The Butterfly Box (24 page)

‘What about Estella?’ Ramon asked quickly. He then checked himself to avoid showing too much. He knew his father well enough to know that the slightest change in the tone of his voice would be noticed and analysed.

‘Oh poor, dear Estella,’ Mariana sighed, dropping her shoulders. ‘That dear child, she was such a sweet girl. No one looked after the house like she did. I don’t know what we’ll do without her.’ She looked at Ignacio accusingly. Ramon’s eyes darted from his mother to his father, aware that his heart had plummeted to his stomach, leaving only a throbbing anxiety in its place.

‘It had to be done, woman. She can’t look after us and a baby at the same time,’ he replied, shrugging off her accusations. ‘Ramon, she’s pregnant.’

‘Pregnant?’ Ramon repeated slowly.

‘Pregnant,’ said Mariana. ‘Poor child. You know that young man she was seeing last summer in Cachagua?’ Ramon nodded gravely. ‘Well, the fool got her pregnant then ran off.’

‘It happens all the time, Mariana,’ Ignacio argued wearily.

‘But I liked her. She didn’t deserve to be treated like that. She was a good girl, not one of those women of easy virtue that hang about the port in Valparaiso. She was too trusting. I’d wring that boy’s neck if I ever got the chance.’

‘So where is she now?’ Ramon asked, feeling sick in the stomach and dizzy in the head. He drained his glass and swallowed uncomfortably.

‘Ignacio sent her back to Zapallar,’ said Mariana in a clipped voice.

‘I said she could come back when she’s had the baby. Perhaps her mother can look after it during the day when she works,’ Ignacio said with forced patience.

‘I know, but she was so upset. You know, Ramon, she believed he’d come back. He told her he would and she believed him. I didn’t want to shatter her hopes so I just agreed with her. But as far as I know there’s no sign of him.
Dios mio,
the indignity of it all.’ She sighed again.

‘Did she tell you the man’s name?’ Ramon asked carefully.

‘No, she wouldn’t say. She was too ashamed, no doubt.’

‘Enough, woman, my head is spinning,’ Ignacio said with irritation. ‘Ramon can have the house. If he wants a maid he can look for one.’

‘Temporary, of course, Estella may come back and I’d like to leave the job open for her,’ Mariana repeated anxiously.

‘That’s fine by me,’ said Ignacio. ‘When do you want to go?’

‘Tomorrow morning,’ Ramon replied automatically. His mind was whirring like the internal machinations of a clock. ‘I’ll just go and wash my hands before dinner.’ When he looked at himself in the mirror he noticed his features had completely drained of colour leaving his complexion grey and sallow. He rubbed his cheeks with his fingers in order to encourage the blood to return, but it was useless, his shock showed all over his face.

‘Why are you giving him the house?’ Mariana asked her husband while Ramon was out of the room. ‘I thought you were going to tell him not to live with us any more.’

‘Because time alone at the summer house might just remind him of his wife and children. He may find his senses out there on the coast. I don’t know. I’m clutching at straws, woman, but maybe the sea and the sunshine will remind

him of the good times he shared with Helena, before it all went wrong.’

Mariana placed an affectionate hand on her husband’s arm and smiled at him reassuringly. ‘We suffer almost more than he does,’ she said, remembering Federica and Hal with sadness.

‘For sure we suffer more than him. That’s the trouble, he doesn’t suffer at all,’ said Ignacio. ‘Quiet now, I can hear him coming.’

When Ramon returned to the sitting room his parents were already standing up and moving slowly into the dining room. Mariana looked at him and smiled sympathetically. Ignacio was less tactful. ‘Are you all right, son, you look pale?’

‘No, I’m fine,’ Ramon replied flatly.

‘Look, I understand this has not been an easy time for you. I just think you’ve been avoiding the issue.’

‘I haven’t, Papa, I think about Helena and the children all the time,’ he lied.

Then why don’t you go and see them? What are you afraid of?’

‘I’m not afraid. Helena needs time on her own,’ he began.

‘For God’s sake, son, that’s the problem, she’s been on her own far too long,’ Ignacio interrupted edgily.

‘She needs time to settle into Polperro. The last thing she needs is me whipping her up again.’

Then write to the children, call them from time to time, be a father, Ramon. Don’t avoid your responsibility.’

‘I think of that dear little Federica and how much she loves you,
mi amor.
Your father is right. You mustn’t neglect them,’ Mariana said, touching her son’s forearm and patting it fondly.

When Ramon set off the next morning for Cachagua, Helena, Federica and Hal could not have been further from his mind. All he could think about was Estella. He had spent a tormented night fighting off the demons of guilt and remorse that had flown about his bed, pinching him and pulling him, making sleep an impossibility. He had fought them off by trying to focus on the new book he was going to write, but Estella had kept surfacing to the top of his mind like a rosebud in a pond that refused to sink.

At first he had tried to convince himself that the child wasn’t his, but that was useless wishful thinking. There was no mistaking that the child was his, it couldn’t have been anyone else’s, not only because of the timing which

confirmed the summer conception, but because he knew Estella. She wasn’t the type to sleep around. That in itself made him wince. He had seduced her and then abandoned her. That would have been bad enough, but he had abandoned her with child. Even he was repulsed by his own conduct. He had longed for morning, but every time he had looked at his clock it was always only a few minutes on from the previous time. He would have gone there and then had it not been for the curfew that prohibited anyone from leaving their houses between two and six a.m. Finally, when dawn had torn apart the night’s sky and the light had poured in, he had grabbed his bag, clambered into the car and set off. It was six in the morning.

It was only when he caught sight of himself in the rear mirror that he realized he hadn’t shaved or washed his face. He looked like a tramp with long knotted black hair, a dark shadow across his face and weary, bloodshot eyes. He would normally have stopped along the way, had a cup of coffee or a lemon soda, then he could have splashed his face with water and wet his hair, but he didn’t have time. He didn’t want to leave Estella alone for another minute. He pressed his foot on the accelerator pushing the limit as far as he could go without risking being caught by the police for speeding. When he arrived finally at

Zapallar he hurriedly parked the car and strode out into the bright morning sunshine.

He didn’t know where to look. He didn’t even know Estella’s last name to ask, and anyhow he didn’t want the entire village to know about it. He would surely be recognized by someone. He wandered up the beach hoping that perhaps she might be there, that perhaps he might pass her on her way to buy the bread or simply taking a stroll. But there was no sign of anyone. An early spring was beginning to inject the surrounding trees and bushes with a new vitality and the air was distinctly warmer. He half expected to smell her scent of roses and follow it until he found her. But that was the kind of romantic notion he might have written into one of his novels, it wasn’t real life. After walking up and down the beach for a while he realized that he would simply have to ask someone. He’d have to describe her and risk the whole village knowing about it. There was no other way. He was desperate.

When he saw an old man sitting on a bench gazing out to sea he suppressed his embarrassment and approached him. ‘Good morning, Señor. I’m looking for a young woman called Estella. She’s heavily pregnant, long black hair, down to her waist, about so high,’ he said, indicating her height with his hand.

The man eyed him bleakly through tiny black eyes that watered and blinked at him dispassionately. He leant with brown leathery hands on a knobbly wooden stick and chewed on his gums for he had no teeth to grind. ‘She lives with her parents, must be about twenty or so. She used to work in Cachagua. She’s very beautiful,’ he continued, then sighed in disappointment. ‘You’d recognize this description if you knew her,’ he added, turning away. The man continued to chew without muttering a word. Then something prompted Ramon to add that she smelt of roses and suddenly life returned to the old man and he began to mumble something about her scent reminding him of his mother’s funeral.

‘They buried her in a grave full of rose petals,’ he said wistfully. ‘They said it would soothe her in the event of her waking up and not knowing where she was.’ He turned and cast his eyes over to where Ramon was standing hopefully in the shade of a eucalyptus tree. ‘Your Estella lives up the road, about half a kilometre, on the hill overlooking the sea. You’ll recognize the house because it’s yellow,’ he said, nodding to himself. ‘Whenever I go to the cemetery I can still smell them. One day I’ll go there and never come back.’

‘One day we’ll all go there and never come back,’ Ramon said to the old man’s astonishment. He didn’t think the young man was still there. He waited

Ramon walked up the hill with hasty strides. It was still early. A light mist smudged the edges where the sea joined the sky so that they merged into one shimmering blue horizon. As he looked about him for the yellow house he remembered those lazy days the summer before when he had loved Estella without distraction, without guilt, without remorse and without this terrible fear of entrapment.

When he saw the house he stood on the dusty track and watched. It was still and shaded beneath the budding trees that were beginning to reveal the almost phosphorescent green of their new leaves. The house was a small bungalow with about two or three rooms. It was neatly kept with a little garden that looked well tended and cared for. He could hear a dog barking in the distance and the staccato voice of a mother berating her child that sent a ripple of commotion through the sleepy village. He continued to watch but still nothing moved. Finally impatience led him to her door where he stood anxiously and knocked. He heard a light rustle of movement come from within. For a moment he panicked that he might have got the wrong house, but then he smelt

the heavy scent of roses waft through the open window and he knew she was there and his heart inflated in his chest.

When Estella opened the door and saw Ramon towering over her like a wolf, blocking out the light, her face went white before the blood was pumped urgently around her arteries in an effort to revive her. She would have cried out but she had no voice, it was lost along with her reasoning. She blinked and then blinked again. When she was sure that it was indeed Ramon who stood in front of her and not some apparition inspired by the herbs her mother gave her for her pregnancy, she threw her arms about his neck and allowed him to sweep her off her feet and carry her into the cool interior of the house.

He laid her gently on her small bed and gazed down at her adoring face that glowed with happiness. ‘I knew you’d come back,’ she sighed, running a soft hand over the rough bristle on his face. Falling into her beautiful features he was suddenly filled with confusion and wondered what had possessed him to leave her. What had possessed him to fear her? As he kissed her grateful lips he believed he would never leave her again. He breathed in her unique smell and tasted the salt on her skin. Then he placed a hand under her white cotton nightdress and over the swell of her naked belly.

This is my child,’ he said and was certain he felt a life stir within. Estella smiled the smile unique to expectant mothers, tender yet proud and fiercely protective.

‘If he is a boy we shall call him Ramon,’ she said.

‘And if it’s a girl, Estellita,’ he replied and buried his face in her neck.

‘So you are not angry?’ she asked, looking up at him timidly.

‘No, I’m very happy,’ he said truthfully, surprised by his own reaction. ‘I’m sorry I—’

‘Don’t be sorry, my love,’ she said, placing her finger across his lips to silence him. ‘You’ve returned as I knew you would and I’m contented.’

He kissed her finger and then the palm of her hand, up her arm and finally on her heavy swollen breasts. ‘I want to see you naked,’ he said suddenly, overwhelmed by the sensuality of her fulsome body. He unbuttoned her nightdress with trembling hands and pulled it over her head, then he sat back to admire her.

Estella lay proudly before him watching his eyes as they traced the voluptuous curves of her new body. She was like a shiny, plump seal. Her skin was glossy and smooth and glowed with an internal ripeness that lit her up from

within. He wanted to lose himself in her and yet didn’t dare for fear of hurting her or his child. So he kissed her shoulders and her breasts, her belly down to her feet. ‘I want to take you away from here, Estella,’ he said, kissing her lips again.

‘I don’t want to leave Zapallar, Ramon. Not until after the baby is born.’

Then at least come and live with me in Cachagua, then we can think about what to do.’

‘What about your parents?’ she asked with a shudder.

They won’t be coming up until October. It’ll be just you and me.’