The Butterfly Box (7 page)

‘A juice and a
palta
sandwich,’ he said, getting up. ‘Go and tell your mother we’ll be back in time for tea.’

Mariana Campione put down the receiver and shouted to her husband Ignacio who was lying in the hammock on the terrace reading, round glasses perched on the bridge of his aquiline nose and his panama hat pulled down over his

bushy eyebrows - an indication that he did not wish to be disturbed.

‘Nacho, Ramon’s back and he’s coming to visit with the family tomorrow,’ she said in delight. Ignacio did not move, except to turn the page. Mariana, a full-bodied, large-boned woman with silver-grey hair and a kind open face, walked out through the French doors to where her husband was lying in the shade of an acacia tree.
‘Mi amor,
did you hear me? Ramon’s home. They’re coming to visit tomorrow,’ she repeated, her cheeks stung with joy.

‘I heard you, woman,’ he said without looking up from his book.

‘Nacho, you don’t deserve to have grandchildren,’ she said, but she smiled and shook her head.

‘He disappears for months without so much as a letter, what sort of a man does that to his family? I’ve told you before, Helena will lose patience with him eventually. I lost my patience with him years ago and I’m not married to him,’ he said firmly, then glanced at his wife over his book to see her reaction.

‘Don’t be silly,’ she chided gently, ‘Helena is a good wife and mother. She’s loyal to Ramon. I’m not saying he’s right to desert her like that all the time, but she’s an old-fashioned woman. She understands him. I’m thrilled they’re coming to stay.’ Her large face creased into a tender smile.

‘How long are they staying for?’ he asked, still looking at her.

‘I don’t know. He didn’t say.’

‘Still, I suppose we should be grateful,’ he said sarcastically. ‘Out of our eight children Ramon’s the one we see the least so when he shows up it’s more of an event.’

‘Now you’re being petulant.’

‘For the love of God, Mariana, he’s a forty-year-old man, or thereabouts, it’s high time he grew up and took some responsibility before he loses everything. If that long-suffering wife of his leaves him he’ll only have himself to blame, and I’ll be on her side one hundred per cent.’

Mariana laughed and retreated into the cool interior of the house. She had listened to his argument enough times to know it by heart. Ramon was just a free spirit, she understood him like Helena did, she thought, wandering into the kitchen to inform their young maid, Estella, about the change in numbers. He was so talented it would be very wrong to tie him down and stifle such precious creativity. She read and re-read all his books and articles and felt immense pride when people told her how much they too enjoyed his writing. He was celebrated in Chile and he had earned every bit of the respect he was

given. ‘I know I’m his mother,’ she said to her husband, ‘but he really does write most beautifully.’

Estella had awoken from her siesta and was already chopping the vegetables for dinner when Mariana entered the kitchen. As in most Chilean households of the well-to-do, the kitchen was part of the maid’s quarters, along with her bedroom and bathroom, which were situated at the back of the house, hidden behind thick perennial bushes and bougainvillea trees. Estella was new. After Consuelo, their maid for twenty years, had died the previous summer they had been very fortunate to have found Estella, through friends who had a summer house in Zapallar, the neighbouring village. Mariana had liked her immediately. Whereas Consuelo had become too old to clean properly and too sour to cook with any enthusiasm, Estella had set to work immediately, polishing, sweeping, scrubbing and airing with an energy bestowed on her by her youth and with a smile that bubbled up from her sweet nature and desire to please. She was courteous, discreet and a quick learner, which was vital, for Ignacio was impatient and pedantic.

‘Estella, my son Ramon is arriving tomorrow at lunchtime with his wife and two small children, please make sure that the blue spare room is made up for them and the room next door, I know how my son likes his space. The children can share, it’s more fun that way.’

‘Sí,
Señora Mariana,’ she replied obediently, trying to conceal her excitement. She had heard an enormous amount about Ramon Campione, seen his picture in the papers many times and even read a few of his articles. The poetry of his descriptions had stirred her heart and she had longed to meet him from the moment she had realized who her new employers were. She enjoyed wandering about the house, gazing at the photographs scattered over tables and mantelpieces. He was so handsome and romantic-looking, with his long black hair, acute brown eyes and generous mouth that seemed too large for his face but at the same time utterly captivating. She had spent long moments polishing the glass that protected his face from the dust. Now she was going to meet him, she could barely contain herself.

‘Scent the linen with lavender and I want fresh flowers in all three bedrooms. Don’t forget the flowers. Federica appreciates nature. She’s a sweet girl. Clean towels, fresh drinking water and fruit,’ said Mariana, not forgetting a single detail.

‘How long will they be staying, Señora Mariana?’ Estella asked, trying to

control the tremor in her voice lest it betray her.

Mariana shrugged. ‘I don’t know, Estella. Ten days, maybe more. I’m going to try to persuade them to stay for New Year, although it’ll be hard pinning my son down. Ramon takes every day as it comes, he never makes plans,’ she said proudly. ‘One minute he’s here and you think he’s here to stay then suddenly he’ll get up and leave, just like that. Then we don’t see or hear from him for months. That’s the way God made him so I don’t complain.’
‘Si, Señora Mariana,’ said Estella.

‘My grandchildren love
manjar bianco
, please make sure there is enough in the house, I’d hate to disappoint them,’ she added before leaving the room.

Estella sighed with pleasure. She set about preparing the rooms at once. She swept through the children’s room like a tornado, making up the beds with real Irish linen sheets, sweeping the wooden floorboards and dusting the surfaces. The marital room she arranged with more care, scenting the linen with lavender and opening the shutters to the fresh sea air and sound of chattering birds hopping about in the eucalyptus trees. When she opened the door to Ramon’s room she breathed in deeply before making the bed slowly and tenderly, smoothing her elegant brown fingers over the pillow to flatten any wrinkles.

She imagined him lying there, gazing up at her, beckoning her to join him. Then she lay on the bed and closed her eyes, breathing in the heady scent of tuberose she had set in a vase on the dresser. She smiled as she thought that perhaps tomorrow his head would lie where hers was lying now and he would never know how close they’d been.

She hoped he’d stay for a long time.

Ignacio put down his book and rolled out of the hammock. He felt sleepy and lethargic. The evening was cool, the shadows lengthening, the tide edging its way up the shore like a nightly predator. He stood on the terrace, leaning against the railings, looking out over the smooth surface of the sea that sighed hypnotically. He felt uneasy. His weathered face crinkled anxiously as he tried to discover the root of his ill-ease. The light had ripened to a warm orange as the sun hovered behind the horizon about to dawn on another shore. Perhaps it was the natural melancholia of sunset that had brought on this feeling, he thought hopefully. But he knew it had more to do with his son than with nature. He sensed things weren’t as they should be.

Mariana wandered out to join him with his nightly glass of whisky and water.

‘Here,’ she said, handing it to him. ‘You’re very quiet this evening,’ she added, smiling at him.

‘I’m sleepy,’ he replied, sipping from the glass.

‘You’ve been reading too much.’

‘Yes.’

‘It can make one subdued, all that reading,’ she said kindly, patting him on his weather-beaten brown arm.

‘Yes,’ he repeated.

‘Still, you’ll have Ramon and Helena to entertain you tomorrow, and those adorable children.’

‘I know,’ he agreed, nodding solemnly.

‘He’s given Fede a box that once belonged to an Inca princess, or so she tells me,’ she said, watching the sun flood the sea with liquid gold.

‘That sounds like one of Ramon’s stories.’

‘Yes, it does, doesn’t it?’ she chuckled. ‘Typical Ramon, his imagination never ceases to amaze me.’

‘An Inca princess, indeed.’

‘Fede believes it.’

‘Of course she does, Mariana, she worships her father,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘She worships him and he just abandons her. It’s too bad.’

‘Oh, Nacho, really. Is this what your silence is about? Ramon’s lifestyle? It’s really none of our business. If it works for them it shouldn’t concern you or me.’

‘But
does
it work for them?’ he said, looking at her steadily. ‘I don’t know that it does. I feel something in my bones.’

‘They’re old bones, Nacho, I’m surprised they still feel anything at all.’ She smiled.

‘They’re old bones, woman, but they’re as sensitive as they always have been. Will you walk with me up the beach?’ he asked suddenly, draining his glass.

Mariana looked surprised. ‘Now?’

‘Of course. We old people have to strike while we’re still able to. Tomorrow may be our last.’

‘What nonsense,
mi amor
, you really are very miserable to be with sometimes. But, yes, I’ll walk with you up the beach. We can take our shoes off and get our feet wet, hold hands like we used to.’

‘I’d like that very much.' he said, removing his panama hat and kissing her soft cheek.

‘You old romantic.' she said and laughed at their foolishness. They were too old to play these games.

Ramon tucked Federica into bed. He noticed the box was on the table beside her.

‘I’m frightened the box might not be here when I wake up.' she said suddenly, her smooth face creasing with anxiety.

‘Don’t worry, Fede, it will be here when you wake up. No one’s going to take it while you’re asleep, I promise.’

‘It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever had, I don’t want to be without it, ever.’

‘You won’t be.' he reassured her, kissing her forehead. ‘Have you noticed Señora Baraca’s dog isn’t barking tonight?’

‘He’s happy and tired, like me,’ she said, smiling up at her father.

‘He’s exhausted.’

‘What about tomorrow, can we take him out before we go to Cachagua?’

‘Of course we can,’ he said, touching her cheek with the tips of his fingers. ‘We can take him up the beach again.’

‘I feel sorry for Señora Baraca,’ she said.

‘Why?’

‘Because she’s so sad.’

‘She chooses to be sad, Fede.’

‘Does she?’

‘Yes. Everyone has a choice, they can either be happy or sad.’

‘But Mama told me her husband died,’ she protested.

‘Mama’s right. But her husband died over ten years ago, before you were born. Now that’s a long time ago.’

‘But Wachuko was sad for his whole life.’

‘Yes he was. But he didn’t have to be. Sometimes it’s better to move on rather than dwell on the past,’ he said. ‘One should learn things from the past and then let them go.’

‘What should Señora Baraca have learnt from her past?’ Federica asked, yawning.

‘That she should spend more time looking after her dog than mourning her

dead husband, don’t you think?’ he laughed.

‘Yes,’ she said and closed her eyes. Ramon watched her as she drifted off into the world of princesses and magic butterflies. Her long lashes caught the light that entered from the corridor, giving her a celestial beauty. Her face was long and noble, generous and honest. He felt his throat tighten with emotion at the thought of leaving her and while it didn’t weaken his resolve it just made it a little harder to accept. He bent down and kissed her forehead again, feeling her velvet skin against his dry lips. He smelt the fragrance of her soap and the clean scent of her hair. He wanted to wrap her up in his arms and protect her from the harsh reality of a world that would only disappoint her.

Before he went to bed he crept into Hal’s room to watch him as he slept. He didn’t feel so close to his son. The child was only four and barely knew him. He was more attached to his mother and gave his father little attention. Hal didn’t need him like Federica did. He watched the little boy suck on his thumb and cuddle his toy rabbit as he slept. Hal looked as if he embodied the qualities of an angel, as though he had been dropped into bed by God himself. His skin was flawless, his expression serene and contented. Ramon ran his rough hand over the boy’s hair. Hal stirred and changed position but he didn’t wake up. Ramon left as quietly as he had come.

The bed was cold in spite of the warm night. Helena slept curled up at one side, almost falling off the edge in her effort to avoid him. Ramon lay on his back staring up at the icy moonlight that crept across the ceiling. Neither recalled the fevered interlude of the afternoon. They didn’t want to. Helena wished it hadn’t happened and flushed with shame when she thought of it. So she pretended it simply hadn’t happened. She felt him next to her, not because he moved, he didn’t, but because the atmosphere was so heavy it was as if a third person occupied the space between them. She felt afraid to move or make a sound so she breathed shallow breaths and lay as rigid as a corpse. When sleep finally overcame them it was tortured and fragile. Helena dreamed of arriving in Cornwall but not being able to find Polperro. Ramon dreamed of standing on the beach while Federica drowned out to sea. He did nothing to save her.