When Summer Fades (19 page)

‘Then I suppose I should be glad
one
of us still has a sense of humour,’ Carlos snapped, ‘Grandmother will tell you I’ve just said goodbye to mine!’

When the family eventually sat down to eat, it was with mixed emotions. José and Elisabete sat facing each other, daggers drawn: Maria-Clara surveyed Rosa’s shocking pink mini-dress and lime green-nail polish in disgust; Sophie found herself under the ever-watchful eye of Augustina, who was still pondering Filomena’s revelation about sleeping arrangements at the beach house; Carlos, in between trying to catch Sophie’s attention, was regarding his father with renewed suspicion.

Sitting by Sophie’s side, only Cristovao appeared not to sense the mounting tension. Too busy savouring the tastes of his uncle’s whisky and vintage wines, he vaguely recollected a television programme he’d seen ages ago during his stay in England. Helping himself to a generous portion of
bacalhau
a
bras
he then took up his glass.

‘A very happy birthday, Grandmother!’ he called out, ‘Now tell me – as this is my first family gathering in ages, is there any truth in the rumour that you still intend to marry my boring brother Carlos off to little cousin Rosa? Who I must say looks anything but … In fact she looks more like Mr Blobby in that ghastly pink dress.’

There was a muffled gasp before all eyes turned towards Maria-Clara. Clutching a white linen napkin to her mouth with one hand, she pointed to the remains of the fish with the other.

‘Quick!’ Sophie called to Carlos, rushing to Maria-Clara’s side. ‘I think your grandmother is choking on a fishbone!’

*

Twenty-four hours later, and struggling to hold back tears, Sophie watched Carlos unload her luggage at Faro airport. ‘With any luck,’ he said, ‘we might have a few moments together before Rosa and her parents arrive.’

‘I do wish they hadn’t offered to come,’ Sophie sighed, ‘I hate having to say goodbye.’

‘I think it’s their way of saying thank you for yesterday. When I think of that awful incident with the fishbone … You were the only one not to panic, Sophie. Although that’s possibly because you’re a nurse, and knew exactly what to do.’

Looking at Carlos through tear-filled eyes, Sophie whispered, ‘I only wish I knew what to do about saying goodbye to you.’

‘Then don’t, because it’s not goodbye. We’ll be together again in a matter of weeks. At least Grandmother now knows I have no intention of marrying Rosa.’

‘Yet she still refuses to believe you. When Cristovao asked her—’

‘Cristovao had been drinking. It was his idea of a joke. One I certainly didn’t share!’ Carlos said, taking her by the arm.

Having checked in Sophie’s luggage, Carlos led her to a table in the far corner of the airport. There, he slipped a small, oblong package into her hands.

‘What is it?’

‘Open it and see.’

Peeling back gold and white wrapping, Sophie opened the narrow leather box and peered inside.

‘In case you’re wondering, it isn’t a watch, although at first glance I suppose it does looks like one,’ Carlos explained, in response to her bewildered frown.

‘Ah, I see now! Sophie said, holding the delicate twisted leather and gold strap against her wrist. Instead of a watch face there’s–’

‘Polished sandstone,’ Carlos interrupted.

‘Of course! Polished sandstone, to create a miniature landscape exactly like the cliffs where we … saw the goats.’

‘I was hoping you’d say where we
made
love.’

‘I was going to, but with all these people ... Oh, no! Here comes Rosa. I’d better put this away.’

Watching Sophie conceal the bracelet in her handbag, Carlos whispered. ‘I know it’s totally unsuitable for work, but when you’re not on duty promise you’ll wear it to remember the precious moments we shared.’

‘I promise,’ she gulped, through silent tears.

Picking at her chipped, lime green nail polish, Rosa chattered away merrily.

‘Augustina is very grateful to you, Sophie. Of course, she blames herself for not finding all the bones before she made the
bacalhau
a
bras
. Perhaps if I hadn’t asked her to shorten my new dress it might never—?’

‘Exactly!’ José broke in, approaching the table. ‘Was it really necessary to buy another dress, Rosa? Your mother tells me you bought a perfectly charming navy-blue outfit for your Grandmother’s birthday when you all went shopping together?’

‘José!’ Elisabete, reprimanded. ‘You are here to say goodbye to Sophie, not argue with your daughter.’

‘I’m sorry, my dear, but I can’t stop thinking about yesterday and what might have happened if Sophie hadn’t been with us.’

Sensing the underlying tension and anxiety, Sophie said kindly. ‘I’m sure Maria-Clara will be fine, once she’s had a chance to rest and recover from the shock.’

Greatly reassured, Elisabete turned to the departure board. ‘Oh, dear! It looks as if your flight has been delayed for at least another hour.’

‘Then please don’t think you have to stay. Wouldn’t you rather go home to check on your mother?’

‘If you’re sure you don’t mind, Sophie? However, before I go,’ Elisabete urged, hugging her warmly, ‘you must promise to visit us again very soon. Rosa, are you coming to see your Grandmother?’

Sophie’s heart sank when Rosa shook her head. ‘No. I will stay with Carlos. He can bring me home.’

Half an hour later, finishing her second cup of coffee, Rosa stood up. ‘I’m going to the ladies. Sophie, what about you?’

‘No. I’m quite comfortable, thank you.’

Looking into his wallet Carlos drew out a handful of notes. ‘There’s a CD shop over there, Rosa. Why not see if there’s anything you can add to your collection?’

Delighted at the prospect, Rosa disappeared from view. In desperation, Carlos reached out and pulled Sophie against him. ‘I thought we’d never get rid of her. At least, now we can have a few moments alone.’

‘Alone?’ she questioned miserably, surveying the hordes of waiting passengers.

Releasing his hold on Sophie, Carlos acknowledged she was right. Rosa, finding nothing to her taste, was already on her way back. ‘Just remember I love you,’ he whispered. ‘Whatever happens, I
will
always love you.’

*

Several hours later, numbed, exhausted and emotionally drained, Sophie was swept along with the jostling crowds at Heathrow airport.

‘Sophie! Sophie! Over here!’ Callie called, running forward and enveloping her in a fond embrace. ‘I’ve told Patrick to wait in the car. I wanted to speak to you first. So, tell me … how was Portugal and how was Carlos? Wow! I don’t believe it. You’ve actually got a suntan! Goodness. You’re looking so gorgeous and…’

Seeing Sophie’s eyes brim with tears Callie’s face filled with alarm. ‘Oh, dear! Me and my mouth! Big enough to be used for an aircraft hangar no doubt. Was the holiday that horrendous? Do you want to tell me about it? Shall we go and—?’

‘Not at the moment, Callie, if you don’t mind. What with the plane being late – and I’m so sorry you’ve had to wait – I feel absolutely shattered. Would you be terribly offended if we went straight home?’

Waving goodbye to Callie and Patrick, Sophie surveyed the miserable surroundings of Victoria Villas. Letting herself into her flat, she fled to the comfort of the bedroom where all those months ago Carlos had once spent the night.

‘Oh, Carlos!’ she cried, hurriedly searching in her handbag for the bracelet, and fastening it onto her wrist, collapsed on the bed, sobbing uncontrollably.

*

Two days later, Carlos studied Maria-Clara’s determined set of mouth. Though visibly shaken from her experience with the fish bone, she had no intention of giving way to her grandson.

‘I don’t care what you said the other day. I
want
you to marry Rosa,’ she insisted, her eyes hardening.

‘And I’ve already told you,
I
don’t
!’

‘Just think of the business, Carlos. Think of the future with the Martins-Ramirez families joining together as one.’

Exasperated, Carlos pushed his hair away from his forehead, his navy-blue eyes glared in defiance, ‘Don’t be so ridiculous! They’re
already
joined together! The partnership was established years ago, when Aunt Elisabete married José!’

‘Perhaps,’ Maria-Clara conceded. ‘But when you and Rosa have children...’

‘Children! How can you talk of Rosa having children? In case you hadn’t noticed, she’s still a child herself!’

‘Precisely. Which is why it’s what she needs.’

‘
What
she
needs
? Good God! I can’t believe you’ve said that!’

Maria-Clara ignored him. ‘Having a baby cements a relationship. It certainly worked for your grandfather and me when your Aunt Elisabeta was born.’

‘But not, it would seem, for my parents!’ Carlos finished, acidly.

‘That’s because your mother never understood your father’s needs, particularly after she had Cristovao.’

‘My father’s needs? What on earth is that supposed to mean?’

Tired, and regretting her slip of the tongue, Maria-Clara pulled at her shawl.

‘Well? I’m waiting.’

‘If you must know, your mother found it difficult to accept your father’s mistress. You probably don’t remember, but she had a very difficult pregnancy with your brother. As for your father, he … Let’s just say I told your mother it wouldn’t last – I’d had a similar experience with your grandfather – but Helena refused to listen, or take heed of my advice.’

‘I’m not surprised!’ Carlos spat, his eyes blazing. ‘To think all these years I’ve been led to believe it was my
mother
who was the guilty party, when all the while—’

‘No one actually said that. Besides, your father adored your mother. In time, he would have seen the error of his ways and given up the other woman.’

‘Would he indeed? How very noble of him! And is that what you’re suggesting for me? Follow the family tradition! Marry Rosa and take Sophie as my mistress?’

‘Sophie? Your mistress? I don’t understand.’

‘Of course you bloody don’t!’ Carlos said, storming to the door, ‘Because you simply do not want to!’

Hearing the front door slam, Maria-Clara looked up to find Augustina standing in the hallway. Her suspicions regarding Sophie and Carlos now confirmed, she shook her head sadly. ‘If you want my opinion, I don’t think you handled that at all well.’

‘I don’t!’ Maria-Clara retorted, scowling.

Noisily engaging first gear, Carlos and the C70 sped away in a cloud of dust towards the city centre. Sending his secretary flying when he charged into his office, he ordered her to cancel all his afternoon appointments.

*

At one o’clock when Helena Martins adjusted the CLOSED sign on the door of her boutique, a tall, remote figure stepped from the shadows.

‘Carlos!’

‘Hello, Mother. I’m sorry if I startled you. I need to talk to you.’

‘That sounds ominous,’ Helena replied, turning the key in the lock. ‘Where do you suggest … the restaurant on the corner? Or if you’d prefer, there’s my flat.’

‘Your flat?’

‘I live above the premises,’ Helena explained, pointing upwards to an ornate, wrought iron balcony, fronting casement windows.

When Carlos shifted uneasily, Helena’s face broke into a warm smile. ‘Seeing you standing like that reminds me of when you were a little boy. Come, something tells me what you have to say is better discussed in private.’

Letting Helena lead the way, Carlos followed his mother into a narrow side street. ‘Of course, it’s not quite up to Martins-Ramirez standards, but at least it’s mine,’ he heard her say as she motioned him to follow up a twisting spiral staircase. ‘Though, quite how long much longer I’ll be able to manage these stairs, I don’t know. I’m not getting any younger.’

‘Rubbish! You’re still as beautiful as I remember.’

‘So you do still remember me?’

‘Of course, and I would have kept in touch had you informed me where you were going. When you told Father you didn’t want him to have your address, I assumed that meant me, too.’

Recognizing the hurt on Carlos’s face, Helena placed a comforting hand on her son’s arm. ‘I thought it was for the best,’ she said quietly. ‘Without me, your father could build a new life. I had Cristovao, and he had you. He needed you, Carlos. You were so good and so sensible. Eduardo didn’t need a bawling infant and a neurotic wife.’

‘You weren’t neurotic!’

‘Wasn’t I? At the time I thought I was. Maria-Clara often said…’

‘That’s one of the reasons I’m here.’

‘So she’s still alive then? And presumably still giving your father and José their orders.’

‘Not only Father and Uncle José. Me too. Grandmother is insisting I marry Rosa.’

‘
What
!’ Helena exclaimed, aghast. ‘You can’t mean she’s still pursuing that stupid idea, concocted at Rosa’s christening? That’s preposterous!’