Authors: Isobel Chace
Inez looked decidedly ruffled.
‘
But you can see that I am quite all right
!
’ she told Megan indignantly.
‘
Now that we have a man to escort us, what is wrong with our coming here?’
Tony
’
s laughter took on an edge of anger. ‘Such naivety ill becomes the pair of you in such a place as this
!
’
Megan bit her lip.
‘
It looks innocent enough to me,
’
she said.
‘
Just a lot of nice people enjoying themselves.’
‘
And you think that is how your Spaniard would see it?’ he shot at her.
‘He isn’t my Spaniard,’ she prevaricated.
‘
If he’s anyone’s, he’s Inez’s.’
‘Says you
!’
Tony scoffed.
‘It is true,’ Inez assured him. ‘Carlos does not approve of Megan, because of what you and she did in London—’
‘
What we did?’
‘In Spain,’ Megan said in a funny, remote voice that she scarcely recognised as her own, ‘women are like Caesar’s wife—above suspicion, or beyond the pale
!’
‘Poor Megan
!’
She smiled bitterly.
‘
Don’t waste your sympathy. Twenty-four hours was enough to convince me that I should be bored stiff if I stayed here long
!’
Tony stared down at his plate, separating the flesh of the chicken from the bone with elaborate care.
‘Poor Megan,’ he repeated.
‘I don’t know what you mean
!’
she said sharply.
He didn’t bother to answer. Instead he replenished all their glasses with wine and turned his attention wholly on to Inez, leaving Megan free to talk to the others who were sitting at their table. There was a young couple, blatantly on honeymoon, who were busy feeding each other from a single plate, and an elderly woman who seemed to be on her own. Megan smiled tentatively at her and was rewarded by a neig
hing
laugh.
‘Are you at our hotel?’ she asked Megan.
Megan shook her head. ‘No, no, I don’t think so.’
‘Thought I hadn’t seen you. Mind you, there are
so many of us that one can’t get to know everyone, can one? I prefer to keep myself to myself at home, but it’s different on holiday. Never thought I’d ever be sitting here, I can tell you
!
What are you doing in Majorca, dearie?’ She pronounced Majorca with a strong, English ‘j
’
without any concession to how anyone else might pronounce it. Megan loved her for it. She was so relaxed and ordinary and unfussed by the strangeness of her surroundings. Megan doubted that she ever worried about anything.
‘Are you enjoying your stay?’ she asked her.
‘Oh yes, it’s been lovely! A real treat to come away like this and not have to worry about the next meal until it comes to the table. What about you?’
‘I love the island,’ Megan answered.
‘
Bits of it,’ the old woman agreed.
‘
I liked the Caves. Real romantic, I call them! Have you been there?’
‘
No, I haven’t,’ Megan admitted.
‘You should go there. The Cuevas de Drach, that’s what they’re called. Something to do with a dragon. Perhaps they’re shaped like a dragon, or something like that. I got a booklet on them, I was so taken with them, but I haven’t read it yet.’ She laughed suddenly.
‘
Don’t suppose I ever shall if the truth be known.’ She pulled open her capacious handbag and rooted about inside it, turning over her travel documents, postcards by the dozen, and a collection of cosmetics, paper-handkerchiefs and the other assorted objects that women carry about with them. ‘I have it here somewhere,’ she insisted. ‘I know I have
!
’ With a triumphant flurry, she produced the small booklet and pushed it into Megan’s reluctant hands.
‘
Take it, dear. It’ll tell you all about it for when you go yourself. I’ve seen it for myself and I don’t really want to know how they found it all and things like that. I just loved seeing it, though my, I was tired out after we’d walked through it all
.
I was that glad to
sit down and see those little boats gliding around i
n
the music. Ever so pretty it was
!
’ She sighed gustily.
‘There’s no doubt about it, my dear, you must go and see them for yourself
!’
‘I will
!’
Megan said enthusiastically.
‘That’s right, dear. Give you a thrill, it will, to see that!’
Their conversation came to a forcible end as a middle-aged man, dressed in baggy striped trousers and a scarlet jacket, came into the old barn and began to play the Mallorquin version of the bagpipes. The weird noise filled the room, rising and dying away, as stirring to the blood as the pipes of Sco
tl
and, but just as inappropriate in a confined space. He walked about the ba
rn
, his cheeks scarlet with the heat and the exertion of blowing, his tunes roaring over the tables and echoing round the rafters.
When he had gone into the other room one could hear the silence, like something living and breathing. Then, all together, everyone drew breath and went on with their conversations in a burst of chatter.
‘Oh, look
,’
said Inez,
‘
they’re bringing in the roast sucking pig
!’
The piles of plates, with their left-over chicken bones, were swif
tl
y taken away and fresh plates, each with an enormous helping of pork on it, brought in their stead. Megan regarded it with some disfavour, feeling that she had already eaten enough, but she was amused by Inez’s frank delight in the dish that had been set before her, attacking it with a gusto that she had not brought to the chicken, or even to the sublimely delicious
little
baked potatoes.
It was good. Very good. Salt and pepper had been rubbed hard into the surface of the meat, which had then been barbecued over charcoal. The result was tender and succulent.
‘We ought to be making a move to the dance hall
,’
Tony said reluctantly. He patted his stomach, looking
completely satisfied. ‘At the moment I feel more like going to sleep than working
!
’ His eyes swept over Megan’s face. ‘Are you still determined to sing for us?’ he asked her.
She nodded briefly, finishing her meat in a hurry. Inez, however, made no move to hurry. ‘I want to eat my orange first,’ she insisted. ‘They’re grown here, did you know that? They taste much better when they have just been picked off the trees. You’ll have to wait for me.’
‘
We can’t,’ Tony answered.
‘
We have to go—the boys will be waiting for us. Why don’t you bring your orange with you?’
Inez made a face at him, her full lips pouting with dismay. ‘I think you are very unkind to me,’ she complained.
‘Some of us have to earn a living,’ Tony retorted.
‘
That is no excuse for being unkind,’ she argued.
‘
I am not unkind
!
You can stay if you want and finish your orange, taking as long as you want to about it, but Megan and I have to go across to the hall
now.
We have to arrange what numbers we’re going to do, for one thing, and for another, the boys will want to see her again. They were disappointed when they found out she’d left us.’
‘
Espere un momento
,’
Inez begged prettily. ‘I am coming, Tony. I am coming quickly, only I can’t get out!’ She sounded pathetic and very anxious to please, smiling at the English tourists and apologising for disturbing them as she wriggled past them, clutching her oranges in her hands as though nothing would part her from them.
It had started to rain outside, a gentle spray of silver rain descended from the lowering black clouds that hung in the sky, hiding the moon and the stars. A distant roll of thunder echoed round the hills and the accompanying lightning lit up the surrounding almond orchards in a bright white light, highlighting
the fragile tracery of the ghostly blossom.
‘Oh, I have no coat
!
I shall get wet
!
’ Inez complained.
‘We’ll have to run for it
!
’ said Megan, determined to be cheerful at all costs. She wanted this evening to be over—nothing more than that.
‘Come, the quickest way is through the courtyard and round the back
!
’ Tony instructed them. He took both girls by the hand and hurried them out into the rain towards the newly built dancing hall in the distance.
They arrived in a flurry of laughter, shaking the damp off their clothes and out of their hair. The hall was empty as yet, an enormous building built of brick, with high wooden rafters hung about with old-fashioned farming objects to give an illusion of age and authenticity. Down one side there was a bar, waiting to supply the dancers with refreshments during the next couple of hours. At one end was a high platform, the enormous amplifiers standing on each other at either side, completely dwarfing the space in the middle. Megan’s lips twisted at the sight of them. It was obvious that it was the beat that was wanted here, not the gen
tl
e, subtle rhythms of the songs that she sang best.
‘
Well, darling, how do you like it?’ Tony asked
her.
Megan was conscious of Inez’s curious eyes, resenting the endearment and yet excited by it. The Spanish girl was clearly expecting Megan to respond in kind, but Megan felt only sad and tired. She wished she hadn’t come.
She didn’t want to sing.
That was the truth of the matter, and that was the worst thing of all. There had never been a time in her whole life when she hadn’t wanted to sing and hear the applause of an audience, and sing again. And now, quite suddenly, she was revolted by the whole idea of it. No, she thought, trying hard to be fair, it was not the singing in itself, it was the simple fact that she knew that
Carlos wouldn’t approve. Botheration take Carlos! She’d sing whenever she wanted to sing, and he could like it or lump it! It was silly to quiver inside whenever she thought of him. He never would approve of her, no matter what she did, so she might just as well please herself.
This conclusion did little to fortify her resolve, however, as she mounted the steps on to the platform and looked out across the large hall. Tables and chairs were placed in groups all round the dancing space, empty from the moment, but already peopled in her imagination with hostile stooges of Carlos, brought there by him, all of them waiting for her to make a fool of herself.
‘It’s better than the Witch’s Cauldron
!
’ Tony said, well satisfied.
‘
And the people are easily pleased. You’ll knock them out, my love! I’m quite jealous at the thought of your success
!’
‘
I don’t want to sing
!
’ Megan said through dry lips.
Tony looked at her in astonishment.
‘
Don’t be
silly, love,’ he advised.
‘
You don’t understand—’ she began.
But he cut her off with an angry look. ‘It’s you who doesn’t understand,’ he said with a touch of menace. ‘We’re making out here, no more than that. If you don’t sing with us, we’ll go back to England as second rate in everybody’s opinion as when we came
!
We need a good vocalist to show just how good we are, and that vocalist is going to be you. It was fate that made you come to this barbecue, my pet, and it’s fate that you’re going to sing with us tonight. You walked out on me once before and you’re not going to do it again. Is that understood?’
Megan winced. ‘I’ve said I will sing, haven’t I?’ she said proudly.
‘
But I don’t want to
!
’
‘Who cares what you want?’ Tony exclaimed.
The rest of the band came into the hall at that moment and their delight at seeing Megan did something to assuage the tumult of emotions within her. She shook hands with them, touched by their open delight that she should be singing with them again.
‘We’ve needed you, Megan Meredith,’ said one longhaired young man. ‘Did Tony tell you?’
‘I suppose he did,’ Megan admitted.
‘
Well, I’m telling you! We wouldn’t be here if we were on the up and up, now would we?’
Megan looked concerned.
‘
But surely, I thought it was a step up for you to be here?’
The young man shook his head, plunking a note or two out of his guitar. ‘Who is going to discover us here?’
‘
A
nybody could
!
’ Megan insisted. ‘Look at all the people who come here for their holidays. Some of them must be in the music business.’
‘We’re not
that
good. It’s as simple as that. When you get up on to that platform, you watch the atmosphere change. They really listen to you, honey. We’re merely noises off
!’
Even so, Megan found it hard to believe him. She looked round to see where Inez was and saw that the Spanish girl had seated herself at one of the far tables in the hall with Tony in close attendance. Megan hoped that she wouldn’t find Tony too attractive, as he could be when he wanted to be, for she didn’t trust Tony not to try for a quick kiss, and that, she thought, would be the next best thing to a total disaster!