The Swallow and the Hummingbird(65)

‘I like your scar because it’s you,’ he said and watched as she fingered it with her other hand. ‘To me, you’re more beautiful because of it.’ She turned her eyes away and blinked uncomfortably.

‘If you’re lucky your scars are on the inside,’ she said with a sigh. ‘Still, it got me here with you so I’m grateful.’

‘So we’re pretending to Agatha and Jose Antonio that we’ve never met?’ She blushed.

‘I know it’s absurd but I didn’t know what to do. By the time your aunt asked me up here I had feigned ignorance about you. It was then too late to tell her the truth. Besides, perhaps she would have suspected I had ulterior motives and not invited me.’

‘You’re a better actress than I am,’ he said with a smile.

‘Only when my future depends on it.’

He looked at her steadily for a long moment. She turned and settled her eyes on his. He felt a sudden urge to trace his fingers down her scar but Agatha’s loud, booming voice resounded across the park, causing them both to sit up with a start.

‘George! Susan! Your tea’s getting cold!’

They stood up and George stubbed his cigarette into the grass and threw it beneath the bushes. ‘Act one, scene one,’ he said, grinning happily and taking her hand. They walked towards the house but George, overcome with impatience, suddenly pulled her behind a tree and kissed her ardently on her lips. She giggled like a young girl and wound her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his. She kissed him back, without inhibition. ‘That will keep me going, but only for an hour or so!’ he said, stroking her smooth cheek. She put her hand against his chest and gazed up at him with eyes that no longer looked sad.

George had a quick bath and changed into clean clothes, washed and pressed by Agustina. When he reached the terrace Susan was already there, talking with Jose Antonio, Agatha and the two children, recently returned from school. ‘Gringo, have you met Susan?’ Jose Antonio asked, gesticulating towards her. She sat beside him like a fragile bird in the shadow of a bear.

‘Yes, we’ve met,’ she replied, her eyes twinkling at George. ‘I found him in the swimming pool.’

‘I do hope you were wearing something, George,’ said Agatha. ‘Like Jose Antonio, George thinks nothing of throwing himself into the water naked. Even I’ve found myself blushing once or twice.’

‘Don’t worry, Agatha, he was very proper,’ said Susan, picking up her teacup and taking a sip.

‘So what brings you to the Argentine?’ asked Jose Antonio, slicing off a large piece of cheese, which he ate with membrillo on a dry biscuit. ‘There’s no war in America.’

‘I was in England, actually,’ she replied coolly. ‘I lived here as a child. My father was a diplomat.’

‘Are you staying long?’

‘I don’t know. I have no plans.’

Jose Antonio frowned. There was something very mysterious about her. She answered in short sentences in a tone that suggested she was uncomfortable talking about herself. He longed to know how she was so horribly scarred but knew it would be impolite to ask. He would get Agatha to ask her later.

‘She was suffocating in the city. I thought a bit of country air would do her good,’ said Agatha. ‘Nothing like life on a farm. You can take her riding, George, or into Jesús Maria. If you’re interested in old colonial churches, Susan, there was once a thriving Jesuit culture here.’

‘Oh, I know,’ Susan replied enthusiastically, happy to change the subject. ‘My father was very interested in history and took us up here as children. We visited Santa Catalina, Las Teresas, Alta Gracia, Colonia Caroya, Estancia La Candelaria. But I would love to go and see them again. I was very small and don’t remember a great deal.’ She turned to Jose Antonio. ‘Can you spare George?’ He threw his head back and laughed boisterously.

‘I think the gauchos will manage without him!’ Then he raised his teacup to George. ‘What do you think, gringo?’

‘I’d like to see those places myself. Since I arrived I haven’t had a chance to be a tourist.’

‘Working you too hard, eh?’

‘You must go into the sierras,’ suggested Agatha.

‘Hay pumas en las sierras,’ said Tonito, making his hands like claws and growling.

‘If there are pumas, George will be there to save me from them,’ Susan replied in perfect Spanish. George was impressed.

‘Gringo, you had better practise your Spanish. Susan speaks like a native,’ said Jose Antonio.

‘I do have the advantage,’ she replied tactfully. ‘We lived all over.’