The Butterfly Box(19)

Chapter 5


When Federica awoke she was disappointed to see the sea mist swirling dense and grey outside her window, obscuring the morning sunshine and silencing the birds. It was chilly and damp. Her mother always told her that the sea mist was sucked into the coast by the heat in Santiago. If it was really hot in the capital, Viña was misty. Federica hated the mist. It was depressing. Then she forgot all about the dreary skies and pulled her butterfly box onto her lap. She opened it, moved it about, ran her fingers over the stones, pleased that the light was still there causing the iridescent wings to shudder and tremble. That was how her mother found her, absorbed in Ramon’s magic world of make-believe, somewhere amongst the mountains of Peru.

Helena had barely slept at all. Or at least she felt she hadn’t slept. Her head was heavy and pressured. She had taken painkillers and hoped they’d be quick to take effect. She padded into Federica’s room in her dressing gown, followed by Hal who was already dressed and playing with his new train. When Federica saw her, pale faced and grey around the eyes, she noticed immediately and asked if she was all right.

‘I’m fine, thank you, sweetie,’ Helena replied, forcing a thin smile. But her eyes didn’t smile. They remained dull and expressionless. Federica frowned and closed the lid of the box.

‘You don’t look very well, Mama. Shall I make you breakfast? Where’s Papa?’ she asked, jumping off the bed.

‘Papa’s still asleep, so best not to wake him. Why don’t you put on your dressing gown and we can make breakfast together?’ she suggested, patting Hal on his shiny head as he passed her making train noises. Federica scrambled into her dressing gown and wondered whether her father would remember his promise to take her to the beach with Rasta. She hoped he’d wake up and not spend all morning in bed, as he was apt to do. She skipped lightly down the stairs, through the hall and into the kitchen. Hal sat on the floor running his engine over the terracotta tiles, under the table and chairs, talking to himself and still making the noises of a train.

Federica helped her mother lay up for breakfast in the dining room. When her father was at home they stopped eating in the kitchen, which was an English habit of Helena’s that she had never dropped, and ate like Chileans in the dining room. Lidia would arrive at ten to clean the house and cook the lunch.

Ramon rarely went into the kitchen. He had grown up with staff, unlike Helena, whose family kitchen had been the very heart of her home.

Ramon awoke to find himself alone in the strange bed. It took a moment for him to remember where he was and for the heavy feeling of his wife’s unhappiness to find him again. He cast his eyes to the window where the curtains danced with the cold breeze that came in off the Pacific bringing with it the damp sea mist. He didn’t want to get up. The atmosphere in the room was stiflingly oppressive. He wanted to cover his head with the sheets and imagine he was far away on the clouds, above the mist and the misery that hung dense upon the walls of the house like slime. He lay there with a sinking feeling in his chest, suppressing the impulse to get up, pack his bag and leave.

Then he heard the gentle footsteps of his daughter. The sinking feeling turned to one of guilt and he peeped out over the sheets.

‘Are you awake, Papa?’ she asked. He saw her expectant face advance, her large blue eyes blinking at him hopefully. She treaded softly so as not to wake him if he was still sleeping. She moved slowly like a shy deer uncertain whether the animal in the bed was friend or foe. Ramon pulled the sheet down so that she could see he wasn’t sleeping. Her face lit up and she smiled broadly. ‘I’ve made you breakfast, Papa,’ she said and her cheeks shone proudly. ‘Can we go down to the beach, even though it’s misty?’

‘We can go to the beach right now,’ he said, brightening up at the idea of getting out of the house. ‘We’ll take Rasta with us. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Then we’ll head off to Cachagua.’

‘Mama says it’ll be sunny by the time we get to Cachagua,’ she said, jumping from one foot to the other impatiently.

While Ramon was in the bathroom Federica skipped around the room, opening the curtains and making the bed. She was used to looking after her mother, but looking after her father gave her more pleasure. It was a novelty. Ramon ate his breakfast for Federica’s sake. Hal had finished his and was playing quietly by himself in the nursery. His interest in his train far exceeded his interest in his father, whom he looked upon with suspicion because he sensed the strained atmosphere as all small children do. Helena sat at the table sipping a cup of black coffee. Ramon noticed her eyes were red and her face sapped of colour. He smiled at her politely, but she didn’t smile back until Federica bounced in with hot croissants. Only then did she sit up and make an effort to act as if everything were normal.