The Butterfly Box (9 page)

He smiled down at her and she felt her stomach lurch and her cheeks burn. She lowered her eyes again. Her face was so smooth, so innocent and generous that Ramon’s immediate impulse was to study it some more, but he could feel his parents and wife watching them. Regretfully he tore his eyes away, turned and placed the tray on the table. When he glanced behind him the maid had disappeared into the house leaving only a faint smell of roses.

Ramon poured the traditional Chilean drink of lemons and
pisco
and handed them around. Once he had sat back down he noticed the maid appear once again with two cups of orange juice for the children.

‘Estella’s new,’ said Mariana quietly. ‘She’s wonderful. Do you remember

Consuelo?’ she asked. Ramon nodded absentmindedly, with half an eye on the ripe young woman who padded tidily across the terrace. ‘Well, dear old Consuelo died last summer. I was at my wits’ end, wasn’t I, Nacho? I didn’t know where to look.’

‘So how did you find her?’ Helena asked, glad the conversation had begun to flow again.

‘Well, the Mendozas, who have a summer house in Zapallar, found her for us. She’s the niece of their maid Esperanza. The one with the bad squint,’ she said, then added as an after-thought, ‘poor old Esperanza.’

‘So you’re happy with Estella?’ Helena asked, wiping the hair off her son’s forehead and kissing his soft skin tenderly.

‘Very. She’s efficient and hard working and gives us no trouble at all.’

‘Not like Lidia then,’ Helena laughed. ‘She’s always got something wrong with her. If it isn’t her back it’s her front, her foot or her ankles that swell in the heat. She can barely walk around the house, let alone tidy it up. Dear old Federica does everything.’

‘Surely not!’ Ignacio exclaimed, appalled.

‘Well, she likes it,’ said Helena quickly.

‘She seems to,’ Ramon added in her defence. ‘Helena’s a good mother, Papa,’ he added, glancing at his wife in the hope of winning a smile. She remained tight-lipped as if she hadn’t heard him.

‘Of course she is,’ said Mariana. ‘Fede, come here and show me your lovely box,' she called to her granddaughter, who rolled out of the hammock and walked hastily over to her.

‘I want to see it too,' said Ignacio, pulling the child onto his lap.

Federica placed the box on the table. ‘This once belonged to an Inca princess,’ she said gravely. She then paused for effect before slowly lifting the lid. To her delight her grandfather caught his breath and dragged the box closer to get a better look. He pushed his glasses up his nose and peered inside.

‘Por
Dios
, Ramon, where did you find this treasure? It must be worth a fortune?’

‘I was given it in Peru,’ he replied. Federica shivered with pride.

‘In Peru, eh?’ he mused. Then he ran his fingers over the stones.

‘It’s a magic box, Abuelito,’ said Federica.

‘I can see that,’ said Ignacio. ‘Here, woman, have a look at this. It’s extraordinary.’ He pushed it across the table to Mariana. Helena felt guilty that she

hadn’t paid it more attention.

‘My dear, it’s beautiful,’ she said admiringly.

‘If you move the box about the wings move. Look!’ said Federica, pulling the box back and holding it up, tilting it from side to side. They all stared into it in amazement.

‘My dear, you are absolutely right,’ said Mariana, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’

‘Papa, can I tell them the story?’ Ramon nodded and Federica, her large blue eyes shining excitedly, began to tell them the legend of the butterfly box. They all listened quietly as Federica recounted what her father had told her.

Without being seen Estella stood behind the French doors watching Ramon’s raffish face smiling at his daughter with great tenderness. He was more handsome than he was in photographs and had a charisma that filled the house and overwhelmed her. She stood in the shadows, as still as a marble statue, and left her eyes to gaze upon him while her mind drifted into the realm of fantasy.

After dinner, when the children had gone to bed, Ignacio and Ramon took their

drinks onto the beach and walked in the foam of the surf as Ignacio had done the night before with his wife. The sky was bright and tremulous, the sea lit up by the phosphorescent moon that hung weightless above them. At first they talked about trivialities, about Ramon’s latest book and his latest adventures. Finally his father drained his glass and stood in front of Ramon.

‘What’s going on, son?’ he asked bluntly.

Ramon fell silent for a moment. He didn’t really know. ‘She’s leaving me, Papa,’ he said.

Ignacio stopped walking. ‘She’s leaving you?’ he repeated incredulously.

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘She doesn’t love me any more.’

‘What a load of rubbish!’ he growled. ‘She’s crying out for attention, any fool can see that. What else?’ he demanded.

Ramon shuffled in the sand, making piles with his toes. ‘I’m not there for her.’

‘I see.’

‘She wants me to change.’

‘Why can’t you?’

‘I can’t.’

‘You’re too selfish,’ said his father grimly.

‘Yes. I’m too selfish.’

‘What about the children?’ Ramon shrugged his shoulders. ‘You love them, don’t you?’

‘Yes, I do, but—’

‘But! There are no “buts” when it comes to children, son. They need you.’

‘I know. But I can’t be what they want.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I just can’t be a family man, Papa. I’m not cut out for it. The minute I come home I want to leave again. I get this claustrophobic feeling in the pit of my stomach. I need to be on the move. I need to be free. I can’t be tied down.’ He choked.

‘Grow up, Ramon, for God’s sake,’ he said impatiently. Ramon stiffened. He felt like a little boy again being chastised by his father. They stood in silence, staring at each other through the twilight. Finally, they began to walk back up the beach towards the house, each alone with his thoughts. There was nothing more to say. Ramon couldn’t begin to explain the claustrophobia he felt and Ignacio knew his advice was unwelcome.

Helena was relieved when Ramon suggested he sleep in the next-door room. She smiled at him gratefully. He didn’t tell her about the conversation he had had with his father. She wasn’t his ally any more. They were strangers. Polite, distant, mistrustful.

Ramon slipped into bed. He could smell lavender and tuberose and thought of Estella. He thought of her hands making the bed and placing the flowers in the vase. There was no point suppressing his desires as he would have done in the old days, before adultery had become a way of life. In those early days he had desired no one but his wife. She had loved him like he believed no one else could love him. He’d close his eyes and still be with her; later he’d close his eyes to be with someone else, anyone else. Now he closed his eyes and thought of Estella. Her timid expression, fearful yet brazen somehow. Her trembling lips that begged to be kissed and her glowing skin that failed to cover the longing that lit her up inside like a fire. He wondered where her bedroom was and whether she’d be surprised to find him standing in her doorway. He

almost climbed out of bed to find her, but he cautioned himself against such recklessness. It was all very well when he was on his travels, alone with his secrets. But here in his parents’ house was incorrect. He sighed and rolled over onto his back. The breeze was cool, slipping in through the gaps in the shutters, but he still felt hot and restless, his loins wracked with desire.

Then he did something completely crazy. He got up and walked down to the beach. In the silvery light he slipped out of his towel and walked naked into the sea. The cold water stunned his senses and he gasped for breath. He swam out until his feet no longer felt the bottom and his body was so cold it no longer felt desire. There he lay on his back, steadying himself with his outstretched arms, paddling gently with his hands. He gazed up into the inky sky and wondered what lay beyond the stars. He drifted on the current until he felt the humiliation of his father’s unkind words no more. In the silence of his watery bed he no longer cared about anything. His mind was numb and his heart cold and unfeeling. When he finally pulled himself up he saw that he had drifted much further out than he had meant to. Frantically he swam back to shore, his mind clattering with the many stories he had heard as a child of men being swept out to sea and drowned. When he was able to stand his heart quietened

and he waded back towards the beach, grateful to be alive.

Estella stood on the terrace anxiously watching the beach for Don Ramon who had disappeared into the sea. She had been unable to sleep knowing that he was sleeping under the same roof. Her body trembled with a yearning she could scarcely control. So she had walked out onto the terrace to breathe the air and clear her head. It was then that she had seen him wander up the sand, drop his towel and wade naked into the sea. She had had to hold onto the balcony to stop herself from following and declaring her feelings to him. But then minutes had passed and he hadn’t returned. She knew of people who had drowned in these cold waters and her stomach had churned with the thought that he might join them.

To her intense relief she spotted his dark figure wading out of the water. He was alive. He was safe. She could breathe again. Hidden by the darkness she watched him pick up his towel and roughly dry himself. Then he began to make his way back towards the house with the towel casually draped around his neck. She stepped back against the wall as he neared her. She couldn’t help but watch as he strode towards her, ignorant of her curious eyes that feverishly consumed his naked body. Once he had disappeared she collapsed onto the

wooden floor and put her head in her hands. She was going mad. What would he think?

When Ramon once more slipped between the sheets he felt cool and less disturbed. He closed his eyes and listened as his heartbeat slowed down and his breathing became heavy with sleep.

Estella retreated to her room as agitated as before, where she lay on her bed, tormented with frenzied thoughts of him.

The following morning Ramon awoke to the sounds of the children playing outside. He lay staring at the shutters, at the lucid shafts of light that streamed in through the gaps in the wood, searching him out. He thought of Estella and the thought of her made him climb out of bed with enthusiasm. He opened the shutters. He could hear Federica’s excited voice on the terrace and the calm, indulgent tones of his mother. He pulled on a pair of shorts and a shirt and walked barefooted into the sunny corridor. Noticing that the rest of the family were outside he stole into the kitchen hoping to find Estella. He was disappointed. The kitchen was still and gloomy. She had been there for the bread was out on the table and the vegetables in neat piles on the sideboard. He could smell the fragrance of roses mixed with something that belonged only to her. Like an animal he sniffed the air. He waited but she did not appear. Frustrated, he walked into the sitting room, following her scent that got increasingly stronger until he knew she was somewhere close. His heartbeat quickened with the excitement of the chase.

‘Buenos dias,
Don Ramon,’ came a voice from behind him. He turned to find

her crouched down changing the record. He noticed her exposed thigh and the neat curve of her ankle. He wanted to reach out and touch her.

‘Buenos dias,
Estella,’ he replied and he saw that her cheeks stung crimson at the mention of her name. He smiled down at her until the pressure of his gaze caused her to turn away. With a shaking hand she placed the needle on the rotating disc of the gramophone. Cat Stevens resounded through the room. ‘Do you dance, Estella?’ he asked. She stood up and looked embarrassed.

‘No, Señor,' she replied, blinking at him nervously from under her long lashes.

‘I love to dance,’ he said, swaying to the music and the lightness in his heart that compelled him to move. Estella smiled. When she smiled her whole face came alive, he thought. Her teeth were gleaming and white against the milk chocolate colour of her skin. Her silky black hair was pulled off her face into a thick plait that fell down her back. With an unsteady hand she curled a piece that had come astray behind her small ear. He watched her every move and she felt his eyes upon her and blushed. ‘Do you like it here?’ he asked, attempting to engage her in conversation.

‘
Sí,
Don Ramon.’

‘My mother tells me you do a very good job.’

‘Thank you,’ she said and smiled again.

He was suddenly disarmed by the charm of her radiant face. ‘You look beautiful when you smile,’ he said impulsively. She recognized the longing in his voice and shuddered because she knew she was unable to hide the longing in hers.

‘
Gracias
, Don Ramon,’ she said hoarsely, lowering her fevered eyes that burnt when she blinked.

‘Did you put the lavender in my room, and the flowers?’

‘Sí, Señor
,’ she replied breathlessly, suffocated by his proximity. He was so close she could smell him.

‘They’re lovely. Thank you.’ He watched her hover, not knowing whether to leave or stay, knowing she should scuttle back to the kitchen but unable to tear herself away. She licked her dry lips with her tongue. He stepped closer. She caught her breath and with startled eyes watched him watching her.

‘You find me attractive, don’t you?’ he said softly, smelling the sweat that seeped through the pale cotton of her uniform.

‘I do find you attractive, Don Ramon,’ she whispered and swallowed hard.