As they cut across the pampa, flat plains of long grasses extended as far as the eye could see, interrupted only by clusters of trees where there were dwellings. The odd ombu tree sat proprietorially, squat and weathered but undeniably the king of the pampa. Occasionally herds of shiny ponies, the colour of rich honey, grazed in the sunshine or gathered under tall plane trees. They tossed their heads lazily, too hot to canter around. He passed terrain dotted with small towns, and huge fields planted with corn, wheat and sunflowers. The sky was vast, as if the earth had fallen away exposing the gateway to heaven, and occasional fluffy clouds, drifting across it, like angelic chariots. They stopped at quaint, old-fashioned English stations that once again reminded him of home. The lady opposite him nodded off to sleep unaware that her parrot, so beautifully behaved during her waking moments, now snatched the opportunity to hop about the carriage. He used his claws to climb up the seat, over the luggage rack and down the other side. George watched him with interest, wishing he had something he could offer him to eat.
George dined alone. He remembered his last dinner with Susan on the Fortuna, the way she smiled, the dreadful scar on her face, which he found so endearing, and the stony blue eyes that had softened for him. He recalled little about their conversation. The history of Uruguay and Argentina, what did he care? But he could envisage her as if she were opposite him now. He could even smell her. The sweet scent of lily of the valley and her own, unique perfume. He didn’t desire the company of anyone else. He was content to be left alone with his thoughts. After dinner he retired to his berth to sleep. Although he had the compartment to himself the man next door snored so loudly the dividing wall shook. In the morning, having slept fitfully, he emerged to discover, to his horror, that the snorer was the woman with the parrot.
Finally the terrain changed. Hills appeared on the flat plain like giant waves breaking on a beach and he remembered that Susan had told him how those mountains were home to condors, coral snakes and pumas. They were rich in vegetation and waterways as well as heritage, for colonial monasteries and churches remained as testimony of a once-thriving Jesuit culture. At last the train drew up at Córdoba station. He was pleased to get out, stretch his legs and cool down in the shade of the awning.
‘George, is that you?’ He turned to see a stout, determined-looking woman striding purposefully towards him. ‘Yes, by God, you’ve grown!’ Aunt Agatha’s face was weathered and brown like an old leather shoe. She held out her arms and pulled his face down to her level to kiss him. He was at once engulfed in a fog of perfume. ‘Carlos, traiga el equipaje, por favor,’ she said, waving at the skinny youth who hovered awkwardly beside her. Even with George’s little knowledge of the language he could tell that his aunt spoke it badly. ‘George, what a delight it is to see you after all these years. Yes, you were little more than a boy when I married Jose Antonio. Of course, you probably don’t remember me. But I remember you. Oh yes, you may have grown but that cheeky face of yours hasn’t changed a bit!’ She linked her arm through his and led him out into the sunshine. ‘Isn’t it hot? Lovely. Bet you haven’t seen sun like this in all your life. And Faye can’t understand why I haven’t set foot in England for fifteen years! Well, you can tell her now, can’t you. How is Faye?’ George did not remember Aunt Agatha and usually switched off when his mother spoke of her. He wondered for a horrible moment if he had made the right decision coming to stay with her. Perhaps he would have been better off remaining in Buenos Aires, searching for Susan.
‘Mother is well. Sculpting, looking after Father,’ he replied, suddenly feeling very weary.
‘Good. Trees is keeping the country fed, no doubt. And how is Alice? I gather she’s waiting for Geoffrey to come home. Shouldn’t be long now. Thank God the war is over. What a dreadful business. Faye wrote me wonderful letters. I gather you’re something of a hero. I’m very proud of you. Told all my friends. Very glamorous flying those planes. What fun it must have been!’ George didn’t have the energy to disagree with her.
Agatha climbed into the front seat of her canvas-top Ford, leaving the young boy to load the luggage in the boot before scrambling into the back. ‘Only an hour to Jesús Maria, we’re not far from there,’ she said, squeezing his leg enthusiastically. ‘Now tell me, how is Rita and when will she be joining us?’
‘She’s not coming out, Aunt Agatha. It wasn’t appropriate. After all, we’re not married.’