The Mermaid Garden (35 page)

every morning on his own. No wife at home to go back to. Now he’s all

smiles. I think it’s sweet.”

“Which one’s Mrs. Meister?”

“The little mousy one.”

“Oh dear, can she cope with the brigadier? He’s like a big walrus.”

“Her husband died, poor love, so she’s on her own, too. I think it’s a

match made in heaven.”

“I’ve got my eye on Rafa.” Bertha grinned into her mug.

Heather was horrified. “You’re not going to do anything about it,

are you?”

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“I don’t mean
I
fancy him. I like an older man, personally, and a little bigger. I’d squash him like a crêpe. I mean I’m
watching
him.”

“Why?”

“I think he’s got a girlfriend back home.”

“Really?”

“Yes. When I was cleaning his room, I came across a wad of love let-

ters from a girl called Costanza. That’s Constance, isn’t it?”

“Must be.”

“So, I’m just keeping an eye on him in case he strays.”

“Why would you care if he strayed?”

“I wouldn’t. I just want to make sure that I’m around to see it.”

“Really, Bertha. You’re terrible, you are.”

“Just looking for a little entertainment. It’s not often that exciting

things happen down here in Devon.”

“I’d say Baffles is exciting.”

“If he comes here, which I doubt. Not a great deal to take of any

value, here.” She snorted disparagingly and slurped the last dreg of coffee from the bottom of the mug.

“Didn’t you see Harvey’s new car?”

“No.” Bertha looked put out. “What new car?”

“A Jaguar, no less.”

“What’s he doing with a Jaguar?”

“Lord knows, but if he’s not careful, he’ll find it gone in the morning with nothing but a note saying ‘
Thank you
’ in its place.”

By five thirty Clementine’s insides were a tangle of nerves. She logged off her computer and took the tray of paperwork to the filing cabinets to file. As she put them away in the correct folders, all neatly

labeled in alphabetical order, she noticed her hands were trembling.

She heard Mr. Atwood on the telephone, talking to his mistress, no

doubt. She didn’t imagine he called his wife “cowgirl.” As she tuned

into his saccharine sweet-talking she didn’t hear the door open, nor

the squeak of embarrassment from Sylvia, who was still at the front

desk.

Rafa greeted Sylvia, but his attention was drawn to the back of the

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by the filing cabinets. It took him a moment to recognize her, at which point she turned.

“Clementine?” He looked surprised. She closed the drawer and

walked over.

“Rafa.”

“
Dios mio
, you look fantastic.”

She flushed happily. “Working attire. I have something less formal

in my bag. Do you mind waiting while I change?”

He put his hands in his pockets. “Of course not. Sylvia can keep me

company.” But he didn’t take his eyes off Clementine until she had dis-

appeared into the ladies’ room.

Sylvia smiled uncomfortably, hoping he wouldn’t refer to the eve-

ning before. She wished Clementine would hurry up. Rafa leaned on

her desk and grinned down at her. “Working hard today?”

Clementine wriggled into her dress and slipped her feet into flip-

flops. She let her hair down and scrunched it between her fingers.

She remembered with disbelief the afternoon daydreaming that the

handsome Argentine she had met in the Black Bean Coffee Shop

would saunter into her office to find her. Now he had, and the evening

stretched out before her, full of promise.

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20.

Clementine sat in the passenger seat of Rafa’s hired car, barely able

to believe that they were finally off together, just the two of them.

She rolled down the window and let the sweet scents of summer billow

in on the breeze. At first their chat was awkward, both talking at the

same time, stumbling on their words, laughing to mask their nervous-

ness. The atmosphere had changed. Clementine didn’t know why it had

changed, or when, but a
frisson
existed between them that hadn’t been there before.

Rafa, casual in jeans and white shirt, glanced across at her every now

and then and grinned. He wore dark glasses, and his thick hair stuck

up as the wind blew through it. She had always found him handsome,

but now, knowing him a little better, she saw that his good looks ran so much deeper. He had a gift for seeing the best in everyone and a gen-erosity of spirit that gave his eyes and smile an exceptional brilliance.

Above all, she liked who she was when she was with him, as if, in

his eyes, she was a better version of herself: braver, wittier, prettier. She gazed out over the countryside and noticed how very lush it was. The

bright green of the leaves and the dazzling blue of the sky filled her up until she was ready to burst with happiness.

They pulled up into the lay-by, and Rafa walked round to open the

boot. “What have you got in there?” she asked, leaning on the gate and

allowing her gaze to drift over the house that God forgot.

“Supplies,” he replied with a grin.

She turned to see him pull out a canvas bag. “What’s that?”

“A picnic.”

“Who made it for you?”

“Heather.” He peered inside. “
Qué bueno
, she’s included a bottle of wine.”

Clementine’s spirit swelled. “Where are we going to have it?”

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“Down on the beach, I think. Don’t you?”

“Good idea.”

However, it hadn’t been such a good idea to wear a dress. The path

down to the beach was narrow and lined with brambles. She hadn’t

thought about practicalities when she had planned her wardrobe.

“I’ll give you a piggyback,” Rafa suggested.

“Oh, no, I’m far too heavy,” she protested.

“No, you’re not. The faces I pulled last time were in jest. You’re tiny.

I could swing you over my shoulder and barely notice you. Here, you

carry the bag.” He crouched down. “Climb on.”

Wishing she were a few stone lighter, she tentatively sat astride him.

The blood boiled in her cheeks at the intimacy of their bodies, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it. He stood up, hooked his arms beneath

her legs, and set off down the path. “You see, I barely know you’re there.”

“Liar,” she laughed.

“Who said that?” He turned round, pretending to look behind

him. She laughed again. He swung around the other way. “And that?

I thought I was alone.”

“Silly!”

“Who said that?”

“If you keep swinging round, you’re going to make me seasick.”

“Ah, it’s
you
.”

“Yes, it’s me, so light you forgot I was on your back.” He strode on

down the path, careful to keep her bare legs away from thorns. At last

they reached the sand, and he gently put her down.

“You see, I’m not even out of breath.”

They sat on the beach and watched the waves roll gently in. Gulls

wheeled on the breeze, the more intrepid ones dropping onto the rocks

nearby in the hope of scrounging scraps from their picnic. Rafa poured

the wine, and Clementine opened the sandwiches.

“Here’s to our renewed friendship,” he said, raising his glass. “I want to say how sorry I am that I interfered. Your relationship with Marina

is none of my business. The truth is, I like you both, and I want you to like each other.”

She raised her glass. “I accept your apology, graciously this time.”

“So, we’re friends again?”

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“Yes. Definitely.” They drank a moment in silence. Then Clementine

took a deep breath. “You know you said that I should detach from the

past so as not to ruin my present? What exactly did you mean?”

He looked at her anxiously. “You don’t really want to talk about this,

do you?”

“Yes, I do.”

“You promise you won’t run off in a fury?”

She laughed. “I’m sorry I lost my temper. I promise I won’t run off;

anyhow, you have the car keys.”

“Okay, if you insist, I’ll share my thoughts, for what they’re worth.”

“I think they’re worth a lot.” She took a bite of turkey sandwich.

“I might learn something.”

“First of all, you have to understand my philosophy of life.”

“Which is?”

“I start from a belief in our ability to choose our destinies. We come

down here to experience life and learn to be compassionate, loving

human beings. During our lifetime we have many choices which affect

those around us as well as our own futures.

“Imagine a pebble dropped into a pond. You may think that the peb-

ble simply sinks to the bottom, but you are wrong. The pebble causes

ripples that run to the edge, where they nudge a leaf off the bank. A

bumble bee is drowning in the water, but now he is able to climb onto

the leaf and save himself. The bumble bee flies off and lands on the arm of a child, who watches in wonder and thus develops a love of nature.

The child’s parents are fighting, but the mother sees the bee and panics that her child will be stung. Both parents rush to help the child and

forget their argument, united in their love for their child. The bee flies off and . . . well, you can invent whatever story you like.

“The point is, nothing you do is in isolation. So you see, your choices are important. If you choose to hold on to grudges you will create a

future that is unhappy, because every decision will be borne out of your resentment. Marina fell in love with your father and married him. It

doesn’t matter anymore whether she stole him from your mother, or

rescued him from an unhappy marriage—and believe me, each person

involved will have their own interpretation of the events and they will all be different. But you, Clementine, can choose how you react. You’re 30067 The Mermaid Garden.indd 223

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an adult now with your own future to build. If you detach emotionally,

give them your blessing, try to see the good in Marina instead of look-

ing for the bad, you will forge a happier present for yourself.”

She thought about it a while, her gaze drawn out to sea. “I’ve never

given Marina a chance,” she said softly. “I’ve always resented her for

taking Daddy away from me.”

“Your father is still here. Perhaps
you
need to be the bigger person and reach out to
him
.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Look, we are not caricatures but complicated, flawed human be-

ings. Love is bigger than all of us. Just understand that they had their reasons, probably not the reasons you think they had, and make a conscious decision to let them go. They’re a great big liner you are pulling across the waves. Cut the rope. Release yourself. You can rise to great heights in spite of the terrible start you had in life.” He smiled with empathy. “But more probably
because
of it.”

“You said I should ask Marina her side of the story.”

“Maybe one day, down here on the beach, when you’re alone and

uninterrupted, you might ask her to tell you what happened. But only

when you’re ready to listen without judging her. Only once you have

detached enough not to bring it all back to you.”

“You’re very wise, Rafa.”

“That’s what everyone says, but I’m not. I’m still learning, still

searching.”

“You seem to know a lot already.”

“The more you know, the more you realize what there is to learn.” He

poured another glass of wine. “Need a refill?”

She nodded. “You know, you’re going to have to carry me back up

the path.”

“A few more drinks and I might carry you all the way home!”

The tide crept in as they sat chatting on the sand. The orange sun

sank low on the horizon, turning the clouds a deep purple against the

pale blue of the sky. It was so romantic, against the hypnotic rhythm of the waves and the melancholy cry of gulls, that Clementine was sure he

was going to lean over and kiss her. Inside, her heart began to thump

with anticipation. The intense way he looked at her, the jaunty way he

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smiled, the playful way he teased, all indicated that he was attracted to her. The wine had made her senses more acute, and she could feel every

vibration that passed between them, as if they were made of electricity.

At that moment, just when she thought he was going to kiss her,

there came the barking of a frightened dog, way out at the other end of the beach, where the sea was crashing against rocks.

Rafa stood up. “Can you hear that?” He scanned the beach. “I can’t

see him. Can you?”

Clementine was mildly irritated that the moment had been inter-

rupted, but the panic in the bark soon distracted her. “Let’s go and see.”

They hurried down the beach, leaving their picnic on the sand. The

barking was constant and insistent, and the terror in it fired them with a sense of urgency. Soon they were running. They stopped at the end of