‘Ramon,’ she breathed. She liked the sound of that and said it again. ‘Ramon.’
He touched her feverish face with the palm of his hand and pressed his lips to hers, breathing in her scent and tasting the salt of her tears.
‘Wait for me, Estella. I will come back. I promise.’ He stood up and left her crying once more into her paiiuelo.
But her tears were no longer of grief but of hope.
Mariana and Ignacio hugged the children with sadness, unsure of whether they’d ever see them again. They embraced their daughter-in-law, repressing the resentment they both felt, wishing her a safe journey to England. Mariana secretly blamed her for the breakdown of the marriage in spite of her reasoning that told her Ramon was more to blame. It felt unnatural to begrudge her son and she had to begrudge someone. She kissed Ramon with a love that was unconditional and wilfully blind. Ignacio wasn’t so blinkered. He had predicted this would happen for some time. Now it had he was deeply saddened but realistic. He hugged Ramon and wished them both well. ‘Don’t let them drift away, Ramon. They need you,’ was all he said before his son climbed into the car and the subdued family disappeared up the track. With sad old eyes Ignacio and Mariana watched until all that was left was the dust the tyres had kicked up and the sorrow that weighed heavily in their hearts.
Estella moved away from the window, afraid of being seen, and retreated into the kitchen. She sat down to chop the vegetables and wait, as he had instructed.
Federica sat in the back of the car in silence. She wanted to cry but she knew she had to be strong for her mother. Crying would only make both her parents sad. So she swallowed hard and strained her neck to prevent the tears. She looked across at her brother who was oblivious to the sudden change that was about to rock their lives. She remembered every word of her parents’ fight and wondered whether it was true that her father didn’t want her any more. In spite of her brave efforts a fat tear trickled down her cheek. Hastily she wiped it away before anyone spotted it. She opened her box and tried desperately to find in its magic her father’s love.
Chapter 8
The next few days were suspended in a surreal limbo. While Helena packed up the things that were precious to her and her children, Ramon took Hal and Federica for long walks up the beach with Rasta and into Calle Valparaiso for palta sandwiches and juice. Everything seemed normal. Beneath the surface, however, things were far from normal.
The night they returned Federica awoke crying. When her mother rushed to her she discovered that her daughter had wet her bed. She pulled her child into her arms, kissing her damp cheeks, reassuring her that it was okay; even grown-ups wet their beds occasionally. Federica didn’t understand what had happened and buried her face in her mother’s bosom in shame. But Helena understood only too well and longed for life to settle down in Polperro. She would have taken Federica to her bed had Hal not already occupied the space between Ramon and herself, the space usually left for indifference and self-pity. He had shuffled into his parents’ room crying, having had a nightmare. But Helena knew that his nightmare was nothing more than a symptom, like Federica’s incontinence, of the stress their marriage breakdown was causing them.
They only had themselves to blame.
When Ramon slept he dreamed of Estella. When he was awake he fantasized about her. It was only because of Estella that he was able to get through the traumatic few days that ensued. Long days of packing up the house, organizing estate agents to put it up for sale, travel agents to arrange Helena and the children’s trip to England. He longed to be on the road again, free from the turbulence Helena had invited into their lives. He’d buy an apartment in Santiago, somewhere to have as a base. Somewhere for him alone, without the constraints of domesticity, where he could come and go without explanation. He arranged to wire money to England, enough for them all to live well. Helena should have been grateful, his offer was generous, more than generous, but she only felt bitterness. Like his gifts, Ramon found it easy to buy people’s affection, as long as he didn’t have to invest his time, or himself. She accepted because she had to, for the sake of the children, but she would have preferred to have thrown it back in his face.
Federica curled into a ball. The light from the street lamp scattered her room with an orange glow. The light used to be reassuring. It used to make her feel
secure. But not any more. She pulled her knees up to her chest and sucked her thumb. She had gone to the bathroom at last twice in ten minutes. Not that she needed to go, but because she was afraid of wetting her bed again. Her father had kissed her goodnight. He had even told her a story. One of his adventures. She had listened, seated on his knee as usual. But when he had kissed her goodnight she had found herself wanting more. A longer kiss, a longer hug. When he had left the room she felt deprived, as if he hadn’t loved her enough. She no longer felt secure and cherished. She felt needy. She longed for her mother to embrace her and hold her against her body. She lay awake in bed devising plans to justify going into their room in the middle of the night. A nightmare was Hal’s excuse, she had to think of something different. So she pretended to be ill. Her mother had been sympathetic and allowed her to sleep in their bed on the second night, but on the third Hal had had another nightmare so she was swiftly taken back to her room where she cried herself to sleep. She was frightened about going to England. She didn’t want to leave Viña del Mar, or Chile or Abuelito and Abuelita. She didn’t want things to change. Most of all she wanted Mama and Papa to be friends again. But as much as they put on a show, she knew they no longer liked one another. She