White Witch (9 page)

To the other people in the garden they appeared to be having a cosy chat. The bikini girl was meditating whether she dared to join them. She thought she had seen invitation in Luis’ eyes and the blonde girl he was with didn’t seem to be making much impact; he didn’t look amused and might welcome a change.

Laurel stood up, feeling she could not bear any more.

‘You’re cruel and unjust, Luis,’ she said quietly. ‘If Peter were my son, I wouldn’t want him to be brought up among people like you, but then of course we would never have come. But as he
is
Pedro’s, he must have his birthright. You say I must stay here—very well, but I would ask you to keep out of my sight, because I can’t bear your presence.’

Luis gave a half groan. ‘
Ay mi,
Laurelita, if only we could go back to Ronda!’

‘Oh, please,’ she cried out in agony, ‘don’t remind me of that day. You were a different person then.’

He looked up at her and she saw pain reflected in his eyes. Was it possible that believing what he did, he too had been wounded? But no, that could not be. He
wanted
to be convinced she was a fraud and a liar, it would free him from feeling any remorse and justify his conduct.

For a long moment they stared into each other’s eyes, reproach in hers, in his an infinite regret. Then Peter came running towards them.

‘Tio Luis, Tio Luis, aren’t you ever coming?
You’ve been simply ages talking to Tia!’ He tugged at his uncle.

Luis rose to his feet. ‘Yes, I am coming. Shall we go down to Algeciras? You can swim there and see the Rock across the water. It will be good to get far away from this place.’

They went off laughing together without a backward glance, but Laurel did not see them go because her eyes were blind with tears.

The bikini girl, disappointed by Luis’ departure, dived back into the pool with a loud splash.

Unable to endure the vicinity of the pool where Luis’ presence still seemed to linger, Laurel went down into the lower parts of the gardens and wandered aimlessly along its winding paths. Clumps of agaves with their prick-edged leaves grew here and there, cruel and sharp like Luis’ tongue. Her mind went over and over again the details of that distressing scene.

The Aguilas attitude was not surprising. They had accepted Joanna’s letter as truth, for none of them, except Dona Elvira, had been much concerned about the fate of Pedro’s baby. She, hungry for grandchildren, had welcomed the news of his survival with joy, the others with reserve. Fraudulent heirs to property had turned up from time to time, some of them causing famous law suits, and it was unfortunate that Peter showed no likeness to his father. As for herself, no one, not even Pedro, had ever questioned her about her English life, she could have left a whole crèche full of babies behind her when she had joined her sister at the villa, for all they knew, so possibly Luis’ doubts were justified, but it was not that that was tormenting her, it was his callous exploitation of her love. Attracted to her as she had been to him, he had played upon her heart and susceptibilities for his amusement, wooing her as he had done at Ronda, and then turning and rending her when he wearied of the game, deciding it was time he clinched with Cristina and denounced her as an impostor.

The hot blue sky, the scorching sunshine awoke in her a longing for soft grey skies and green fields so different from this burnt-up landscape. Holidaymakers revelled in the sun, but after a while it became monotonous, day after day without change. Laurel desperately wanted to get away, to bury her hurt and humiliation in hard work, but her poverty chained her here, and Luis had decreed she must remain.

Esteban came in search of her, and found her looking distraught, her hair tousled, her face still stained with tears. At the sight of him she turned away. He too was Spanish and believed her to be a fraud, but he hurried after her.

‘Laurel, stop!’ He took hold of her arm. ‘Come and sit down.’ He guided her to a stone bench and with his own clean handkerchief wiped her eyes. ‘What has happened?’ His brow darkened. ‘Has someone ... er ... insulted you? If he has I will kill him!’

He looked so ferocious, she laughed on a note of hysteria.

‘No one has assaulted me, if that’s what you mean.’

She looked searchingly into his brown eyes, so different from Luis’ piercing black ones; they were kind, and he was genuinely concerned about her plight. She said quietly:

‘Esteban, please answer me truthfully. Have you ever doubted that Peter was your brother’s son?’

‘Of course not,’ he said without hesitation. ‘Why should I?’

‘Because Jo wrote to say he was dead.’

‘Oh, Joanna!’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘We all know, begging your pardon, that she was irresponsible. She would say anything to spite Pedro because he found her out.’

‘What happened, exactly?’ Laurel asked. ‘She would never say.’

‘So you don’t know? They had a row, to do with some diamonds—men do not give diamonds for nothing. He threatened to take the baby away from her, so she bolted, presumably with her jet-set lover, and my brother was frantic about the fate of the child. Interpol traced the man to the Middle East, but she was not with him and he denied being implicated. She could have been anywhere between Spain and Timbuktu. Then that letter came postmarked London, so we assumed he had abandoned her there, having smuggled her in somehow—most things are possible if one has enough money. You had moved without leaving an address, and Pedro was going to London to seek verification when he was killed. Mama was ill and the matter fell into abeyance.’

‘Until I wrote saying I was bringing the boy. That must have given you a nasty shock.’

‘No,
querida
, a delightful surprise.’

‘You’re telling me! And you let me come without mentioning Jo’s letter. That first afternoon you were all watching me, weighing me up, without giving a hint of your suspicions! Oh, now I come to think of it, Mercedes was muttering away in Spanish.’

‘Being Mercedes, she had suggested you were trying to con us, but as soon as we saw you, we knew you were incapable of deceit. You are as different from your sister as gold from brass.’

‘Thank you, but Luis was not convinced. Oh, it would have been so much more honest to have come out with it at once, instead of waiting all these weeks...
’
Her voice broke, and she covered her face with her hands.

‘
Querida
,’ gently he removed them, holding them in his. Luis need not have mentioned Joanna’s wretched letter—it was bound to distress her. That and Cristina’s presence next door, since she had this unfortunate fancy for his brother, which was probably the root of her trouble. He went on: ‘I am not blind. I saw there was something between you and Luis at Ronda...’ (she flinched). ‘You both seemed lost in a dream, and I tried to warn you. You did know he was going to marry Cristina?’

‘Yes, I knew,’ she answered tonelessly.

‘I am sure Luis did not want to hurt you, he is not a cad, though a little spoilt by feminine adulation, he thought you knew the score.’

‘It’s not that, Esteban.’ She hadn’t known the score, nor that Luis, that cruel devil was leading her on and on ... waiting to catch her out.

She withdrew her hands and in an expressionless voice told him what Luis had said to her that morning. With her hands folded in her lap, her eyes fixed upon a colourful cascade of nasturtiums falling over the wall in front of them, she kept nothing back, except the one thing that would have given a clue to Luis’ attitude, her fictitious involvement with another man. As it was untrue, it did not seem to her to be important, and she was unaware of the fierce sexual jealousy she had aroused in Luis which had caused him to accuse her of being a liar and a cheat who had disowned her own child. That was the only deception she had practised, and it seemed so trivial compared to what he had done to her.

Esteban was completely bewildered. He loved and admired his brother and could not believe he would ever be deliberately cruel to any woman, even if Laurel was guilty of fraud, which he was certain she was not. Nor could he credit that Luis really thought so. He knew his mother and sister were very uneasy about his apparent yen for Laurel.

‘
Querida
, I do not understand all this,’ he protested. ‘It is so unlike Luis to make such a monstrous allegation upon such flimsy evidence.’ He brightened. ‘But he will go to England, he will discover the truth...’

Laurel interrupted feverishly: ‘I don’t want to stay here until he does ... if he ever does. He has no right to
order
me to stay, which he did. I’d like to go now, at once, before he comes back,’ for the hotel had become hateful to her. She turned big beseeching eyes upon Esteban. ‘Will you help me?’

She was obviously overwrought, and he said soothingly:

‘Of course I will, but what about the
nino
?’

Luis had promised Peter would not be victimised, and about that she trusted him. Though he might try to prevent him obtaining ownership of the Toro Negro, he would make provision for him.

‘The break had to come,’ she said sadly. ‘Now would be a good opportunity. Luis has taken him down to the coast and he’ll be too tired when he gets back to ask for me. In the morning you can tell him I was suddenly called away. You need not tell him I’m never coming back.’

‘Never?’

‘To return would only unsettle him.’

Esteban frowned, studying her pale, strained face. He thought Laurel had been exaggerating, she had misconstrued what Luis had said. Girls when emotionally upset did tend to make quarter loaves out of bread sticks, though Laurel normally seemed so sensible.

Cristina had been complaining that Luis was neglecting her, and he had been remiss. If that was because Laurel was distracting him, it boded no good for either of them. It might be better for all concerned if she did go, but he would miss her. He sighed.

‘
Bueno
, Laurel, I am at your service. What do you want me to do?’

‘Lend me my fare, I’ll repay you as soon as I can. I’ll get a taxi to Malaga.’

Esteban, who had never gone short of anything in his life, stared at her in astonishment. ‘You mean you have no money?’

‘Only what I earn, and I haven’t been able to earn anything here. I was promised my return fare, but ... I haven’t been given it yet. Oh, Luis did give me some pocket money...
’
she faltered, as she recalled that evening in his room. Twice she had nearly succumbed, and despising her as he did, Luis would not scruple to use her to satisfy his lust. Lust, that was all he had ever felt for her, it had been stronger even than his contempt, but she ... had loved him.

‘All that I have is yours,’ Esteban declared extravagantly. ‘I will drive you to Malaga, I will come with you to England.’

‘No, dear, you mustn’t do that. Luis said once my sister had caused enough havoc in your family without me adding to it. They’d think we’d eloped.’

‘That would be a wonderful idea!’

Laurel who was recovering slowly from her first despair had to laugh.

‘It isn’t at all. It would be Joanna and Pedro over again, with the difference that you don’t love me and I don’t love you. You’re a wonderful friend, Esteban, but I couldn’t accept such a sacrifice.’

‘It would not be a sacrifice at all, but perhaps you are right. I am not quite ready for matrimony yet, but I hate to think of you alone in that grey, dreary city without support.’

‘I managed before, and I’ll manage again,’ Laurel assured him. ‘I’ll get my things together and then perhaps we can be off?’

‘As soon as you please.’

Laurel hesitated. ‘You’ll be kind to Peter?’

‘Have I ever been anything else?’ He grinned impishly. ‘I will look forward to seeing Luis’ face when he finds the bird has flown!’

Laurel turned .her head away. ‘Please don’t talk about Luis.’

Esteban gave her a worried look. He did not like this hurried departure, but the girl had been badly hurt, perhaps it would be best for her to go before more harm could be done.

‘I will bring my car to the main entrance,’ he told her. ‘As for repaying your air fare, do not consider that. It is owed to you, and I shall be reimbursed. But you may not be able to get a seat.’

‘Then I’ll wait at the airport until there’s one available. There are often last-minute cancellations.’

Laurel hurriedly packed her case. When she came to the little box containing the withered rose, she threw it into the waste paper basket. She wanted no memento of Ronda.

She was fortunate, there was a spare seat on the London plane leaving in a couple of hours’ time. Esteban insisted she must eat something, but she was not hungry, though she was glad of some coffee. When her flight was called, she told him: ‘I’ll be eternally grateful for what you’ve done for me. Just one more thing, don’t tell Luis where I’ve gone.’

Instinctively she wanted to cover her tracks, though she had no reason to suppose anyone would want to find her.

‘But if he asks?’

‘You don’t know. You weren’t here when I left.’

‘If that is the way you want it. I shall be glad to plead ignorance. Luis is not going to be pleased.’