When Summer Fades (9 page)

Sophie emitted an ‘R’ of her own, but in this case it was a pretty languid sort of ‘
aaah
’, when she studied Rosa’s latest postcard. Scribbled in the bottom left-hand corner it read simply: ‘
C
sends
best
wishes
.’ Which is more than ‘
C
’ sent on his Christmas card, Sophie thought glumly. Carlos’s recently delivered greetings card was signed simply, ‘
Carlos
Martins
’. But then, why should he have written anything else?

*

By early evening on New Year’s Day, Sophie began to feel extremely sorry for herself. She was even more depressed when, an hour later, Callie rang to wish her a belated Happy New Year.

‘Do come and join our party,’ she begged. ‘I know you’re not working tonight, ‘cos I got Sean to drop me off at the hospital. I’ve already checked the duty rota.’

‘I still can’t come, Aunt Edna said she’d ring. After that I’m aiming for an early night. Don’t forget I’m still recovering from my New Year’s Eve nightmare in A&E.’

‘Excuses. Excuses. Did anyone ever tell you you’re in danger of becoming a boring old maid? To think of poor Sean, stuck with my sister Colleen, when all the time I reckon he’s secretly pining after you. Did you know he thinks you’re untouchable.’

‘Untouchable! Whatever do you mean?’

‘Hmm. He didn’t exactly say untouchable. Hang on a mo, and I’ll ask him what he
did
say. Knowing him it was something incredibly poetic.’

From down the line Sophie heard the sound of excited voices as a slightly tipsy Callie, pounced on the unassuming and deeply embarrassed Sean.

‘Sorry,’ she called back. ‘He didn’t say untouchable. He said ethereal. If you know what that means.’

Shaking her head in dismay and replacing the receiver, Sophie studied her face in the dressing-table mirror. ‘
To
be
ethereal
or
untouchable
?
That
is
the
question
?’ I don't mind being thought of as ethereal … as for untouchable … is that why Gavin and I weren’t suited? Perhaps it was my fault after all?

She rubbed at her tired eyes. What was it Callie had said months ago about finding someone to make the earth move? In Callie’s case that someone had been Patrick Murphy, as for herself … Letting her imagination run riot, she thought of the only person she’d ever met who could possibly have that same effect on her.

‘Carlos Martins,’ she murmured, thinking of eyes the colour of sapphires, before silently reproaching her haunted reflection in the glass. Sophie Fuller! With Rosa around you wouldn’t even merit a second glance. And with Augustina around Carlos would be far too interested in
chicken
piri
piri
! The very thought of Augustina’s culinary delights sent Sophie into the kitchen to examine the contents of her fridge. She groaned in disgust. The choice was endless ... as long as it contained eggs.

*

Clearing away the remnants of her scrambled eggs, Sophie glanced at the clock. With luck, Edna would be ringing in the next half-hour. Then she could have a relaxing bath, read her book, and have an early night.

‘Sophie dear, so glad I managed to catch you in. I wasn’t sure if you’d received my postcard to say I’d be ringing?’

‘Mmm. In fact I’ve had four this past week. Two from you, Aunt Edna, and two from Rosa. I’m pleased to see you’re both enjoying yourselves.’

‘Yes, we are, thank you, dear. And I’m pleased to say Monty’s over that upset.’

‘Uncle Monty’s been poorly?’

‘No. Thank goodness. It was that unpleasant business with Darryl and Susie’s wedding that upset him before we left, very angry Monty was about that. “Some family friend!” your uncle said, but I did warn him. He was disgusted they never invited you, especially as you’ve known Darryl since he was a baby.’

‘It’s not as if he can’t afford it!' Aunt Edna’s words echoed, while Sophie topped up her bath with hot water. ‘Darryl’s a qualified accountant now and if he’s too mean to send you an invitation … Mind you, I blame Susie. Ideas above her station, that one!’

One thing’s for sure, Sophie lamented, her nose buried in her new book, the characters in this romantic novel she was reading are far nicer than those you sometimes met in real life. Particularly the Darryls and Susies of this world!

With thoughts on the rugged hero whisking the frail heroine to safety, Sophie was oblivious to both herself and her book slipping ever deeper into the water, until startled by the shrill ringing of the phone.

‘Damn! Just as I was getting to a good bit! Who’s ringing now?’ Deciding that it was probably only Callie with yet another request to join in their belated New Year’s fun, she was on the point of staying put when her stomach gave a lurch. Another name beginning with a ‘C’ sprang to mind. Carlos! Desperate to reach the phone before it stopped ringing, she flung the book with its soggy pages to one side, grabbed a towel, and ran.

‘Sophie?’ Her heart missed a beat. She recognised his voice immediately. No one else ever managed to make the name
Sophie
sound quite like that.

‘Carlos – er – how are you?’

‘I am well, thank you, and you? I was beginning to think you weren’t at home. I thought you might still be celebrating New Year … or perhaps entertaining friends?’

‘No, because I was on duty at New Year. Actually I was in the bath.’

There was a pregnant pause. ‘Oh dear! I seem to remember disturbing you like this once before. I’m very sorry.’

‘The water was getting cold anyway and I promised myself an early night.’

‘I see,’ came a bemused voice. ‘So, very quickly, before I leave you to your beauty sleep. Can we discuss Rosa?'

Sophie’s heart sank. Of course, Rosa. Carlos wasn’t really ringing to see how
she
was. He was ringing about Rosa!

‘She would very much like to come back,’ Carlos began. ‘But only if she can stay with you. I therefore find myself begging you to have her again.’

Oh, you can beg me for anything you like, Sophie thought, blushing deep scarlet, suddenly horrified that she should even be thinking such thoughts.

‘However...’

Convinced there had to be a catch somewhere, Sophie stifled a groan.

‘There has been a unanimous decision,’ Carlos continued. ‘If you are prepared to have Rosa again, then the family are insisting you holiday with us next summer. What do you think?’

‘I think it sounds – er – wonderful.’

‘Good. Then it is settled. I shall look forward to seeing you again next year.’

‘Me too,’ she whispered, hanging up the phone with trembling fingers.

   So much for an early night, Sophie thought, tossing and turning beneath her duvet. Rose Marie Callaghan, this is your fault. If you hadn’t given me that wretched book, filling my head with romantic notions, I would never have agreed to going to Portugal next summer.’

*

‘How utterly fantastic!’ Callie gasped, when she and Sophie next met, in the staff restaurant. ‘Just think, three whole weeks in the Algarve.’

‘Hey! Hang on a minute. Who’s talking about three whole weeks?’

‘Well, you can’t go for two. How long did you have in mind?’

‘One,’ Sophie replied, feebly.

‘One? Never! In one week you’ve barely had time to get off the plane before it’s time to get on again; after two weeks, you’re just beginning to get a sun tan—’

‘Not in my case. Don’t forget with my skin, I burn at the merest peek at the sun.’

Callie gave a wicked grin. ‘Exactly! All the more reason to go for
three
weeks. In three weeks you can turn a nice, golden brown, and get to know Carlos better.’

‘I don’t want to know Carlos better.’

‘Liar! It's written all over your face.’

‘Then let me rephrase that. Emotionally, I can’t allow myself to know Carlos better. By next summer, he will be engaged to Rosa. And while we’re talking about faces, all over yours is jam from that disgusting doughnut. How do you manage it?’

‘I don’t know,’ Callie giggled, reaching for a paper serviette. ‘Anyway, while I clean my face, I want you to promise you’ll put in a request for three weeks holiday.’

‘The hospital will never agree to that. It’s only allowed in special circumstances.’

‘This is special circumstances,’ Callie said, refusing to take no for an answer.

Chapter 6

March winds and April showers, thought Sophie, peering from the window at gathering storm clouds. The view from Victoria Villas on this dreary February morning was hardly inspiring. The weatherman had got it wrong again.

Rosa looked up from examining a bundle of newly delivered Valentine cards.

‘To think all these people are in love with me. Why do they not put their names?’

‘Because Valentine’s Day is for lovers to declare their feelings in secret.’

‘I have no lovers!’ Rosa protested, wide-eyed and innocent.

‘I meant ‘lovers’ in the politest sense of the word.’

‘Oh, I see. Did you get any Valentine’s cards, Sophie?'

‘Only one, and that was from Gavin.’

Puzzled, Rosa reached for Sophie’s card decorated with hearts and flowers. ‘How do you know? He has not written his name.’

‘I recognized his handwriting on the envelope.’

‘Really?’ Rosa said, retrieving a mass of discarded envelopes from the floor.

Later that morning, waving Rosa goodbye, Sophie made a fresh pot of coffee and joined Callie on the settee.

‘Rosa’s certainly enjoying herself these days; life’s one big social whirl. Yet she’s still persevering with her studies. Have you noticed her English is excellent?’

Callie nodded and gazed longingly at a box of chocolate hearts on the table.

‘It’s okay, you can have one. They’re mine, not Rosa’s. A gift from Dr Hodges.’

Unwrapping a shiny red foil wrapper, Callie popped a chocolate into her mouth with a mumbled, ‘You dark horse! You didn’t tell me you and Dr Hodges were—’

‘We’re not. Apart from last month’s trip to the cinema, when he had more arms than an octopus.’

Callie reached for another chocolate heart and nodded in the direction of Gavin’s card. ‘I can’t believe he’s still keen. When’s he coming back to Beckford General?

‘I’m not sure. But I do know he’s hoping to resume our relationship.’

‘And I can tell from the look on your face you’d rather he didn’t?’

‘What good would it do, when it didn’t work before? To be honest, I’d prefer to forget all about Gavin. Simply put that whole unfortunate episode down to experience.’

‘Changing the subject slightly,’ Callie said, ‘do you think Rosa is? Experienced I mean. She’s got loads of admirers.’

‘No way! She’s made it quite clear that when she marries Carlos she intends to be a virgin. Her grandmother has threatened her with all sorts of things if she isn’t.’

‘How’s this weird old grannie going to find out? Go on honeymoon with them?’

When Sophie became suddenly quiet. Callie looked up concerned. ‘What’s up?’

‘Something Rosa said that’s all.’

‘Well, if it’s bothering you that much, why not tell me about it?’

‘Oh, I don’t know, Callie. I mean it’s not as if there’s even the remotest possibility of Carlos and I getting together romantically. Even if we did, it would be doomed from the start. I’m not a virgin, am I? Rosa said Carlos would expect—’

‘My dear Sophie. You’re my very best friend and, much as I love you, I haven’t a clue what you’re getting at. Unless of course you’ve seriously got a thing about Carlos?’

Studying Sophie’s forlorn face Callie sat down and took her in her arms. ‘Sweet Jesus! I knew you liked him, but I had absolutely no idea you felt like
that
. To think I’ve even been teasing you about going to Portugal. Gosh! I’m
so
sorry!’

‘So am I,’ Sophie sniffed. ‘Because despite spending months with Gavin, I now realise our relationship meant nothing at all. Yet, I meet Carlos for one brief weekend, and I can’t stop thinking about him. It’s ludicrous, Callie. Please tell me I’m mad.’

‘Course you’re not mad,’ said Callie, desperate to make Sophie less miserable. ‘It’s not as if you’ve slept around is it? Gavin was your first and only … You’re not going to tell me Carlos hasn’t had—’

‘Hasn’t had what?’

‘I was going to say hundreds of girls. Only I don’t mean that. Oh, bum! I’m not making a very good job of this. What I’m trying to say is … you don’t get to your mid-thirties looking as gorgeous as Carlos and not sleep with any women. Not every bride can be
virgo
intacta
. Anyway, how do we know Carlos really does belong to Rosa?’

Sophie ran her fingers through her dishevelled fringe before reaching for a chocolate. ‘It certainly looks that way. Oh dear! I can’t believe what I’ve just confessed to you.’

‘Isn’t that what friends are for?’

‘That not quite what I meant. It’s the fact I even considered the possibility of Carlos and me ... well, you know.’

‘You might – when you go to Portugal.’

‘Aren’t you forgetting something? Rosa for instance.’

Callie suppressed a giggle, eyeing the almost empty chocolate box and discarded pile of red, shiny wrappers.

‘What’s so funny?’ Sophie called, hunting for her car keys.

‘You don’t think Dr Hodges injected those with truth serum do you? Expecting you to tell him your innermost thoughts and desires, if and when he got you alone?’

‘So why, when I had only two, did I pour my heart out to you? And you, who—’

‘Stop! Don’t embarrass me. Although in answer to your query, as I weigh far more than you, Dr Hodge’s truth serum is still struggling through my layers of cellulite.’

Returning Callie to the Nag’s Head, Sophie cursed the crawling Saturday night traffic. ‘It gets worse. Where does it all come from?’

‘The M1 and M25. There’s road works on both motorways at the moment.'

‘Then let’s hope they finish soon. If it’s anything like last time, it will take us simply ages to get to work.’

‘You’ve obviously forgotten the new ring road,’ Callie said, stepping from the car. ‘They start work on it sometime in March and it’s going to take months to complete. Which means plenty of business for the pub, but sheer bloody hell if you’re a driver!’

Back at the flat Sophie cleared away coffee cups and chocolate wrappers, noting as she did so how she’d inadvertently twisted her own two wrappers into a ‘C’ and an ‘S’ whereas ... With a wry smile she studied Callie’s pile of scattered, crumpled foil. Try as she might, nowhere could she decipher Patrick Murphy’s initials. She was still smiling when she heard a clap of thunder. This morning’s storm was on its way back. What was it they said about thunder in February? Walking to her bookshelves and taking down a volume, she read: “
In
February
,
if
thou
hearest
thunder
,
Thou
shalt
see
a
summer
wonder
.” I wish I hadn’t seen that, she thought, snapping the book shut, preferring not to think of summer.

Arranging to meet Callie in the staff restaurant, Sophie was surprised to find her there already – Callie wasn’t renowned for her time-keeping. Not only that she was also peering mournfully into a cup of black coffee and there wasn’t a doughnut in sight.

‘Callie? Are you okay? You seemed miles away when I came in. Why the black coffee, and where are the doughnuts?’

Ignoring the question Callie turned pleading, black eyes in her direction. ‘Oh! Sophie, you’ve simply got to help me! What on earth shall I do?’

‘Help you? You mean you’re in some sort of trouble?’

‘It depends what you mean by trouble? Oh! If you really want to know, it’s … it’s Patrick Murphy. He’s come back.’

‘Come back! You mean
the
Patrick Murphy? The one who—?’

‘Yes,’ groaned Callie, shaking her head in despair.

‘What’s wrong with that? You should be over the moon. When did you see him?’

‘I am, and I haven't.’

Sophie was still puzzling this remark when Callie explained pitifully, ‘I am pleased he’s back but I haven’t seen him yet, at least not to speak to. I hid in the kitchen.’

‘Hid in the…? Callie, I don’t mean to sound dense, or rush you, as I don’t have much time. But this conversation isn’t progressing very far, is it?’

‘I know, and I’m sorry Sophie. It’s simply that I still can’t believe it. There I was, helping mum with the lunch time bar snacks and when I opened the door from the kitchen, I recognized his voice. He was standing at the far end of the bar.’

‘You’re sure it was Patrick? Especially if you ran and hid.’

‘I’d recognize that voice and those beefy shoulders anywhere.’

‘So, why the panic?’

Callie tugged miserably at her blue and white uniform ‘Isn’t it obvious? Look at me, Sophie! I know I wasn’t exactly Kate Moss on my eighteenth birthday when we … well, you know … but neither did I look as if I could go ten rounds with Lennox Lewis.’

‘Could you go ten rounds with Lennox Lewis?’

‘Be serious, Sophie. I’m desperate! What shall I do?’

‘Dare I suggest diet?’

‘I’ve already begun.’

‘You mean the black coffee and no doughnuts?’

Callie nodded, gazing longingly at an apple Danish on a nearby table.

‘That’s good,’ Sophie encouraged, saddened to see her friend in such despair. It was so unlike her. ‘Look,’ she continued, ‘why not come round this evening? Perhaps we can think of a fitness plan or something?’

‘Can you come and fetch me?’

‘If you like. Although you usually don’t mind taking the bus if it’s early evening.’

‘I know, but I don’t want Patrick to see me. Least not until I’ve lost some weight.’

Sophie studied Callie’s sad and pathetic face. This really was serious. ‘OK. No problem, I’ll pick you up about eight. Watch out for me from your bedroom window.’

‘Thanks Sophie,’ Callie said, and with a shudder gulped down the cup of unsweetened black coffee.

*

Collecting Callie under cover of darkness, Sophie racked her brain for ideas. Slimming clubs and aerobic classes were a no-no right from the start. She’d suggested those months ago, even before Patrick Murphy had reappeared on the scene. ‘No way!’ Callie had protested at the time.

‘Swimming?’ Sophie ventured, parking her car at Victoria Villas.

‘Swimming! You’re joking! I’d look like a beached whale!’

‘It’s the best all-round exercise. And I know for a fact,’ Sophie called, springing up the two flights of stairs. ‘You’d never consider coming to the gym with me.’

‘Too right I wouldn’t,’ Callie panted, out of breath, reaching Sophie’s front door. ‘We’d look like Little and Large! It’s okay for you. You’re nice and slim. They’d all fall about laughing at me.’

‘Not at the place I had in mind.’

Deeply curious, Callie slumped in a chair waiting for Sophie to enlighten her.

‘I was thinking of a health club.’

‘A health club! Good grief, on our wages! You’re talking about two impoverished nurses here. Not the Spice Girls!’

Sophie burst out laughing. ‘Sorry, Callie. I can think of many ways to describe us, Spice Girls we are not!’

‘Suppose not,’ Callie agreed, reaching for the remains of the chocolate hearts.

Quick as a flash, Sophie turned and slapped her wrist. ‘No, you don't!’

‘But I’m hungry. I didn’t have any dinner.’

‘More fool you! Going without dinner, then filling yourself up with crisps and chocolates won’t help at all.’

Preparing Callie a jacket potato, Sophie called from the kitchen. ‘There’s a pad and pen on the table. I want you to write Patrick Murphy’s name in big, bold letters at least twenty times. Don’t ask why, just do it!’

Callie groaned seeing Sophie walk into the room with a pair of scissors, ‘Don’t tell me, now I slit my wrists so I bleed to death. ’Cos I can assure you there’s absolutely no danger of me pining away with all this excess weight I’m carrying.’

‘Don’t be so melodramatic. Simply cut the names in strips until you’ve got twenty pieces of paper, each with the name Patrick Murphy written in bold letters.’

‘You should have been a Blue Peter presenter.’

‘Well, here’s one I prepared earlier,’ Sophie said, placing a bowl of salad on the table. ‘And don’t you dare mention rabbit food. With a jacket potato and cottage cheese filling, this will make a tasty and nourishing meal.’

Callie wrinkled up her nose in disgust. ‘I’m not convinced.’

‘Just try it!’

‘Can I have butter on the potato?’

In response to Callie’s request Sophie waved a slip of paper in front of her face.

‘Mayonnaise?’ Callie pleaded in vain seeing the name Patrick Murphy dance yet again before her eyes. ‘Come on Sophie, what is this? We’ve already had Blue Peter. And as I’m so weak with hunger, I’m certainly not in the mood for
Give
Us
a
Clue
.’

‘Stop complaining and eat!’ Sophie ordered, walking round the sitting-room placing slips of paper everywhere. With a bemused smile she watched Callie pick tentatively at her meal. ‘I can’t believe you’re not enjoying that,’ she said, leaning over her shoulder and sneaking a carrot stick.