Ned Talbot, the ex-head waiter she’d hired, Elaine explained and passed the job on to him, then quickly washed her hands, put on fresh lipstick, and joined Calum. He drove her down the steep hillside to the waterfront, to a café, one of several right on the riverside. They sat outside on a kind of pier, which jutted out over the river, at a table with a bright red cloth. The sun was hot even though it was only spring, and there was a continental atmosphere to their alfresco meal.
‘These places specialise in fish caught fresh this morning,’ Calum told her. ‘You mustn’t miss the opportunity to try some.’
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to translate the menu.’
He leaned closer, pointing with his finger as he went down the dishes. He was sitting opposite her and his knee brushed hers. She moved her legs aside but felt a frisson of sexuality that surprised and disturbed her. Even if he had been interested, even if he hadn’t already got his hands full with Francesca and Tiffany, this was no man for her. She wondered why he’d invited her to lunch—out of politeness, perhaps? But then she remembered his remark earlier about her being lonely. He’d asked her out of a sense of duty, then, taking pity on the poor widow they’d hired. Immediately she felt a fierce stab of anger. She neither wanted nor needed his compassion. She had her own business and her own life; no way was she to be pitied.
‘I’ll have that one,’ she said shortly, stabbing at the menu and cutting him off abruptly.
Calum glanced up, about to say something, but stopped short when he saw the flame of anger in her eyes. ‘Er—yes, of course. And I think we’ll have a vinho verde to go with it.’ Calling the waiter over, he gave the order, then glanced at her again.
But Elaine had regained her self-control now. There was just casual interest in her eyes as she pointed to the barcos rabelos with their cargoes of empty wine-barrels which she could see moored further along the river. ‘Do they ever sail, or are they just moored here all the time, for the tourists?’
‘Oh, yes, they still sail. Every year we have a race from the river-mouth back here to the main quay. All the port companies compete and there are great festivities in the town—lots of drinking and fireworks in the evening.’
He was watching her as he spoke, curiosity in his gaze, but she had herself well in hand and didn’t let him see into her soul again.
‘And do you ever win?’
He smiled. ‘It has been known. My cousins always come over for the race and we crew it with some men from the company.’
‘You race it yourselves?’ Elaine said in surprise, not having expected him to be the type and having to do some mental revision.
‘Why, yes. Grandfather always took us along as soon as we were old enough. But unfortunately he’s too old to go now.’
There was true regret in his voice, and she realised he was genuinely fond of the old patriarch. ‘That’s a shame,’ she murmured.
He nodded, but gave a sudden grin that was so different from his usual polite smile that it startled her. ‘Yes, but he always comes to cheer us along, and I think he expends more energy doing that than he would if he was with us crewing the boat.’
The waiter brought the wine and Calum turned away, leaving Elaine free to marvel at the change in him, to wonder whether there were depths to his character that he didn’t often show. But then she shrugged off the thought. What did it matter what Calum Brodey was like? He was merely a customer she had to be polite to, to keep happy until this week was over and he had paid her astronomical bill. His other side was none of her business, even though he seemed more interesting every time she met him.
She found that she’d ordered a dish of squid cooked with minced ham and onion in a tomato sauce: tasty but filling. During the meal Calum told her something of the history of the wine-lodge, and so of his own family. He made the story fascinating, describing the misfortunes that had hit his ancestors when they’d first come here, and told it so graphically that he made it seem like yesterday.
‘You ought to write a book about your family,’ she remarked.
He gave her an interested glance. ‘Do you think so? We have all the family records at home, of course, but no one has ever attempted to collate them. I suppose we’re all so used to the stories that we take them for granted.’
‘I think it would make an absorbing book.’
He acknowledged the tacit compliment to his ability as a raconteur with a nod. ‘Perhaps you’re right. Maybe I’ll give it some thought.’ But then Calum gave a rueful smile. ‘If I ever have time.’
‘Doesn’t your grandfather have time?’
She had his whole attention now. ‘My grandfather?’
‘Surely he knows more about your family history than anyone? If he doesn’t feel up to going through the archives and writing it up, then don’t you think he could write down his own story? That would be interesting for all your family and a must for anyone in the future who wanted to write a history of the House of Brodey.’
‘What an excellent idea. I’m sure that Grandfather will be feeling very flat once this week is over; I’ll put it to him then. It will give him a new interest.’ He gave her a warm smile. ‘Thank you, Elaine. I’m grateful.’
She shrugged. ‘It was the way you told me about your family that gave me the idea.’
She had eaten only half her meal and drunk sparingly of the wine; she didn’t like heavy lunches when she was working, and never drank very much anyway. But she had enjoyed this lunch, which was strange because she hadn’t expected to. Maybe it was sitting outside in the sun. Or maybe it was because of her companion.
Calum glanced at his watch. ‘I’d better get you back to the wine-lodge. I have to be back at the house this afternoon.’
‘Will you be working in your office there?’ Elaine asked. ‘I’m expecting a fax and I wondered if you could telephone it through to me,’ she explained.
‘I’ll arrange for it to be done,’ he told her. ‘We’re expecting Tiffany to call so I might be busy myself.’
‘Oh, of course.’
So he had made a date with Tiffany. It surprised her, though, that it was for the afternoon and at the house. Somehow Elaine had expected Calum at least to take his dates out to dinner. But then she remembered that he was a well-known and important figure in Oporto; maybe he didn’t want to be seen in public with Tiffany yet, didn’t want to give the gossips something to talk about.
Calum dropped her at the wine-lodge and lifted a hand in a casual wave as he drove on. Elaine watched him go, this handsome man in his sleek car, heading eagerly for a date with his blonde. Had he found the love of his life? she wondered. The fair English girl that his family tradition demanded? Well, whether he had or not, it was nothing to do with her.
Shrugging, Elaine went into the wine-lodge to get back to work, but again she found it difficult to concentrate and had to give herself a mental ticking-off before she could put Calum out of her mind.
