Meeting in Madrid (21 page)

For no very clear reason Catherine’s heart sank.

‘Ramon will come back, in that case,’ she said with confidence. ‘He is needed here.’

It was another hour before Ramon made his appearance, soaked to the skin after a long ride in the rain. Teresa and Catherine had made several telephone calls in the meantime to be quite certain that the neighbouring estates were still in contact and that they hadn’t suffered any damage.

‘Where’s Jaime?’ he demanded. ‘I got here as quickly as I could when I saw the storm brewing.’

‘He wants you at the west dam,’ Catherine explained. ‘He seemed to be worried about the water and the concrete not holding.’

‘I thought he might be,’ he said. ‘I’ll go right away.’

‘Did you find Manuel?’ Teresa asked.

He shook his head.

‘I tried most of his old haunts along the coast without any luck.’

‘Lucia sent him away.’

Ramon paused at the door to look at her.

‘Did she, indeed?’ he mused. ‘How do you know?’

‘She has just told Catherine, although she did not give any reason.’

‘She will have a good enough reason of her own. Damn the rain!’ Ramon exploded. ‘We’d made a good job of that reservoir.’

There had been pride in his voice, pride in a task well done, and for the first time Catherine realised that she could take him seriously.

‘We’re hanging on here in case we have to phone for help or give the others a warning,’ Teresa explained. ‘The Serranos will be most affected if the dam goes. Pablo is going up to help Jaime, and Victoria will stand by their phone. If you have to stay out all night we will bring up refreshments,’ she added. ‘Catherine can drive the car.’

‘I wouldn’t say “no” to something hot later on,’ Ramon agreed, pocketing a handful of the little sweet cakes which still remained on the table as he passed. ‘I haven’t eaten since this morning.’

‘What, no
tapas
!’ Teresa exclaimed. ‘You must be wasting away without your crayfish and sausages!’

‘I will do greater justice to your picnic basket when you bring it!’ he laughed, going off to collect a fresh horse.

CHAPTER SEVEN

It was midnight before the dam broke. After dinner Teresa and Catherine had packed a large basket with the food which would carry best,
lomo embushado,
and mountain ham and some choice pieces of boiled beef and chicken, together with salad and cheese and several bottles of home-made wine to augment the two large flasks of hot coffee
con leche
which Eugenie filled while they waited.

‘We’ve got enough for an army here,’ Catherine observed as Teresa added a large bowl of potted crab to their collection.

‘We’ll need it all because we will have a small army to feed,’ Teresa assured her. ‘Everyone who can possibly help will be there, the Serrano
pe
o
ns
as well as our own. We will brew more coffee when we get to the dam.’

Lucia came to inspect the hamper.

‘I will come later on,’ she said. ‘It will be best if I stand by the telephone.’

They were still in contact with the outside world, which was amazing considering how much water must have seeped into the overhead conductors, but it seemed that Lucia had another reason for wanting to remain at Soria. Did she perhaps fear that Manuel might return to be questioned by Jaime?

Catherine had no time to think of Lucia now. All that concerned her was the thought of Jaime out there in the wild night fighting for the
hacienda
’
s
very life.

‘It’s a stiff drive,’ Teresa warned when they were finally in the car, ‘but there was nobody left to take us now that Manuel has gone. Pedro and Fernando will be at the dam or somewhere else on the terracing if the water has come down.’

There seemed to be nothing in the whole, dark world beyond the boundary wall but water. It fell from the sky and rushed madly down every available slope, carrying sand and soil and rocks with it; it slid secretly beneath trees and gushed triumphantly over every man-made barrier in its way, carrying wooden bridges along with it as if they were toys; it flooded into little reservoirs and out again on the other side, spilling in a reckless waterfall to the terraces below, and now it seemed as if there was a stealthy quality about its progress which made it far more frightening to behold.

Catherine gripped the steering-wheel, concentrating only on the road ahead.

‘How far?’ she asked.

‘About another mile.’

Already they had come two and the road had deteriorated all the way.

‘If the dam goes we’ll be cut off,’ Teresa remarked.

‘Don’t be so cheerful!’

‘I was only sounding a timely warning.’ Teresa sat close up against the windscreen. ‘Now I can’t see a thing!’ she complained.

‘You’re the navigator,’ Catherine told her. ‘We simply have to get through.’

The screenwipers were practically useless, sweeping to and fro to little effect, while the mud on the road seemed to be deepening with each turn of the wheels. Whole sections of what had been a sandy surface were now a veritable sea of mud, and when they did come to a rocky part the car tended to slip sideways into a skid.

‘I wish I was more experienced,’ Catherine gasped, righting it for the third time. ‘I’m a city driver, I’m afraid.’

‘We will soon be there,’ Teresa encouraged her. ‘I think I can see lights ahead.
Si! Si
!
They are on the
carretas
and there are others in the
barranco.
I wonder what they are doing down there. Look! they are moving.’

‘I can’t look at the moment,’ Catherine pointed out. ‘It’s as much as I can do to keep the car on the road.’

Teresa continued to peer anxiously through the windscreen, her face almost pressed against it, and at last Catherine was able to make out the vague shapes of men and machines spaced out along the road ahead of them.

‘Stop here!’ Teresa commanded. ‘We must go in search of Jaime.’

Catherine pulled the car to the side of the road and they stepped out into the mud and rain to be met by a howling wind which buffeted them unmercifully as they trudged towards the nearest group of lights. Before they reached it, however, a tall, recognisable figure strode quickly towards them.

‘Cathy! Teresa!’ Jaime took them both firmly by the arm. ‘You should not have come. There is still danger.’

‘You need food,’ Teresa said practically, ‘and the car’s full of it, to say nothing of hot coffee and wine!’

‘I saw your lights coming along the road.’ He sounded brusque, but it may have been his method of combating an almost overwhelming tiredness. ‘There are a great many of us, but even one hot drink will be welcome. Pablo Serrano brought up a waggon a few minutes ago and Ramon is sharing out the food in the
barranco
.’

‘Why are you working down there?’ Teresa wanted to know.

‘If the dam goes we hope to channel most of the water into the
barranco
, away from the terraces,’ he explained, ‘but we are working against time. We have to dig a long way, but with any luck we could make it.’ The light of challenge in his eyes cancelled out the grimness of his expression as he looked down at them. ‘You must not wait, he decided. ‘When we have unpacked the car you must return home.’

‘We will stay,’ said Teresa, the line of her jaw as determined as his. ‘You could do with another pair of hands —two pairs of hands!’

‘No, Teresa,’ he said. ‘I wish you to return. It could be dangerous when the water comes down.’

‘
You
will be in danger,’ she protested.

‘That is different.’

‘And Ramon.’

‘That is also different.’

‘Because you are men!’ Teresa scoffed. ‘But I am equally strong and Catherine would help if you would let her.’

He shook his head.

‘You see that we have already enough help,’ he said, indicating the line of men digging frantically in the feeble light of the hurricane lamps. ‘There is nothing else to do except dig.’

‘And make more coffee when this is finished,’ Teresa insisted, turning back to the car. ‘We have brought a stove.’

Jaime looked down at Catherine.

‘Thank you for coming,’ he said. ‘If we can save the terraces I’ll have won through.’

The desire to reach up and kiss him almost overcame her. He had taken off the waterproof cape to work more quickly and he was soaked through, his hands and face stained with the red mud of the terraces where he had toiled for the past six hours, shoulder to shoulder with the
pe
o
ns
in an effort to save his inheritance. It was an effort for Soria and the family he loved, for Ramon, and Teresa, and Lucia, who were all dependent on him.

‘You will win,’ she said, confident in the quality of the man. ‘It would be too cruel otherwise.’

‘Nature does not choose her victims,’ he said laconically, ‘but I can insist that you return to Soria before there is serious trouble here. If the dam breaks before the new channel is finished—’ He shrugged, aware that he had no need to spell out the details to her as she stood beside him in the angry night.

Catherine followed him to the car where Teresa was already unpacking the hamper.

‘How will we do it?’ she asked. ‘Will we go down to the men?’

He shook his head.

‘I will send Manuel to you.’

‘Manuel?’ Teresa looked up at him in amazement. ‘When did he come?’

‘Around eight o’clock, when we most needed him.’ There was pride and satisfaction in his voice. ‘He knew we would be in trouble when he saw the storm gathering over Teide.’

‘Well, I’m blessed I’ exclaimed Teresa because she could think of nothing else to say.

‘We needed him because he had done most of the work on the dam with me,’ Jaime went on to explain. ‘In spite of going off without permission, Manuel has the welfare of Soria deeply at heart and he’s worked like a Trojan these past few hours. I have never seen anyone quite so wet!’ His mouth twisted in a wry smile. ‘I cannot see myself, of course!’

He strode off down the hill, swinging the lantern he had picked up to guide him in the darkness.

‘Manuel,’ said Teresa, ‘just couldn’t stay away. He loves Soria, you see, almost as much as Jaime does.’

‘And you!’

There was a long silence while Teresa considered the point.

‘Cathy, I don’t know,’ she said at last. ‘When it’s like this I love Soria with all my heart. Like Jaime, I would give my life for it, but when things are going well, when one day follows another with so little to do, I’m not sure. I think that I must go out into the world to dance, perhaps, because it is the way I can express myself best.’ She sighed. ‘But meanwhile I will go back to the convent, I suppose, and then to the University in Madrid to learn to be something-or-other, which will suit my family!’

‘A few years,’ said Catherine. ‘They’re very little in a lifetime. I know that sounds like the advice of an old fuddy-duddy, but you’ll see how true it is—afterwards. And now,’ she added lightly, ‘back to the present! Have we enough mugs to go round, do you think?’

‘Most of the
pe
o
ns
will have their own,’ Teresa said, hacking at the strips of pork. ‘I wish Jaime had waited for something to eat.’

‘He may come back,’ Catherine suggested, ‘before we go.’

‘Go?’ Teresa turned with the carving knife in her hand, looking incredibly fierce in the uncertain light. ‘You can go, Cathy, but I’m staying. I don’t care what Jaime says!’

‘Don’t let’s argue about it. We can make a second run with more food early in the morning,’ Catherine suggested, feeling that diplomacy was the better part of valour with Teresa in her present mood. To tell her that Jaime had ordered them to return to Soria for their own safety would only complicate matters.

Teresa peered into the beam of the car headlights which they had left on.

‘For heaven’s sake, what’s this?’ she cried.

A small, squat figure leading a donkey was coming towards them, water dripping from his
poncho
and streaming from the brim of the wide
sombrero
he wore close down over his eyes.

‘It’s Manuel,’ Catherine said quietly. ‘Don’t laugh!’

‘No, he will take it as an insult,’ Teresa agreed, ‘but just look at him!’

Manuel came round to the back of the car where they were sorting out the food, bowing on sight of them, and a small river of rain cascaded from the scooped brim of his hat to fall into the mud at his feet. Manuel and water were synonymous at that moment. It even dripped from his hands as he held them out for the flasks, and came out of the tops of his boots.

‘Ah, Manuel!’ Teresa said, ‘you have returned to help us. I’m sure Don Jaime could not have done without your assistance.’

Lucia’s former servant beamed his appreciation, wiping away the little stream of water that dripped from the end of his nose.

‘I thank you,
senorita
,’ he said, not quite looking at her. ‘I could not see the
hacienda
in trouble without coming to your assistance. Don Jaime already understands.’

‘We are grateful, Manuel,’ Teresa assured him, straight-faced. ‘Already you have done much good work by digging a way into the
barranco
.’

‘It is not yet finished.’ Manuel turned away with the flasks and a basket of mugs over his arm. ‘We work like crazy now to beat the water.’

When he raised his head to look at her the water poured from the brim of the now sagging
sombrero
down his back, but he did not seem to notice it. What he had lost in comfort he had gained in stature from Teresa’s praise.

They brewed tea and coffee on the picnic stove in the boot of the car, sheltered by Teresa’s riding-mac as an awning, although gusts of wind-lashed rain found them from time to time, almost extinguishing their source of heat.