When Summer Fades (20 page)

Carlos watched as his mother walk to the fridge and took out a bottle of
vinho verde
. Then, returning to the sitting room, she reached into a cabinet for two crystal glasses. Pouring out the wine, she said, ‘I don’t usually drink at lunchtimes. However, after what you’ve said, I think I need it! Look, why don’t you come into the kitchen and I’ll prepare us some lunch.’

Putting on an apron to protect the stylish, navy-blue dress that matched her eyes, Helena studied Carlos’s haunted expression. ‘Doesn’t Maria Clara realize we’re no longer living in the Dark Ages? Tell me, what does your father say about it?’

We haven’t had a chance to discuss it recently. Father travels a great deal, visiting clients. He prefers not to stay in the office. It’s Uncle José′ and Grandmother who…’

‘Ha! That figures. And what about Rosa, what does
she
think? If my memory serves me correctly, she always was such a scheming little minx.’

‘She’s not that bad, Mother. But she has been terribly spoilt. In a way, I suppose I am partly to blame.’

‘Why is that?’

‘You know me. Anything to avoid conflict. I always hated hearing you and Father argue.’

‘Is this what you came to tell me?’

‘To be honest, I didn’t come to tell you anything. My original intention was to ask you something instead. I wanted to know why you left my father?’

Helena hesitated, and took a deep gulp of wine. ‘I’ve forgotten. It was such a long time ago.’

‘Mother! I don’t need to be protected any longer. Besides, Grandmother has already told me some of the sordid details. She said it was because Father took a mistress.’

Angrily sliding an omelette on to a plate, Helena cut it in two, poured balsamic dressing on a green salad and wrenched off her apron. ‘The bitch! How dare she!’

‘Is it true?’

In between mouthfuls, Helena explained how she’d been dreadfully lonely once Carlos had been sent to boarding school. ‘I missed you terribly,’ she murmured, patting his hand. ‘And your father worked such long hours. After a while, I considered returning to work, but Eduardo wouldn’t hear of it. He suggested another baby instead. Even Maria-Clara told him I would be far happier with another child.’

Carlos frowned, remembering his earlier conversation with his grandmother. ‘Are you saying you didn’t really want Cristovao?’

‘It wasn’t a question of
didn’t
want
– because I’d long given up hope of having any more children. Not only was it difficult for me to conceive Cristovao, but also it was a very difficult pregnancy.’

‘I remember you spending endless weeks in bed,’ Carlos reflected.

‘Do you also remember your father and I having separate bedrooms?’

‘So Father didn’t disturb you when he was working late?’

Helena gave a wry smile. ‘In a way. It was also what the doctor advised. In time, Eduardo found the situation increasingly difficult to cope with – hence the mistress. When I found out … he denied it. Somewhat foolishly, because both my parents were dead, I went to the only person whom I thought could help.’

‘Maria-Clara?’

‘Yes. Who not only told me to ignore it, but also suggested I behave as if nothing had happened. She assured me that after Cristovao was born everything would get back to normal. As we both know, it didn’t.’

‘And so you left?’

‘Exactly. I left, taking Cristovao, because he was too difficult a child for your father or even the wonderful Augustina to manage. Later, with Cristovao also at boarding school, I finally concentrated on a career. Despite having a successful business in Coimbra, I found myself missing Lisbon more and more, and so I returned at New Year.’

Chapter 13

In a happier frame of mind, Carlos returned home, comforted by the fact that he’d told his mother all about Sophie.

‘I think you’ve made the perfect choice,’ Helena had remarked, handing back the photo Carlos had taken with him. ‘How long have you known her?’

‘Grandmother would say not long enough. But from the moment I met Sophie, I felt as if I’d known her for ever.’

‘You probably have,’ Helena reflected, thoughtfully. ‘I felt like that when I first met your father.’

‘Then why did you—?’

Helena’s eyes had misted over. ‘I told you why. Just because I left your father, it didn’t mean I stopped loving him. In a way, I suppose I’m
still
in love with him. I simply couldn’t bear to share him with another woman – that’s all.’

‘
That’s
all
?
’
Carlos muttered to himself, bewildered, taking Sophie’s photo from his jacket pocket and placing it on the table in front of him.

*

At Victoria Villas, Sophie passed Callie her own newly processed holiday snaps. Smiling, and flicking ahead through assorted photos of the villa, apartment and Casa Maria-Clara, Callie gasped, ‘
That’s
a beach house? You’re having me on! No wonder you didn’t want to come home. So… tell me, how was Carlos?’

‘Carlos was
wonderful
. In fact … he’s asked me to marry him.’

‘He’s
what
! You’re joking?’ Getting no reply, Callie dropped the photos she was holding. ‘You’re not kidding, are you, Sophie? You are serious.’

‘I’m certainly serious about Carlos asking me to marry him. Since I’ve been back I’m beginning to wonder if it wasn’t all a dream.’

‘What about Rosa? I thought she and Carlos were supposed to be engaged.’

Explaining as best she could – without giving away too many intimate details, Sophie told Callie about her holiday.

‘All that in only three weeks? Blimey! Nothing like that happens to me in the course of a year!’

‘Of course it does, what about Patrick? You’re still very much an item,
and
you’ve lost even more weight.’

‘So you have noticed?’

‘I noticed the moment I saw you at Heathrow. Sorry I didn’t mention it before. I guess I had other things on my mind.’

‘Like Carlos, for instance?’ Callie suggested with a grin, picking up the scattered photos. ‘Then I hope you’ve got some decent pictures of him’

‘I have, I’m saving those until last.’

‘Good, ’cos don’t forget, I only saw him the once. The day he paid a flying visit to the hospital with the Van Cleef & Arpels.’

‘And now he’s given me this.’ Holding out her arm, Sophie extended her wrist in Callie’s direction.

‘What is it – a watch? Oh, no, I can see now; it’s a bracelet. How unusual! In fact it looks exactly like the landscape in one of those photos.’

‘Mmm. That’s why Carlos bought it for me. We went to a place just like that.’

‘And now it reminds you of him. How wonderfully romantic! Oh, Sophie! I’m
so
pleased for you. I can tell simply by looking at you this time you’ve found the right man. Is he…? I mean, did he? No. I mustn’t ask you that. It’s far too personal.’

‘It’s OK, Callie,’ Sophie replied, blushing. ‘I know exactly what you were going to ask. Suffice it to say the earth
did
move for me at last.’

Grinning from ear to ear, Callie took Sophie in her arms and hugged her. ‘So … tell me, Sophie Fuller. What happens next? When’s the wedding, and—?’

‘Hold on! We’re not even engaged yet. Carlos has only told Maria-Clara. Next on the list is Rosa.’

‘How do you think she’ll take it?’

Shrugging her shoulders, Sophie gazed longingly at her favourite photo of Carlos, resting on her lap.

‘I honestly don’t know. While I was there, Rosa spent half the time clubbing and going to parties, and the other half draped about Carlos’s neck!’

‘Oh dear!’ Spying Sophie’s downcast face, Callie reached for a second pile of holiday snaps. Bypassing those of Rosa and her family, she concentrated more on the scenic views instead, expressing surprise and delight at such beautiful countryside.

‘As you can see, it’s not all high-rise blocks,’ Sophie said. ‘Although there is one small development under construction. Carlos suggested trying to persuade Edna and Monty to move there. I took a photo to show them.’

‘You don’t mean this place, do you?’

Peering over Callie’s shoulder, Sophie shook her head. ‘Good heavens, no! I took that one just for fun. It was a villa being built nearby. I couldn’t resist taking a picture. Can you imagine what it’s going to look like when it’s finished? It’s hardly Victoria Villas – is it?’

‘Looks more like heaven to me. And I just I love those circular rooms with the open arches at either end.’

‘Apparently it’s the Moorish influence.’

‘If you ask me I’d say extremely
moreish
! Which reminds me, Mum said to say thanks for that delicious sardine pâté, marzipan cakes and her present, and I love my Portuguese cockerel.’

Sophie turned to the window where a pink, yellow and white pottery cockerel stood guard over a photo of Monty and Edna. ‘I remembered you’d always admired mine. I also bought one for Lottie and Pearl as a thank you for keeping an eye on the flat while I was away.’

Getting up to leave, Callie suppressed a giggle.

‘What’s so funny?’

‘Oh, nothing. It’s just me and my one-track mind Sophie. I suppose it was the association with cockerels that got me going. You know, nudge, nudge, wink, wink, say no more. I was thinking Lottie and Pearl must have seen quite a few old cocks in their time, but never a pink, yellow and white one!’

‘Rose-Marie Callaghan! Has anyone ever told you that you can be really disgusting at times?’

‘Frequently. Which is why I’m beating a hasty retreat. See you at the General tomorrow.’

Sophie groaned. ‘I only hope it’s an improvement on today. After three idyllic weeks in The Algarve, I confess that A& E came as quite a shock.’

*

Carlos’s shock came a fortnight later, when his whole world was suddenly turned upside down. For days he’d been hoping to have lunch with José, to broach the subject of Rosa, but each time they’d arranged to meet, something had always cropped up.

‘Not to worry,’ he reassured Sophie, when he telephoned. ‘Aunt Elisabete has invited me to dinner on Friday. I’ll make sure I speak to José before then, because on Saturday morning I shall be catching the 8.25 from Lisbon to London.’

‘You’re
what
? You’re coming over on business?’

‘No. I’m coming to see you.’

‘That’s absolutely wonderful! Shall I meet you at the airport?’

‘It depends. I was thinking of hiring a car at Heathrow.’

‘I see … you’d prefer not to repeat the Poppy experience?’

Carlos laughed. ‘No. I merely thought, with you working nights it would be better for you to go home and get some sleep before I arrive. The flight comes in at about eleven, so allowing for baggage reclaim and picking up the car, I should be out of the airport around midday. Will you have lunch with me, Miss Fuller?’

Just listening to the sound of his voice caused familiar stirrings in her stomach. Seeing Carlos again so soon after her holiday was almost too much to bear.

‘Sophie? Are you still there?’

‘Yes. I was having to pinch myself, to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.’

‘I can assure you, you’re not. So, dare I suggest you take every opportunity to dream during the coming week? Next weekend there’ll be little time for sleeping!’

That night, getting ready for bed, Sophie thought that next Saturday couldn’t come quickly enough. Carlos, on the other hand, was relieved she hadn’t asked about Rosa. It wasn’t as if he’d seen a great deal of Rosa since Sophie’s departure, it was simply that when he
had
seen her, she’d been altogether too much.

Calling unexpectedly at his office, Rosa had flashed huge brown eyes in his direction and asked him to take her to lunch. Whereupon, pressed for time and opting for a simple main course and coffee, Carlos had been forced to watch Rosa tackle a full three-course affair. Hungrily devouring the first course, she’d told him all about her recent escapades with Anna; during the second, she spent most of the time looking guilty and apologizing for neglecting him. As for the third … Carlos shuddered at the memory. Whilst toying with an exotic pudding with one hand, Rosa had reached out and clasped his hand possessively with the other.

‘Yes,’ he sighed, forlornly, his gaze drifting to the latest Martins-Ramirez family photograph, perched on the edge of his desk. ‘Rosa, my dear, just like my brother Cristovao, sometimes I find you all too much!’

*

Elisabete Ramirez drummed her fingers impatiently against the table. Looking up at the ornate ormolu clock, she rose from her chair and walked towards the kitchen.

‘This is really most inconsiderate of José! He’s been late every night this week. He promised faithfully to be here in time for dinner.’

Rosa reached for yet another handful of pistachio nuts. ‘We could always start without him?’

‘Of course we can’t start without your father and Cristovao! Maria-Clara retorted indignantly. ‘And watch what you’re doing! You’re dropping nut shells everywhere.’

With a nonchalant shrug, Rosa scooped up the shells only to deposit them in a pile on the coffee table. Maria-Clara tut-tutted in Augustina’s direction. What was wrong with everyone just lately? Rosa spent half the time at Anna’s, Carlos was adamant about not marrying Rosa, and as for Cristovao…

‘Hmm,’ she mused, despite the unfortunate incident at her party, Cristovao was at least starting to take an interest in the family business.

‘Perhaps José has been held up in traffic,’ Carlos suggested, desperate to ease the mounting tension.

‘Then why hasn’t he rung from the car!’ Elisabeta snapped.

Five minutes later, the door of the apartment swung open. ‘Elisabete, my dear. I’m so sorry! I can only apologize for keeping you all waiting.’

‘And so you should! Dinner was ready ages ago, and we’ve … José? Are you all right? You’re looking extremely pale.’

‘Don’t fuss, Elisabete. It’s only indigestion again. I blame it on the meal Cristovao and I ate at lunchtime.’

‘So, where is Cristovao?’ Maria-Clara demanded.

José hurriedly loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar. ‘Unfortunately, he’s made other arrangements for tonight. However, he sends his love and profuse apologies, and says he’ll call to see you next week.’

‘Hmph,’ Maria-Clara grunted as Cristovao suddenly went down in her estimation. Why was it becoming so difficult to get the family together these days? First Carlos’s father had cried off with some feeble excuse, and now Cristovao. It wasn’t asking too much – was it? Even Rosa, who was again brushing pistachio shells from her lap to the floor, made it quite clear she would far rather be elsewhere.

‘I’ll get something for your stomach,’ Elisabete announced to José, when Augustina disappeared into the kitchen.

Declining an aperitif, José settled for one of Augustina’s stomach remedies, which he took with him to the bedroom. He wanted to freshen up before the meal. In passing him, his gaze rested upon his nephew. ‘Carlos. I was forgetting. You wanted to have a word. Do you want to talk now or can it wait?’

Sensing Elisabete wouldn’t welcome further delays to a meal already in danger of spoiling, Carlos shook his head. ‘Let’s eat first, Uncle. After dinner will do just as well.’

Unfortunately, as the evening progressed, it became clear José was definitely not in the mood for talking. For once, unable to cope with Elisabete and Augustina’s combined culinary delights, he was forced to excuse himself.

Watching her father dash to the bathroom, and wishing she could have been somewhere less boring, Rosa was heard to mutter. ‘I only hope Cristovao is suffering, too.’

When Carlos flashed her a look of disapproval, Rosa gave a disgruntled sigh and spooned the last of her
pudim
Molatov
into her scarlet painted mouth. Even Carlos had hardly spoken to her to this evening. Strangely quiet and morose, it was as if his thoughts were anywhere but here with the family.

*

Early next morning, telling himself he could easily speak with José first thing on Monday, Carlos turned his attention to more immediate concerns. Did it really matter that he hadn’t told his uncle of his proposed trip to England? Considering I’m only going to be with you for less than thirty-six hours, there’s really little point, he thought, smiling in the direction of Sophie’s photograph. In half an hour he would be leaving, and by tomorrow night he’d be home again.

Checking he had his passport, tickets and mobile phone, Carlos headed for the door, his spirits lifting at the very thought of not only seeing the woman he loved but also holding her in his arms again.