The Butterfly Box (34 page)

‘I don’t want him to see the children,’ she repeated anxiously.

‘Is that wise?’ he asked uneasily. ‘He is their father, after all.’

‘Only biologically. I won’t let him come back and upset them. Fede’s getting on with things now. She’s happy. The last thing she needs is Ramon appearing

and promising her the world.’

‘Well, you’re right about that,’ he agreed.

‘I know I am.’

‘How will you get rid of him?’ Toby asked, envisaging Ramon staking out the house until their return.

‘Don’t worry, I will.’

‘I don’t think Arthur’s much of a match for Ramon.’

‘I wasn’t thinking of Arthur. I can get rid of him myself. Kill him with kindness,’ she said and laughed nervously.

‘You’ve got to be cool, Helena, and strong,’ he suggested encouragingly. ‘Don’t flare up and don’t let him walk all over you. You’re an independent woman now. You don’t need him. You’ve got on very well without him. Show him how you’ve changed. You’re not the woman he used to know, all right?’

Helena nodded to herself. ‘You’re right. If I show weakness he’ll use it against me.’

‘Exactly. You’re a force to be reckoned with. Pummel him into submission, he’s only human after all.’

Once she’d sent the children up to Toby’s house on their bicycles she bathed and dressed, trying to convince herself that the makeup and grooming was simply to show Ramon how she’d changed. But she knew the truth and it angered her that she still felt the need to impress him.

She waited in the garden, on the bench under the cherry tree where Polly usually sat surveying her borders and flowerbeds. As a child Helena had watched her plant that tree. How quickly it had grown. Rather like her children. She, too, marvelled at the rapid passing of time. Chile seemed like another life. A life shrouded in shadow because she had become frightened of looking back on it, frightened of missing it. She had made her choice so she had started another chapter, closing the old one for ever. When she heard the sound of wheels on gravel her heart accelerated, pumping the blood through her veins at an uncomfortable speed. Once again her past surfaced to torment her. She stood up shakily, resisting the urge to smoke and walked with forced calmness towards the garden gate.

Ramon hardly recognized Helena. She had cut her hair short. It was paler, thicker, and her skin had recovered that lucid quality he had found so enchanting the first time he met her. Her pale eyes shone with health and she smiled

serenely. He had expected her to demand that he leave, but she greeted him with the affability of an old friend, catching him off guard and throwing all his plans awry. Helena noticed he was lost for words and growing in confidence she invited him to join her in the garden for a drink.

‘You look well,’ he said when they were both seated under the cherry tree with glasses of Polly’s homemade elderflower juice. Helena thanked him and looked at his lined face and long greying hair. He resembled an ageing lion. He was still awesome and compelling. He was still king of the jungle, just not her jungle any more. His hesitation exposed his weakness and sensing it immediately she grabbed the opportunity to take control. To her amazement she was no longer afraid of him.

‘You look well too. Older,’ she said with a malicious smile, ‘but still handsome.'

‘Thank you,' he said and frowned. ‘I’m sorry it’s been so long.’

‘That’s an understatement,’ she laughed, but she was careful not to reveal undertones of bitterness. ‘You're not cut out for fatherhood, Ramon. But don’t torment yourself. We’ve done very nicely without you. In fact, I should thank you. You liberated us from the rut we had dug for ourselves in Chile. We’re

very happy here,’ she said and looked at him steadily.

He noticed she wasn’t smoking and her hand wasn’t shaking. He felt uncomfortable. ‘I’ve been a hopeless father,’ he conceded. ‘But I love them.’

‘In your own way, I’m sure you do. They love you too. They love the memory of you. But they’ve survived without you.’

‘I see,’ he said in a tone that sounded more like a deep groan. He leant forward and rested his elbows on his knees. ‘Fede doesn’t want you to marry Arthur.’

‘I know,’ she said. ‘She doesn’t want anyone to replace you.’

‘She wrote asking me to prevent it.’

‘How will you do that?’ she asked and smiled with confidence, as if she regarded his sudden peacekeeping mission as a source of amusement.

‘I don’t know. I came to talk to you, that’s all,’ he said, sitting back and looking at her with solicitous eyes. He drained his glass.

‘Look, I’m tremendously fond of Arthur. He’s good to me. He’s always there for me. You never were, Ramon. But I don’t blame you. I chose you and I chose to leave you. It’s that simple. Now I want to marry Arthur and Fede will just have to live with it.’

‘She doesn’t want to leave Polperro,’ he said.

‘I know but we can’t always have what we want.’

‘Hasn’t she been uprooted enough?’

‘You’re one to talk,’ she retorted curtly, restraining her anger. ‘If it wasn’t for you we wouldn’t have uprooted in the first place.’

‘If I remember, I didn’t want you to leave.’

‘But you refused to change. I had no choice.’ Helena’s cheeks stung crimson betraying for a moment her inner fury. She turned her face away and poured more juice, aware that if she showed the smallest sign of vulnerability, he would pounce and she’d be lost.

‘Do you love this Arthur?’ he asked.

‘I’m very fond of him,’ she replied.

‘That’s not what I asked.’

‘Don’t tell me you don’t have some poor, neglected woman tucked away somewhere in Chile,’ she replied defensively, avoiding answering his question.

He smirked and nodded. ‘Yes, I do.’

Helena was stunned by his honest reply in spite of the fact that she knew he would have found someone in the seven years that they had been apart, it was

inevitable. She wanted to ask what she was like, whether she was patient and submissive, whether she minded his long absences like she had. But she resisted the temptation.

‘Well, you know what it’s like then. When you care for someone,’ she replied, swallowing her disappointment while outwardly smiling at her husband.

Ramon watched her impenetrable coolness and wondered whether Arthur had given her the confidence to be so self-assured. She had been like that when he had first fallen in love with her. Had he really worn her down like a beautiful rug?

‘So, do you want a divorce?’ he asked, biting the inside of his cheeks apprehensively.

‘Yes,’ she replied, ignoring the small voice inside her head, which begged her to hold onto him.

‘Then you shall have it.’

She nodded stiffly. ‘Thank you.’

‘What will you do about Fede?’

‘Why do you care?’ she snapped in exasperation, suddenly letting slip her carefully cultivated composure. ‘You neglect her for seven years then suddenly

turn up because of a letter she wrote you? You have no right to even ask how she is, or Hal. They are nothing to you now. They don’t belong to you. If you cared you would have been there when Fede fell off her bike, when she was teased at school because she was the only child without a father, or. . . or. . . when Hal awoke with nightmares or the normal doubts that children suffer from. But you weren’t. You know you weren’t. Why don’t you go back to your woman in Chile and forget about us? You’ve had no problem forgetting us for the last seven years. For God’s sake, Ramon,’ she exclaimed, raising her voice until it quivered with anger and hurt. ‘You’ve let us all down badly. Very badly. I want you to go.’

Ramon didn’t want to leave her. She had changed. Gone was the neurotic, stifling woman who clung to him like ivy, refusing to allow him space to breathe. Helena had grown into a woman who knew her mind and had the strength of character to execute her wishes. He knew Arthur was behind it and he was curious to see for himself the man who had succeeded where he had failed. But Helena looked at him steadily with eyes of stone. Her argument was strong and he knew he was unable to manipulate her like he had always done in the past. She no longer feared him.

Reluctantly he got to his feet. ‘So this is it then?’

This is it,’ she confirmed, standing up.

‘Well communicate through our lawyers.’

‘Right.’

‘I don’t think I can go on for ever without seeing my children.’

‘Give me time,’ she conceded, suddenly feeling saddened by the finality of their decision to divorce. ‘I want to marry Arthur. If Fede thinks you’re back I’ll have one hell of a battle on my hands. You’ve waited seven years, another year won’t make any difference, at least not to Fede.’

Ramon lowered his eyes. ‘You really want to marry him?’ he asked, wondering why he cared.

‘Yes,’ she replied, maintaining her composure with a great deal of effort.

‘Well, good luck.’

‘Thank you.’ Ramon leant over and kissed her on the cheek. Helena withdrew quickly, afraid that he might linger there too long, afraid that she might not be able to resist him. Then he turned and left. She sank back onto the bench and waited for the sound of the car to disappear out of the driveway. Then she placed her head in her hands and cried.

Federica cycled down the lane. She had left Hal with Toby and Julian who both agreed that he was too tired to bicycle all the way home after such a heavy tea. They would drive him back later. Federica was delighted - at least on her own she could go as fast as she liked without worrying that a car might appear from around the corner and frighten her brother. She took her feet off the pedals and freewheeled down the road. With the sun on her back and the spring wind raking through her hair she felt exhilarated.

Suddenly a shiny black Mercedes roared around the bend, sending her hands straight onto the brakes in a panicked attempt to control the bike and avoid crashing into the car. With her heart suspended between beats she felt the hot rush of air as it passed dangerously close by, then heard the screech of tyres as it pulled up in the middle of the road behind her. She drew her bike to a shaky stop by dragging her shoes along the tarmac. Then she positioned her unsteady feet on the ground and turned around. The sun was so bright she had to put her hand over her eyes to shield them from the dazzling glare. She watched the car, but no one got out. She squinted her eyes in an effort to make out who was inside, but the reflection on the glass prevented her from seeing in. She remained motionless, wondering what was going through the driver’s

mind that inhibited him from descending and apologizing to her for nearly claiming her life. She was visibly shaken, for her whole body trembled, but still no one appeared. Then to Federica’s bewilderment, the car started up again and left just as suddenly as it had come, restoring the lane to its previous tranquillity as if nothing had happened.

Only the black marks on the tarmac betrayed the stranger’s indecision.

Chapter 24
Autumn 1990

Federica insisted she was too old to be a bridesmaid at her mother’s wedding.

‘You’re fourteen,’ said Helena simply, ‘and anyway, you’re small for your age.’ Once again Federica walked out of the room, out of the house and off onto the cliffs, followed loyally by Rasta, who was now a fully grown Labrador with enormous paws and a large black spot on his nose which baffled everyone.

Helena sighed wearily and decided that Hal would have to be a single page -at twelve years old he wasn’t very enthusiastic but agreed because of a hidden mechanism in his makeup that made it impossible for him to deny his mother anything.

After Ramon’s brief visit Helena had resolved to marry Arthur. It had taken eighteen months for the divorce to come through. Helena had disintegrated into tears at the sight of the physical proof that her marriage to Ramon was over. She had held the piece of paper in her hands and wondered whether marriage

to Arthur was really what she wanted after all. But then she had forced herself to remember how unhappy marriage to Ramon had been and how kind Arthur was and she had filed the document away and continued with her plans in her own stubborn way, refusing to listen to her heart that beat inaudibly for Ramon.

During that time Helena had fought almost daily with her daughter who still believed her father would appear to save her from the dreaded Arthur.

‘Arthur will never be my father,’ she had shouted at her mother in one of her many fits of hysterics. ‘And I will never move away from Polperro. Papa’s so handsome, what do you see in Arthur?’

Helena ignored her, hoping that she’d get used to Arthur in time. She didn’t.

Federica had taken to walking high on the cliffs, watching the surf crash violently against the rocks below and the mesmerizing rise and fall of the cold ocean which, like a beast, seemed to mirror her own inner fury. Rasta would sit with her, the wind drawing his ears back against his sandy neck, cowering against her for warmth, detecting her pain and sympathizing in his own unspoken way.

Federica couldn’t understand why her father hadn’t written. She had begged

him to help and he had ignored her. She felt gutted inside. Within her head she was screaming for compassion but no one heard her. Occasionally her despair boiled over and she fought with her mother, but Helena never bothered to search beneath the outward expression of a grief than ran much deeper than she imagined. No one did. Federica confided in Hester, but Hester was only a child, like she was, and unable to do more than listen and sympathize. She had a father so how could she?

Federica would like to have talked to Sam, but Sam wasn’t often at the manor and when he was she found the words dried up in her mouth and she was unable to communicate with him in anything other than empty smiles. She knew he saw through her smiles, he was smart enough to recognize her unhappiness and he often placed an affectionate arm around her for no apparent reason, or asked her how she was in a compassionate tone of voice. Hester told her that she had heard him confess to her mother that he had a soft spot for her, which only made Federica more selfconscious and less able to speak to him. But she was secretly delighted and sensed they shared a special bond, forged that day in the bluebells. He no longer ignored her. Even though she was still very much a child, he had noticed her. She felt herself so in love she

was unable to concentrate on anything else. Only her mother’s impending wedding distracted her from her ardour.

The day of Helena’s wedding arrived and Federica awoke with the unavoidable sense of doom that had dogged her for the last few months. She looked out onto an October morning. The sky was watery, shimmering through the golden leaves and silky dew that seemed to cling to everything like tears. She cast her eye over the place that had become her home and loved it all the more because she knew she was leaving it.

‘Oh, to be a grown up,’ she thought miserably, ‘then at least I could make my own decisions.’ But she was fourteen years old and still had to obey her mother. Moodily she ate her breakfast while her mother paced up and down the house in a pre-wedding panic having lost her shoes, then her mascara and finally the dress itself, which she had forgotten hung in her mother’s cupboard because it was less damp. Much to Federica’s annoyance she found herself clearing up after her mother, pouring her endless glasses of wine and standing by like an unwilling assistant receiving bouquets of flowers, wedding presents and answering the telephone. Polly sat with her daughter in her bedroom while

the stylist did her hair and makeup, trying to prevent her from drinking too much and keeping the atmosphere light.

Hal lay on the bed playing with a computer game oblivious to the chaos that raged around him.

Federica sulked the entire way through her mother’s wedding; it was all she could do not to cry. When she thought things simply couldn’t get any worse, Sam sauntered into the church with a new girlfriend hanging decoratively on his arm. The girl was tall, with long dark hair and long legs striding confidently out from under a very short pink skirt. Federica wanted to crawl under the nearest tombstone and die.

The ceremony was one of blessing in the village church, given by the excitable Reverend Boyble who’d had his robes dry-cleaned especially for the occasion and his shoes polished with such enthusiasm that they shone out from under his skirts like a couple of silver fish.

Jake had refused to attend because Helena had refused to exclude Julian. Polly had told him to ‘grow up’. ‘Really, Jake, you’re being very childish,’ she said as she left him brooding in the kitchen among his toy boats. ‘This silly feud has been going on long enough! Honestly, one would think you’d put it to

one side in order to give your own daughter away at her wedding.’

Toby was best man and stood apprehensively at the end of the aisle with Arthur, whose brow was studded with jewels of sweat and his buttonhole wilted due to the heat exuding from his thick body. Toby winked at Federica who managed to pull a weak smile in spite of her misery. He wasn’t sure he didn’t agree with his niece, Arthur was a poor choice of husband. He cast his eyes over Arthur’s side of the congregation and decided that if he were to squint he would see little more than a monotonous grey blur. Federica stared at her scarlet shoes and wished she could tap them together three times and disappear back to Chile.

At the moment the bride was due to arrive an expectant silence subdued the chitter-chatter of the congregation. The Reverend Boyble strode importantly up the nave, his shoes silencing the last of the whispers with their metallic taptapping as he took great care not to slip. Everyone turned their eyes to the door. But when it flew open there was no sign of the bride, just Molly and Hester who scuttled down the aisle with their hands pressed firmly over their mouths in an attempt to stifle their laughter.

‘Shit,’ Sam hissed to his girlfriend, rolling his eyes. They’ve been at my

spliffs again, God damn it.’ Indeed, Molly had learned how to roll her own and knew where her brother hid his grass. Ingrid caught Sam’s eye and frowned, cocking her head to one side, but he shrugged his shoulders, denying responsibility. Hester waved at Federica who looked back gloomily, but Hester was too high to notice her misery.

When Helena finally arrived, dressed in a stunningly embroidered ivory dress, a sigh of admiration swept through the congregation, followed immediately by a gasp. Leading her up the aisle was none other than Nuno.

‘Good God!' Ingrid exclaimed. ‘What’s Pa doing?’

Inigo’s scowl softened and the corners of his mouth turned up with pleasure. ‘Now that is splendid. Splendid,’ he said, rubbing his hands together.

‘Whatever do you mean, darling?’ Ingrid replied, nudging him with her elbow.

‘Well, it’s the blind leading the blind.’ He chuckled.

‘Helena’s not blind.’

‘She must be to marry that turnip,’ he said and laughed quietly.

‘Well, I suppose you’re right,’ Ingrid agreed. ‘Quite a compromise after having been married to the gorgeous Ramon,’ she added, remembering that

handsome Latin who had given them all so much pleasure before leaving as quickly as he had come.

‘Where’s Grandpa?’ Federica hissed to her grandmother, temporarily emerging out of her dark cave of self-pity. Polly shrugged and glanced over at Toby who blinked helplessly back.

‘Oh dear,’ Polly sighed sadly. ‘Jake didn’t make it. I am sorry.’

 

Helena had waited ten minutes outside the church for her father to arrive. She had known there was a good chance he wouldn’t come and she had been prepared to walk down the aisle alone with Hal. She wasn’t angry, just saddened. If his own daughter’s wedding couldn’t soften his prejudice she wondered what on earth could. When Reverend Boyble had started playing nervously with his prayer book and twitching at the corners of his mouth, Helena knew she couldn’t hold the service up any longer. Even though it was her wedding. Julian, who was taking the photographs, had snapped one last shot of the agitated bride before creeping silently into the church. Helena had nodded to Reverend Boyble to commence and winked at Hal, who smiled back proudly in his sailor suit.

Then suddenly Nuno’s clipped syllables had stopped her at the door. ‘My dear, who’s going to give you away?’ he asked, trotting up the path as if he were out on a Sunday stroll.

‘Nuno,’ she replied, turning around.

‘I’m tardy, I’m afraid,’ he said, checking the gold watch that hung on a chain about his waist.

‘I suppose you’re going to tell me that “punctuality is the thief of time”,’ she laughed.

‘No, my dear, age is the thief of time, it steals one’s faculties in their entirety, including one’s ability to remember important events such as your wedding. I only remembered because I had tied a knot in my handkerchief, but then it took me a good fifteen minutes to work out why I had put the knot there in the first place. You see, dear girl, age steals everything.’

‘Well, you had better slip in then,’ she suggested, standing aside for him, noticing Reverend Boyble’s chubby fingers tapping with impatience on his prayer book.

‘God will wait, good man,’ Nuno said with a sniff.

The fingers ceased to tap and Reverend Boyble remained for once

speechless with his mouth agape.

 

‘Actually, Nuno,’ said Helena, with the glint of an idea shining in her eye. ‘Would you do me a favour.’

Helena once more suffered doubt as she walked on Nuno’s arm towards the man who would in a matter of minutes be her husband. She made a great effort to rid her thoughts of Ramon and pushed aside any uncertainty with a will of iron. She fixed her eyes on Arthur and remembered his kindness and his adoration and her mind cleared. ‘I deserve you,’ she thought to herself as his clammy hand found hers and he smiled merrily across at her. His eyes told her that she looked beautiful and she returned his smile wholeheartedly.

As Nuno tripped to his seat beside his daughter he heard the muffled squeals of Molly and Hester who jiggled up and down like two clockwork mice in the row behind. ‘High on life,’ said Ingrid vaguely, shaking her head.

‘So that’s what they’re rolling nowadays, is it?’ he replied, sitting down.

‘Really, Pa. They’re just children,’ she replied, opening the order of service.

‘No, my dear, they’re
your
children and if they continue to screech like a couple of pigs in a farmyard, I would like you to send them out,’ he sniffed, lifting

his chin up piously and turning his attention to the marriage ceremony.

The service was long due to the over-exuberance of the Reverend Boyble who loved to hear the sound of his own voice, inspired by God, echo about the stone walls of his church. It was better than singing hymns in the bathroom. Every eye was on him, thirsting for his words to inspire them up the narrow path to God. Marriages were his favourite services and he liked to make them last as long as possible not only for himself but for the happy couple and their friends who had gathered together to hear him. So taken was he by the wit and intelligence of his sermon, he failed to notice the eyes of his congregation droop with boredom and the sound of impatient fingers rustle through the order of service, wondering how long it was going to last.

Finally everyone emerged dazed from the church except for Arthur who strode out like a triumphant gladiator.

‘My darling wife,’ he said, kissing her on her pale cheek. ‘My dear, darling wife. Now we belong together for always.’

‘Yes,’ she replied, swallowing the ugly knot of doubt that had found its way into her throat. ‘For ever,’ she repeated, not wanting to think too hard about

what that meant.

After smiling for Julian they climbed into a horse-drawn carriage and slowly made their way back to the house for the reception. The warm autumnal light set the sky aflame as the evening closed in and the sun began to sink low over the western horizon.

‘You are so beautiful, Helena,’ Arthur said, taking her hand. ‘I am the luckiest man alive.’

Helena squeezed his hand, suddenly overcome by the splendour of the dying day and the affection that blazed in her new husband’s eyes. ‘I’m lucky to have you,’ she replied truthfully, looking into his gentle features that promised her a life of indulgence and love. ‘I’m going to give up smoking as a tribute to you and to announce the beginning of a new life. I really am very lucky that you want to take me on.’

‘No, my darling. The luck is all mine and something I won’t forget even for a moment.’ He bent his head and kissed her. She closed her eyes and breathed in the security of his scent. That calmed her nerves and reminded her of all the reasons she had chosen him.

As the guests arrived gasping for sustenance, Polly rushed about the tent

they had erected in the garden with trays of scones and sandwiches while Toby saw to it that everyone had a glass of champagne. Hester and Molly found Federica sitting alone in her bedroom.

‘We’ve been looking for you for hours,’ said Hester, joining her on her bed.

‘Are you all right?’ Molly asked. ‘You look miserable.’

‘I don’t want to leave Polperro,’ she sniffed unhappily.

‘We don’t want you to leave Polperro either,’ said Hester.

‘I don’t like Arthur,’ she said, crossing her arms in front of her. ‘He’s now my stepfather. Yuck.’

‘He’s not that bad,’ said Molly helpfully.

‘But he’s not Papa.’

‘No, he certainly isn’t Ramon,’ Molly agreed, giggling at Hester. ‘But no one’s as handsome as your father.’

‘He didn’t come,’ said Federica, lowering her eyes. ‘I was certain he would.’

‘Perhaps he didn’t get your letter,’ said Hester, putting an arm around her friend.

‘Perhaps.’

‘I know a way to cheer you up,’ said Molly, grinning at her sister and putting