The Butterfly Box (38 page)

‘Really?’ she asked, looking down at her jeans and pumps.

‘Darling, she looks wonderful,’ Toby insisted.

But Julian shook his head. ‘No, no,’ he muttered. ‘Put on your trainers instead of those pumps, I think that’s what it is. You don’t want to look like you’re trying.’

Federica ran off upstairs, appearing two minutes later in a pair of white gym shoes.

‘Darling, you’re right,’ said Toby, impressed.

‘I’m not a photographer for nothing,’ Julian replied, tapping his cheekbone with his finger and raising his eyebrows. ‘You have to have a good eye.’

‘Sweetheart, you look very cool,’ said Toby. ‘Have fun and behave. Remember, he’s much older than you.’

‘Be firm and say “no”,’ Julian added. ‘Whatever he asks of you, say “no”.’ Federica rolled her eyes and laughed.

‘It’ll make him keener,’ said Toby.

‘Little bastard, putting his dirty paws on our Federica,’ Julian muttered, grinning at her.

‘I want to hear you say it, sweetheart,’ said Toby. Federica giggled, wandering off.

‘Go on!’ Julian shouted after her. ‘It’s the most important word in a woman’s vocabulary.’

‘NO!’ she retorted, turning the corner.

Toby shrugged at Julian. They were both thinking the same thing. They’d be there for her when it all ended badly.

Federica cycled up the winding lanes lined with cow-parsley and buttercups, humming to herself with gusto. When she turned the corner into the drive the first thing she noticed was the space left by the absence of Sam’s car. She stopped humming and a frown replaced the smoothness of her brow. She leant the bike against the wall of the house and ran in. During the summer months when the weather was good Ingrid liked all the doors to be open so that the scents of the garden and the roses that covered the walls of the house would fill the rooms with the fertile fragrances of nature. It also allowed the various animals rescued by Hester to come and go freely without having to ask to be let out. The swallows that always nested in the porch year after year dived in through the open windows and the odd brave mouse crept into the kitchen to satisfy his greed in the dog bowls. Federica walked through the rooms to the

lawn where the tent was being dismantled by an army of tanned men in baseball caps and khaki shorts. She found Hester and Molly lying on the grass still in their dressing gowns, drinking cups of coffee.

‘Hi, Fede,’ said Hester wearily, peering at her over her dark glasses.

‘We can’t be bothered to get dressed,’ said Molly. ‘We’re knackered.’

‘It was a wonderful party, though,’ Fede said, casting her eye about for Sam.

‘Great party,’ said Hester. ‘Come and join us.’ Federica sat down on the grass and played with the daisies distractedly.

‘You look sickeningly well for someone who was up all night,’ said Molly, looking her up and down.

‘Whom did you disappear with for so long? I didn’t even hear you come to bed,’ said Hester, rubbing her red eyes.

‘No one very exciting, I’m afraid,’ Federica muttered, doing her best to dissemble.

‘Like hell. You’re blushing,’ Molly said sharply.

‘Did he kiss you?’

‘No, no. We just talked,’ she insisted lamely.

‘Talked?’ Molly scoffed. ‘People don’t “talk” at parties, they snog.’

‘Well, I’m afraid we talked.’

‘What about?’ Hester asked, screwing up her nose.

‘He talked about himself,’ said Federica casually. ‘Actually he was sick in the bushes, which wasn’t very nice. Then it started to pour with rain so we ran into the barn and sat in there out of the rain. I listened to him until about four in the morning.’

‘Poor old you. You missed your own party,’ said Hester. ‘Was he very boring?’

‘Dreadfully,’ Federica replied.

Molly looked at her suspiciously. ‘Don’t be so gullible, Hester,’ she said, grinning at Federica. ‘I don’t believe you for a moment.’

‘Molly, she won’t have kissed someone just after they were sick.’

‘Perhaps he wasn’t sick,’ said Molly, raising an eyebrow.

‘Look, it really doesn’t matter,’ said Federica. ‘What about you?’

Hester giggled. ‘I snogged two people,’ she said. ‘But Nuno caught me the second time and insisted on dancing with me. You know he’s a wonderful dancer, you’d be surprised.’

‘He hasn’t surfaced today, must be hung over,’ Molly laughed. ‘Mum’s on

the beach painting, she thought it was a lovely party even though her orchids were all trampled on and Joe Hornish drove his bike across the lawn in the rain leaving marks all over it. Dad’s livid and says he’ll pay not to have a party next time.’

‘And the policemen?’ Federica dared to ask, lowering her face to hide her eyes lest they give her away.

‘Oh, Sam’s gone back to London with Ben,’ Hester said.

‘Oh,’ said Federica, forcing a smile.

‘I think he’s had enough of drunk sixteen-year-olds to last him a lifetime,’ said Molly.

Federica’s mind flooded with gloom. Her cheeks flushed with disappointment as she felt once again that clawing sense of rejection. He hadn’t even waited to say goodbye. Did the night before mean nothing to him at all? When she had stayed long enough to leave without causing suspicion she rode her bicycle home through copious tears and aching sobs that opened up the old wound her father had made all those years ago. When she arrived back at the cottage she ran up to her room and flung herself on her bed in despair. She had truly believed he loved her, as she had believed her father had loved her

too. She opened the butterfly box and recalled with shame how she had allowed him to share her deepest secrets, invited him into her private world, only to discover that he wasn’t really very interested. It was a painful awakening.

When Toby arrived back from the sea he saw Federica’s bicycle carelessly thrown onto the gravel and sensed that something was wrong. He ran upstairs to find her crying over the letters from her father. Gathering her into his arms he didn’t need to ask what had happened. He knew. It was exactly as he had feared.

‘Everyone I get close to runs away,’ she whispered, wiping her tears on her uncle’s jersey.

‘That’s not true,’ he insisted. ‘We’ll always be here for you.’

‘He’s just like Papa. Why do they have to leave without a word? I feel so worthless.’

‘They don’t deserve you, Fede. You’re so much better than they are.’

‘But I love Sam,’ she wailed.

‘Darling girl, you’re so young and your love is so innocent.’

‘No it isn’t. I truly love him.’

‘He’s young too, Fede. What could you expect? He’ll want a relationship one day, but right now he’s enjoying his freedom. Sweetheart, you’re still at school.’

She looked up at him with swollen eyes. ‘But I don’t want anyone else but him,’ she explained. ‘There’s no one in the world like Sam.’

‘I know,’ he soothed. ‘You just have to be patient. You’ve both got a lot of growing up to do. It was highly irresponsible of him to raise your hopes. He must know how you feel.’

‘He’s so sweet and kind,' she said. ‘He would never hurt me on purpose.’

‘Of course he wouldn’t. You just have different expectations, that’s all. I just hate to see you hurt, I’d like to box his ears.’

‘I wouldn’t let you.’ She smiled sadly.

‘You’re going to be okay, Fede,’ he said, and squeezed her affectionately.

But at that moment she didn’t think her heart would ever recover.

That evening Federica walked along the cliff-tops with Rasta. Her recollections of the night before had now been soiled. She felt nothing but resentment and self-pity. Everywhere she looked she saw Sam; in the pink clouds that caught

the sunset to the waves that washed over the rocks in their eternal battle to wear them down. The familiar feeling of emptiness gnawed at her heart, reminding her of the unhappy times in her life when her love had been thrown back at her. She feared she might never have the courage to love again. Sitting on the grass she pulled Rasta against her and buried her face in his damp fur. Then she threw her wishes into the sea and watched them sink.

Chapter 27

Sam drove up the motorway while Ben snored and dribbled in the passenger seat. He listened to the radio for a while but soon found his mind wandering back through the night until he found himself in the barn with Federica and he was awash with guilt. What had he been thinking of? A few hours of self-indulgence was hardly worth the hurt that was sure to follow. He felt like a monster. That is why he had insisted they leave straight after breakfast. He didn’t have the courage to tell her to her face that it had been nice, but that’s all it was: a kiss in the hay. He wasn’t cruel or callous. He was extremely fond of her. She had grown into a surprisingly beautiful and captivating young woman, but like a peach on the brink of ripening, he had picked her too soon. Her innocence had been too tempting to resist, and he couldn’t bear the idea of someone else spoiling her. Any of those oafs at the party could have lured her into a drunken brawl in the bushes, a hurried grope in the dark, a slobbery kiss for no other reason than to boast about it later to his friends. He had seen her run out into the garden with precisely the sort of ruffian he was afraid of and had pursued her with the intention of escorting her back to the tent. His

intentions had been good, even if he hadn’t had the strength of character to follow them through.

What happened after that was shameful. He was nine years her senior with enough experience to know what a first kiss can do to a girl like Federica. But there in the golden light of the candle, enveloped in the sweet smells of nature, she had looked at him with such adoration and such longing that he had found the seat of his own longing momentarily disturbed. Surprised by his sudden response to a girl he had known since childhood, he was at once disarmed and unprepared. His impulses responded to his instincts and before he had time to listen to the muffled voice of his reasoning he had kissed her. At first she had been awkward and afraid, fighting her own inner battles in an effort to overcome her shyness. But then she had finally surrendered to the new sensations that stirred her loins. Charmed by her innocence he had enjoyed caressing away her fears and watching her conquered by her senses. A kiss is never again so sweet as that first time - that first small awakening and his heart heaved with remorse.

He watched the sun burn away the morning mists and settle into a splendid summer’s day, causing the freshly washed countryside to glitter about him. He

switched off the radio and glanced across at his friend whose body was recovering in sleep from the alcohol and debauchery of the night before. Sam was happy to be left alone with his thoughts, however much they tormented him. He had listened to Ben’s crowing enough. It made him feel even more ashamed; was he no better than him? He firmly reassured himself that he was better than Ben. While Ben was kissing and groping his way around the tent, he had enjoyed a tender moment with a dear friend. Yes, a dear friend. It had been sweet and touching and anyhow, it wasn’t just about the kiss. They had talked until dawn, about anything and everything, and were truly fond of each other. But she was too young. It was as simple as that. So why couldn’t he do the decent thing and tell her?

Sam struggled with his conscience all the way up to London. Stopping en route for petrol he bought the papers and a packet of chocolate raisins and woke up his friend. He was ready to talk. He needed distracting. ‘So,’ he said, climbing back into the car and starting it up. ‘Are you feeling any better?’

‘I’m feeling like shit,’ Ben replied, and yawned. ‘But it was worth it. Still, I’m looking forward to getting back to the big smoke. I’ve had enough frigid babes for the time being. There’s only so much fun to be had in kindergarten. Know

what I mean? I’m ready for the university of life!’ He chortled, plunging his hand into the packet of chocolate raisins.

Sam rolled his eyes and switched on the radio. ‘Quite,’ he agreed flatly. The university of life.’

Sam quickly forgot his guilty qualms about Federica as he lost himself in his London life. He travelled to the City every morning by tube, put as little effort into his work as possible, then returned home in the evenings to go out with his friends. Every now and then he would pick up a girl, make love before supper then see her off before bedtime. The thought of waking up to a stray in his bed repelled him. He needed sex like he needed to eat, but once the meal was over the sight of the dirty plate was most unattractive. He never remembered their names and rarely their faces, yet his appetite never waned. Tenderness was an emotion he had left in the barn, along with the family of ducks and the smoking candle. No one managed to stir his heart or unsettle his emotions, which remained cool and aloof and seemingly impenetrable.

In the autumn, when he finally returned home to Polperro, he hid in Nuno’s study discussing Balzac’s
Cousin Bette
, afraid that Federica might cycle up to

see Hester and look at him with those large, sad eyes of hers, and fill him once again with remorse. He wanted to tell Nuno but was too ashamed to mention it. So he skulked about the house filling it with his icy presence.

‘Goodness me, Sam,’ Molly sighed, ‘you’re a miserable sight this weekend. What’s the matter?’

‘Absolutely nothing,’ he replied flatly.

‘You could have fooled me,’ she sniffed, watching him warily. ‘Girl trouble, I can tell,’ she added with a grin.

‘I don’t encounter trouble in that department,’ he replied loftily.

‘Well, why don’t you take Trotsky out for a walk or something, you’ve got that horrid London colour’.

‘What’s Hester up to?’ he asked casually.

‘I don’t know,’ she shrugged, ‘but I’m going to watch a video.’

‘Which one are you going to see?’

“‘An Affair to Remember”,’ she said happily, opening the box.

‘Not that old chestnut again.’ He laughed.

‘I adore it. Men just aren’t made that way any more.’

‘Cary Grant’s far too smooth for you, Mol, I thought you preferred them

rough.’

‘Only as a compromise,’ she retorted. ‘If a Cary Grant swept me off my feet I’d never look at another bricklayer again!’

Sam chuckled and wandered out of the room whistling for Trotsky.

 

It was windy up on the cliffs, but it felt good to have the sea breeze on his face. At least out of the house he could avoid bumping into Federica. He swung his arms as he walked, wrapped in Nuno’s sheepskin coat, patting the dog every now and then as he rushed back and forth sniffing the dormant earth for sleeping rabbits. He reflected on his work, which he loathed, and the City, which he also loathed, and fantasized about making a home in Polperro one day. London was all very well for a while, but his heart lay in the countryside and his soul belonged to the sea, not to the dusty streets of a sterile town. He looked out over the choppy waves and breathed in the salt, filling up his lungs with memories of his childhood. What he wanted to do more than anything was to write.

Nuno was more than encouraging. He told him firmly that he was wasting his unique creativity in some impersonal bank, doing a job more suited to a

halfwit. ‘You have imagination, dear boy, and talent, it gives me great pain to see it in restless hibernation.’ He was right, of course. But there was something holding him back. Talent was all very well if one knew where to channel it. But Sam didn’t know what to write about.

With that gloomy thought, he lifted his eyes. He noticed two small figures in the distance, slowly making their way towards him. Suddenly gripped with panic he was about to turn and walk the other way when one of them waved. She persisted until he responded with an unenthusiastic flap of his hand. It was Hester and Federica and there was no avoiding them.

As they came closer his heart raced with apprehension. He would rather ignore her but that would be unkind. He would have to try to act as if nothing had happened. He hoped she hadn’t told Hester.

‘Hi, Sam,’ his sister shouted through the wind. Rasta bounded up with exuberance and began to frolic about with Trotsky. That enabled Sam to divert his attention to the dogs, calling them and patting them, crouching down on his haunches to cuddle the Labrador.

‘Hi, Sam,’ said Federica.

He raised his eyes reluctantly and forced a weak smile. Her face was red

from exertion and her eyes sparkled from the cold. She was obviously making an effort to dissemble as well. He welcomed her sophistication and his gloom lifted.

‘How are you, Federica?’ he asked, standing up and looking down at her earnest face.

‘Fine thanks,’ she replied, putting her hands in her pockets and shuffling her feet to keep warm.

‘Cold, isn’t it?’ he said.

‘It’s flipping freezing out here,’ Hester complained. ‘But it’s good for the skin,’ she added. ‘It’ll make us glow.’

‘You’re both glowing rather nicely already.’ He chuckled.

‘Good,’ she enthused. Told you, Fede.’ Federica smiled shyly but said nothing.

‘How’s school?’ he asked her, but Hester interrupted and answered for her friend.

‘We’re being made to study so hard my brain’s gone on strike.’ She giggled.

“‘Knowledge is power”,’ Sam quoted, glancing at Federica who was watching the dogs.

‘Knowledge is boring,’ Hester moaned. ‘Anyway, it’s better to keep walking. Do you want to join us?’ she asked. Federica looked at him hopefully and he heard himself saying that he’d love to.

‘The dogs are happier together,’ Hester said. ‘I defy you to part them, look they’re having such fun!’

They watched Rasta and Trotsky race after a slim hare, who zigzagged across a field as if making a mockery of their stumbling efforts to catch him. They all laughed when the dogs returned with their tongues hanging out and their heavy tails wagging to conceal their embarrassment.

‘These two spend far too much time on sofas,’ Sam exclaimed.

Federica grinned. ‘And too much time with their mouths full of biscuits I should imagine,’ she said.

‘I don’t think they’d know what to do if they managed to catch it,’ said Hester, patting Trotsky who nudged his face against her hip. ‘Still, he’s wanting praise for the effort.’

‘They can certainly have that,’ Sam laughed, stroking Rasta’s sleek back as he passed. It was a fleeting moment when Federica’s hand brushed Sam’s as she too reached out to touch her dog, but it felt like an age. They both

withdrew with speed, each pretending that they hadn’t noticed, when in fact their skin burned from the contact.

Federica could barely look at Sam after that, her cheeks stung more from awkwardness than from the cold and she was afraid he might notice. She thrust her scalded hand into her pocket where it tingled with a strange pleasure. She took care not to walk too close in case their bodies jostled together by mistake and kept her eyes fixed in front of her. She was relieved that Hester was talkative because she dominated the conversation, chatting about everything but noticing nothing. Sam tried to include Federica but her words were swallowed up by the enthusiasm of her friend who answered for her, seemingly out of habit. As they reached the house he was beginning to find his sister’s dominance tiresome. Federica had barely said a word. He was disappointed. He was surprised to find that he was even more disappointed when she said she had to go.

‘But don’t you want any tea?’ he asked, hovering by the front door while Hester struggled out of her boots in the porch.

Federica shook her head. ‘I have to get back to Toby's, Mama’s coming to pick me up at four,’ she explained.

‘Oh, I forgot, you spend weekends with your mother, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Most weekends.’

‘Well, why don’t I drive you back?’ he suggested to his own amazement.

‘Really, I’m happy to cycle,’ she protested.

‘It’s cold and anyhow, it’s getting dark,’ he argued, looking out at the evening sky that balanced unsteadily between afternoon and dusk. ‘Rasta can sit in the back and I’ll put your bike in the boot. Simple!’

‘See you at school, Fede,’ said Hester to her friend before disappearing into the hall and closing the door behind her.

Federica had no choice. Rasta was already sitting in the back of Sam’s Deux Chevaux, steaming up the windows with his hot breath.

Federica climbed into the front seat and waited for Sam to finish securing the bike. She rubbed her hands together nervously. Catching sight of her mottled face and wispy hair in the wing mirror, she did her best to tidy herself up while he wasn’t looking. She listened for his footsteps but all she could hear was the rhythmic panting of her dog behind her.

Sam closed the boot as far as it could go then walked around the car to the door. He had no idea what he was going to talk to her about, or why he had

suggested he take her in the first place. She seemed to have a knack of undermining his better judgement. He climbed in and closed the door with a slam. ‘I bet Rasta doesn’t often travel first class.' he joked, lightening the atmosphere.

Federica chuckled. ‘He’s usually a foot soldier,’ she replied. ‘I just hope you haven’t raised his standards too high or he’ll never want to travel any other way.’

‘Well, we won’t give him any extras then,’ he said. ‘That’s no whisky and no duty free.’ They both laughed while Rasta panted in the back.

The car left the drive and bounced down the lane. The evening sky was suddenly transformed into an almost fluorescent flamingo pink as the sun began to set, catching her parting rays on the feathery clouds as she bade farewell to the day. They both looked out on it with wonder.