Ramon opened his eyes and pulled himself out of his warm, rose-scented dreams and blinked up at his son.
‘Hal and Federica are arriving in two days from England,’ he said and watched his father stare at him in bewilderment. ‘It’s true. Federica telephoned Abuelita this afternoon. I’m finally going to meet my half-brother and sister,’ he said and smiled broadly.
Ramon sat up and rubbed his eyes. ‘Tell me again,’ he said in confusion. ‘Federica and Hal are coming here? Are you sure?’
‘Yes,’ Ramoncito insisted happily.
‘And Helena?’
‘No, just Federica and Hal.’
‘They’re going to stay with my parents, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘My God, I don’t deserve this,’ he mumbled, standing up and suffering a terrible head spin.
‘Yes, you do, Papa,’ said Ramoncito. ‘Mama was always telling you to go and see them.’
‘And I never listened to her.’
‘She’d be happy.’
‘I know.’
‘Have you finished yet?’
‘The book?’
‘Yes.’
‘Yes, I have.’
‘Great, let’s open a bottle of wine. We have two things to celebrate now,’ said Ramoncito joyfully.
But Ramon was anxious. Federica and Hal knew nothing of Estella and Ramoncito.
Hal and Federica boarded the plane for the long journey across the waters to Chile. Neither knew what to expect, but both hoped that somehow the ghosts of the past would be confronted and exorcised. Hal was pale and visibly shaking with discomfort as his body craved the poison that was destroying it. Federica kept forcing him to drink water to flush it all out, fussing over him like an overprotective nurse. As soon as they boarded the plane he slouched into his chair, closed his fevered eyes and slept.
Federica tried to read but she was unable to concentrate. The events of the last month invaded her thoughts, allowing her no peace. She cast her mind back to Torquil. She had been unhappy right from the start of their marriage, but she had believed she loved him and did everything he asked of her in order to please him. How easy it had been for him to manipulate her and mould her into a submissive pawn. She had taken it all, every humiliation, until she had grown so accustomed to his controlling nature that she had no longer recognized it or realized that it was within her power to withstand it. She had wanted a father figure to look after her and protect her from the world. It was a miracle that she had grown up at all in the stifling air of their marriage where his overbearing personality had stunted her growth, but somehow she had realized that she no longer wanted someone to live for her, but to live herself in the way she wanted.
It sounded simple with hindsight. She should have left earlier. She was appalled at her own lack of character and vowed to herself silently that she would never let anyone treat her like that again. She thought of her father and the notes of poetry he had sent her. It had been due to his support that she had been able to stand back and look at her marriage with detachment. Then there
was Sam who had kept her afloat.
When she thought of Sam she smiled inwardly until the smile rested on her lips, curling them up at the corners. She pictured his dishevelled figure, those shabby sweaters he always wore, the dusty shoes that hadn’t ever enjoyed the luxury of a lick of polish, his lofty expression and intelligent eyes. He had been a beautiful boy, she recalled wistfully, remembering their first encounter on the lake. He had had thick blond hair that fell over his eyes, pale pink lips that smirked sardonically, luminous skin that glowed with contentment and the charisma of a young man who knows he is much cleverer than everyone else.
So what had happened? Age had stolen his golden hair, experience had humbled him and Nuno’s death had robbed him of his contentment. He was more loveable now, less aloof. But Federica didn’t allow herself to dwell on her feelings for Sam; she wasn’t ready to confront them yet. She pulled the butterfly box out of her bag and turned the focus of her attention to her father and grandparents, reliving all those glorious moments as a child before her mother had taken her away across the sea.
Hal slept most of the way, waking up to eat and go to the bathroom. It was
only when they landed in Santiago airport that he sat up and stared out of the window, the view over the Andes mountains strumming within him a familiar chord that caused his throat to tighten and his eyes to well with tears. He swallowed hard, gripping the arm of his seat as the complex jumble of his emotions churned in his stomach.
‘We’re home, Fede,’ he choked, turning to look at her. She nodded, for she too was moved and unable to speak. She blinked away her joy and threaded her hand into his.