Harvey and Marina crossed the gravel to the hotel, laughing together at the absurdity of the woman.
“I didn’t know they made dresses that size,” said Marina. “Or that shape. I dread to think what the rest of my staff are wearing. Has everyone gone mad?”
They entered the hotel to find Rose and Jennifer on reception. There was nothing unusual about their clothes, but they had certainly applied their makeup with more care than usual.
“He’s in the dining room,” said Jennifer, as Marina swept in.
“Good.”
“He’s sitting with the brigadier.”
Marina looked worried. “Oh, okay.”
“He’ll love the old brigadier,” said Harvey as they walked on through the hall. “They don’t make them like that in Argentina.”
“What do you know of Argentina, Harvey?” Marina laughed.
“That they don’t make men like the brigadier.”
Rafa was indeed sitting at the brigadier’s usual table by the window. They were deep in conversation. When the two men saw Marina approach, they got to their feet to greet her.
“Please don’t get up,” she said, watching the brigadier, who had only just managed to lift his bottom off the chair, drop back into it. “So, you two have met.”
“Fascinating young man,” enthused the brigadier. “His father fought in the war, for the other side.”
“Then he migrated to Argentina to forget about it,” Rafa added.
“I don’t want to forget about it. The day I forget about it they might as well bury me in the ground. Best days of my life.”
“No, your life is good now,” said Rafa.
“Not as good as the past, young man,” chuckled the brigadier a little sadly.
“But the past is just memory, the future just anticipation; the only reality is now.” Rafa looked around the room. “And here you are in a beautiful place, eating a delicious breakfast. There’s not a lot wrong about that.”
“Is it bad to dream?” Marina asked.
“Of course not, as long as your desires don’t make you unhappy.”
“I gave up all my pipe dreams when I was no longer young enough to smoke them. Now I just smoke conventional tobacco,” said the brigadier.
“You’re young in your heart,” said Rafa kindly.
“This old heart. Nothing made it beat more surely than the sound of gunfire and the smell of battle.” He raised his rheumy eyes and gave a little sniff. “Or the pretty face of my girl.”
Rafa sensed that his girl was up there with his father and looked on the brigadier’s wistful face with empathy. “You know, she’s still here,” he said softly.
“Oh, I know she is. It’s been five years—five long years. I can feel her sometimes, but then is it just my mind playing cruel tricks on a sad old man who wants to believe?”
“Most certainly not,” interrupted Marina. “You have to believe what you feel.” She turned to Rafa. “What are your plans for today?”
“He’s going to teach me how to paint,” said the brigadier.
“Really?”
“Oh, yes. He thinks it’ll make me feel young again.”
“Then he should teach us all how to paint,” said Marina with a laugh.
“You’re all welcome.”
“Any other takers?”
“No, just the brigadier. We’re going to paint in the garden.”
“Good.”
“We’re going to paint a tree.”
“A tree?”
“Yes,” Rafa confirmed decisively. “A tree.”
Clementine had slept better than she had in a long time. Last night she had ignored a call from Joe at ten o’clock and switched off her mobile. Rafa had come in from the garden at about eleven, and they had sat in the conservatory until midnight, talking in the candlelight until the wax had all but melted. He had told her more about his father, whom he missed dreadfully, and about his childhood. She felt flattered that he had opened up to her, as if she were his confidante. They already shared the secret church, the house that God forgot, and the hidden cove. When they had got up to go to bed, she had almost expected him to kiss her. But he hadn’t. He had smiled and said good night, leaving her in the hall with Bill, the night porter.
She had floated across to the stable block, her head swimming with wonderful fantasies and her chest full of something light and fizzy. She had hummed as she enjoyed a bath, danced as she had dried herself, and laughed as she had smoothed her body with some lotion she had bought but never used. She had snuggled beneath the duvet with a contented sigh, and for the first time in as long as she could remember, she had actually looked forward to waking up in the morning.