The Butterfly Box(207)

The following day Hal sprung out of bed with an energy he didn’t know he had. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so positive about life. He breathed in the scents of his childhood, drawing the air in right to the bottom of his lungs. He had read his father’s book, To Love Enough, and discovered a powerful story that explained his own path of self-discovery as well as a

philosophy on love that would apply to anyone: brothers and sisters, friends, lovers and husband and wife. He had read it well into the early hours of the morning. But he hadn’t felt tired. His eyes had continued to scan the lines of prose until the darkness had been burned away by the tender fire of dawn. As he slept his mind had continued to work on the allegory of life and love so that when he awoke he felt his heart had been touched by something magical. Someone, somewhere had given him another chance at life. This time he resolved to live it wisely.

He almost skipped onto the terrace where the sun was dazzling and the smell of toast and coffee so enticing that he inhaled again and reflected on his own good fortune. ‘Good morning, everyone,’ he said, bending down to kiss his grandmother. ‘Where's Papa?’

‘He’ll be over shortly,’ said Mariana. ‘We thought it would be nice to have lunch in Zapallar, where you used to eat locos at Cesar’s, do you remember?”

‘Yes, I do,’ Hal replied, rubbing his hands together with happiness. ‘Very good idea.’ He sat down and poured himself a cup of coffee. ‘I’m ravenous,’ he exclaimed, buttering himself a croissant. Mariana derived enormous pleasure from watching him eat well. The colour had returned to his cheeks, he looked



happy and rested. ‘Abuelita, I want to learn Spanish,’ he said suddenly.

That can be organized,’ she replied, catching eyes with her husband, who put down the paper and began to take an interest in the conversation.

‘I’m not going back to England,’ he said casually. ‘I want to stay here.’

Mariana was unable to hide her delight. She smiled broadly and clasped her hands together. ‘Mi amor, I’m so happy! You belong here,’ she said, touching his arm. ‘How lovely for Ramoncito to have a brother. What about Federica?’ she added.

Hal grinned. ‘No, she won’t stay,’ he said. ‘She’s in love with someone in England. She just doesn’t know it yet.’

It wasn’t until the fifth day, when Ramoncito and Hal were deeply engrossed in a game of chess and Ramon and Ignacio were walking along the beach, that Mariana took the opportunity to talk to Federica on her own.

‘You’ve been very distracted in the last few days, Fede,’ she said, sitting beside her on the sofa. ‘Is it this young man?’ she asked.

Federica looked surprised. ‘Which young man?’ Federica shrugged defensively.

The one Hal spoke about.’

‘How does Hal know?’ she exclaimed.

‘Perhaps he’s been more alert than you think.’ Mariana chuckled. ‘He’s thriving under the Chilean sun,’ she added, watching him on the terrace, laughing with Ramoncito as if they had known each other for ever.

‘Oh, Abuelita,’ Federica sighed in confusion. ‘I want to stay here because I so enjoy being with you and Abuelito and it’s just wonderful to see Papa again and to have finally put the past behind us. We’re friends now. That was all I ever wanted. But. ..’

‘But you’ve grown up, Fede.’

‘I’ve spent the last twenty years yearning for Papa. I’d read his letters when I was unhappy and remember all the strange tales he told me. I clung onto my childhood. I think Torquil was an attempt to find Papa in someone else. Now there’s Sam,’ she said softly and dropped her shoulders. ‘I think I love him.’

‘So what’s the problem?’

‘I think I’ve hurt him,’ she replied gloomily.

‘In what way?’

‘Well, I adored him as a child. He’s seven years older than me, eccentric and

clever - there’s no one like him in the world, whereas there are hundreds of Torquils. He used to be beautiful, but he’s not any more, he’s just adorable and lovely. During my marriage to Torquil he wrote me anonymous notes of poetry, which changed my life. He loved me from afar, helped me leave Torquil and supported me once I returned home. I couldn’t have done it without him. But I thought the notes were from Papa. I told him so. Then I said . . She paused and blushed.



‘What did you tell him?’ Mariana asked kindly.

Federica squirmed in her chair. ‘I told him that I was leaving for Chile, that I didn’t know how long I’d be gone because there was nothing in Polperro to make me stay.’