Authors: Isobel Chace
‘Rubbish
!
’ Margot exploded. ‘It is entirely a matter of temperament. I have always felt completely at home in Spain proper
!
’
‘But not in Mallorca?’ the old lady teased her.
‘I don’t consider it truly Spanish. There are far too many tourists here for that
!
’
‘I quite agree,’ Senorita Anita put in unexpectedly. ‘One hears English and German more often than Spanish nowadays
!’
‘In Soller?’ her mother demanded with irony. Senorita Anita looked discomfited. Megan felt sorry for her and, raising her chin belligerently, said,
‘
It’s just as well as far as I’m concerned! My Spanish is frightful, but happily everyone speaks to me in English which I find very satisfactory.’
‘Nevertheless, you will have to learn to speak good Spanish some time,’ the old lady told her.
But Megan was barely listening. ‘Why should I? I shan’t need it when I go back to England, and I won’t be here for long anyway.’
Everybody waited for the old lady to put her firmly in her place, but Senora Llobera only laughed. ‘Perhaps Carlos will have something to say about that!’
she remarked.
‘Carlos has already agreed to my going,’ Megan said with dignity.
Margot nodded, pouring herself some more wine. ‘He found it awkward when the Navidades stopped Inez coming here so often. I don’t want to tell tales out of school, but they came to the conclusion that Megan was not an entirely suitable friend fo
r
her. Under the circumstances, Inez’s interests come first with him, which is only proper.’
Megan hung her head miserably. She knew that Margot was right, but the truth left a bitter taste in her mouth. It had not been such a crime, surely, to have gone to the barbecue and to have sung in public. She felt the old lady watching her, but not even pride could make her feel anything but defeated.
‘Senora de la Navidades says she is longing to hear Megan sing,’ Senorita Anita said suddenly. ‘She was telling me so yesterday. Apparently Inez was very impressed by how much everyone enjoyed her singing.’ She turned to Megan.
‘
I hear you sing folk songs? Do you ever sing any Spanish songs?’
Megan shook her head. ‘I’ll learn one specially
f
or you,’ she promised.
‘I’d like that,’ Senorita Anita replied, with a fierce look round the table.
‘
You must come and visit us before you go and sing it to us.’
Megan hoped that Senora Llobera would confirm her daughter’s invitation, but the old lady was busy talking to Margot about various mutual friends, having apparently lost all interest in Megan’s affairs.
‘
I’ll sing you something tonight,’ Megan said rashly.
‘
And I’ll sing it in Spanish
!’
‘How nice of you, my dear,’ Senorita Anita exclaimed, very pleased.
But, when the Navidades had arrived with a great deal of noise, and Tony, looking sour and angry, had
been brought upstairs by one of the maids, Megan wondered how she was going to fulfil her promise.
‘Do you know any Spanish songs?’ she asked Tony.
He looked at her from under glowering eyebrows.
‘
Should I?’
‘
Oh, Tony
!
’ she sighed.
‘
I can’t think why I came,’ he went on.
‘
I never meant to
!
Much you care about any of us, Megan Meredith! One song you sang the other evening.
One song!
And then off you went, without a care in the world, leaving me to explain why you weren’t singing again. That’s the last time I ask you to do
anything
for me! The very last time! What’s more. I’ll see that none of my friends ever employ you back in England.’
‘But, Tony, it wasn’t my fault
!’
‘Oh, don’t come the
little
girl with me!’ he said unkindly. ‘You’re a big girl now, Megan. If you’d wanted to you could have stayed.’
‘
But I’m working for him—’
Tony shrugged his shoulders. ‘That’s your business. You might have explained at the beginning that he owned you and then I wouldn’t have
embarrassed
you again
!
’
Megan winced. ‘We can’t fight here
,’
she whispered. ‘Please, Tony
!
’
He picked up his guitar, still angry. ‘You get away with murder, my love, sheer murder
!
Some day, someone will give you what for and the rest of us will raise a cheer. You’ve got it coming to you. I daresay this Spaniard is the very one for the job
!’
Megan coloured. ‘I told you, he’s my employer
!’
Tony gave her a sardonic smile. ‘So you said, pet, so you said!’
‘
But he is
—
’
‘
Darling, if you go on protesting that he’s
only
your employer. I’ll never believe anything you say again.’
‘
But—’ Megan shrugged, realising that she was
making too much of the whole thing.
‘
I’m sorry, Tony,’ she said.
‘You’re forgiven, love.
This
time
!
’
‘
O
h,
thank you, Tony!’ Megan exclaimed gratefully.
‘If you look at him like that, I’m not surprised he wants you all to himself,’ Tony added, grinning. ‘All guilty and falling over yourself to please
!
’
‘I hope not
!
’ Megan was horrified at the thought. ‘It’s just what he expects of women! But I’m not making myself a doormat for any man, certainly not for him
!
’
Tony gave her a quizzical look. ‘More power to your elbow, love! I wish I could believe you. Now, supposing you tell me what you’re going to sing?’
They agreed between them on two songs. The first was a traditional Spanish song that was not too difficult to sing, with a rousing chorus that was all about the perils of wearing one’s heart on one’s sleeve when one’s heart’s delight was already dallying with another. It was a song that Megan sang with a tragic air and a self-mockery that was more appealing than she knew. When she had finished, she turned and smiled at Tony and was surprised to see that he had tears in his eyes. Her pulses leaped in triumph and with a sudden gamine grin, she went straight into the second song.
‘
Spanish is the loving tongue,
Soft as music, light as spray,
‘Twas a girl I learned it from,
Living down Sonora way.
I don’t look much like a lover,
Yet I say her loved words over often
When I’m all alone:
“Mi amor, mi corazon.
”
’
The silence of her audience made her smile as Tony struck a few chords to mark the end of one stanza and the beginning of the next.
My love, my heart!
She
thought of Carlos and began to tremble inside. With a gulp, she began the second verse, blotting out all thought of him.
‘
Moonlight on the patio
Old
senora
nodding near,
Me and Juana talking low,
So her
madre
couldn’t hear.
How the hours would go a-flying
And too soon I’d hear her sighing
In her sorry little tone,
“Mi amor, mi corazon.”
’
Her voice died away, leaving the guitar to take over again. Megan sat, relaxed, waiting for the chord that would bring her in again, but that chord never came. There was a flurried noise outside the door and a flustered maid came running in and whispered a few words to Margot
‘It’s Carlos
!’
Margot exclaimed. ‘How could he come back tonight?’ The impatience in her voice made them all look at her. Only Megan couldn’t find it within herself to be surprised. She waited for the maid to whisk out of the room again and for the inevitable moment when Carlos would enter. But it was Pilar who came dancing in, still in her coat, delighted to be in Majorca again. She saw Megan immediately and embraced her fondly.
‘You look just as pretty as I remember you
!’
she exclaimed generously.
‘
How lovely it is to see you again. I have been plying Carlos with questions about you all the way here, but he says nothing as always!
Ay de mi,
he is still the
tirano odioso,
that one
!
’
‘Pilar
!
’
The Spanish girl turned immediately to her mother.
‘
Oh, how comfortable you are in this house now
!
’ She kissed her mother lightly and shot off to greet Senora Llobera. ‘How terrible of me not to see you before,
senora.
But of course you would be here to
meet our charming Megan
!
’
The old lady allowed herself to be warmly kissed on
either
cheek.
‘
I
see
you talk as much as ever
!
’
she rebuked the young girl, but she looked pleased all the same.
‘
Since when did Carlos become a tyrant, I should
like
to know?’
Pilar laughed gaily.
‘
Why, since he kidnapped Megan
!
’ she
answered
cheerfully.
‘
I helped him,’ she added, not without pride. Her eyes fell for an instant on Inez and she smiled at her a little uncertainly.
‘
Inez, how
lucky
that you are here
!
I have a message for you from Pepe
!
’
A babble of Spanish broke out as everyone began to talk to each other, exclaiming over Pilar’s arrival, while she happily revelled in being the centre of attention.
‘Where
is Carlos?’
Margot demanded, as soon as a certain
order
had been restored to her party.
‘
He’s
coming
,’
Pilar answered.
‘
We could hear Megan
singing
from
the
patio
!’
Her eyes danced wickedly.
‘
Perhaps
he won’t come in at all unless she sings for
us
some more. What will you sing, Megan? You will, won’t you? Shall
I
accompany
you,
for I can you
know!’
She snatched
Tony’s
guitar out of his hands and took up her stance beside Megan. ‘You,’ she informed him,
‘
can sit over there. You play like an Englishman,
amigo,
without any fire or spirit
!
’
‘Oh, but
—’
Megan protested.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Tony cut across her.
‘
The whole family is in league against me
!
’
Pilar looked at him more closely.
‘
You are English! What are
you
doing here? I didn’t think my mother knew any English people here?’
‘Tony is a friend
of Megan’s
,’
Margot put in.
Pilar put a guilty hand to her mouth, her eyes dancing.
‘
Ah, now I know who you are! Oh, Megan, no wonder Carlos—’
‘
Pilar
!’
Megan squealed.
Pilar looked suitably repentant. ‘Are we waiting for Carlos?’ she asked.
‘
No,’ Megan said quickly.
Senora de la Navidade, whose English was not good enough to follow more than the gist of what everyone had been saying, spoke quickly to Inez and the Spanish girl came over to Megan.
‘My mother wishes you to sing the song you sang— the other evening,’ she said.
‘
I told her about it.’