The Butterfly Box(22)

‘Estella’s new,’ said Mariana quietly. ‘She’s wonderful. Do you remember

Consuelo?’ she asked. Ramon nodded absentmindedly, with half an eye on the ripe young woman who padded tidily across the terrace. ‘Well, dear old Consuelo died last summer. I was at my wits’ end, wasn’t I, Nacho? I didn’t know where to look.’

‘So how did you find her?’ Helena asked, glad the conversation had begun to flow again.

‘Well, the Mendozas, who have a summer house in Zapallar, found her for us. She’s the niece of their maid Esperanza. The one with the bad squint,’ she said, then added as an after-thought, ‘poor old Esperanza.’

‘So you’re happy with Estella?’ Helena asked, wiping the hair off her son’s forehead and kissing his soft skin tenderly.

‘Very. She’s efficient and hard working and gives us no trouble at all.’

‘Not like Lidia then,’ Helena laughed. ‘She’s always got something wrong with her. If it isn’t her back it’s her front, her foot or her ankles that swell in the heat. She can barely walk around the house, let alone tidy it up. Dear old Federica does everything.’

‘Surely not!’ Ignacio exclaimed, appalled.

‘Well, she likes it,’ said Helena quickly.

‘She seems to,’ Ramon added in her defence. ‘Helena’s a good mother, Papa,’ he added, glancing at his wife in the hope of winning a smile. She remained tight-lipped as if she hadn’t heard him.

‘Of course she is,’ said Mariana. ‘Fede, come here and show me your lovely box,' she called to her granddaughter, who rolled out of the hammock and walked hastily over to her.

‘I want to see it too,' said Ignacio, pulling the child onto his lap.

Federica placed the box on the table. ‘This once belonged to an Inca princess,’ she said gravely. She then paused for effect before slowly lifting the lid. To her delight her grandfather caught his breath and dragged the box closer to get a better look. He pushed his glasses up his nose and peered inside.

‘Por Dios, Ramon, where did you find this treasure? It must be worth a fortune?’

‘I was given it in Peru,’ he replied. Federica shivered with pride.

‘In Peru, eh?’ he mused. Then he ran his fingers over the stones.

‘It’s a magic box, Abuelito,’ said Federica.

‘I can see that,’ said Ignacio. ‘Here, woman, have a look at this. It’s extraordinary.’ He pushed it across the table to Mariana. Helena felt guilty that she

hadn’t paid it more attention.

‘My dear, it’s beautiful,’ she said admiringly.

‘If you move the box about the wings move. Look!’ said Federica, pulling the box back and holding it up, tilting it from side to side. They all stared into it in amazement.

‘My dear, you are absolutely right,’ said Mariana, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’

‘Papa, can I tell them the story?’ Ramon nodded and Federica, her large blue eyes shining excitedly, began to tell them the legend of the butterfly box. They all listened quietly as Federica recounted what her father had told her.

Without being seen Estella stood behind the French doors watching Ramon’s raffish face smiling at his daughter with great tenderness. He was more handsome than he was in photographs and had a charisma that filled the house and overwhelmed her. She stood in the shadows, as still as a marble statue, and left her eyes to gaze upon him while her mind drifted into the realm of fantasy.



After dinner, when the children had gone to bed, Ignacio and Ramon took their

drinks onto the beach and walked in the foam of the surf as Ignacio had done the night before with his wife. The sky was bright and tremulous, the sea lit up by the phosphorescent moon that hung weightless above them. At first they talked about trivialities, about Ramon’s latest book and his latest adventures. Finally his father drained his glass and stood in front of Ramon.

‘What’s going on, son?’ he asked bluntly.

Ramon fell silent for a moment. He didn’t really know. ‘She’s leaving me, Papa,’ he said.

Ignacio stopped walking. ‘She’s leaving you?’ he repeated incredulously.

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘She doesn’t love me any more.’

‘What a load of rubbish!’ he growled. ‘She’s crying out for attention, any fool can see that. What else?’ he demanded.

Ramon shuffled in the sand, making piles with his toes. ‘I’m not there for her.’

‘I see.’

‘She wants me to change.’

‘Why can’t you?’