The Butterfly Box (49 page)

‘Don’t be ridiculous. I forgot my Spanish years ago.’ She laughed.

‘Shame.’

‘Isn’t it.’

‘So, he’s treating you well, is he?’ he asked, conjuring up the silky face of Torquil Jensen with distaste.

‘Enough of me, how are you?’ she asked.

‘Hating the City. In fact, I’m going home.’

‘Home?’ she asked in surprise.

‘Back to Polperro.’

‘To do what?’

‘To write.’

‘How lovely,’ she said, suffering a silent pang of nostalgia as she envisaged those windy cliffs and choppy sea. She hadn’t been back since the previous Christmas.

‘Yes, Nuno’s delighted, he says I can use his study to write in.’

‘That’s an honour.' She sighed, recalling Pickthistle Manor and the golden days she had spent there. Sam detected the wistful tone in her voice and longed to know how she
really
was.

‘Oh yes it is. He never lets anyone into that room.’

‘How is old Nuno?’

‘Old.’

‘That’s sad. He’s a one-off’

‘He certainly is,’ he chuckled. ‘God broke the mould when he’d made Nuno.’ ‘Tell me, why didn’t you ever call him Grandpa?’ she asked curiously.

‘Nonno
is grandpa in Italian, Nuno just stuck.’

‘I’ve always wondered about that.’

‘Well, now you know.’

‘I don’t see so much of your sisters.’

‘I know, so they tell me.’

‘Things are hectic.’ She sighed, glancing around her tidy sitting room and feeling lonelier than ever.

‘I’m ringing up to see if you can make lunch. I’d like to see you before I disappear into the depths of Nuno’s study.’

‘Oh, I’d love to,’ she enthused. ‘I really would. Can you make it this week?’ ‘What about tomorrow?’

‘Tomorrow’s great.’

‘I’ll pick you up at your house,’ he said. ‘Remind me of your address?’

 

When Sam saw Federica waiting for him on the doorstep he immediately noticed the change in her. She was wearing an elegant summer suit in blue with a short skirt and high heels, revealing a larger body and heavier bust. Her hair, scraped back into a ponytail, betrayed a rounder face cloaked in makeup. To anyone else she would have looked sensual and glamorous, but to Sam she looked like a sad clown smiling bleakly through a thick layer of paint. He felt his heart stagger as she walked towards him. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and take her home to where she belonged. But she kissed him warmly, commented on how wonderful it was to see him again and climbed into the waiting cab.

It wasn’t until coffee was served that he gently tried to break through her facade. ‘You look so different, Fede, I hardly recognized you standing outside your house,’ he said, gazing into her blue eyes that failed to disguise her

melancholy.

‘You haven’t changed,’ she replied, once again diverting the conversation away from herself. ‘You’re still wearing holey shirts and worn-out trousers. Torquil should take you shopping!’ She laughed and dropped two sugar lumps into her cup of coffee.

But Sam didn’t laugh. ‘I’m afraid I have better things to do than worry about the state of my clothes,’ he said, allowing the bitterness he felt towards her husband to seep into his words. He checked himself, aware that if he angered her he would lose her trust. ‘I’m thrilled you decided to do a literature course,’ he said. ‘I hope you’re also continuing your photography, you always had a passion for that.’

Federica lowered her eyes and stared into her cup. ‘Oh, I’ve sort of lost interest in photography,’ she replied quietly.

‘How could you have lost interest? I don’t believe you, Fede,’ he exclaimed, feeling the fury rise in his throat.

‘I just don’t have time.’

‘What on earth do you fill your day with?’

‘Oh, lots of things.’

‘Like?’

‘Well, I have a lot of reading to do . . .’ Her voice trailed off. Sam moved his hand across the table and took hers impulsively. She looked up at him in alarm before scanning the room in panic to see if anyone was looking.

‘Fede, you’re worrying me,’ he said seriously, his face suddenly grey and anxious. She frowned. Sam shook his head slowly then continued in a very low voice, penetrating her eyes with the intensity of his stare. ‘Please tell me, darling, that it was
your
decision not to take a photography course, that it was
your
decision to study literature, that it is
your
decision not to come down to Polperro, to cut us all out of your life, to dress like that and paint your face like that. . .’ His voice cracked. ‘Because if your husband is imposing his will onto you, you’re in danger of being smothered. I won’t stand by and watch your spirit harnessed and controlled.’

Federica stared at him in confusion, suddenly having to confront her fears. She bit her lower lip. Sam watched her, attempting to read her thoughts as she so clearly balanced between confiding in him as she had always done in the past, and throwing up her defences and shutting him out.

There followed a weighty silence. Sam squeezed her hand in encouragement.

Tm only asking because I care,’ he said softly and smiled at her reassuringly. To his disappointment she stiffened then withdrew her hand.

‘I love Torquil, Sam,’ she said eventually. Then she added ‘Anyway, you wouldn’t understand.’

‘I’ll try,’ he suggested, but she was already looking away. The connection had been broken. Devastated, he had no choice but to ask for the bill and escort her back to her house. When he tried to reach her once more, on the marble steps of her home, he realized to his despair that he had lost her again. He wondered if he’d ever get another chance.

Federica curled up on the sofa with a packet of chocolate biscuits and a glass of cold milk. She snivelled into a piece of kitchen roll and reflected on her lunch with Sam. How could he possibly understand her situation? What he didn’t realize was that it was
her
choice to love Torquil and
her
choice to want to be the best wife she could be to him. He needed her and cherished her. If he was possessive and controlling, it was simply because he cared. She needed him too. Besides, she thought crossly, the dynamic of their relationship had nothing whatsoever to do with Sam. But, while she dried her eyes and delved

further into the packet of biscuits, the seed of doubt Sam had dropped was slowly settling into fertile ground.

 

When Torquil arrived home that evening his face was red and harassed.

‘Darling, you look exhausted, let me run you a nice hot bath and bring up a glass of whisky,’ Federica suggested, embracing him warmly.

‘We need to talk,’ he said coldly, pushing her away.

She shuddered and immediately felt consumed with guilt. ‘What about?’

‘You know exactly what about,’ he snapped, stalking into his study to help himself to a drink.

She followed him nervously. ‘Lunch with Sam.’ She sighed in defeat. There was no use trying to hide anything from Torquil because somehow he was as omniscient as the devil.

‘Exactly. Lunch with Sam,’ he repeated, clicking his tongue impatiently. He poured whisky into a tumbler and drank it straight. ‘Were you going to tell me, or were you just going to wait and see whether or not you got away with it?’

‘What’s the big deal, Torquil, he’s an old friend?’ she protested.

‘That’s not what I asked,’ he replied angrily.

Federica swallowed hard, his expression was so remote she barely recognized him. ‘Of course I was going to tell you, but you didn’t give me a chance.’

‘You had all of last night to tell me. He called you yesterday,’ he shouted suddenly, slamming his glass down on the table in exasperation. Federica flinched at the severity of his tone. ‘You didn’t tell me,’ he continued in a menacingly soft voice, turning around to face her, ‘because your intentions weren’t honourable.’

Federica’s chin wobbled as she fought against the impulse to cry. For the first time in her marriage she felt consumed with fear. ‘I didn’t tell you, because I knew you wouldn’t let me go,’ she said hoarsely. ‘And I so wanted to go-’

‘So you lied to me?’ he argued, scrutinizing her face with narrowed eyes. ‘My own wife lied to me?’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t even trust my own wife.’

‘I knew you’d say no,’ she explained, unable to swallow the moan that choked up from her chest. ‘I haven’t seen any of my old friends for years. I miss them.’

‘Fede, I’m not your gaoler,’ he said in a more gentle tone. ‘There’s always logic behind my requests. Put yourself in my shoes, how would you feel if I had

lunch with an old girlfriend and didn’t tell you?’

She gulped. ‘I’d probably feel jealous.’ Torquil always had a winning argument for everything.

‘Look, let me explain with an analogy,’ he said, sitting down beside her and taking her hand in his. Torquil loved inventing the perfect analogy to illustrate his case. Take a porn video,’ he began. She frowned at him. ‘No, listen. If there’s a porn video sitting on the video player it’s all too easy to put it in and have a peek, whereas, if you have to go all the way out to a video shop, risk being seen by someone, face the embarrassment of asking for it, paying for it, then sneaking home to watch it, you’re less likely to do it. Do you understand?’ ‘Are you trying to tell me that by having lunch with Sam, I’m in danger of having an affair?’

‘Exactly.’

‘But, Torquil,’ she insisted. ‘That’s madness. He’s like my brother.’

‘But he isn’t your brother,’ he replied sharply.

‘I’m as likely to have an affair with him as have an affair with Hal.’

‘It’s just logic. I don’t want my wife having close male friends. It’s dangerous, believe me. I’ve got more experience than you, you’re very naive, little

one,’ he said, caressing her cheek. ‘I love you. I adore you. I don’t want to lose you. In fact, I’ll do anything not to lose you. Anything at all.’

Federica shivered and waited apprehensively.

‘When I said I’d love you for life, I meant it. All these requests of mine might seem strange to you, but they’re implemented to safeguard our marriage. It’s for you and me,’ he explained. He leant over and kissed her. But Federica didn’t feel like being kissed, she felt confused. He took her by the hand. ‘Come upstairs, I hate fighting with you. Let’s make up.’

‘Torquil, please,’ she objected in a thin voice that was barely audible.

He seemed not to notice her tears. ‘I want to show you why you don’t need to have male friends. They can’t give you what I give you. Come on, little one, convince me that you’re not angry with me.’

Reluctantly she allowed him to unbutton her trousers and pull them off. She lay on the bed in her shirt and panties, trying to control her snivelling. He closed the curtains, took the telephone off the hook and put Pink Floyd in the CD player. Then he dimmed the lights. ‘Don’t cry, my darling, we’re making up now,’ he soothed, kissing her forehead. ‘I’m going to blindfold you,’ he added slowly.

‘Oh, Torquil, I ..

‘Shhh,’ he whispered, placing his finger over her mouth. He then put it inside her lips and traced it across her gums. Inwardly she recoiled with revulsion. He pulled a silk scarf out of his bedside drawer and tied it over her eyes. She closed her eyes into the blackness, wondering where he was and what he was doing. Finally, she felt him unbutton her shirt and open it, releasing the catch on her bra. As he traced her skin with a long white feather, slid his tongue between the gaps in her toes and derived a perverse pleasure from making love to her with her panties on she felt nothing and stifled a sob.

She wanted to shout at him to make love to her normally. Then suddenly she realized that he had always made love to her without love and her flesh rippled with an icy chill that debilitated her. But Torquil didn’t notice, he liked her to be still. It was then that the seed planted earlier by Sam put out tentative roots and began to grow. For the first time in her marriage she allowed herself to doubt. But once she gave into the first doubt she was unable to control the torrent of uncertainty that invaded her thoughts like wafts of black smoke.

 

Federica got up and began to rummage around in her cupboard. There at the

back, in the very corner where Torquil’s pedantic hands had failed to find it to throw away with the rest of her past, was the butterfly box. She sat on the floor, placed it on her knee and opened it. With an unsteady hand she re-read all her father’s letters, one by one, reclaiming the past in each tender word until her tears formed another layer of unhappiness on the paper. Then she focused her eyes into the empty distance and drew comfort from the memories she found there.

Chapter 35

Autumn
1998

 

The following two summers passed in a blur of parties, tedious ladies’ lunches and endless visits to the gynaecologist because Federica hadn’t got pregnant and Torquil was certain there was something wrong with her. As far as the doctor was concerned she was functioning perfectly. ‘Give it time, you’ve only been trying for a few years and you’re only twenty-two,’ he said kindly. ‘Perhaps you’re too anxious. Try to relax more.’

Torquil took it as a personal insult to his manhood that Federica hadn’t got pregnant immediately. ‘A man could scarcely make love to his wife more than I do,’ he complained, ‘and you’re voluptuous enough to be a fertility symbol.’

Federica took offence. Lonely at home in front of the fire, making her way through magazines and Dr Lionel Swanborough’s reading lists, she grazed on panettone and chocolate rolls. Torquil took her whenever he had a spare moment, lifting her skirt up and bending her over to inject her with his potency. Each time he withdrew he patted her on her bottom. ‘That’ll do it, little one,’ he’d say confidently as Federica obeyed his instructions and lay on the bed

with her feet in the air for half an hour to help the sperm in their struggle against gravity.

Federica desperately wanted a baby, but not for the right reasons. She felt she was too young to be tied down with such a heavy responsibility and yet she longed to please her husband. Each month her bleeding was accompanied by hot tears of frustration and the painful duty of reporting her failure. When she suggested that he go and see a doctor himself he retorted that everything worked perfectly well in that department, the problem lay with her.

As the cold, melancholic winds of October groaned about her Federica sought solace in her books, her chocolate and her memories.

Then Nuno died.

Under such exceptional circumstances Torquil allowed Federica to be chauffeur-driven down to Polperro for the funeral. ‘But I want you back by nightfall,’ he said. When Federica explained that that just wasn’t possible, Polperro was hours away, he grudgingly conceded and allowed her to stay the night.

‘I’m going to miss you, little one,’ he added, embracing her, ‘I need you here with me.’

Federica was devastated that Nuno had died, but her excitement at returning home to Polperro eclipsed her sadness. She longed for that day with such anticipation that she forgot her cautiousness and called her mother and Toby every day from a call box to discuss it. She even managed to avoid sex with Torquil, claiming that she was far too distressed.

The funeral took place in the little church in the village. Those who couldn’t fit in spilled out onto the leafy path, pulling their coats and hats about them to keep warm. Ingrid wore a black hat with a heavy veil so no one could see her crying. Inigo helped her down the aisle with a bowed head and red eyes. ‘It’s you and me now at the top of the pile,’ he said gloomily as they sat together in the front pew.

‘I don’t know about you, darling, but I’m going to reincarnate into a beautiful bird, you’ll see,’ she replied, placing her monocle into one eye in order to read the service sheet. Inigo pondered on the theories of reincarnation for the rest of the service.

Molly and Hester sat wiping their wet faces while Sam sat staring at the coffin. He thought of his beloved grandfather and his eyes turned to liquid.

Federica arrived late. She had wept tears of frustration as a broken-down

lorry had held them in a tight traffic-jam for over half an hour. Sweating, she shuffled down the aisle just as Reverend Boyble took his solemn place in the nave. Federica squashed in beside Toby and Julian who squeezed her arm affectionately, thrilled to see her. Reverend Boyble cleared his throat and waited for Federica to settle.

‘No one will ever forget Nuno,’ he began. ‘He was one of life’s originals, a rare ray of light that shone upon us all. We shall miss that light greatly. But now he shines with God. Let us thank God for the life of our dear friend Nuno, who gave each one of us so much.’

Ingrid began to sniff and her shoulders quivered in an effort to control herself. Sam continued to stare at the coffin as if in a trance. Federica turned around and quietly greeted her family who all stared at her as if she were an alien being. How she had changed!

‘I know she’s unhappy,’ Polly whispered to her husband. Jake sighed and nodded. ‘She’s put on weight. She’s not a strongly built girl. It’s unhappiness that’s done it,’ she added, mouthing the same to Helena who sat on Jake’s other side. Toby took Federica’s hand and she suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of loss. Not just of Nuno but of everyone. She had lost Polperro in the

last few years and now she was back she wanted so much to hold onto it. But she knew she couldn’t. Torquil wanted her back tomorrow.

Sam walked gravely up to the pulpit to give the address. He had left his cuffs undone and they flapped about his wrists like white doves. Federica watched him. He had lost a lot of hair since she had last seen him. It was now clearly receding at the front and thinning on top. He looked up with a grey face and surveyed the congregation. He didn’t need notes because he hadn’t prepared what he was going to say. He removed his glasses, took a deep breath as if collecting his emotions and then began in a confident, articulate voice.

‘Nuno was my best and most beloved friend,’ he began. ‘He taught me everything I know and I owe him for everything that I have become.’ Then his grey eyes rested on Federica as he quoted from
The Prophet.
“‘And let your best be for your friend,”’ he said in a slow, almost theatrical voice. “‘If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also. For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill? Seek him always with hours to live. For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.’”

Federica didn’t lower her eyes but looked steadily into his. She felt suffocated by a wave of pity and regret. She recalled with nostalgia the moments

they had shared in the past. They had been special moments of great tenderness. Then, as she tried to hold onto them they dissolved before her like mist, leaving only the desolation of the present and Sam’s grief-stricken face illuminated by the light of God.

‘I always sought Nuno with hours to live,’ he continued bravely. ‘He filled my need for knowledge and my need for wisdom. He also filled my need to understand myself better and taught me not to desire to be understood or admired by others. He was never understood by others and that gave him great freedom, because he was always himself. I shall miss his tedious quoting, his pedantry, his faux Italian accent and his dry, irreverent humour. But most of all I shall miss his wisdom, because without it I am lost. All I have now are the words he taught me in the past, which I shall replay in my memory in my effort to live better.’

Federica listened to his words as they spilled out, without direction, without constraint but from the heart. He spoke at length, holding the sides of the pulpit with his hands, either for effect or for support. He only lifted his eyes from Federica’s to gaze down at the coffin as if he were talking to Nuno himself.

When he finished, no one moved or made a sound. All that could be heard

was Sam’s soft footsteps as he walked slowly back to his seat.

 

Nuno’s coffin was lowered into the ground in the small graveyard outside the church. The family and close friends stood around in the cold and watched his final journey home. Back into the earth where it had all begun. ‘How did he die?’ Federica whispered to Julian, who stood solemnly beside her.

‘Apparently he knew he was going to go,’ he replied, leaning down and speaking quietly into her ear. ‘It was Tuesday afternoon and he kissed Ingrid goodbye, then Inigo and went into his study and passed away in his leather chair reading Balzac.’ Federica raised her eyebrows. ‘Ingrid and Inigo just thought he was going off for a siesta, they didn’t realize he really meant “
adieu
”.’

‘Unpredictable to the last,’ she replied, catching Sam’s hollow eyes blinking sadly behind his glasses. He watched her but didn’t see her. ‘Sam’s taking it very badly,’ she added, smiling at him with sympathy.

But his vision had clouded with grief. He couldn’t see anything. Then he turned and walked to the waiting cars with his family and everyone made their way back to Pickthistle Manor.

Federica gave Julian and Hal a lift in her chauffeur-driven car. Hal was impressed. Julian was not. ‘Why don’t you learn to drive, Fede?’ he asked.

‘I don’t need to.’

‘Of course you need to, it’s a question of independence.’ Federica eyed him nervously and nodded towards the chauffeur. Julian raised his eyebrows. She knew that Paul reported everything back to Torquil.

‘I think it’s really cool to have a chauffeur,’ said Hal. ‘Swish car too. You married well, Fede.’

Julian looked at Federica and watched her smile at her brother. But he could feel the unease behind her smile because the light in her eyes had grown opaque. He took her hand and squeezed it, but Federica only squeezed it back jovially as if she didn’t want her pain to be recognized by anyone.

The atmosphere at Pickthistle Manor was lighter compared with the heaviness that had hung like an invisible miasma in the church. Everyone unburdened their grief with the effect of the wine and Ingrid asked her guests to celebrate Nuno’s life, not to mourn it. The sitting room at once filled with smoke and the vapour of alcohol and body heat as it throbbed with the people Nuno had

acquired throughout his life. When Lucien brought in a sodden hedgehog he had found in the driveway Ingrid burst into tears, recalling Nuno’s aversion to flea-ridden animals, and knocked back half a glass of vodka.

Helena embraced her daughter and complimented her on her designer suit. Then she launched once again into a soliloquy about Hal. ‘We’re not doing very well at school at the moment,’ she said sanctimoniously. ‘We're going to fail our A levels. We’ve got the brains, we just refuse to use them.’ She sighed helplessly. ‘We’re going through a particularly painful time at present. But our heart’s in the right place, we’re just a little bit misguided.’

Federica’s attention drifted, as it always did when her mother obsessed about Hal. She was relieved when Jake intervened and directed the conversation away from his grandson. ‘Hal’s fine, Helena, your problem is you won’t let go,’ he said wisely.

‘He needs his mother, Dad,’ she replied, offended. ‘I don’t care what any of you say, I’m not going to leave him to flounder when I can pick him up.’

Molly was too affronted by Federica’s fickleness even to greet her. She saw her making her way through the crowd in her perfect black suit, her perfect black

shoes, her perfect little black bag and perfect black hat and turned her back and walked in the opposite direction. But Hester remained and embraced her friend with the same loyal affection that she had always shown her throughout their childhood. ‘You look well,’ she said kindly, noticing her larger frame and pallid skin and wondering what had caused it.

‘I am well,’ she replied.

‘How’s Torquil?’ Hester, asked wondering if Federica would open up to her like she had always done in their secret cave. But she was disappointed.

‘He’s a dream,’ she replied enthusiastically. ‘I only wish he were here today. I hate to be parted from him, even for a minute.’

‘How nice,’ said Hester flatly. ‘It’s great that you’ve found your soul mate. I’m still looking for mine.’

‘No one, then?’

‘No one. It’s a desert out there,’ she sighed. ‘Molly has a penchant for picking up builders,’ she added, trying to lighten the conversation. ‘She’s happiest on a building site.’

‘That sounds like Molly. I was lucky Torquil found me so early on. But you’re young, you don’t need to find someone yet. Enjoy your freedom while you have

‘You’re right. I’ll keep my eyes peeled for a Torquil. He doesn’t have any handsome friends by any chance, does he?’ They both laughed, but their laughter was uneasy.

‘Sam’s miserable.’ Federica said, watching him talking gravely to his father.

‘Oh, he’s devastated,’ Hester agreed. ‘He gave a good address, didn’t he?’

‘He’s so talented.’

‘I know. I’m so proud of him.’ She sighed. Then she touched Federica on her arm and looked at her imploringly. ‘Go and talk to him. He needs cheering up’

‘Sam, I’m so sorry,’ said Federica, when Inigo had moved off to seek the quiet sanctuary of his office.

‘Federica.’ He kissed her. ‘I’m glad you could make it. We’d almost forgotten what you looked like.’ Federica smiled awkwardly, recalling their last meeting. ‘Let’s get out of here, I’m feeling claustrophobic,’ he suggested. Sam led her down the corridor to Nuno’s study. Once inside he closed the door, blocking out the low drone of voices. ‘You can see why Nuno liked it so much in here. It’s quiet,’ he said, sitting down on his grandfather’s worn leather chair.

Federica sat on the sofa avoiding the holes that revealed the white foam beneath the leather and crossed her legs neatly under her. ‘I can still smell him,’ he continued. This is the only room in the house that literally vibrates with his presence, even now. I come in here and I still feel that he’s alive and about to walk in at any moment and catch me reading in the erotica section.’

‘Don’t tell me Nuno had an erotica section?’ she laughed.

‘Oh, yes. Nuno was a big fan of erotica,’ he replied. ‘But not a big fan of the real thing.’

‘He must have done it once to have produced Ingrid.’

‘Once. Then he put it away for ever.’

‘Really!’ she exclaimed, lowering her eyes because Sam’s had settled on hers and they made her feel uncomfortable. ‘He was a wonderfully colourful person,’ she sighed, changing the subject. ‘I was fortunate to have known him.’ ‘You were, we all were.’ He stood up and started picking up the papers on Nuno’s antique desk. ‘So how come Torquil let you come down?’

‘He wouldn’t want to stop me coming to Nuno’s funeral,’ she replied coolly, hoping he wasn’t going to repeat the speech he gave her at lunch.

‘You’ve barely been back since you got married.’

‘I know.’

‘Still hectic with that time-consuming literature course, I suppose?’

‘I do other courses now,’ she retorted. They take up all my time.’

‘Fede,’ he said seriously, flopping into Nuno’s desk chair and draining his glass. ‘You love Polperro, don’t tell me you don’t miss it?’

‘Of course I do, it’s just that Torquil has a different sort of life, we do other things.’

‘But not to come and visit your family? Family was once everything to you.’ Federica shuffled awkwardly. She didn’t appreciate this sudden attack on the way she had chosen to live her life. ‘Family
is
everything to me, Sam, but I’m married now,’ she said tightly. ‘Things change. I really don’t want to go into this again.’