When Summer Fades (18 page)

Colouring at the memory, Sophie racked her brains. ‘Something about goats not having wings?’

‘Exactly. And while goats might not have wings … Francisco has!’

‘Francisco? You mean Francisco has a plane!’ she gasped, remembering the airstrip Cristovao had shot passed
en
route
from the restaurant.’

‘Precisely. When I took Mario to Lisbon airport, I thought perhaps I could drive down here to see you.’

‘That would have taken simply ages.’

‘Not exactly ages. But I realized a plane would be quicker. I also remembered Francisco was flying to Lisbon, and so I rang him and asked if he wouldn’t mind an extra passenger on the way back to Alvor. I did ring to let you know I was coming, but the line was engaged.’

‘That was Rosa ringing from the Alfaia Club.’

Carlos breathed a deep sigh of relief. ‘I wondered why Cristovao’s car wasn’t here. I even began to wonder if he’d let me down. Does that mean they’re not back, yet, and we have a couple of hours to ourselves?’

‘Oh, we have more than that,’ Sophie whispered, taking his arm. ‘Cristovao has been drinking and is unable to drive, and Rosa is spending what remains of the night with a friend. Anna Oliver, I think she said.’

‘I think you mean Anna Oliviera. They were at school together.’ Turning to face Sophie, Carlos tilted her chin upwards, brushing her hair from her face with his slender fingers. ‘You know,’ he said, bending to kiss her on the nose, ‘you are just as beautiful as I remember.’

‘But you only left on Tuesday evening.’

‘Exactly. And that’s meant four lonely nights. Shall we make up for that now?’

Walking hand in hand with Carlos to the bedroom, Sophie tried desperately not to think of how many lonely nights she might have to spend once she returned to England.

*

In the misty pink glow of early morning, and wanting to reassure herself Carlos was still beside her, Sophie reached out to touch him, her fingers fluttering gently across his naked chest. To her surprise, his hand grasped hers and clasped it immediately to his lips.

‘I thought you were asleep,’ she murmured.’

‘No. I’ve been awake for ages, thinking about us … and returning to Lisbon.’

‘Of course! If Francisco brought you and you have no car, how will you get back?’

Drawing Sophie into his arms, where she nestled against his bare chest, Carlos stroked his fingers through her sun-bleached hair. ‘I’d originally planned to return with Cristovao, however, from what you said last night, it could be hours before he puts in appearance. Although … on reflection that can work to our advantage. It’s probably better if no one knows I’ve been here.’

Sophie frowned. ‘Perhaps, but it still doesn’t solve the problem of how you’ll get back to Lisbon.’

‘I’ll simply ring Francisco and ask him to call for me on his way to the airfield.’

‘But it’s not even six o’clock! Why does Francisco have to fly to Lisbon so early in the morning?’

‘I’m not sure I should tell you,’ Carlos said, ‘although you’re bound to find out eventually. You see … Francisco has a mistress in Lisbon. When his wife visits her mother, who also lives in Lisbon, Francisco flies up to collect his mistress.’

‘Are you saying Francisco flies in one direction with his wife, and returns in the other with his mistress? And in the morning does the reverse? That’s
awful
!’

‘Believe me I do not approve,’ replied Carlos. ‘But that’s Francisco for you. No doubt his wife will find out one day, as for what happens then….’

Reaching for Carlos’s shirt on the chair, Sophie breathed in the faint smell of his cologne. She held it lovingly. ‘Isn’t this the shirt you wore when you took me to church?’

‘Yes, and the same one you wore when we made love for the very first time. Would you like to keep it?’

‘I’d love to. But you can’t possibly fly back to Lisbon without a shirt!’

‘I don’t intend to. In case you hadn’t noticed, I do keep a selection of clothes here for all sorts of occasions. However,’ he grinned, stepping naked from the bed, ‘not having the right thing to wear last night, I suppose it was better to wear nothing at all.

Slipping on a pair of panties and wearing Carlos’s shirt, Sophie prepared him coffee and waited for the sound of a car’s engine heralding Francisco’s arrival.

Carlos kissed her tenderly. ‘I understand. Anyway, we’ll be seeing each other in a couple of days. I’m taking you to the Gulbenkian Museum, remember? Then there’s Grandmother’s party. Augustina is already preparing the food. It should be quite an occasion.’

Chapter 12

Leaving Casa Maria-Clara and all its wonderful memories, Sophie returned to Lisbon with Rosa. There, she found herself spending more and more time on her own.

‘Where is Rosa this morning?’ José asked, when his wife appeared with a fresh pot of coffee. ‘Don’t tell me she didn’t come home again last night?’

‘I’m afraid so. She spent the night at Anna’s.’

‘Really, Elisabete! That’s the third time this week. What can Rosa be thinking of? Sophie is here as her guest.’

‘Please don’t concern yourselves,’ Sophie began. ‘I’ve been perfectly happy visiting all your wonderful galleries and museums.’

‘Hmph! If only Rosa were interested in such things,’ José′ muttered angrily, ‘Her life appears to consist of nothing but night clubs, parties and shopping!’

‘Rosa is still very young, José,’ Elisabete reminded. ‘You forget she is not yet nineteen.’

‘She will be, in a matter of weeks! And she should also be getting engaged. I’m sure Carlos doesn’t want a wife whose only interests are shopping and dancing.’

‘And I’m sure Carlos doesn’t even
want
a wife, least not one like Rosa! Honestly, José, you and my mother have always taken that ludicrous suggestion of my brother’s way too far. When Eduardo first suggested such a betrothal all those years ago at Rosa’s christening, he had been drinking, and I’m sure it was meant only to be a joke.’

‘Nonsense! Your brother and I have always thought Carlos and Rosa would make a perfect—’

‘I know,’ Elisabete interrupted, kissing him fondly. ‘But this is the twenty-first century, Carlos is old enough to make his own decisions when it comes to choosing a wife. No one dared tell my brother whom he should marry.’

‘More’s the pity!’ José′ snorted. ‘Considering the mess Eduardo made of his own marriage, it would have been far better if they had!’

Fixing her husband with a glare reminding him of Sophie’s presence, Elisabete hurriedly changed the subject.

Waiting in the Gulbenkian museum, Sophie turned to find Carlos striding towards her. He bent to kiss her cheek. ‘Sorry I’m late.’

‘To be honest I didn’t expect to see you. You’ve already given up most of your lunch hours this week.’

‘Given up? You make it sound as if I’m suffering rather than enjoying your company.’ Carlos took her arm. ‘Come. Let’s find somewhere nice for lunch. I gather Rosa spent yet another night at Anna’s?’

‘Yes. But as I told her parents this morning, I don’t really mind.’

‘Hmm, and they know only too well that Rosa isn’t at all interested in the arts.’

‘Definitely not the arts!’ Sophie said sadly. ‘Only wedding dresses.’

‘Oh, dear!’ Carlos replied, deeply concerned. Try as he might, he still hadn’t had a chance to speak to Rosa; she was hardly ever at home. At the same time, he also knew what Sophie must be thinking, ‘Rest assured, I am not making excuses,’ he said, ‘in fact, I’ve already decided to speak to Grandmother instead. Meanwhile, I must also take you to the Rua Augusta. It boasts some wonderful shops and I’d like to buy you something special.’

Emerging from a china shop, with yet another Portuguese cockerel for her aunt, Sophie found Carlos looking in the window of an exclusive designer boutique.

‘What do you think of that?’ he asked, pointing to a stunningly simple, yet elegant, black silk dress.’

‘Mmm. Black silk crepe.
Very
nice.’

‘Then let me buy it for you?’

‘No, Carlos! Because although it’s beautiful, it’s also extremely expensive, I couldn’t possibly let you buy that for me.’

‘Why ever not?’

‘Because it’s late. You should be getting back to the office, and … I’d also feel like Francisco’s mistress.’

‘You could never be that!’ Carlos remonstrated, his hand on the ornate brass door handle. ‘Please, Sophie, if not the dress – then let me buy you something else? A scarf … or some jewellery perhaps?’

Hesitating in front of a small wooden box with an unusually decorated lid, Sophie was surprised when Carlos suddenly turned and moved away.

‘You’re probably right, there isn’t time after all,’ he said, pretending to look at his watch, his face strangely solemn. ‘I suppose we could always come back tomorrow.’

Knowing there wouldn’t be time tomorrow, as it was the eve of Maria-Clara’s party, Sophie became aware of the strikingly beautiful shop assistant, who was peering incredulously from the window. ‘That woman … do you know her?’

Ignoring the question, Carlos led Sophie by the arm up a long flight of steps and twisting alleyways until they reached a small café in the corner of a square.

‘Who was she, Carlos?’ Sophie ventured. ‘You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’

‘I feel as if I have,’ he replied, his face ashen.

Though having only glimpsed the trim, elegant figure dressed in black, Sophie discerned her to be considerably older than Carlos. Once more she was reminded of Francisco and his mistress. ‘That woman … was she one ... of
your
lovers.’

Carlos gave a sharp, dry laugh. ‘Helena, my lover? That depends on how you choose to look at it, Sophie. Helena always told me she loved me, and swore she’d never leave me. In the end, however – she did.’

Trying to come to terms with the shock announcement that Carlos had once loved an older woman, Sophie was totally unprepared for his next pronouncement.

‘Oh, don’t worry. It’s not at all what you’re thinking. Helena is my
mother
.’

‘Your mother? You never told me your mother was in Lisbon.’

‘I didn’t know she was.’

Ordering coffee and brandy for them both, Carlos described the angry scenes he’d witnessed as a young boy. The angry scenes that had torn his parents’ marriage apart, shortly after the birth of his brother.

‘I’m not ashamed to admit I almost hated Cristovao then, even holding him responsible for my parents’ separation,’ he said, sipping his brandy. ‘And I was particularly angry with my mother, for taking Cristovao with her, while leaving me behind.’

‘Didn’t you say the reason she gave was because your father needed you?’

Carlos shrugged his shoulders and reached once more for his brandy. ‘That’s what she said at the time. What about me, Sophie, did she never think I might need her?’

‘I’m sure she did,’ Sophie whispered, clasping his hand. ‘It can’t have been an easy decision to leave you or your father. Was there another man involved?’

‘No. And because they never divorced, I assumed there never was. Which means they’re still husband and wife.’

‘Why didn’t you ask your father? Surely he must have known?’

Carlos shook his head. ‘It did no good asking Father. In the early days he would get in the most dreadful tempers. Later, he even refused to mention Helena’s name. It was almost as if she didn’t exist.’

‘Well, it’s plain to see that she does, and for some reason she’s also back in Lisbon. So dare I make a suggestion?’

‘What’s that?’

‘When I’ve returned to England, and hopefully once you’ve told Maria-Clara about us, please go and see your mother. Perhaps after all these years she’ll tell you why she acted as she did. From the look on her face, I’d say she was just as shocked to see you.’

Quite possibly, Carlos thought to himself, but seeing Helena again like that when he’d least expected to, had only brought back all the anger, hurt and pain. Finishing his brandy, he seemed almost surprised to find Sophie facing him across the table.

‘Strangely enough, Augustina’s one of the few people who still mention Helena. She says I have my mother’s eyes.'

‘I did wonder. No one else in your family has such amazing eyes.’ In response to Carlos’s raised eyebrows, Sophie linked her arm in his and continued. ‘Believe me, they are. They remind me of so many beautiful things. Midnight blue velvet, the rich blue of lapis lazuli, and even a haunting Duke Ellington song.’

‘A what?’ Carlos asked, his face softening.

‘Shall I let you into a secret? When I first met you I was constantly humming
Mood
Indigo
to the extent Callie even became quite cross with me.’

‘Because she thought you were singing about me?’

‘Not exactly. And wonderful as I find those eyes of yours, I hate to see them angry or sad, particularly if that anger is directed at your mother. I’m convinced there has to be a rational explanation for everything. Please Carlos, promise me you’ll go and see Helena.’

*

On the morning of the party, Carlos was despatched to fetch Maria-Clara from her apartment. ‘Good morning, Grandmother. How does it feel to be eighty-five?’

‘Not good,’ came the tart reply. ‘Without Augustina to assist me, everything has taken twice as long.’

‘Of course. I was forgetting. Augustina is helping Aunt Elisabete with the food.’

‘And Rosa’s dress.’

‘What’s wrong with Rosa’s dress? She told me it fitted perfectly.’

‘It did. Now she wants it altered!’ Maria-Clara grumbled. ‘She’s been behaving most unreasonably just lately. As for Sophie…’

‘You can’t hold Sophie responsible for Rosa’s behaviour!’

‘I don’t,’ Maria-Clara corrected, startled by his defensive tone. ‘I confess I had my doubts initially, but soon realized Sophie was the best person you could have chosen for Rosa’s stay in England. It’s almost a pity she goes home tomorrow.’

The very mention of Sophie returning to England filled Carlos with dread. It wasn’t only the prospect of saying goodbye that haunted him it was also the thought of her going home alone each night to Victoria Villas. Someone as loving and caring as Sophie deserved better. Once they were married he would make sure…

‘So what do you propose to do?’ Maria-Clara demanded.

‘You mean about Sophie?’

‘Sophie? Why should you be interested in Sophie’s behaviour? It’s not
her
who’s staying out half the night, is it? I’m talking about Rosa!’

‘Rosa has always been strong-willed,’ Carlos began, deciding that perhaps now
wasn’t
the time to profess his love for Sophie. ‘You might be eighty-five Grandmother, but you were young once, remember?’

Maria-Clara gave a derisive snort. ‘I never stayed out half the night! I was never allowed to. Her father isn’t at all happy about it, either. So it looks as if it’s up to you. You’re the one who’s marrying her!'

Easing herself wearily from her chair, Maria-Clara reached with bony fingers for her walking stick and announced matter-of-factly, ‘José and I have been thinking. Why not bring the wedding forward? Why wait another year? With all this excess energy, Rosa needs something to calm her down. It would probably do her good to have a baby.’

‘A
what
? Good God! You surely can’t mean—?’

Pretending not to hear, Maria-Clara draped her shawl about her shoulders and paused to examine her appearance in the mirror. ‘Yes,’ she reflected, peering at the deeply-etched face. ‘I’m getting old and decrepit. I would very much like a great-grandchild before my next birthday.’

‘Then don’t look at me to provide it! I have absolutely no intention of marrying Rosa!’

‘I shall ignore that little outburst, Carlos,’ Maria-Clara declared through gritted teeth, clutching at his arm. ‘How can you speak like that? Today of all days.’

‘Rest assured, I shan’t spoil your birthday, Grandmother, but I still intend to call on Monday morning to discuss this matter once and for all!’

Driving in silence to José and Elisabete’s, Maria-Clara had the distinct feeling that her birthday was already spoiled. Surely it couldn’t get any worse?

In the kitchen, an unusually harassed Augustina was attempting to add the finishing touches to a dish of
bacalhau
a
bras
. Rosa, meanwhile, kept darting in front of her with a reel of shocking pink-thread and a needle.

‘
Please
, Augustina. Just shorten the hem a
little
bit more. It won’t take long.’

Much to Carlos’s annoyance, when he entered the room, Rosa laid down needle and thread, and flung her arms around his neck.

‘Where’s Sophie?’ he asked, fully aware of Maria-Clara’s smug approval, before he succeeded in disentangling himself from Rosa’s tentacles. ‘I need to check her flight details.’

‘She’s helping Mother with the flowers for the table. However, I think perhaps I should warn you: my parents have had a row, and Cristovao and I aren’t speaking. He was
very
rude about my dress.’

‘So, what’s new?’ Carlos muttered.

Rosa grinned triumphantly when Augustina finally dried her hands on her apron and came towards her, holding a box of pins and a tape measure.

‘Anyway, I got my own back on Cristovao. I told him his new suit was horrid! He looks like a gangster. Last seen, he was helping himself to Father’s whisky and telling lots of silly jokes.’