because, he’d explained, her marriage was killing her.
Maggie had realised that he wasn’t speaking metaphorically.
She had fought back tears as he’d described watching her being reduced to a shadow of herself by her destructive marriage.
Aching with empathy, Maggie had felt his frustration—a child who had had to stand by and watch helplessly the systematic destruction of someone he loved.
No, it seemed that the thing that haunted Rafael was the angry words he had yelled at her while she left. Things he had never been able to retract because she and her lover had died not long afterwards in a train smash.
Maggie, her tender heart bleeding for the vulnerable child he had been, had wrapped her arms tight around him, laying her head on his warm chest.
‘She would have known you didn’t mean it. She must have known you loved her. And the last thing she’d want is for you to carry on beating yourself up over it. I mean, she must have been eaten up with guilt.’
She wasn’t sure if her comments had helped but she hoped so. It had been late before they had slept and, not wanting to wake him now, she slipped from their bed careful not to disturb him. Shrugging on a towelling gown, she went downstairs to the big kitchen where she helped herself to coffee from the fresh pot on the stove before pulling a warm roll from the basket. Tossing it from one hand to the other as it burnt her fingers, she reached for a plate and the butter.
She was topping the butter with jam when Ramon entered the kitchen looking uncharacteristically flustered.
‘If you’re looking for him, the boss is still asleep.’
She hesitated to add, ‘Can I help?’ because, although the staff rather surprisingly acted as though her position in the household were permanent and had developed a habit of consulting her on domestic issues, Maggie was very conscious of her temporary status and always referred them to Rafael, who was not always appreciative of her tact. Only the previous day he had become extremely exasperated and referred the problem back to her after she had refused to mediate a minor domestic dispute.
‘That is the problem. Sabina took it on herself to wake him when the guests—’
‘He has guests?’ Maggie tightened her robe.
This was the first time the outside world had intruded on her little idyll and it was an unwelcome reminder of how flimsy the foundations her happiness was based on actually were.
The world was out there and, like it or not, she had to go back into it. She had wondered what she would say if Rafael suggested continuing their relationship after her holiday ended.
She had agonised over her response, finding the thought of never seeing him again hard to contemplate without horror. But would drifting slowly apart, as they inevitably would, be less painful? A cancelled visit, a missed call, watching the gradual disintegration of their relationship? Wouldn’t a clean break be easier in the long run to bear?
In the end the question might be academic; he might not suggest it. While he never mentioned it ending, he never mentioned it carrying on either. And Rafael had never given any indication that he considered their time together anything other than a pleasant interlude.
For her part Maggie had resisted it, but she had finally been forced to ask herself why when she was around him her heart reacted independently of her brain.
He was the love of her life, and though she had always scoffed at the better-to-have-loved-and-lost theory she would not have had it any other way.
Him not returning her love was a tragedy, but not ever meeting him would in her mind have been an even greater one. She had embarked on the affair thinking that sex might liberate; in reality love had.
‘I think I’ll take my coffee upstairs.’
‘Well, if you think that.’ Ramon stopped. ‘Perhaps that might be best, but I thought.’ He shook his head and vanished, leaving Maggie to stare after him in perplexed bemusement.
The reason for his stress became more obvious when she entered the grand hall, her intention to take the short cut up the main staircase to their room.
She came to a halt and tried to blend into the background. Rafael was standing at the far end in the company of a man and woman, who was pushing a pram up and down with her foot.
The raised angry voices of the two men made it clear she had wandered into the middle of a private argument. Unsure whether to retrace her steps and use one of the rear staircases or try and slip unnoticed up this one, she hesitated uncertainly.
While she stood there the seated woman turned her head and the blood left Maggie’s face. The plate and mug slipped from her nerveless fingers and she shook her head slowly from side to side.
This could not be happening.
The face she was looking at demonstrated how slim the line between beauty and average was; it was her face if her features had been perfectly symmetrical, if her lips had been less generous and her nose had been straight.
The woman stood and Maggie thought she could be looking in the mirror if she were four inches taller and half a stone lighter.
Nobody was shouting any more; they were all staring at her. She never had liked being the centre of attention, she thought, struggling to control the bubble of hysteria lodged in her throat.
The silence that had followed the shouting was unbearably loud.
‘I dropped the plate.’
Her voice was the catalyst for a fresh bout of yelling. This time the woman joined in and the baby—no, babies—in the pram started to cry.
Feeling strangely disconnected from the drama unfolding and, for that matter, her own body, Maggie listened to the exchange of insults and accusation—a lot of accusation, and most of it aimed at Rafael, who made, it seemed to Maggie, only a token effort to defend himself.
His attention was constantly straying from those who were energetically jabbing the finger of blame at him to Maggie.
‘How could you, Rafael! My daughter…you have betrayed every trust I ever had in you!’
‘What gave you the right to assume.? I am not like your father… I thought we were friends…’
Maggie sucked in a breath, caught up in this strange nightmare moment but distant from it—distant from these people who were not her people.
The need for the comfort, the familiarity, of those she knew were there for her no matter what rose up inside her until she had to act on it.
‘Nice to meet you, but I have to go now.’
Even though her voice had been barely more than a whisper the acoustics in the room were such that every word echoed around the room.
Silence broke out all over again.
Maggie dropped to her knees. ‘I’ll just…’
Rafael was at her side, taking her hand and cursing as he saw blood oozing steadily from the superficial cut.
‘I
