he walked the animal to the front of the house and waited in the shade of
the eucalyptus tree, his back straight, his chin high. When she had ad-
dressed him, he had looked at her with an unwavering gaze and smiled
broadly, and she had laughed at his audacity: so bold for such a little boy. She had engaged him in a long conversation, intrigued by the wisdom on so young a face, and he had made her laugh, answering so
earnestly. It was clear he had an intelligence beyond that of his parents.
From then on she had sponsored him personally, taking an interest
in his schoolwork and hobbies. When she had learned of his love of
art, she had seen to it that he had all the materials he needed and even helped him herself, with the little knowledge she had, until that became too limited and she had employed a young man from Buenos Aires to
spend the summer tutoring him. Lorenzo and Maria Carmela were
both proud and grateful, but Maria Carmela suffered terribly from the
30067 The Mermaid Garden.indd 64
1/21/11 2:21 PM
The Mermaid Garden
65
fear that Rafa would be taken away from her; that somehow, this gift of a child would not be hers forever.
She went outside to feed the parrot, Panchito. He sat on his perch,
basking in the sunlight, preening his green feathers in preparation for the day. She held out a handful of nuts, which he took one by one, using his beak and claw—he didn’t like his breakfast to be rushed. Señora
Luisa had enabled Rafa to rise above the low expectations thrust upon
him by virtue of his birth. He had a good job, he earned well, he had a nice life . . . why was he now on the brink of throwing it all away?
Clementine left work early. Sylvia had convinced Mr. Atwood to take
his wife out for dinner, and Clementine had booked the famous In-
coming Tide restaurant and nipped out to buy a bouquet of roses for
him to give her, along with the present she had bought. She would have
given him her bouquet if she could have been sure no one would notice, but Sylvia had put the flowers in water and placed them on her desk.
So Clementine departed at five with the roses tucked under her arm,
dripping water down her coat. She looked forward to an early night,
watching TV, forgetting about Joe and the prospect of seeing him the
following night. At least she wasn’t pregnant. She was overwhelmed
with gratitude for that. He might be a little coarse, but he hadn’t taken advantage of her when he so easily could have. Perhaps he was a rough
diamond—a gentleman beneath his workman’s overalls. She smiled
at the thought of her mother and what she would make of him. Her
mother was a terrific snob, boxing everyone in four compartments—
proper, trade, common, and foreign, proper being the only acceptable
box.She found her father and Marina in the kitchen, having tea. Her
father was ruddy-cheeked, having been out fishing for most of the day,
while Marina was glowing with happiness.
“Clementine,” she said, smiling up from the table, “come and join us.”
“How was your day?” asked her father.
“Dull.” Clementine unhooked a mug and helped herself to a teabag.
“You’re earning money and gaining experience, which is very im-
portant.”
“Great, Dad. Thanks.”
30067 The Mermaid Garden.indd 65
1/21/11 2:21 PM
66
Santa Montefiore
“We’ve found our artist,” Marina announced.
“Hurrah!”
She ignored her stepdaughter’s sarcasm. “I think you’ll like him.
He’s very handsome.”
“I’m not interested. Look, he’s your project. He’s got nothing to do with me. After all, I can’t paint and have no interest in art.” She poured water into her mug and added a dash of milk.
“Do you want to join us for dinner?”
“I’ll eat it in front of the telly.”
“We’re having bass. Your father caught it this morning.”
“Well, if there’s enough, I’ll have some.”
“Of course there’s enough,” said Grey proudly. “It’s a four-pounder,
at
the eucalyptus tree, his back straight, his chin high. When she had ad-
dressed him, he had looked at her with an unwavering gaze and smiled
broadly, and she had laughed at his audacity: so bold for such a little boy. She had engaged him in a long conversation, intrigued by the wisdom on so young a face, and he had made her laugh, answering so
earnestly. It was clear he had an intelligence beyond that of his parents.
From then on she had sponsored him personally, taking an interest
in his schoolwork and hobbies. When she had learned of his love of
art, she had seen to it that he had all the materials he needed and even helped him herself, with the little knowledge she had, until that became too limited and she had employed a young man from Buenos Aires to
spend the summer tutoring him. Lorenzo and Maria Carmela were
both proud and grateful, but Maria Carmela suffered terribly from the
30067 The Mermaid Garden.indd 64
1/21/11 2:21 PM
The Mermaid Garden
65
fear that Rafa would be taken away from her; that somehow, this gift of a child would not be hers forever.
She went outside to feed the parrot, Panchito. He sat on his perch,
basking in the sunlight, preening his green feathers in preparation for the day. She held out a handful of nuts, which he took one by one, using his beak and claw—he didn’t like his breakfast to be rushed. Señora
Luisa had enabled Rafa to rise above the low expectations thrust upon
him by virtue of his birth. He had a good job, he earned well, he had a nice life . . . why was he now on the brink of throwing it all away?
Clementine left work early. Sylvia had convinced Mr. Atwood to take
his wife out for dinner, and Clementine had booked the famous In-
coming Tide restaurant and nipped out to buy a bouquet of roses for
him to give her, along with the present she had bought. She would have
given him her bouquet if she could have been sure no one would notice, but Sylvia had put the flowers in water and placed them on her desk.
So Clementine departed at five with the roses tucked under her arm,
dripping water down her coat. She looked forward to an early night,
watching TV, forgetting about Joe and the prospect of seeing him the
following night. At least she wasn’t pregnant. She was overwhelmed
with gratitude for that. He might be a little coarse, but he hadn’t taken advantage of her when he so easily could have. Perhaps he was a rough
diamond—a gentleman beneath his workman’s overalls. She smiled
at the thought of her mother and what she would make of him. Her
mother was a terrific snob, boxing everyone in four compartments—
proper, trade, common, and foreign, proper being the only acceptable
box.She found her father and Marina in the kitchen, having tea. Her
father was ruddy-cheeked, having been out fishing for most of the day,
while Marina was glowing with happiness.
“Clementine,” she said, smiling up from the table, “come and join us.”
“How was your day?” asked her father.
“Dull.” Clementine unhooked a mug and helped herself to a teabag.
“You’re earning money and gaining experience, which is very im-
portant.”
“Great, Dad. Thanks.”
30067 The Mermaid Garden.indd 65
1/21/11 2:21 PM
66
Santa Montefiore
“We’ve found our artist,” Marina announced.
“Hurrah!”
She ignored her stepdaughter’s sarcasm. “I think you’ll like him.
He’s very handsome.”
“I’m not interested. Look, he’s your project. He’s got nothing to do with me. After all, I can’t paint and have no interest in art.” She poured water into her mug and added a dash of milk.
“Do you want to join us for dinner?”
“I’ll eat it in front of the telly.”
“We’re having bass. Your father caught it this morning.”
“Well, if there’s enough, I’ll have some.”
“Of course there’s enough,” said Grey proudly. “It’s a four-pounder,
at
Similar Books
