The Butterfly Box by Santa Montefiore Page A

little, in those magic moments when they lay together separated only by their skin, Ramon felt a strange power within her that ensnared him and refused to let him go. He missed her when he played the husband and father during the day and longed for the languid nights when she would appear to
    love him again. He saw her face whenever he closed his eyes and felt her presence long before she entered the room. Her unique scent of roses clung to his nostrils and reminded him of their passion and their tenderness and he longed to carry her away with him.
     
    Christmas came and went. His two brothers, Felipe and Ricardo, joined them with their wives and children, so that Federica and Hal had their small cousins to play with and the house disintegrated into a large playroom with toys scattered over the floors and laughter echoing through the rooms. It was only after they had left that Ramon and Helena sat down with Mariana and Ignacio to inform them of their plans.
    ‘We’re separating,’ Ramon announced flatly, staring at the floor so that he didn’t have to suffer his mother’s disappointment. There followed a heavy pause during which Mariana’s eyes welled with tears and Ignacio rubbed his chin trying to think of something to say. Helena had lit a cigarette and smoked it nervously, hoping that they wouldn’t see her as the villain of the plot.
    Finally, Ignacio spoke. ‘When are you going to tell the children?’ he asked.
    ‘Do you have to tell the children?’ Mariana choked, wiping her eyes. ‘They’ll be so hurt, especially Federica. Can’t you just go on the way you are? You barely see each other as it is.’
    ‘Helena wants to take them back to England,’ said Ramon accusingly. Helena stiffened.
    ‘To England?’ Mariana gasped. She felt winded, as if someone had punched her in the stomach. She tried to breathe regularly but her breaths were short and shallow.
    ‘I feared the worst,’ said Ignacio.
    ‘All the way to England?’ Mariana repeated sadly, dropping her shoulders in defeat. ‘We won’t see them grow up,’ she whispered.
    ‘I can’t go on like this,’ Helena stammered, apologetically. ‘I want to start again.’
    ‘But why England, it’s so far away?’ said Mariana helplessly.
    ‘Only to you. To me it’s home. To me Chile is the other side of the world. We’ll come and visit and you can come and see us. Ramon will, won’t you, Ramon? You said you would,’ she replied quickly.
    ‘Yes, I will.’
    ‘You can’t desert your children, son. You spend half your life in faraway
    places, England won’t be much out of your way,’ said Ignacio gruffly.
    ‘I don’t want to hurt the children. But I’m unhappy and they feel it,’ Helena explained weakly. ‘Ramon isn’t at home to be a proper husband and help me raise them, I can’t do it on my own. I’ve had enough of this kind of life.’
    ‘But doesn’t it worry you how the children are going to take it? Especially Fede, she’s so sensitive. She’ll be devastated. I just have to watch her gazing up at her father with that adoring face to know that this will break her little heart,’ Mariana sobbed, taking Ignacio’s hand for support.
    Helena felt wounded; Federica loved her mother too. ‘I know. I’ve thought about that. But they’re young. I can’t live my life for my children. I have to think about me too,’ said Helena, taking a long drag with a shaking hand. She wanted to add ‘because no one else is going to’.
    ‘Ramon, can’t you try? Can’t you stick around at least for a few months and give it another try?’ Ignacio suggested. But he knew his powers of persuasion weren’t as strong as they once might have been.
    ‘No,’ Ramon replied emphatically, shaking his head. ‘It won’t work. Helena and I no longer love each other. If we stay together we’ll end up hating each other.’
    Helena swallowed hard and blinked back her emotion. He had said earlier that he loved her.
    ‘So this is it, then?’ said