After breakfast Ramon once again took Federica by the hand and led her down the road to the beach, the other hand holding onto Rasta’s leash. Federica no longer cared whether it was sunny or misty. She was with her father, just the two of them. She felt special and cherished and she hugged the butterfly box tightly against her chest. They took off their shoes, Ramon’s large brown explorer’s feet made Federica’s small pink ones look even smaller and more vulnerable. Together they walked up the beach, letting the sea catch their toes and cover them with foam. Ramon told her stories of the places he’d visited and the people he’d met and Federica listened transfixed, begging for another one until they were on the road to Cachagua, driving through the mist up the coast.
As they left the town behind them the road ascended into the pastoral charm of the countryside. They passed small villages of brightly painted houses with crude corrugated tin roofs and glassless windows into dark interiors. Open fruit stalls spilled out into the road and mangy horses and carts ambled up the sandy tracks driven by weathered Chileans in ponchos. Skinny dogs sniffed the dry ground for something to eat and grubby-faced children played with sticks and faded cans of Coca-Cola, their large black eyes staring at the car with curiosity as it sped by. The road was dusty, with the odd precarious hole here and there. They stopped after a while for a break and a drink. The mist was beginning to lift and the sun push through. The shade of the slender acacia trees darkened as the light intensified behind them, fighting its way through the fog. Federica sat drinking a large glass of lemon soda while Ramon chewed on an empanada. The dark Chilean children sat in a huddle against the bleached wall of the shack, watching Federica and Flelena with wide eyes, whispering behind their hands, longing to creep up and touch their white angel hair to see what it was made of.
Flelena and Ramon each felt much better being out of the house, away from the place that represented nothing but unhappiness for Flelena and disappointment for Ramon. With the emergence of the sun they began to smile at each other and abandon themselves to the cheerful chatter of their children. The strain in Flelena’s eyes lifted and the colour returned to her cheeks. Ramon hoped that perhaps she might change her mind. A couple of weeks away would do her good.
Mariana and Ignacio took breakfast in the dining room as the sea mist made it too unpleasant to eat outside on the terrace. When Estella entered with the coffee and toast, in her clean blue uniform with her raven hair shining and loose down her back like a glossy pony, Mariana noticed there was something different about her and mentioned it to her husband.
‘Looks the same to me,’ he said, raising his eyes above his glasses to see her better. The same to me,’ he repeated, returning to the large puzzle he was busy putting together.
Mariana watched her pour the coffee. She definitely looked different. It wasn’t the hair, because she often let it down. It was something about her face. She was wearing more makeup. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes shone like wet pebbles. She smelt of soap and roses and her skin glowed due to the oil she had rubbed into it. Mariana smiled and wondered why she had made such an effort.
‘I think she’s got a “friend” in Cachagua,’ she said to Ignacio, who wasn’t remotely interested in the private life of his maid. ‘Yes, she must have a suitor, Nacho. Now I wonder who that could be?’ she said thoughtfully and rubbed her chin with her sensible brown fingers. Estella noticed Mariana watching her with a knowing look on her face and blushed. She smiled back nervously and turned away, fearful that Señora Mariana might guess the reason behind her blushes.
By midday the sky was a majestic blue, the last of the mist burnt off by the fierce heat of the December sun. Mariana sat in the shade on the terrace, listening for the sound of the car, quietly doing her embroidery while Ignacio wrote letters inside. She had been to check the bedrooms and bathrooms and came away very pleased with their new maid who had carried out her every command, forgetting nothing. She liked the fact that the girl had initiative. She went that little bit further without being asked. Mariana swept her soft grey eyes over the dark wooden terrace, at the pots of plants and tall palm trees that gave it respite from the sun and noticed they had all been watered. Now she hadn’t asked Estella to do that, she had taken it upon herself without waiting to be asked. That was initiative, she thought to herself contentedly.
As the car descended the sandy road into Cachagua, Federica rolled down the window and poked her head out. Cachagua was the most charming of seaside villages. A low wooden fence, partly obscured by rich green ferns and palms,