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The Mermaid Garden(44)

By:Santa Montefiore


Marina beamed with pride. “I’m so pleased you like it.”

“I will paint it, for sure.”

“And we will hang it up somewhere prominent,” said Grey.

“I can see we’re going to have a whole gallery,” Jake added, not without an edge of sarcasm.

“We’d be so lucky,” added Marina. “Would you like coffee, or to see your room first?”

“I’d like to see my room,” Rafa replied. “Any excuse to see more of this fantastic house.”

He smiled at her, and she couldn’t help but smile back with girlish enthusiasm. She noticed how his mouth turned up at the corners, causing the skin on his cheeks to fold into leonine creases, and wondered why Clementine hadn’t surfaced to meet him.

“Come, let me show you.”

They walked past reception, where Rose and Jennifer stood in suspended animation, their mouths frozen into inane grins. Rafa broke the spell by shaking their hands and introducing himself. They were caught off guard by his confidence and good manners—most people talked to them only when they wanted something.

“He’s gorgeous,” sighed Rose as he disappeared upstairs with Marina, Grey, and Jake.

“They don’t make them like that in this country,” said Jennifer. “I don’t know a single Englishman who has his easy charm.”

“And his accent. I’d like to listen to that on my pillow.”

“Oh Lordie, so would I.”

Their dreaming was interrupted by the loud ringing of the telephone. Jennifer was quick to pick it up. When she heard the familiar voice, she looked mildly irritated. “Oh, hello there, Cowboy. You know you shouldn’t call me at work …”

Marina led Rafa to the top floor, where a bathroom, bedroom, and sitting room made up a cozy suite. “Is this all for me?” he asked, surprised.

“Well, you’re going to be here all summer, and you need space to paint.”

“Qué bárbaro!” He wandered into the bedroom, where Tom had placed one bag on a rack and the other on the floor beside it. There was a dark wood-framed super-king-size bed and elegant lamps on the bedside tables where piles of books were neatly stacked.

“Grey chooses the reading material,” she said, noticing his glancing over the spines.

“Edith Wharton, Nancy Mitford, P. G. Wodehouse, Jane Austen, Dumas, Maupassant, Antonia Fraser, William Shawcross.”

“Do you think you’ll have any time to paint?” Grey asked, smiling proudly as Rafa read out his favorite authors.

Rafa rubbed his chin. “I’m not sure. I might never leave my room.”

“How lucky then that you have the whole summer.”

“I think I’m going to like it here,” he mused, grinning at Marina. “You have very good taste, señora.”

“Thank you. I had great fun doing it. It was a challenge to keep the best of the old and bring in the best of the new without changing the feel of the place. This used to be the children’s floor when it was a private house. There’s a heavenly view of the sea from here.” She walked over to the bedroom window, kneeled on the window seat, and peered through the little square panes of glass set in lead. “You wouldn’t believe the amount of glass panes we had to replace.”

Rafa put a hand on the wall beside her and leaned over. “I love the sea. Having been brought up on the pampa, I find the sea is a great novelty for me.”

“It’s nice to drift off to sleep listening to it crashing on the rocks.”

“Have you always lived here?”

“No, we bought the house eighteen years ago, but I love it like a person.”

“It has so much character. I felt that the minute I first walked in. It must be very demanding, like another child.”

Marina didn’t bother to correct him. Most people assumed that Grey’s children were hers. “It’s somehow more helpless,” she said softly. Once again she felt the weight of foreboding fall upon her heart as she was reminded of why Rafa was here and how much depended on him.

“Let me show you your sitting room,” interrupted Grey, and Rafa followed him down the corridor, leaving Jake and Marina in the bedroom.

“I’m still not sure why you’ve given him the best set of rooms in the house,” said Jake quietly.

“They’re not the best. The first-floor rooms are prettier.” She stood up and faced him.

“Yes, but this is a whole floor.”

“It’s an attic.”

“But what if we get honeymooners who want to book it?”

“Then they have the rooms downstairs. We have twenty rooms, Jake, of which under half are booked so far this summer.”