Perchance to Marry (15 page)

“Here there is no need for that. Even if the cook were ill the others could manage.” Katarina tested the white paste she had been stirring. With a casualness that seemed studied, she asked, “It will be how long before you marry,
senorita
?”

Sally answered her rather shortly. “I don’t know, Katarina. There’s no hurry.”

“You must pardon me for putting so personal a question. I have been here many years and everything that happens matters to me very much.”

“Have you ever been married, Katarina?”

The woman’s eyes stabbed at her before the glance was lowered once more to the task in hand. “No, I have not,” came the tight-lipped reply.

“I’m sorry I asked—really sorry,” said Sally. “I thought you had, or I wouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“Because it is a disgrace not to have married?” demanded Katarina almost roughly.

“No, of course it isn’t. But if you’re sensitive about it you naturally don’t want to be questioned.” Sally smiled. “Some man’s loss has been the
senora’s
gain. She depends on you entirely.”

“She has been very good to me,” said Katarina offhandedly. “For the
senora
and Don Marcus I would do anything.”

Sally anxious to slide away from the sore subject, smiled cheerfully. “You’ve a soft corner for Josef too. Maybe one day you’ll even trust
me
a little, Katarina.”

A sour smile, and they were back to normal. “You are young and pretty and promised to Don Marcus. You do not need the trust of Katarina, but I will always do my best for the wife of Don Marcus.”

It was nearly six o’clock when Viola came back from town, weary and intoxicated with her own success. Sally helped her out of the blue suit and stood behind her as she sat at the dressing table, creaming her face. With soft hands, Sally massaged her mother’s shoulders and the back of her neck, and as she did so she watched the cleansing process which was so much a ritual that Viola did not have to pause between the various phases.

Viola accepted the news of Marcus’s brief absence with equanimity. “Do you both good, darling. An engagement may help a couple to put their relationship on a fairly intimate footing before marriage, but it can be a most wearing time. And you don’t have an easy man in Marcus. I imagine he’s tom between phlegmatic English behavior and that caged-in passion of the Spanish fiancé. Sometimes, he looks all Spanish, and you wonder who’s going to get it in the neck. No doubt his secretary and others have to suffer for you.”

“For me?”

“Well, you’re not very responsive, and he can’t very well get rough with you, can he?”

“You’d be surprised, thought Sally. “Marcus never yet tackled anything he couldn’t handle.” And without pause: “You’ve done too much today. I can tell by your neck muscles that you’re feeling the strain.”

“Yes, I’m tired, but it was good.” She sighed pleasurably. “Your fingers are wonderful, Sally—that’s much easier. Will you draw my bath, darling?”

“Yes, and you’re to have a light supper in bed.” “Lovely. I adore being fussed. Will you mind dining downstairs alone?”

“Not a bit. I shall go to bed early and read a book. Got everything you want?”

They parted, and Sally, after mooning about for a while outdoors, came into the house and asked the first servant she saw to serve dinner as soon as possible—nothing elaborate, please.

In the
sala
she felt restless. The french window was wide, but the atmosphere seemed oppressive with something that had nothing to do with the weather. At Las Vinas she had got into the habit of taking a small light drink at this hour, but somehow she couldn’t face drinking alone. And she hadn’t any cigarettes down here; there was nothing at all to do while she waited for dinner. She didn’t want music, and come to think of it, she didn’t want anything to eat, nor did she want to go to bed.

She paced across the room and stared out into the dusk beyond the lighted cloisters. The air was cool and soft with a bouquet blended from all the blossoms of a Mediterranean island; it reminded her that often of late she had craved a solitude which, now that it was hers, she would have evaded if she could. Only in company was it possible deliberately to keep one’s emotions in their place. She felt again as if she had to go out and walk, or the gathering turmoil inside her would...

She started violently. A figure had appeared quite close almost without sound.

“Josef! You scared me.”

He was smiling debonairly, bowing with theatrical politeness. “I must apologize. I saw you here, and thought you would have heard the car. May I come in?”

“I’m not sure. There’s no one here.”

“No mother? Then I must have permission from Dona Inez before I can stay for dinner.”

“I haven’t invited you,” she said, and was suddenly glad to realize that her world had slipped away from the frightening chasm it had been close to. “Did you know Marcus had gone away?”

“Yes, I knew, or I would not be here.” He smiled again, and winked. “You see, I am very frank. That is why you must believe me when I tell you I expected to be invited to stay for dinner with you and your very beautiful mother. I did not know she would be out also.”

“She isn’t out. She’s having supper in bed.”

“Then we are almost correct.”

“No, we’re not. I don’t think you should ever come here without being invited by Marcus.”

He grimaced. “It was you I wished to see not Marcus.” He came right into the room and turned about. “Do you like my new suit?”

“It’s much neater than your usual scruffy outfit.”

He winced. “You are trying to hurt my feelings but they are a long way down, under my very thick skin.”

She ignored this. “Have you heard anything more about that man with the wound?”

“Nothing at all, and I hear they have missed no launches. He was probably a tourist fisherman, poaching.”

“Do local fishermen carry guns to scare off poachers?”

“How literal you are. What does it matter why he came to San Palos? Me, all I care is that he should leave my house. I would not again open the door at night to a stranger, I can tell you!”

“Well, I think it was most peculiar.”

“Peculiar, but unimportant.” He shrugged and ostentatiously looked at his watch. “At this time, I like a little wine.”

There came a rap at the door and a maid entered the room. She saw Josef and hesitated. “
Buenos tarde,
Don Josef.
Senorita,
I came to say dinner is served.”

Josef said airily, “Make it dinner for two. We will get Katarina to come and sit in the room with us!”

Sally was cross. “Have your drink and go. Some wine for the
senora,
please, Carmelita.”

Josef helped himself and the maid disappeared. His glance at Sally was amused. “You are foolish not to enjoy yourself while the overlord is away. Do you think he is not finding himself some entertainment tonight?”

“Finish your drink,” she said sharply.

“So the idea makes you a little jealous? I had not thought to see those eyes afraid and angry. Your eyes are very unusual,
senorita
—a color we never see in Spain. I could love your eyes ... and skin.”

“I’m afraid you won’t have the chance, Josef. I believe you’d been out on a binge before you came here!”

“A binge? Is that a party? No, there was no party. As it happens. I drank alone, a long toast to myself! Just one long drink. So I am perfectly sober.”

She stared straight at him, saw that his perpetual smile was sly and not in the least foolish. He had dressed in his best, even to the gold watch and cuff-links; she hadn’t seen those clothes before, so for Josef this was an occasion. Yet he said he’d been out alone.

“Why did you come here?” she asked.

“To see you. I made myself smart, walked into the town and had my drink and paid the hotel taxi to bring me here. He drained his glass and set it down. “We have things to talk about, you and I. You know already that I am in love with you.”

“Josef, please!”

“You think it is ridiculous for one such as I to speak to the fiancée of Marcus in this way? He has money and the estate, but I have nothing. Is that what you think? Well, you are wrong. I have been promised money for my business—big money. I could give you a fine house and some jewels.” His eyes flashed queerly. “And I could give you love, which Marcus will never give you!”

“Please go,” she said shakily. “Get out, or I’ll have to call the servants.”

“You will not call servants—you are too unsure of yourself. And it is Marcus who is to blame for that, just as he is responsible for my own lack of a home and a business.” He threw out his hands pleadingly. “I have not expressed myself well; I was too anxious that you should know how much I need you, too eager to know how you feel about me. But we will forget that for a moment, no?”

Immaculately though he was dressed, he had the little boy look again, an air of uncertainty and despondency. Perhaps he
was
a bit high; perhaps he’d been celebrating the acquisition of a patron who would finance his ceramics venture, and had come here to gloat because he could now do without help from Marcus. It was no use being angry with him.

She said quietly, “Do go away now. I’m glad everything is turning out well for you, and I’ll be happy to hear about it some time. But please go.”

He poured a little more wine, planted his feet wide apart. “Not yet,
cara mia.
Do you intend to be alone here every day while Marcus is amusing himself in Barcelona?”

“I wonder if you speak as offensively to anyone else?”

“I am not being offensive. You trust Marcus, do you not?”

She watched him take something from his pocket, felt her jaw muscles tighten. “What are you getting at? What’s that you’re waving?”

“You did not see the telegram Marcus received, of course. This is a copy of it. Yes, you may have it. I bought it for you.”

“
Bought it
?”

“Everything has its price,
senorita.
Read it.”

She smoothed the flimsy sheet, read the pencilled words uncomprehendingly and started to read them a second time. They became clear, sharp little swords that stabbed into her consciousness.

“Am at the Catalania Hotel Barcelona. Have run out on my contract because I love you. Longing to see you and meet your grandmother. Please come to me darling. Nadine.”

“Nadine,” Sally whispered.

“You and I know who She is,” Josef said almost as softly. “It has started even before you are married. Can you bear to think of how it will be afterwards?”

Sally crumpled the paper tightly into her hand. “Leave me now, Josef. I’m begging you.”

“But I cannot leave you so sad,
querida.
I did this for you—just for you—and at once you send me away! But I can help you...”

“You can’t. No one can,” she said bleakly. “Why did you do it
—get
a copy of the telegram?”

“I have told you—it cost money. You passed me in the town—you and Marcus and the clerk. I was curious, and from a distance I watched Marcus embark. I made enquiries, and heard he had received a business call to Barcelona.” He pressed the tips of his fingers together and spoke with subdued excitement. “I thought much, and felt what they call a hunch. Had he received this call by telephone or telegram? I discovered there had been a telegram, and with money I bought a copy of it.”

“Did you also have a hunch as to the sender?” she asked bitterly.

“No. I only hoped.”

“Hoped!” She gazed at him, her eyes big and dark with pain. “You
hoped
it would be that woman?”

He nodded dejectedly. “For your sake,
amancita.
It has come in time, has it not? It will save you a most unhappy marriage. I did not want to hurt you like this. I did not know you cared so much for Marcus.”

She drew an unsteady breath. “You’ve done what you came to do, Josef. If you want dinner here you can have it alone. I’m going upstairs.”

“But one moment.” His urgent hand did not quite touch her arm. “I wish you to know that whatever you decide to do about this, I will help you if you need me. The other morning you were good enough to come to my cottage and help me get rid of that undesirable man, so there will be no obligation,
senorita,
no favors. I am in your debt and will be most grateful for an opportunity to assist you. You may be sure I will say nothing to anyone else.” He seized her hand and kissed it, and when he lifted his head she saw his eyes were bright with what looked like tears. “I will embarrass you no longer, but do not forget that I am at your command!”

He slipped out the way he had come, and for a full minute Sally was unable to move. Then the maid knocked again at the door.

“I have spoken to Katarina,
senorita...
” She stopped. “Don Josef has gone?”

Sally nodded. “I think so. I have a headache, Carmelita. I shan’t want any dinner. And tell Katarina not to worry. I’m going to bed.”

On legs that felt flexible Sally went upstairs to her room. After several completely blank minutes she became aware of a tiny ball of thin paper in her hand, and with trembling fingers she half opened it. Not to read, though; never in her life would she forget those words. She struck a match, the thing flared and was gone in a black wisp which fluttered on to the carpet.

Just like that, she thought. But it was only paper that had vanished in smoke, not the reality.