Masquerade (32 page)

She wondered when she would hear from Andrés. The energy of the previous evening had scarcely dimmed in the cold light of
day, though she was still confused at the strange compulsion she felt towards him, one she couldn’t wholly understand.

The sun was unforgiving by the time Luz had donned some denim shorts and a T-shirt over her bikini and had set off for the beach. It was dry and harsh, without any softness or humidity, and no cloud in sight. Even in the shade the temperature was scorching. Most of Spain was still taking its siesta at this hour, except the ubiquitous cicadas with their ceaseless grating, but Luz felt restless waiting for a sign from Andrés. So she set off with Zeyna to embrace the fury of the sun, the beach and the sea.

She was not disappointed. Beneath a sun-baked sky, the blue and silky bay and its silvery sandy shore beckoned. The stark, sweeping coastline spread before her as she cantered purposefully to her favourite spot at the end of the lengthy stretch where the bollards lay motionless, like guarding giants. The sand was deserted beneath an expanse of azure sky, sparse tufts of wild grass appearing here and there like emeralds on the rolling dunes.

Already she felt better; she had left her problems at home. She loved the quietude, the isolation and the bright Cádiz light reflecting off the water. A sense of calm came over her as her eyes feasted on the unspoilt beauty of her surroundings. The sea was in kind mood, and the rustle of wavelets on the rocks as gentle as the sound of dry leaves blowing in the breeze.

All of a sudden she was aware she was not alone. A shadow moved at the side of her. She turned abruptly. Paquita was staring at her, solemn as an owl, leaning on her stick, which she was gripping tightly with one gnarled hand while the other held some sprigs of wild herbs. She wore a scarf over her head, which partly hid her tousled, dishevelled hair, and her clothing was scarcely more than a bundle of old rags.

Luz’s features tensed and a frown creased her forehead. Though the sun was hot in the heavens she shivered. She drove her eyes back to the scenery and fixed them on the frothy, lacelike edge of the shore in front of her. Maybe if she ignored her, the intruder would
go away. She could gallop off on Zeyna if she wanted to but, for some unknown reason, she was compelled to remain.

Moments passed. Now Luz’s focus was riveted once again by the gypsy hag. The vulture’s eyes were watchful, shining like fierce furnaces in her sun-shrivelled face. She was silent, waiting.

Strangely, Luz found she had mixed feelings about Paquita. On the one hand, she feared and was a little in awe of the old woman because she was a gypsy; on the other, it was almost like being in the presence of an old friend. After all, according to Paquita, the gypsy seemed to have played some beneficial role in her parents’ love story and though she spoke in riddles, which Luz did not wholly understand, she did feel that the
gitana
had her welfare at heart.

‘What do you want?’ Luz ventured hesitantly.

The old woman’s laughter crackled and her strong features broke into a smile.

‘You’re not afraid of Paquita any more,’ she said as she approached the mare.

‘Careful,’ Luz warned, ‘Zeyna doesn’t know you and she might buck.’

The laughter resounded again in the silence. ‘Don’t you know that gypsies have a special relationship with horses? We talk to them and they listen.’ She shuff led closer, extended the crooked hand that held the herbs and patted the nose of the mare. The beautiful creature dipped her head, nuzzling into the newcomer’s pockets, looking for some sort of reward for her sweet nature. Luz was not accustomed to Zeyna taking easily to strangers and she had to concede that Paquita must possess some magic power.

‘How is Leandro?’ she blurted out suddenly, wanting to swallow her words as soon as they had left her lips.

Paquita’s hawk eyes rolled. ‘You must not despair, child. It is written that, like your parents, you’ll find true love and will enjoy a good life,’ the gypsy reassured her, albeit somewhat obscurely.

Luz bent a little over her mount and stared helplessly into the unreadable eyes.

‘What do you mean?’ she asked, irritated.

The old hag glanced up at her face and studied it as though deciphering a map. ‘Beautiful lady, love always prevails,’ she declared in a hoarse voice, as though stating a non-contentious fact.

‘Does that mean our love may still survive? Could we really have a normal life together?’

The witch chuckled, uncovering her ungainly jaws. A fire lit up in her watchful hawkish eyes and flickered in her parchment face. She gazed into the depths of Luz’s blue irises.

‘Paquita unearths the secrets of all beings. Nothing is hidden from her,’ she croaked arrogantly, waving her stick in the air menacingly. ‘The world is small, the legs of lies short and coincidence has a long-reaching arm.’

At this Luz felt troubled about whatever it was Paquita was trying to tell her. Flushed and more than a little apprehensive of what the gypsy would say, she still prompted: ‘What do you mean?
Ay Dios!
I’m so confused. You talk about love and lies but none of it makes sense!
Por favor, ayúdame
, please help me. Can’t you shed some light on everything that’s happening to me?’ She waited, breathless, for the answer.

But the eyes of the wizened old crone glazed over; blinds came down. Suddenly she looked as though she was making a great effort. Beads of perspiration glistened on her weathered face. As previously, her cavernous voice resounded eerily in the silence and echoed through the air as she turned her small, bowed figure and slowly hobbled away across the dunes.

‘Beware of masks, blinkers and tinted glass,’ she cried out. ‘Remove the shield that shades your eyes. Forget the gypsy and love the man. Look beyond the veil of revenge and search your soul, it will guide you. When the mist lifts you will find the treasure that you are looking for, buried among the dust and the rubble of days gone by and memories. The glittering green jewel, the precious stone, is lying there, so clear, so pure, waiting. Don’t be afraid! Reach out for it, it is a gem for you to keep.’

Luz tried to call her back but, as usual, Paquita was not listening, engrossed as she was in her trance, incoherently repeating what only made sense to her. The young woman attempted to follow her on Zeyna but the old gypsy had vanished into the dunes before Luz had time to work out in which direction she had gone. She swore under her breath.
Why did the witch have to speak in riddles? Why could she not just say things plainly?
Luz struggled to remember the words she had just heard. She wished she had something with which to write them down. By the time she got home she would have forgotten most of them anyway. Lies, coincidences, revenge and memories … what was all this?

For a long time Luz rode Zeyna along the beach, letting her splash through the seawater before finding an outcrop of rock with some shade. The heat of the afternoon was not so relentless now. She jumped down and led the horse into the shadiest part of the sand, in the lee of the cliff, and patted the mare’s flank; Zeyna needed to rest and would stay obediently for a while. They would have to return to L’Estrella in a few hours so that she could be watered but, for now, Luz had a little more time to herself.

She stripped down to her bikini and ran into the gentle waves. The water cooled her burning skin and she spent the rest of the afternoon slipping in and out of the sea, sometimes sitting next to Zeyna on the sand, letting the mare reach down and nudge her comfortingly with her muzzle every now and then, as Paquita’s words continued to float through her mind. Luz arrived home to find an overexcited Carmela hovering restlessly at the entrance to L’Estrella.

‘Don Andrés de Calderón is waiting to see you,’ she burst out, even before Luz had come through the gates and noticed the smart convertible Ferrari parked next to the porch.

‘He’s been here an hour,’ she said. ‘I told him I didn’t know how long the
señorita
would be but he insisted he would wait.’ The poor woman was speaking all at once, her eyes glowing. ‘I’ve seated him on the terrace and have offered him a café latte and
perrunillas. Lo que es
un
hombre guapo,
what a handsome man,
charming y tan apegados
a
la señorita
, and so attached to the
señorita
, too,’ she declared.

‘Calm down, Carmela, you did well,’ Luz reassured her as they walked towards the stables. Her stomach was a-quiver with nerves at the thought of Andrés waiting for her in the house. ‘I will attend to him now. I suppose I will have to ask him to stay for dinner. What have you cooked for tonight?’ she enquired, trying to sound detached.

‘No te preocupes. Carmela tenderá a la comida,
Carmela will tend to the meal so you can give all your attention to the young gentleman,’ the housekeeper told her with a cheeky grin.

‘Don’t get too excited,’ Luz warned. ‘He’s commissioned some work and has probably come to check on its progress. I’m only asking him to dinner out of courtesy. I doubt he’ll accept but we must be prepared.’ She hoped she sounded convincing.

‘Por supuesto,
of course,’ Carmela agreed tactfully. However, she eyed her employer with expressive dark eyes, openly indicating she had not been duped, and once more Luz felt colour tinge her cheekbones.

As Luz came on to the veranda, Andrés gathered himself out of his cane chair with the sort of languid ease that characterized all his movements. His handsome, chiselled mouth stretched into an engaging smile and the intent jet eyes fixed themselves on her face.

Her pulse, which had quickened a little even before seeing him, was now racing – would she never get used to his carbon-copy looks of Leandro?

‘I’m sorry you’ve been kept waiting but I hadn’t the faintest idea you were going to call on me,’ she declared, trying to sound like a hostess casually greeting a guest. She was only too aware that after the afternoon’s swimming, her damp shirt was still sticking to her body and she flushed.

He favoured her with a swift, searching look as he took her hand in his. She felt her skin quiver under its warmth and prayed that he was unaware of it.

‘Waiting can only make the heart grow fonder, isn’t that so?’ he said, his gaze flicking mercilessly over her and then moving up to her eyes. His gentle teasing was unsettling; it made her feel vulnerable.

She swallowed hard, at a loss for words, but he made up for her silence, saying: ‘I wanted to thank you in person for the truly enjoyable dance you allowed me last night and I wondered if you would do me the honour of dining with me tonight.’ Still holding on to her hand he spoke fervently, his burning gaze never straying from her face.

She pulled her hand away and dropped her eyes to cover her confusion. ‘Since you’ve come all this way,’ she said, ‘I think it’s I who should ask you to stay for dinner.’
Had she really just asked him that?
Regaining her control, she looked up at him. A sweet smile hovered on her lips. ‘I’m not sure what Carmela has in mind, but she’s a good cook and I’d be more than delighted if you would share whatever she had planned for me. We can eat early.’

‘I think that’s a wonderful idea,’ he acquiesced, giving her a dazzling, unguarded smile. ‘I’ve already sampled some of Carmela’s specialities. She looked after me very well during your absence. She and I are old friends now,’ he chuckled.

Luz’s smooth brow creased into a frown.
Oh dear,
she thought, wondering what the maid had been up to. You never knew what Carmela would say or do. The housekeeper’s heart was in the right place but her obsession with
novios
and her eagerness that Luz should find a husband, sooner rather than later, had always meant you could not trust the impulsive wag of her tongue whenever she thought an appropriate suitor was in the vicinity.

‘Will you excuse me for another twenty minutes or so?’ Luz said apologetically. ‘I’ve come straight from the beach and so I need to freshen up and change my clothes.’ Her manner was a little more confident now. ‘Would you like a glass of fino or Rioja while you’re waiting, or maybe something a little stronger?’ she offered.

‘A glass of Rioja would be perfect. Take your time,’ he said. ‘The view of the harbour from here is spectacular. I’ll have plenty to amuse
myself with in anticipation …’ He left this phrase in suspension as his gaze poured devilishly into her watchful blue eyes. And as she turned away she heard him say: ‘Enjoy your shower,’ and there was a smile in his low, smoky voice.

The remark, innocuous though it was, made her pulse quicken and her body tingle. Why did she have the impression he sounded like a huntsman ready for the kill? Excitement simmered in her throughout her shower and as she dressed. The hot water had made her body warm in all the right places; the afternoon sun had given her skin a natural apricot hue so she needed no extra make-up on her cheekbones. Her eyes were shining more than usual, courtesy of the havoc the man waiting downstairs had created within her. A little kohl and a soupçon of mascara made them look even wider and deeper. To finish off she applied a tinge of transparent gloss to her sun-kissed lips.

She had changed into a white silk kaftan edged with narrow gold braid and delicate gold flat sandals. Oversized matching hoop earrings were her only other accessory.

Before joining Andrés she passed by the kitchen to find, to her horror, that Carmela had enlisted her mother and sister to assist her in the cooking of a banquet. The housekeeper’s enthusiasm was touching but Luz did not think it appropriate to be so lavish. After all, Andrés had turned up unannounced and she had invited him out of courtesy to share her dinner. This over-the-top welcome could only be construed the wrong way. Having explained this point to Carmela and cut down on the number of dishes she was planning to provide, Luz went to rejoin the young man on the veranda.

She found that dear Carmela had already provided an array of delicious tapas, which Andrés was happily munching his way through. Small dishes of
chanquetes
, whitebait, squid in ink and morsels of tripe cooked in a thick creamy sauce lay half empty on the crowded little table; there were also Carmela’s very special
riñones al Jerez,
kidneys in sherry, slices of cold tortilla and numerous other delicacies. Luz was always amazed at how quickly Carmela
was able to conjure up any number of appetizers. That evening she had surpassed herself and Luz was in two minds whether to cancel the dishes she had just ordered for dinner, but her guest seemed so content that she decided to leave well alone.