Indiscretion (47 page)

‘Are you cold?'

Alexandra shook her head.

‘I'll fetch you a shawl.'

‘No, really, I'm not cold. I think tiredness is finally catching up with me.'

The older woman nodded at Alexandra's glass. ‘Why don't you take that to bed with you while it's still warm? I'll stay here on the terrace for a bit.'

‘Yes, I think I'll do that. Goodnight, Doña Inés.'

‘Goodnight, my child.'

As Alexandra padded back to the kitchen she glanced over her shoulder. There was a shadow of sadness on Doña Inés' face as she continued to gaze into the night.

Once in her room, Alexandra stood on her balcony and drained the last drops of milk from her glass. If only things weren't so complicated, she thought. If only she could untangle the knots inside her. Sighing, she breathed in the night air. She longed for a storm, with its cool rains to wash away this muggy night and, with it, the claustrophic feeling that everything was closing in on her. Finally, she crossed to her bed and crept under the sheets. She fell asleep as the first rays of the sun announced dawn.

Alexandra was awakened a few hours later by Juanita, the chambermaid, enquiring whether she would be joining Doña Inés for breakfast on the terrace or preferred to have it in her bedroom.

‘Thank you, Juanita. I'm not very hungry this morning,' she confessed. ‘Would you please convey to Doña Inés my apologies and tell her I'll be joining her on the terrace after my coffee.'

‘The
señorita
looks tired this morning,' remarked the servant. ‘Did the
señorita
not sleep well?'

‘No, Juanita, not very well,' Alexandra admitted with a faint smile.

‘If the
señorita
has a headache, Juanita can prepare for her a special herbal tea, a secret recipe known only to the gypsies.'

The mere mention of gypsies sent a nasty shiver down Alexandra's spine and she looked sharply round at the chambermaid. ‘That's a kind thought, Juanita, thank you, but it's nothing a cup of coffee won't cure. I'll be back on my feet in no time,' she replied, a little too hastily. Was it her disturbed mind playing fancy tricks on her, or did she detect a momentary flash of mockery in the young girl's eyes as she left the room?

Juanita returned a few minutes later with a steaming pot of coffee and a bowl of fresh fruit on a tray as Alexandra was coming out of the bathroom, wrapped in her dressing gown. ‘Thank you, Juanita. Just put it down on the chest of drawers, there, by the window.'

Juanita did as she was bid but remained standing there, hesitant.

‘Yes?' Alexandra prompted.

‘If the
señorita
pleases, I have a message to give her.'

Alexandra struggled to conceal the tension fraying at her nerves; she had a bad feeling about this. Picking up her brush she went to the mirror, avoiding the gaze of the young Spanish girl.

‘I'm listening,' she said at last, brushing her hair vigorously.

‘Paquita wants to see you,' announced Juanita.

Alexandra stiffened and drew a sharp breath. The strange fear that had lain buried inside her these past few weeks bubbled to the surface. Ever since her arrival in Granada she had been unconsciously waiting for something of this kind, a sign to show that the gypsies knew she hadn't left Spain. Even so, the very name filled her with dread. How did the maid know Paquita? Alexandra had no doubt that the gypsies were feared by many, and their influence was presumably widespread among the peasant and servant classes. Previous encounters with the Romany fortune-teller flashed vividly through her mind and she tightened her grip on the brush to control the quivering of her hand. The best thing was to remain impassive and feign ignorance. Placing her brush on the dressing table, she coolly turned to face the girl. ‘I don't seem to recall the name,' she declared.

Juanita eyed her slyly. ‘But Paquita knows
you
well,' she insisted. ‘You're the
señorita
who used to live at El Pavón. I saw you there myself, with the gypsies on the night of the
velatorio
,' she concluded defiantly.

‘Really, I don't know what you're talking about,' Alexandra maintained, without batting an eyelid. She never knew she had such capacity for lying, a trait she had always deplored in others. ‘And now I'd be grateful if you'd let me finish getting washed and dressed,' she added, in a tone signifying the interview was over.

Juanita pulled a face and crossed to the door, her head high, swinging her hips nonchalantly. For a moment, Alexandra thought how seductive she looked despite the drab black dress, with that sensual beauty so like Marujita's. At the doorway, Juanita turned round abruptly. ‘I must warn you that it's
disgracio
, unlucky, to go against Paquita's wishes,' she taunted, spite gleaming in her eyes. ‘She will bring
un millón de maldiciones
, a million curses down upon you.'

Something snapped inside Alexandra's head and a rush of heat burned her cheeks. Clenching her fists, she swore under her breath. ‘Tell your Paquita I'm not scared of her threats!' she said vehemently. ‘Tell her as well,' she went on in a colder voice, articulating each word clearly to put the girl in her place, ‘not only am I not afraid of her threats, but if she carries on bothering me like this, I'll report her to the authorities and have her picked up.'

The Spanish girl's fiery black eyes widened in surprise and then swept insolently over Alexandra, full of disdain. Then, turning on the balls of her feet, she strode out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Alone, Alexandra began to shake violently, Juanita's threats ringing in her head.
Now calm down
, she told herself.
You aren't going to let a bunch of gypsies ruffle you this way
. She sat down on the edge of the bed, her face buried in her hands, forcing herself to think positively. It was no time to be pathetic, she lectured herself, hysterically running off to somehow placate the old fortune-teller was the last thing she should do. A relaxed, constructive attitude was the only way to smooth those ripples her being in Spain had caused.

Her coffee had gone cold. She poured it into the sink, without having touched it, and glanced at the bronze clock on the bedside table. Discovering with horror how late it was, she hurried to wash and dress. Not only had she promised her hostess she would join her on the terrace once she had finished her coffee — which should have been almost an hour ago — but she had also agreed with Don Felipe the day before that he would show her around his
ganaderia
at half past ten. She had just a few minutes to finish getting ready before he arrived.

Downstairs, she found a message from Doña Inés saying that she'd had to make an urgent visit to her lawyer and apologizing for not being able to accompany Alexandra to the
ganaderia
. She would, however, make sure she joined them later at the Hacienda Herrera, where Don Felipe had invited them both to lunch.

Don Felipe was waiting for her on the terrace. He greeted her with his usual friendly smile, hands outstretched.‘Good morning,
querida
,' he said as she came up to him. His brows drew together in a concerned frown. ‘I was worried, Juanita told me you're unwell. Nothing serious, I hope?'

Alexandra smiled reassuringly. ‘Only a slight headache.'

‘Do you still want to visit my
ganaderia
this morning, or would you rather rest here in the shade? It's very warm today,' he said with his usual consideration.

‘I'd be delighted to visit your ranch,' she said hastily, instinctively knowing it would be a better idea for them to be among people, talking about bulls and bullfighting, than be alone together. She knew that if they were to sit quietly in the shade of a flame tree, in the romantic Hernandez gardens, a more intimate conversation would be bound to ensue, one she wanted to avoid at all costs.

‘Let's go then!' he announced cheerfully, attempting to take her by the arm. When she gently evaded his touch, he didn't seem to worry unduly, no doubt putting her gesture down to the headache.

‘The
ganaderia
isn't far,' he explained, as they drove off in his red Pegaso Z.‘It's an integral part of the estate and borders our hacienda's orchard. You can see it from the top-floor windows of Hernandez, the ones overlooking the inner courtyard.'

‘I haven't paid much attention to the scenery on that side of the house,' she admitted. ‘I'm much too fascinated by the constantly changing views of the Sierras on the other side. I could look at them for hours.'

Other than that brief exchange, Alexandra and Don Felipe barely spoke during the short journey to the ranch. Soon, the car stopped in front of a big pair of iron gates, on which the Herrera family coat
of arms was embossed in gold. Two wardens in sombreros, with lances in their hands, hurried to open the gates and the car passed through in a cloud of dust.

Bordering the drive was a stand of ilex trees, under which the herd was slumbering peacefully in the shade. As Don Felipe helped her out of the car, a breath of hot air caught Alexandra full in the face. Her head was throbbing from lack of sleep, as well as a growing feeling of anxiety, but Felipe seemed not to notice there was a tension in her quietness.

‘As I explained to you before,' he said, while they strolled across the field of short, tufty grass, ‘being a
ganadero
is to have a love and respect for ancestral traditions but also to belong to a long line of ranchers, which, in my case, starts only with me. However, I intend to remedy that. Together, Alexandra, we'll create a dynasty of the best
ganaderos.
'

Alexandra felt herself blush under the intensity of his gaze. He moved closer to her, obviously having taken the deepening pink in her face as a sign of girlish modesty. She edged away, wanting to put as much space between them as she could. Inwardly she cursed herself for having let things slip this far: it was not in her nature to deceive and she despised herself now for her duplicity. She was so tempted to tell him that she didn't love him and could not agree to marry him. Still, she hesitated for fear of causing some dreadful calamity; the earlier heated exchange with Juanita only fuelling her misgivings. Moreover, there was something hard as onyx in his coal-black eyes, and part of her quailed at discovering what might happen when she unburdened herself of the truth … a touch of cowardice, she admitted to herself, of which she was not proud.

‘I bought this
ganaderia
six years ago with great difficulty,' Don Felipe explained, jolting her from her reverie. ‘One cannot become a
ganadero
without buying the land, the herds and the family brand from the owner. I've now registered my own brand. I want my ranch and bulls to be wholly identifiable as mine, without being connected in anyone's mind with the family who had the place
before. Two years ago, I was accepted as a member of our new Breeders Association and today I'm proud to be one of the suppliers of bulls for the
fiesta brava
.'

As he spoke, Alexandra's attention drifted again, enraptured by the sight of the distant Sierras. She forgot her headache, and was hardly aware of his words, as she gazed at the snow-capped peaks rearing up, level upon level, as if striving to reach the highest heaven with their silent prayer. Why did these mountains remind her so of Salvador? It seemed to her that their sublime muteness contained a message she needed to discover.

Aware of her fascinated gaze, the
torero
said tenderly: ‘I'll take you to get a closer view of them soon. Would you like that?'

Amidst twinges of conscience once more, Alexandra swallowed hard and merely nodded, ignoring the quiet little voice in the back of her mind, telling her to come clean and get this ordeal over and done with.

‘I would have liked you to attend a
tienta
,' the
torero
went on cheerfully, disregarding his companion's awkwardness and no doubt putting it down to her earlier malaise. ‘Unfortunately, the season has passed, but we have all the time in the world to do these things together.'

Alexandra forced a smile. ‘You must forgive my ignorance, Don Felipe, but I have no idea what a “
tienta
” is,' she confessed.

The
torero
flashed his brilliant smile. ‘Please, you must call me Felipe now. The
tienta
is the test to which every cow between the ages of one-and-a-half and three years is subjected in order to find out if she is suitable for breeding. The experiment is carried out in a small arena on the farm. It tests the animal's courage, its fighting qualities and the boldness of its attack.'

‘Did you say cows, and not bulls?'

Don Felipe beamed, obviously delighted by the interest Alexandra was showing in his pet project. ‘You've hit upon the fundamental rule of the bullfight, how very clever of you … The
corrida
is the one and only time when man and bull meet face to face. When the bull comes
out of the pen to confront the bullfighter in the arena, they're total strangers to each other. In addition, the animal has never been fought. For this reason, the bullfighter must have a sound knowledge of his adversary's ancestors, particularly its mother, to anticipate its likely reactions. Do you understand now?'

‘Yes, I understand a lot better, thank you. But I must admit, I still find all this slightly repulsive and more than a little dangerous.'

He laughed. ‘You have a faint heart,
querida
! Still, you're right, it is dangerous for the ignorant, but not for the maestro,' he concluded, his eyes shining with conceit as well as something Alexandra couldn't quite fathom.

The sun was beating down mercilessly now. A hot resinous scent came from the ilex trees. They had walked a short way, to the edge of an isolated field, encircled by a low dry-stone wall. There, in the midst of the green pasture, looming large in the white light of midday, was a magnificent bull: dark, hunched and threatening-looking.