Sam gave a moan and then a long, satisfied sigh. Bea giggled and got to her feet. Then Nuno turned around and coughed, loudly. “The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it,”’ he said, then raised his thick grey eyebrows at Sam.
‘Oscar Wilde,’ said Sam dutifully.
‘Molto bene, earn. Now you have yielded perhaps Miss Osborne had better return to the nursery.’
Bea nodded numbly and ran through the gate without so much as a parting glance. Her face burned so red it throbbed. She was mortified. She wanted to die of embarrassment. But Nuno was greatly amused.
‘Come with me, young Samuel. I think I have to adapt your reading list,’ he said, wandering out of the gate that Bea had left swinging on its hinges.
Once in his library Nuno stood before the dusty bookshelves, running his hand over the spines of his beloved books. ‘These give me much pleasure, Samuel. My admiration for women was shattered when I discovered they were not as perfect as the ancient Greek sculptures I studied as a boy.’
‘How come?’ Sam asked, throwing himself into his grandfather’s leather sofa.
‘I only made love to your grandmother once.’
‘Really? You must have been fertile, Nuno.' He chuckled.
‘Indeed I was, as luck, or the Gods, would have it. No, my dear boy, when I discovered women had pubic hair they toppled for ever from the heavenly pedestal I had so innocently placed them upon.’
Sam laughed. ‘All because of pubic hair? You can’t have believed women to be literally like those sculptures?’ he said in amazement.
His grandfather pulled out a couple of books and lovingly stroked their covers. Indeed I did, Samuel. They were never quite the same after that.’
‘Poor Grandma.’
‘She was devoted to me. Devoted. You’ll learn that the pleasures of the flesh, the entwining of loins, the stimulation of the genitalia,’ he said, clipping his words for emphasis, ‘are nothing more than illusions, dear boy. False love. You lose yourself in them momentarily, then they are gone and you are left lusting after the next fleeting pleasure. You can chase it all your life, but you can never hold onto it. No, dear boy, love is something more profound. That is how your grandmother loved me. Not like an animal but like a divine being. Yes, a divine being. Ecco,’ he said, handing Sam the books.
Sam took them and eyed them suspiciously. ‘Casanova’s Memoirs and Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Cray' he read.
‘The first will teach you about the joys of the flesh, the second will teach you not to abuse them,’ said Nuno wisely.
‘Thank you,’ said Sam, getting up.
‘Sexual pleasure can be a weapon as well as a wand, young Samuel. Use it well.’
‘You won’t tell Mum, will you?’ Sam said, hovering by the door, shuffling his feet.
‘It’s your business, dear boy, but might I suggest you keep your loving to the dark hours when there is no chance of someone walking in on you.’ He turned back to his books.
‘“Love ceases to be a pleasure when it ceases to be a secret,”’ replied Sam, grinning smugly.
‘Aphra Behn, The Lover’s Watch’ said Nuno pompously, without turning around. ‘It is still a secret from the rest of the household, dear boy. Enjoy it,’ he added, and smiled proudly because he had taught his grandson to appreciate literature.
Helena stood at her bedroom window and watched Federica playing in the garden with Hester and Molly. She was glad that Federica had settled into their new home. Her first term at school had been a great success. Hester had taken Federica under her wing and made her feel part of their family, which was what Federica needed, a large, loud family to take her mind off her absent father. When the term had finished they had spent many long afternoons on the
beach, building sand-castles, picnicking on the cliff, exploring caves and listening to Jake’s old smuggling stories. Uncle Toby had taken her out in his boat with Julian and taught her how to fish, except that Toby always threw them back into the water again. He hated to hurt any living creature. Federica had developed a crush on Sam Appleby, which didn’t surprise Helena at all, Sam was a very beautiful young man. At least that took her mind off her father. All to the good, she thought. But what of her?
Helena was tied to the house, looking after Hal. She had been mortified to read the letter Ramon had sent to Federica. She found she missed him in spite of her efforts and caught herself more than once recalling that strange moment in Viña when their impulses had overcome their reasoning and they had made love. She had then remembered discovering him in bed with Estella and felt that nauseating anger all over again, as if it had been yesterday. She had hoped that she would have left all her memories of Ramon in Chile, along with the sentimental nonsense collected during their first happy years together. But it was harder to let him go than she had predicted. He clung to her thoughts in order to torment her. As much as she tried to shake him off she was plagued by images of him. She wondered where he was, whether he ever thought about her, whether he would turn up one of these days and tell her that he had made a mistake, that he would fight for her after all, that he would make an effort to change. How could he love her and not fight for her? She couldn’t understand him.