad as the

worst soap opera, where the characters always walk out on one an-

other before waiting to hear their explanations. But she couldn’t bear

to watch him topple off his pedestal. She couldn’t risk the chance that she had fallen in love with a mirage, a cleverly constructed image. She didn’t want to be like Sylvia, with her cynical view of love. So now

what? How could they ever go back to the way they were? She might

as well have listened, because now everything had changed between

them, and she didn’t even have the satisfaction of knowing what or who

he really was.

Marina and Rafa left for the airport early the following morning before dawn, while the Polzanze slept on. They took a train to Heathrow via