Masquerade (45 page)

‘It was a superb evening I had at the Yacht Club ball that night and you’re such a wonderful dancer.’ His honey-coloured eyes twinkled with fun as he leaned his head conspiratorially towards her. ‘I’m looking forward to showing off our skills again tonight on the dancefloor.’ His tone was rather more intimate than the occasion warranted, but Luz liked the young man’s blithe spirit and what she recognized as a perfectly healthy bit of playfulness.

‘I’m game if you are,’ she said cheerfully, her self-confidence growing by the second. It occurred to her that it would do no harm to try and forget her complicated situation with Andrés for the moment and she had to admit that an insecure part of her also needed him to see that he was not the only man interested in her.

Together they strolled around, talking and laughing lightly. Luz could feel herself gradually starting to thaw. She had forgotten what a pleasant companion Romero was. Maybe, after all, she would be able to enjoy herself tonight. From time to time she caught sight of Andrés and Adalia. Although he seemed hardly aware of the socialite possessively hanging on to his arm at every opportunity, still seemingly distracted, brow furrowed, the sight of them nevertheless managed to make Luz’s heart bleed.

Thank
heavens for Romero,
she told herself. With him by her side she could make a decent stab at ignoring them and concentrating on the moment.

The guests were now being directed to a marquee where buffet tables had been set with food and drink to delight the appreciative eye of an artist, as well as please the knowledgeable taste buds of a gourmet. Giant iced bowls overflowed with striking displays of shellfish, surrounded by plated intricate morsels of every colour and variety, and tiers of sumptuous desserts. The sound of clinking cutlery mingled with loud conversation and laughter as the assembled throng tucked into the delectable feast with enthusiasm.

After dinner Luz and Romero strolled down towards the parapet at the edge of the garden separating the property from the sea. On either side of them, orange blossom bloomed among dark green foliage, interspersed with huge palm trees and sweet-smelling jasmine in flower. A light wind had started up and the sea looked rather choppy, Luz thought, as she peered over the edge into the deep, dark waters. Huge slabs of broken rock, piled one on the other in some sort of ruthless confusion with the turbulent waves smashing relentlessly against them, were somewhat suggestive of how she felt each time she caught a glimpse of Andrés and Adalia.

She and Romero talked of many things, Luz standing with her back to the sea, her companion facing her. Once or twice he tried to slant the conversation towards love and Luz ignored him, but he did not seem to mind. They flirted happily, gently laughing and teasing. Every now and again she sensed him picking up on her slight air of unease and each time he gently tried to coax her out of it. He was quick-witted, his repartee sharp and always humorous. Once more she thanked Romero inwardly, and a little ruefully, for being there. Not only was he good company but he was a gentleman, too.

Suddenly Luz stiffened. She could see a man and woman standing near the top of the lawn by the gazebo: Andrés and Adalia. Though she could not hear what they were saying, by their stance she could tell they were having a heated exchange. For once the cool blonde
socialite seemed agitated, gesticulating wildly as she spoke. Andrés, Luz could see, appeared calm and unruffled.

She was now only half listening to Romero’s anecdotes, completely captive to the scene she was witnessing. He gave her a wry smile. ‘Doña Luz, I believe you’re not listening to a word I say,’ he said cheerfully. ‘What’s happening behind my back that’s so intensely interesting?’ He turned just in time to witness the slap Adalia dealt Andrés before running off towards the house.

Luz’s heart leapt with joy. From where she stood, she could not see Andrés’ face and dearly wished he would turn around. Instead he just stood there for a few moments, legs slightly apart. His hands were deep in his pockets, his gaze turned towards the ground. Then he slowly walked off to join a small group of guests who were laughing noisily in the middle of the lawn.

Romero let out a small whistle. ‘Trouble in the nest, I think, don’t you?’ He raised a wicked eyebrow at Luz. ‘Their relationship has been a game of chase for years,’ he added in a theatrical whisper. ‘I wonder which one will end up winning. Adalia Herrera has been trying to get her claws into him for I don’t know how long and it seems that Don Andrés is having nothing of it. Still, there’s a French saying that goes:
ce que femme veut Dieu veut
, what women want, God wants. So I would imagine the jury’s still out.’ He paused reflectively. ‘Though some say he will never marry, you know. He’s an odd one, Don Andrés. A very dark horse.’

‘Have you known him long?’ Luz asked casually, trying not to sound overly interested.

‘Yes, didn’t I tell you? We went to the same university, though we attended different classes. Since then we’ve met socially but I can’t really say I know him well. Of course, there’s been a lot of gossip f loating around about him. You know how fast drawing room tittle-tattle travels. His uncle was even more of a centre of gossip. In his day, a vast amount of ink was expended speculating uselessly about his personal life.’

Slowly they walked back to the house. Luz was dying to ask more
questions about Andrés but she was afraid her interest would be too conspicuous; she really did not wish to be an item in Cádiz society’s rumour mill and, though she knew Romero to be a kind man, she could tell he would never be able to resist dining out on a good story. She felt a little heartened, however, that he clearly had no idea about her relationship with Andrés despite Adalia having intimated that the whole of Cádiz was talking about it.

She glanced at her watch. ‘I think I should be getting home. It’s late.’

‘But we haven’t had that dance you promised me,’ he said, a little crestfallen.

‘Maybe some other time,’ she told him with a hurried smile.

Suddenly, she wanted to get away. The evening had had its highs and its lows and, after her brief conversation with Romero, she felt she was back to square one: as unclear as she ever was about the relationship that bound Andrés and Adalia. The scene she had witnessed earlier might be interpreted in more ways than one; it could have been just a tiff between lovers. After all, Andrés had spent most of his time at the party with Adalia and hadn’t been exactly attentive to Luz. Wasn’t that tantamount to signalling he didn’t care? Still, she tried desperately to reassure herself, during the few moments they had been together, albeit with Adalia hanging on his arm, he had seemed glad to see her. Maybe he had missed her even. Luz gave a shaky sigh. There was something impalpable about the whole evening, like the heaviness of the atmosphere before a storm.

‘Perhaps I’ll see you again soon,’ said Romero, cutting into her thoughts.

‘Yes, perhaps,’ replied Luz.

The young architect paused, looking at her thoughtfully, and then his mouth curved in a charming smile, almost in resignation. He inclined his head. ‘So until we meet again, Doña Luz. It’s good to have a new friend in Cádiz.’

She returned his smile warmly, her eyes silently communicating her relief and thanks that he understood the way things truly were between them. ‘Yes, indeed. Goodnight, Romero.’

After she took her leave of Romero, Luz went looking for Andrés to say goodbye. The party was still in full flow. He was nowhere to be seen outside so she went into the house. The major-domo had abandoned his post at the door so now the hall was empty, except for the mute portrait of Doña Eleadora presiding over the place, an enigmatic smile behind her magnificent eyes. Luz looked up at her: ‘Where is your son? Where is Andrés?’ she murmured and her voice echoed in the empty space.

‘Just behind you,
querida
.’

Luz’s heart missed a beat; she turned sharply. ‘Andrés, Andrés, where have you been?’ she cried out, her tone slightly reproachful but her gaze brimming with love.

He came towards her, eyes shuttered, and took her in his arms. ‘Shush,
querida
. Tomorrow we’ll go to our secret place and everything will be all right.’ He kissed her tenderly on the lips first and then on the forehead. ‘The nightmare is nearly over,’ he whispered, so low she barely heard him. She wondered what he meant by that; he was acting so strangely tonight. He cupped her face in his hands.

‘Go home now, I’ll call you in the morning,’ he told her.

She gave him an uncertain look. ‘You will ring, won’t you?’

He sighed and nodded.
‘Si, si querida
, don’t worry. I promise I’ll call you then.’ He stroked her face and brushed her lips again with the tenderest of kisses.

Andrés escorted her to her car, where he hugged her tightly before drawing apart to kiss her again. He seemed so very sad. There was something desperate in his whole manner tonight that she could not fathom, a bittersweet note to his embraces. Luz hesitated with her hand on the door of the two-seater, looking up at him with questioning eyes, but he simply shook his head and pushed her gently inside.

She drove off slowly, her heart a little heavy. As she turned towards the gates, she glanced up. Andrés stood under the dusky luminous moon and the stars, a bleak, lonely figure. She could still see him in her mirror, unmoving, as she disappeared into the night.

T
hey met on the beach, as they had often done in the past. The sun shone brilliantly on the mirror of the sea and there was a crystalline, razor-edged beauty to the day.

Luz walked through the dunes towards Andrés. In the strong sunlight, he appeared stark against a backdrop of deep-blue sky and roaring ocean in his white T-shirt and shorts, his chestnut hair tied back as usual. His shoulders seemed more hunched than normal, she thought as she drew nearer. His mouth was a thin, unreadable line and she wondered what expression lay behind his opaque sunglasses as he watched her approach. A new surge of foreboding flooded her heart and her eyes clouded at the thought of losing him.

She was standing very close to him now. He dipped his head and kissed her lightly on the lips but he did not take her in his arms as he had invariably done in the past. Luz gave him an uncertain look, trying to decipher his feelings, conscious that he was hurting. He looked gaunt, his cheeks hollowed. With every nerve in her body she wanted to comfort him. Silently she put her arms around him, drawing him to her, hugging him with all the love of which she was capable. She felt a quiver run through his frame but he eased apart, the strain gathering in his face.

‘Let’s go,
querida
,’ he whispered, stretching out his hand to take hers and lead her to the boat.

‘What’s wrong, Andrés?’ she murmured, looking up at him. Her deep-sapphire eyes reflected the desperate confusion and longing that overwhelmed her. ‘I love you.’

His jaw clenched as his hand went to her face but then dropped again. ‘I love you too,’ he replied in a choked voice and then quickly, as though not trusting himself to speak another word, he turned his head away. He helped her into the boat and then climbed in himself.

Already the sun was strong and hot. The glare was blinding, with a clean white brightness about everything. The beautiful blue sea stretched to the horizon, wide and shimmering, as they sailed into the sunshine.

Luz finally broke the awkward silence. ‘Are you all right?’

He smiled, but she sensed he had changed. At the party, too, she had noticed that there was an odd look about his face, as though it was not easy for him to smile. He was so near, yet she sensed he was a great distance from her. Though she knew he loved her, somehow his still, silent face confounded her and she was afraid. Was he going to tell her that, even though his feelings for her were deep and he did not love Adalia, he had made a promise to her, which as a man of honour he could not break?
Please, let it not be that.
Luz felt the wind on her face and tasted salt spray on her lips. It could have been a wonderful day if not for the fear that gnawed at her heart.

Slowly they sailed towards their favourite beach. Despite the brightness of the day, melancholy wrapped them in silence. The wind had changed direction and was blowing much stronger now. Here, the open sea was quite choppy, breakers rising and falling in soft swells. Very soon, the boat began to pitch, water splashing in at its sides. Andrés pushed the tiller over, bringing the dinghy round on a new tack. Luz moved forward, half-standing, to tighten the sheet of the jib, the way he had shown her. Just as she did so, a powerful gust made the boat jibe, the mainsail swinging round violently. The boom hit her a glancing blow on the head, just enough to make her lose her balance.

‘Andrés!’

Her shocked cry rent the air as she was catapulted into the turbulent blue waters.

Andrés reacted swiftly, immediately taking command. Releasing the sheets of the sails from their cleats, he steered the boat into
the wind to halt its progress. Without hesitation, leaving the boat unmanned, its sails flapping wildly, he dived into the water.

Luz’s head was tilted back, nearly covered by the waves, and every time she went under she swallowed seawater. Gasping for air, she choked, her arms frantically flailing about to no avail. She couldn’t seem to use her legs. Whenever she tried to take in a breath and swim in a particular direction, she made no headway.

‘Hang on, Luz!’ Andrés called out, swimming towards her, his voice sounding thin over the space of the sea.
He’ll never reach me! He’s too late
, she screamed inwardly. And then the water closed over her head, shutting off the world above. Blind fear gripped her now; her legs wouldn’t, couldn’t, hold her up. They were paralyzed as if in a cramp, the muscles knotted in pain. She felt herself sink vertically into the deep.

Then, in one swift motion, powerful arms dragged her up to the surface and Andrés was there, supporting her head and limp body against the strength of his frame. She was helpless and heavy, but he managed to float her on the surface and swim back to the boat. Luz didn’t know how he managed to haul her aboard the pitching dinghy. It was as if he had superhuman strength but, at last, they were both inside. Luz huddled in the bottom of the boat and, with one hand, Andrés grabbed a towel to wrap around her, while, with the other, he took the tiller. He must have adjusted their course, bringing the craft round to run with the wind because they were on an even keel now, but Luz was barely conscious of anything. Andrés bent over her with concern, water dripping from his hair, his clothes clinging to his body.

Luz was as white as a sheet and cold. He rolled her gently on to her side so that she could cough up the water from her lungs.

She lay there, pale and shivering, while Andrés returned them to calmer waters. After some time she became aware of the hull hitting the sand and being hauled on to the shore. Her head hurt. Andrés lifted her gently from the dinghy and wrapped her in a large Guernsey sweater he retrieved from a canvas bag. Now he was
massaging her legs with his strong fingers as he attempted to relieve her cramped muscles. She felt warmth and life return to her body with the friction and pressure of his hands. Her lungs, though, still strained to draw in any breath.

‘Luz, are you all right?’ His words sounded anxious as he leaned over her.

She moved her head and whimpered his name. Through the mist of her benumbed state she could hear him calling her. She coughed up more water. Then her eyelids fluttered and opened.

Blankly she gazed up at her rescuer’s concerned face. She blinked once, twice, in disbelief as she met a pair of piercing green eyes: Leandro’s eyes. Her confusion wouldn’t clear. Surely it was Andrés she had called for, but where were his velvet black eyes? Why was Leandro now peering down at her, his long hair loose and wet around his face? She had left Cádiz with Andrés, on his boat, she was sure of that. They had been in the middle of the ocean. What was going on? Andrés and Leandro couldn’t be there at the same time, unless …

And then Luz froze for a few seconds as her hazy mind grasped the reality staring down at her. ‘Leandro? Andrés? … Who are you?’ she cried out in horror. She struggled to sit up on the sand. Her head was in a vice, clamped at her temples. As panic gripped her, her stomach heaved. She retched once, then again.
How could he? … Why?
She was not so much shocked by the truth as shattered by the deceit. But it all made sense now. It was almost as if some part of her had always sensed that Leandro and Andrés were one. Wasn’t that why she had responded so passionately to Andrés’ touch without feeling real guilt towards Leandro?

Andrés attempted to calm her down. He started to pull her back into his arms. ‘Hush,
querida
, let me explain, I …’

But Luz wanted none of it. ‘Don’t touch me! I don’t want to hear a word,’ she said, pushing him away and trembling now, less with cold but more with anger at her own credulity. She did not glance in his direction, but kept her eyes focused on the encircling headland. He had got them here, to their beach.

‘Take me back now,’ she told him. Her voice was flat, ice-cold. ‘I have no idea what sick game you’ve been playing but I can’t stand the sight of you!’

Luz was no longer sure if she loved this man in front of her or hated him, in fact, she was no longer convinced of anything except the desire to go home and be alone in her room. She thought she knew him intimately but now he was two men – or wasn’t he merely one stranger?

Andrés gazed warily at her as if at any moment she might jump up and run, just to be free of him. After a moment of silence between them, he knelt back on his heels.

‘I know what I’ve done is unforgivable,’ he said bleakly. ‘I was planning to tell you the truth today. I do have an explanation, I promise, Luz. And as flimsy as it may appear to you now, I want you to hear me out before you judge me.’

There was cold disdain in the look she finally gave him and the smouldering anger in her heart blazed up. ‘Nothing can excuse such despicable deceit,’ she told him, her voice shaking. ‘You deliberately set me up. How
could
you have acted the way you did?
Why? Why? Why?’
she cried out, reproach and hurt filling her eyes.

He ran his hands through his wet hair. ‘I would have saved you this entire nightmare if I could, Luz,’ he said in a low voice. ‘But circumstances were stronger than both of us. And I needed to protect you, as much as anything. Let me explain,’ he pleaded again.

‘Oh, please! Andrés? Leandro? I don’t even know what to call you any more,’ she said with a laugh, full of self-derision. ‘Spare me the doleful hero act.’ She struggled to raise herself from the ground but he put a hand out to gently stop her.

‘Don’t hate me, Luz. My name is really Andrés Leandro. I am half-gypsy and half-
gajo
, and that’s the truth,’ he explained softly.

‘I don’t want to know,’ Luz cut in harshly, flinching away from his touch. Inside, she was torn apart by his betrayal. ‘Andrés, Leandro … they have both ceased to exist for me.’ She looked up into the green irises that still managed to hold her captive for a moment, her
heart beating faster. But her eyes were swimming with tears. She spoke quietly and the words were fraught with meaning: ‘As long as I live, I will never forgive you. Whatever happens, in my heart I will always hate you.’

Andrés looked as though Luz had struck him physically. His eyes, so green and penetrating, seemed to fill with shock, then hopelessness, before taking on a steely edge.

‘That’s fine, absolutely fine,’ he said, getting slowly to his feet.

And in the numbness of her pain, the edge to his voice sounded to Luz like indifference.

Luz sat on her veranda watching the day being swallowed up by the hot darkness of night. She could not believe how gullible she had been. Andrés had deliberately set her up from day one. All the time she had been mystified, he had been watching her. It was a twisted game he had played but, to the best of her knowledge, he was not that sort of man. How could she have been so mistaken? Of course he had been very cunning, planning the subterfuge down to the smallest detail. From the gypsy accent and wild, carefree attitude to what must have been lenses that changed the colour of his eyes; it had all been masterfully calculated – but why? And to what end? The reason for him going to such lengths to deceive her still escaped her.

Looking at it with this new-found knowledge, she found many things now made much more sense. She had never understood her sudden powerful attraction to Andrés after she had thought herself so deeply in love with Leandro; it was so unlike her. She had always felt uncomfortable, as though she was being disloyal to her gypsy lover, even though he had been the one who had abandoned her.

Still she came back to the same question:
Why?
What had Andrés to gain in staging such a cruel charade? From what she had ascertained about him during the few months they had been lovers, he was well thought of and loved by his friends. It was true that she
too had found him kind, thoughtful and generous whether gypsy or hidalgo. Could she have been fooled to such an extent? Of course the logical way to find out why he’d done this to her would have been to hear his explanation, but the first thing in her head had been to get away from him. Even looking at him and listening to his voice had hurt her, like holding fire to her skin. She’d had to be alone so that she could lick her wounds in private and nurse her shattered heart.

The lights of the ships were now dots of gold, fading gradually into the mists above the ocean, and the palms in the garden shivered and clattered in the breeze. Luz watched the great orange moon rise majestically from the sea on the far horizon as if a child’s hand had suddenly decided to paste it to a scenery card in a myriorama. She sighed and went indoors, tears streaming down her cheeks. There was nowhere for her to turn. Sheeting waves of pain clutched at her heart. How would she be able to forget the man every nerve in her body ached for?

She retired to bed, longing for sleep. It eluded her, but she dozed languidly in a semi-consciousness state as scene after scene of her recent life in Spain unrolled like a film in her mind’s eye.

Much later, when the curtain moved, she was barely aware of the shadowy figure entering stealthily through the doors of the open French windows, blocking out the moonlight spilling into the room and padding with a velvet tread towards the bed where she lay.

Luz opened her eyes and gasped as she recognized the man who had been haunting her days and nights during all these months. As she sat up and scrambled over to the middle of the bed, her hands moved to her mouth to smother her cry. She could see his eyes taking in the curves of her body, just visible beneath the transparent fabric of her flimsy nightdress.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked in a strangled voice, reaching for the sheet and instinctively pulling it over herself in an attempt at modesty.

The green irises glinted in the dark like a cat’s eyes, as though her surprise, her annoyance and her sudden shyness amused him.

‘Don’t be afraid, Luz. I’ve come to apologize. To explain myself,’ he murmured calmly.

At first she looked at him in silence, making out in the shadows the lean, tanned frame of the man whose body she knew almost as well as her own, but whose eyes remained to her as impenetrable as a moonless night.