Unknown (17 page)

Girls were arriving by the score, laughing and coquetting, and many of them carried spectacular bouquets. Shortly before the entertainment was due to begin Sam came back with flowers for Minella and Annette.

‘These are for you to throw to the bravest bullfighter,’ he told them.

Minella buried her nose in the fragrant blooms and wished they had been a gift for herself. It was a sheer waste to shower them on men who were foolish enough to fight bulls. She stared above them at the circle of sand, dazzling in the heat, and prayed he had been telling the truth when he said there was no killing.

And then she was aware that he was introducing her to someone.

‘This is Carlo,’ he said, standing aside for a young man to move into a vacant seat beside them. ‘He’s one of Alban’s sons and he usually goes into the ring, but today he’s hurt his back.’

‘So my good friend Sam is going to fight the bull for me,’ said Carlo, grinning broadly.

‘What!’ exclaimed the girls in unison, and Minella’s heart plummeted quicker than a lead weight.

‘You’re joking, aren’t you?’ said Annette.

‘No. Sam fights bulls well. He has done it many times.’

‘Is that true?’ breathed Minella.

‘It is,’ said Sam. ‘It’s a sport I’ve become very interested in since I came here to live.’

The tiers were full and music played. Last-minute scuffles broke out as boys who had found a way in without paying were thrown out again on their ears. Then a trumpet sounded and the crowd went wild with delight as the first bull careered into the ring. Minella closed her eyes. It was several minutes before she opened them again and saw that it was a group of men in the ring who were only trying to catch the bull.

‘You see,’ said Sam, ‘I promised it would be fun.’

There was so much shouting all around her she hardly heard him, but he reached for her hand. She slipped it into his so naturally and gave no thought to Annette on the other side of them.

She watched a man dash at the charging bull, grasping its neck as he flung himself forward between the horns. It was the second time he had tried it. The first time the bull veered away at the wrong moment and the man was thrown to the ground and dragged along. This time he succeeded in keeping his hold until the rest of the men brought the beast to the ground, and the crowd roared. Minella’s knuckles were white as she gripped Sam’s hand.

‘I don’t want
you
to do that,’ she said fearfully.

‘I won’t get hurt, little one.’

He was a braggart on top of everything else. She was sure it was pure exhibitionism and he would find her state of nerves amusing, but there was nothing she could do about it. His eyes were on her. The intense scrutiny fevered her blood and sent her heartbeats out of control, but she was not going to add to his amusement by letting him see the effect he had on her. Every nerve bristled with anger and frustration and she hardly knew how to stay in her seat. Her lovely mouth hardened into an unsmiling line and she continued to stare straight ahead until the battle of wills became so strong one of them had to be the loser. The pull of Sam’s magnetism was too strong for her. Slowly Minella turned her head. The blue eyes concentrating on her with such force showed not a trace of amusement, and the impact stunned her momentarily. As her gaze met and fused with his all aggression fled away and she was filled with an astounding peacefulness quite beyond all previous experience.

Nothing had changed. Waves of cheering filtered back into her ears where all sound except her heartbeats had been blocked out. The last of the crazy men, with their anxiety to match their prowess to animals they had penned up for hours, played, the trick of leading a cow into the arena to distract the bull. A minute later the ring was empty.

Minella was trembling inside like a tree shaken by a summer gale, but she felt like singing. Surely he wouldn’t look at her like that, with fire glowing in his eyes, if he didn’t feel more than patronising affection. The spell was broken and he turned his attention to Annette, giving her the chance to indulge in a secret study of that masterful head and commit each detail to memory, from the curls clinging damply to the nape of his neck to the trim beard that contoured his chin. A few grey threads glinted silver in the smudge of dark hair above his upper lip, and she tried to imagine him cleanshaven, but the picture didn’t fit. Part of his sex-appeal stemmed from the classic growth of hair sculptured cleverly beneath that fine nose and straight, strong mouth. In the heat of the afternoon she melted with longing for the feel of that mouth on her own.

The next part of the proceedings was soon under way and the laughter of the crowd became a charged, breathless excitement with cheers for the first matador who strutted into the ring with a flourish. Girls held flowers ready to throw even before he had faced the bull, so he was obviously popular. Minella tensed with apprehension that flared up in anguish as Sam murmured to the girls that he must leave them.

For a few minutes she watched the antics of the man in the arena, the curving sweep of his heavy cloak that made the girls gasp as he baited the bull. Then she covered her eyes as it charged and narrowly missed striking him with its horn. Nothing on earth could make her stay and watch Sam face that kind of danger. Annette was captivated, as mesmerised by the spectacle as the Azorean girls, and was deaf to Minella’s plea to leave, so she tugged at Carlo’s sleeve.

‘Please don’t let Sam go in there,’ she begged. ‘I can’t bear it!’

Carlo hated being distracted. ‘He do it for me because I owe money and if I not pay, my father find out. He is a very good man.’

Everyone around her stood up, waving and gesticulating as the excitement mounted, and the solid wall of people between herself and the only way of escape gave her a terrible feeling of claustrophobia. She had to get away. Close to panic, she pushed Carlo aside and fought her way to the steps. The resistant mass of people stood firm against her, hardly giving an inch and oblivious of her desperate cries to let her through. She thought she was going to be crushed. Then like a miracle she heard her name called.

‘Minella!’

The sweet sound was like music amidst the cacophony of Portuguese, and she searched frantically in the direction from which the call came to find the person who knew her. A few seconds later a hand grasped her arm and she turned, half sobbing, to see the familiar and oh, so welcome face of Vasco Hernandez, the last person she had expected to see at a bullfight in Ponta Delgada. She fell against him, her legs shaking so much she could hardly stand.

‘Vasco, I never thought I’d be so pleased to see anyone! Please, get me out of here!’

He grinned at her, not trying to answer against the impossible din, and somehow he managed to lift her, shouting something in Portuguese as he did so. Like magic the crowd parted and made way for him to carry her away from the throng. He put her down as soon as they were through, and it was such a relief she threw her arms round his neck and hugged him.

‘That was unbelievable!’ she cried. ‘How did you do it?’

Mischief danced in his dark eyes. ‘I told them that you were pregnant and feeling ill.’

‘Oh, Vasco!’

They were at the back of the stadium and she sank down on a bench, collapsing with relief and convulsive laughter at his audacity.

He laughed with her. ‘I am so happy to see you. I thought you had gone back to England and I would never see you again. My heart it was breaking. I could not believe it when I saw you.’

‘Nor I.’ She gulped back the last frenzied giggle. ‘What are you doing so far from home?’

‘Once a month I come to the bullfight with my friends,’ said Vasco, still staring at her as if he was dreaming. ‘They wonder how I come to know such a beautiful girl. If I were a matador I would dedicate a bull to you.’

Minella shuddered. ‘That’s the last thing I’d want you to do! I don’t like bullfighting at all. I didn’t even want to come.’

‘Is that why you are so unhappy?’

‘Partly.’ She couldn’t tell him that Sam was taking Carlo’s place on the programme and she was so afraid for his safety she couldn’t bear to watch. Vasco would think her mad, and he might even be right. Loving Sam was a form of madness. Trying to appear normal, she told him instead about Greg and Annette coming to Fayal to collect her and being invited to stay on.

Vasco scowled, his handsome olive-skinned features darkening with displeasure. ‘I wish you were not with that man. He makes me feel ... how do I say ...?'

'Inadequate?’ Minella suggested.

‘I do not know what that means. To him I am small, you understand.’

‘Yes,’ she sighed. ‘He makes me feel like that, too, sometimes. And yet he can be so wonderful.’

‘How can you say that!’

‘Do you know what he’s doing now?’ she asked. ‘He’s going into the ring to fight a bull instead of a boy called Carlo who has hurt his back and needs the money to pay off debts which his father mustn’t known about. Isn’t that just heroic ... and ridiculous?’

There was another trumpet fanfare and then Sam was announced. There was a hush of surprise from the crowd, followed by an enthusiastic burst of applause. Obviously he was no stranger to them, and he had their respect. Minella’s face drained of colour.

‘Why did you not tell me?’ Vasco was saying impatiently. ‘He is great with the bulls. I must not miss this.’ Then he saw the colour of her cheeks, and incredulous emotions chased across his face. ‘You are in love with him!’ he accused.

When she didn’t answer he shrugged and got to his feet, hovering indecisively. He was afraid to leave her, but he had come to enjoy every minute of the spectacle. He pulled her up beside him.

‘Come! You must see him for yourself.’ There were cheers and shrieks of delight from the tiers and he dragged her to the rear of the stand where there was still a good view. ‘This is a
garraiada.
No one gets more than bruises. See!’ He pointed at the fearsome-looking animal which seemed to be charging round the ring in all directions. ‘There are no barbs in its neck. It is not a cruel sport, but it needs skill and strength, and Sam Stafford has both those. Perhaps that is another reason why I do not like him.’

In spite of herself Minella became fascinated, caught up in the surging encouragement Sam inspired, even finding it funny when once he had to run for the barricade, almost seized by the heels. But after split-second summing up he gained mastery, getting the measure of the furious bull. After a few minutes of play, first in kneeling position, and then with a dazzling display of sweeping cloakwork which was sheer poetry to watch, he seemed to be able to do anything he liked with the animal. It brought the crowd to its feet, roaring and cheering, and there were so many flowers thrown in the ring they carpeted the sand. Minella waved her arms, so proud of him she had to shout like everyone else, and when the bull-catchers finally came in to get the bull down she was laughing with delight.

‘Oh, you were right, Vasco, he’s absolutely marvellous!’ She hugged him again, this time with exuberance. ‘We must go and find him straight away.’

Vasco protested that there were still two more items to see, but Minella didn’t care. All that mattered was getting to Sam. She wanted to be with him, to share this moment of triumph and let all these people know that Sam was hers. Above all, whether it was right or wrong, she wanted to tell him that she loved him. Her heart was bursting with love which he just had to return. There couldn’t be any doubt about it after the way he had looked at her. It had felt as if he was drawing her very soul to him and merging it with his own, and she needed him more than she had ever needed anyone in her life.

She still had flowers in her hand, and though she was too far away for them to reach him she flung them towards the ring, seeing them scatter over the heads of girls who could only admire him from afar. But as she did so a worried hush gradually spread over the spectators and she saw that Sam was still in the ring, a group of men surrounding him. A small man carrying what looked like a medical bag joined them, and everyone was silent.

‘Vasco, what’s wrong?’ Minella gasped, fear returning.

He stood on tiptoe and craned to see above the heads now straining forward to see what had happened.

‘It looks as if his knee is bleeding,’ he said. ‘They are helping him up now the doctor has tied something round it. He is all right, I think.’

‘You think!’ she cried. ‘I must go and find out.’

She darted from his side. If Sam needed help he must have been hurt quite badly because he would be too proud to accept assistance unless it was absolutely necessary. She hadn’t seen anything go wrong. He had outwitted the bull at every turn, except perhaps once just before the catchers came in when it had come dangerously close to goring his leg. It hadn’t appeared to touch him, but maybe the horn had grazed him after all.

She didn’t know which way to go and some youths drinking from wine bottles jostled her, purposely barring her path. The harassment continued until Vasco caught up with them and once more he came to her rescue. But time had been lost, and when they eventually reached the gate used by the bullfighters it was to find a throng of fans gathered and there was no hope of getting near.

Minella was not tall enough to see what was going on and nobody understood her when she asked if they would let her through. Not that they would have done. Everybody wanted to see Sam Stafford, and all of them were unlucky. A spokesman told a girl at the front, who passed the information back, that Sam had been taken to hospital. When Vasco told her, Minella’s eyes widened in alarm and her mouth was so dry she could hardly swallow. How awful!

‘You’ll have to take me there,’ she said. Then she remembered Annette. ‘But first I’ve got to find my sister-in-law and tell her. She’ll be so worried. She’s got long fair hair and we were sitting near the front. I ought not to have left her.’

‘I will find her,’ Vasco volunteered. ‘It should not be difficult. You go to the entrance and we will meet there.’

When he had gone Minella made her way to the main gate, away from the crowd which was now returning to the tiers for the final events of the afternoon. She found a place in the shade to wait, and her stomach churned with apprehension. She had certainly been right with her premonition when she woke this morning. It was turning out to be a disastrous day.