Meet Me Under The Ombu Tree (45 page)

did. Perhaps she would realize that out there on the Cotswolds. She hadn’t seen a young man of her age for months. She’ll talk of her home and realize that Argentina is where she belongs, he thought gloomily. He could still feel her lips against his. He could still taste her. Had he exploited her during a moment of weakness? He shouldn’t have allowed himself to kiss her, he should have resisted.

Changing the subject, he tried hard to talk as normal but his throat was tight and the words just didn’t have their usual buoyancy. Zaza noticed the hurt behind his eyes and knew that she had gone too far. She had always loved David; even though she was perfectly happy with Tony she had always kept a little part of herself back for him. She had spoken with the mouth of a jealous woman and she hated herself for it. She attempted to lift his mood with amusing tales but they failed to make his laughter penetrate deeper than the lines on his face. She looked at the clock on the mantelpiece and longed for Sofia to come back and reassure him.

Gonzalo was an accomplished horseman. Sofia watched how he sat in the saddle, that typical Argentine slouch, that delicious confidence, that hateful arrogance, and her heart stumbled. They spoke Spanish and after a while she was rattling the words out with excitement and waving her arms expressively as Latin speakers do. She suddenly felt released from the constraints of having to hide her true self. She felt like an Argentine again and the sound of her voice, the feel of those words on her tongue, made her dizzy with happiness.

Gonzalo was funny, telling her stories that made her laugh. He was careful not to ask her about her family and she didn’t volunteer any information. She seemed happier to listen to him. In fact, she couldn’t get enough of him. Tell me more, Gonzalo,’ she pleaded, soaking up his words with the enthusiasm of someone who has been deaf for a long time and suddenly hears again.

They walked through the mud that gathered in the valley under the trees, the horses’ hooves squelching as they made their way towards the foot of the hills. The drizzle had now turned to rain that ran down their faces and seeped through their clothes. Once up on the hills they galloped across the top, laughing together as they enjoyed the wind in their hair and the motion of the horses beneath them. They rode for miles until thick fog gathered about them, appearing up from the valley as if from nowhere.

‘What’s the time?’ Sofia asked, feeling her stomach ache with hunger.

Twelve thirty,’ he replied. ‘Do you think you’ll find your way back in this

mist?’

‘Of course,’ she said jovially, but she wasn’t sure. She looked about her; each direction looked the same. ‘Follow me,’ she said, trying to sound confident. They rode side by side through the whiteness, their eyes fixed on the receding patch of green that stretched out in front of them. Gonzalo didn’t seem worried at all. Neither did the horses who puffed contentedly into the icy air. Sofia felt chilled and longed for the fire back at Lowsley. She longed for David, too.

Suddenly, they came across what seemed to be the grey stone ruins of an old castle.

‘Does this look familiar?’ asked Gonzalo, watching a twinge of concern mar her beautiful features. She shook her head.

‘D/os, Gonzalo, I must be honest with you. I’ve never seen this ruin. I don’t know where the hell we are.’

‘So, we’re lost,’ he said dismissively and smiled broadly. ‘Why don’t we stay here until the fog subsides. At least we can get out of the rain.’ She agreed and they both dismounted. They led the horses under cover and tied them to a stone. ‘Come with me, we’ll find somewhere sheltered,’ he said, taking Sofia’s hand and striding purposefully across the rubble. He was walking so fast, practically dragging her over the slippery stones, she had a hard time keeping up. Then she fell. She didn’t think anything of it until she tried to get up. The pain in her ankle bolted through her leg and she collapsed with a whimper. Gonzalo crouched down beside her.

‘Where does it hurt?’ he asked.

‘My ankle. Oh God, I haven’t broken it, have I?’ She winced.

‘It looks more like a sprain. Can you move it?’

She tried feebly, only able to move it slightly. ‘It hurts,’ she complained.

‘Well, at least you can move it a little. Now hold on, I’m going to carry you,’ he said decisively.

‘If you show the strain on your face, I’ll kill you,’ she joked as he placed his arms under her and lifted her off the ground.

‘No strain, I promise,’ he replied and carried her into the dark interior of the remains of one of the towers. Laying her down on the damp grass he took off his coat and placed it on the ground beside her. ‘Here, sit on this,’ he said, helping her to shuffle over without putting any strain on her foot.

‘As if I’m not wet enough already.’ She chuckled. ‘Thank you.’

‘If we take off your boot, we won’t be able to get it back on again,’ he warned.

‘I don’t care, the bloody thing hurts so much. Please take it off. If the ankle swells up we’ll never get it off, and I’d prefer to ride home without it than in pain.’ Gonzalo gently eased the boot off while Sofia sweated in agony, her face contorted and burning.

There, done,’ he said triumphantly, taking her foot in his hand and drawing it onto his lap. He carefully removed her sock to reveal the tender pink skin beneath it that looked helpless and exposed against the rough surroundings. Sofia breathed deeply and wiped away her tears with the sleeve of her coat. ‘It’s quite swollen, but you’ll live,’ he said, running his warm hand up her shin.

‘That feels nice,’she sighed, leaning her head back against the stone. ‘Down a bit - yes, there . . . ah,’ she said as he gently massaged the arch of her foot. ‘So much for Mrs Berniston’s lunch,’ she said sadly.

‘Don’t tell me she’s a great cook.’

‘The best.’

‘I could do with a big, juicy piece of
lomo,’
he said, suddenly feeling very hungry.

‘Me too,
con papas fritas.’
She smiled nostalgically. They then proceeded to list all the Argentine things they missed.

‘Dulce de leche.’

‘Membrillo.’

‘Empanadas ‘Zapallo’

‘Zapallo?’
he echoed, scrunching up his nose.

‘What’s wrong with
zapallo?’

‘All right.
Mate.’

‘Alfajores
. ..'

Back at the house David gazed out into the mist and then at the clock on the mantelpiece.

‘They’ve got stuck in the fog,’ said Tony. ‘I shouldn’t worry. She’s in safe hands. Gonzalo’s as strong as an ox.’ That’s what I’m worried about, thought David bleakly.

‘I’m hungry,’ Eddie piped up. ‘Do we have to wait for them?’

‘I suppose not,’ David replied.

‘We mustn’t let Mrs Berniston’s lunch overcook.' said Zaza. ‘I’m sure they’ll be back soon. Sofia knows the hills very well,’ she added helpfully.

‘Not that well.' sighed David. ‘Not in this bloody fog. It doesn’t look like it’s going to lift, either.’

‘Oh, it will. Fog lifts very quickly in these parts.' Zaza said immediately.

‘Darling, what do you know about fog?’ Tony teased her.

‘I’m just being positive. David’s worried, can’t you see?’

‘Maybe I should go and look for them,’ suggested David.

‘Where on earth would you start? You don’t even know where they’ve gone,’ Tony commented. ‘If it gets dark I’ll come out with you.’

‘You can’t ride, darling,’ said Zaza, nervously lighting another cigarette.

‘I’ll go in the Land Rover.’

‘And get stuck in the mud?’ added Eddie unhelpfully. Tony shrugged his shoulders.

‘No, Tony’s right. Let’s have lunch. If it gets dark we’ll all go and look for them.’ David was happier now they had established a plan. He tried not to think of them out there, cuddling for warmth against the elements. He felt sick and unhappy. He knew the hills better than anyone - he’d find them. He hoped

Sofia was all right. She was a good rider, but even good riders fall - and the stupid girl never wears a hat, he thought miserably. It’s not the bloody
pampas;
in England people wear hats to prevent them from breaking their necks. He hoped she had taken Safari out; he was gentle and wouldn’t throw her. He couldn’t be as sure about the others. With these images clinging to his thoughts he led his guests into the dining room for lunch.

Sofia let her mind drift across the
pampas
as she reminisced with Gonzalo and allowed his hand to massage the pain away in her ankle.

‘Let’s put your sock back on. I don’t think we should let your foot get too cold,’ he suggested after a while.

‘But you’re doing a fantastic job, Dr Segundo,’ she joked.

‘Dr Segundo knows what’s best, Señorita.’

‘Careful,’ she warned as he began to thread her foot back into the sock.

‘How does it feel?’

‘Better,’ she replied, surprised, as it didn’t hurt as much as she had expected. ‘You’ve got healing hands.’

‘Not only a doctor but a healer, too - you flatter me,’ he chuckled. ‘There, as

good as new. Any other ailments that need seeing to, Senorita?’

‘None, thank you, Doctor.’

‘What about your troubled heart?’

‘Troubled heart?’

‘Yes, your troubled heart,’ he said seriously, and taking her face in his hands, his lips descended onto hers. She shouldn’t have allowed him to kiss her, but the sound of his voice speaking Spanish, that inimitable Argentine accent, the riding boots, the smell of horses, the swirling fog that hid them from the world . . . she lost herself momentarily and responded. It felt nice but it didn’t feel right. Pulling away she noticed the fog was subsiding.

‘Look, it’s clearing up,’ she said hopefully.

‘I’d like to stay here,’ he told her softly.

‘Well, I’m wet and cold and my foot hurts. Please take me home, Gonzalo,’ she pleaded.

‘All right,’ he sighed. ‘I hadn’t noticed how cold and wet I was.’

Sofia suddenly yearned for David. He must be worried sick, she thought. Gonzalo lifted her over the stones back to where the horses were tied up. ‘I’ll take your boot for you,’ he said, settling her onto Safari. The ride back was long

and precarious. Sofia got lost once again but, determined not to let on, she allowed Safari a free rein in the hope that he would know his way back. When he happily led them home she wondered why she hadn’t done that in the first place.

‘Right, I’m going to find them,’ David decided, retreating from the window. It was almost dark and the pair still hadn’t returned. ‘Something’s wrong. They need help,’ he added irritably.

‘I’ll follow you in the Land Rover,’ Tony offered. Eddie caught his mother’s eye, but neither dared to speak. Lunch had been uncomfortable. David was more ill-humoured than Zaza had ever seen him; he had barely been able to concentrate on the conversation. He had kept looking out of the window, searching through the fog, as if Sofia and Gonzalo would suddenly appear out of it like they always did in the movies. Tony and Eddie hadn’t noticed anything. Men are so insensitive sometimes, Zaza had thought crossly, as they discussed the West Indies cricket score as if nothing had happened.

David ran through the hall, grabbed his coat and boots and opened the door to find Gonzalo emerging through the fog with Sofia, wet and shivering, in his

arms.

‘What the devil happened to you?’ he rapped out, unable to hide the exasperation in his voice.

‘It’s a long story, we’ll tell you later. Let’s get Sofia upstairs,’ Gonzalo replied, ignoring David’s offer to carry her from there.

‘I’ve just twisted my ankle,’ said Sofia as she passed him.

‘Good God, what happened?’ Zaza exclaimed. The pair looked like they’d been rolling about in the mud.

‘Where’s your room?’ asked Gonzalo, taking Sofia up the stairs.

‘Straight on,’ she told him, looking about for David, but he wasn’t following. Once in her room Gonzalo placed her gently down on the bed.

‘You need help getting out of those wet things. I’ll run you a bath,’ he said.

‘Don’t worry, I’m fine. I can manage,’ she insisted.

‘Dr Segundo knows best,’ he said, removing her boot.

‘Please, Gonzalo, I’m fine, really.’

‘Thank you, Gonzalo,’ came a firm voice behind him. ‘Why don’t you get out of your wet things. You’ve been a hero, but even heroes have to take a break.’

‘David!’ breathed Sofia in relief. Gonzalo shrugged his shoulders and smiling at Sofia to show his reluctance he left the room.

‘What the hell have you been up to?’ he asked crossly and stalked into the bathroom to run the bath. Sofia heard the gush of water as he turned on the taps and suddenly felt weary.

‘We got lost in the fog, but thanks to a ruined castle—’

‘How in God’s name did you get all the way over there?’ he snapped.

‘David, it wasn’t my fault.’

‘And what about the horses? Didn’t you see the fog, or were you too busy with your new friend?’

‘I didn’t suggest we go riding. I didn’t want to go in the first place. You could have stopped us.’