Meet Me Under The Ombu Tree (18 page)

Emer was encouraged that her daughter asked tenderly after Sean O’Mara. She’d tell Aunt Dorothy that the child wasn’t as selfish as she had supposed, or as heartless. Emer told her daughter that he had married and gone to live in Dublin. She understood that he was doing well from what his parents told them. Now she wasn’t certain but she seemed to remember someone telling her that he had had a daughter, or a son, perhaps, she couldn’t be sure, but a child nonetheless. Anna smiled wistfully and said that she was happy for him.

Both Emer and Dermot doted on the children who warmed to them immediately. Yet when the initial excitement of their presence had worn off Anna wished her parents weren’t so provincial. They were both dressed in their Sunday best, a timid couple against this foreign landscape. Maria Elena took tea with Emer and Anna at her house in front of a boisterous fire as it got quite chilly when the sun went down and Hector showed Dermot the farm in the
car-ro
drawn by two shiny ponies. The whole family joined them for dinner and once Dermot had downed a couple of shots of good Irish whisky he held forth, telling wildly exaggerated stories of life back in Ireland and embarrassing tales of Anna as a child. His hair that had been neatly combed on his arrival now frizzed out in grey curls and his cheeks glowed with merriment. When he started to sing ‘Danny Boy’ after supper with Maria Elena at the piano Anna wished they had never come.

Four weeks later Anna hugged her mother goodbye. She could not have known that she would never see her gentle face again. Emer knew. Sometimes one senses these things and Emer Melody had inherited a sharp intuition from her grandmother. She died two years later.

Anna was sad to see them go, but not sorry. The years had weakened the ties that bound them together; she felt she had moved on in the world, while they hadn’t moved at all. While she had delighted in seeing them she also felt they

had let her down. Having presented herself as a lady she was sure her husband’s family would now see her for what she really was. But Paco and his parents had grown very fond of Emer with her gentle Irish nature and enchanting smile, and everyone had adored her eccentric father. It was only in Anna’s mind that this shadow dwelt and grew, until it threatened to destroy the very thing it loved.

Two years later, when Anna discovered a hotel bill in Paco’s jacket pocket, she suddenly realized where he had taken his love and blamed his betrayal for all her feelings of exclusion and inadequacy. She didn’t take the time to wonder who had driven him there.

Santa Catalina, February 1972

‘Maria, don’t you just hate it when you’re told that you have to like someone?’ moaned Sofia, kicking off her tennis shoes and sitting down on the grass next to her cousin.

‘How do you mean?’ she asked.

‘Well, this Eva person. Mama says I have to look after her and be nice to her.

I hate that kind of responsibility.’

‘She’s only staying for ten days.’

‘Ten days too long.’

‘I hear she’s very pretty.’

‘Huh.’ Sofia was already bristling at the thought of competition. She had heard nothing for the last few months but how beautiful Eva was. She hoped her parents were exaggerating to be kind. ‘Still, I don’t know why Mama has to go and ask her to stay.’

‘Why has she asked her?’

‘She’s the daughter of friends of theirs from Chile.’

‘Are they coming too?’

‘No, worst luck, even more of a responsibility.’

‘I’ll help you. She might be really nice; we may all become friends. Don’t be so pessimistic,’ laughed Maria, wondering what Sofia’s problem was. ‘How old is she?’

‘Our age, fifteen or sixteen. I can’t remember.’

‘When is she arriving?’

‘Tomorrow.’

‘We can meet her together. We only need worry if she’s dull.’

Sofia hoped Eva would be dull - dull and plain. Perhaps she could leave her with Maria, and they would bond. Maria was so accommodating, there was no reason why she wouldn’t relieve Sofia of her charge and entertain Eva for her. That’s the sort of girl Maria is, thought Sofia happily. She’s always eager to please. Suddenly the following week didn’t seem so bleak after all. She would be able to spend all her time with Santi, leaving Maria and Eva to amuse themselves.

The following morning Sofia, her brother, and her cousins were lying chatting in the shade of one of the tall plane trees, listening to Neil Diamond’s voice resound through the open drawing-room windows, when a shiny car drew up. They all stopped talking and turned their attention to Jacinto, the chauffeur, who climbed out, walked around to the back door and opened it. His face was red and he was smiling. When the beautiful Eva descended, his wide smile and throbbing, swollen cheeks surprised no one. Sofia’s stomach shuddered competitively. She glanced at the boys who had suddenly raised themselves onto their haunches like a pack of prairie dogs.

‘Puta madre!’
exclaimed Agustin.

'Dios,
just look at that hair!’ hissed Fernando.

‘A filly with better legs, I have not seen,’ muttered Santi under his breath.

‘Oh, for God’s sake, boys, put your tongues in. The hair is blonde - lots of girls have blonde hair,’ Sofia snapped irritably, getting up. ‘Wipe your mouth, Agustin, you’re dribbling,’ she added before striding off towards the car.

Anna, who had been sitting on the terrace with Chiquita and Valeria, walked across the grass towards the new arrival who stood shyly beside the hypnotised Jacinto.

‘Eva,’ she said as she approached. ‘How are you?’

Eva floated up to her. She didn’t stride and she didn’t walk, she floated. Her

long blonde hair was loose and flowing about her angular face, framing large aquamarine eyes that blinked up nervously from under thick dark lashes.

Sofia tried desperately to find fault with this creature that had appeared before her like a demon in disguise ready to steal Santi away, but she was perfect. Sofia didn’t think she had ever seen anything more exquisite before. She watched her mother embrace her warmly, ask after her parents and give Jacinto orders to take her suitcase into the spare room.

‘Eva, this is Sofia,’ said Anna, nudging her daughter forward. Sofia kissed her and smelt the fresh lemon scent of her cologne.

Eva was taller than Sofia and very slim. She looked much older than fifteen. When she smiled, a timid smile, the cushions of her cheeks blushed before the colour subsided a little, spreading across the rest of her face. When Eva blushed she looked even prettier; her eyes seemed more blue, more acute.

Sofia mumbled a feeble
‘Hold,’
before letting her mother lead their guest onto the terrace. Sofia followed lamely. She glanced across at the boys who were still watching from their lair. But they weren’t watching her; they were watching Eva. They were all imagining what it would be like to have her.

Eva noticed their silent appraisal too; she could feel their eyes following her across the terrace. She didn’t dare look at them. She sat down and crossed her legs, feeling the sweat behind her knees and on her thighs.

Sofia sat mutely beside her mother, Chiquita and Valeria who fought for Eva’s attention like a group of admiring schoolgirls. She wondered whether they’d notice if she just slipped away. No one cared whether she spoke or not, they didn’t even look at her. She might just as well have been a shadow.

Soledad came out with a tray of iced lemon and glasses and proceeded to hand them around. When she got to Sofia she frowned at her enquiringly. Sofia pulled a thin smile, which Soledad recognised immediately and understood. She grinned back as if to say, ‘You’re too spoilt for your own good, Señorita Sofia.’ Sofia gulped down the lemon, then retained a cube of ice in her mouth which she swilled around petulantly. Eva’s eyes caught Sofia’s and she seemed to smile at her through them. Sofia smiled back bashfully but was determined not to like her. She looked over at the boys who moved about restlessly under the tree in their poorly disguised efforts to see as much of Eva as possible. Then Santi stood up, gesticulated to the others as if in response to a dare, and strode confidently over to where the women were sitting on the terrace.

Chiquita beckoned him to join them. ‘Eva, this is my son Santiago,’ she said

proudly, watching her handsome son bend down to kiss their exquisite guest before pulling up a chair. She smiled as she detected a glimmer of attraction cause Eva’s pale tanzanite eyes to shine and look away bashfully.

‘You’re from Chile?’ he asked and grinned broadly, giving Eva the full benefit of his generous mouth and large, white teeth. Sofia rolled her eyes. He’s smitten too, the fool, she thought irritably.

‘Yes, from Chile,’ Eva replied in her silky Chilean accent.

‘Santiago?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, welcome to Santa Catalina. Do you ride?’

‘Yes, I do. I love horses,’ she told him happily.

‘Then I’ll show you around the farm on horseback if you like,’ he offered. Sofia was about to drown in her misery when Santi reached for her glass of iced lemon and, taking it out of her hand, put it to his own mouth and took a swig. The fact that he had shared her glass so naturally would show Eva that he belonged to her. She hoped Eva noticed.

Santi then sat back; placing his ankle onto his knee and resting the glass on his thigh he rolled it around idly. They continued to talk about horses, her parents’ beach house in Cachagua and the long summer mists that sometimes linger over the coast until midday. While they talked Sofia leant over to reclaim her glass. Her hand touched Santi’s as she took it from him and proceeded to finish off what was left of the lemon. But Santi barely acknowledged her. He seemed unable to wrench his eyes away from the mesmeric Eva who sat smiling prettily at him.

Once the other boys had watched Santi settle into the group so effortlessly they galvanized themselves and wandered over. Eva saw the group of tanned, hungry predators emerge from the shade into the sun and her pale lips quivered uneasily. But then Santi grinned at her in sympathy as they approached the terrace to sniff the honey pot and she smiled back gratefully.

Maria appeared out of the trees with Panchito and little Horacio, and Paco strode around the corner with Miguel, Nico and Alejandro, followed closely by Malena with her two daughters, Martina and Vanesa. Soon Eva had been introduced to almost everyone on the
estancia;
even the dogs seemed compelled to bask in her aura and sat about her chair meekly. The boys wanted to sleep with her, the girls wanted to be her, and all at once they asked her questions and tried to win her affection. Sofia stifled a yawn and was about to slip away when

Grandpa O’Dwyer shuffled unsteadily out of the drawing room.

‘Who’s this pretty young thing who has appeared among us?’ he said when his eyes focused on the lovely Eva.

This is Eva Alarcon, Dad. She’s come over from Chile for a week,’ Anna replied in English, hurriedly assessing him to determine whether he had been drinking.

‘Well, Eva, do you speak English?’ he asked gruffly, hovering over her like a large moth attracted to a beautiful flower.

‘A little,’ she replied with a strong accent.

‘Don’t worry about him,' said Anna in Spanish, ‘he’s only lived here for thirteen years.’

‘Not a word of Spanish,’ said Agustin, eager for Eva to notice him. ‘Ignore him, we all do.’ He laughed and took pleasure in watching her smile at his humour.

‘You might,’ said Sofia grumpily, ‘but I never ignore him.’ Santi looked at her and frowned as if to ask why she had come over all moody, but she averted her eyes and smiled at her grandfather.

‘From Chile, eh?’ continued Dermot, taking a chair from Soledad, who had anticipated his thoughts, and making everyone move aside so he could sit next to Eva. They all had to shuffle along and there was much scraping of chairs on the tiles before Dermot was able to squeeze into the small space that had been made for him. Anna shook her head wearily. Sofia smiled in amusement. Let’s see how she copes with Grandpa, she thought gleefully to herself.

‘What do you do in Chile?’ he asked. ‘Good girl,’ he muttered to Soledad as she brought him a glass tumbler of iced lemon. ‘I don’t suppose there’s a surprise in this for me, is there?’ he added, sniffing it. Unable to understand his English, Soledad retreated inside.

‘Well, we ride horses on the beach,’ replied Eva earnestly.

‘Horses, eh?’ said Dermot, nodding approvingly. ‘We ride horses in Ireland. What do you do in Chile that we can’t do in Ireland?’

‘Shoot the rapids?’ she suggested and smiled politely.

‘Shoot the rabbits?’

‘Yes, we have the fastest rapid in the world,’ she added with pride.

‘By God, it must be a fast rabbit if it’s the fastest in all the world.’ He chuckled.

‘It’s not only fast but very dangerous.’

‘Dangerous too. Does it bite?’

‘Excuse me?’ she said, looking helplessly across at Sofia, who decided not to rush to her aid like the rest of her sycophantic family and shrugged her shoulders instead.

‘Hasn’t someone shot it yet?’ he asked.

‘Oh yes, they shoot it all the time.’