Meet Me Under The Ombu Tree Read online

  ‘But your parents?’ she said, imagining the extent of Chiquita’s sorrow.

  ‘I’ll do what I want. I don’t need my parents’ permission to leave the country.’

  ‘I need mine to leave the country,’ said Sofia miserably.

  ‘Okay. So go along with your parents’ plan. I’ll come later and find you,’ he said, holding her upper arms so tightly she winced.

  ‘Santi - you really would lose everything for me?’

  ‘I’ll do anything for you, Chofi.1

  ‘But your future is here. If you come with me, how can we ever return? You can’t defy your family if you aren’t prepared to abandon them for ever.’

  Then I’ll abandon them for ever. I love you. Don’t you understand, my future is with you. You’re not some fleeting fancy, Chofi. You are my life.’ And as he uttered those words he realized that she was, indeed, the force that drove him. It took a situation like this for him to realize the depth of his love, the extent of his need. Without her everything that he cherished at Santa Catalina would disintegrate like a body deprived of the breath that sustains it. She was the life force that fed everything. He knew that now with as much certainty as he knew he wasn’t going to lose her.

  ‘Okay. If you’re serious, let’s make a plan,’ she said, her heart beating back to life again. ‘Once I’m in Switzerland I’ll write to you and tell you where I am. Then you can come.’ They both smiled at the simplicity of their plan.

  ‘Okay, but they may try to intercept our letters. We have to be prepared for everything. Say I confide in Maria - you can write the letters to her,’ suggested Santi.

  ‘No,’ Sofia said immediately. Then, more gently, ‘No. We can’t trust anyone else but ourselves. I’ll get someone else to write the address - I’ll send them from another country if I have to. Don’t worry, I’ll write lots of letters. They can’t intercept them for ever, can they?’

  ‘I love you,’ he murmured, and although she couldn’t see the expression in his eyes she could feel his emotions as if they were phosphorescent vibrations radiating from every pore, enveloping her like hot tentacles, pulling her closer.

  ‘And I love you,’ she sobbed and fell on him, kissing him. They clung to each other, afraid that once apart, Fate would separate them and they would never find each other again. For a long while they wept in silence; only the constant clicking of the crickets filled the emptiness that engulfed them.

  ‘Let’s make a wish,’ he said finally, pushing her away and delving into his pocket.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I want to wish that one day, we’ll be able to stand here together, perhaps as much older people, to begin the rest of our lives together as an accepted couple.’

  ‘You don’t believe in wishes.’ She laughed bitterly.

  ‘It’s a last resort, Sofia. I’ll try anything once.’

  The rest of our lives then. Let’s carve our names,’ she whispered. ‘Just an S for Santi and an S for Sofia.’

  They both stood and gripped the knife together, Santi’s large, rough hands covering hers. She noticed his were trembling. When they had finished they shone the torch on their initials and wished.

  ‘You won’t forget me, will you?’ he croaked into her neck and she breathed in the familiar scent of his skin and closed her eyes, willing the precious present moment to last for just a little longer.

  ‘Oh Santi, wait for me. It won’t be long, please wait for me. I’ll write, I promise. Don’t give up on me,’ she sobbed, straining her eyes in the darkness to lovingly take in every detail of his face so that she could imagine it later when she was thousands of miles away.

  ‘Chofi, there are so many things I want to say that I should have said before. Let’s run far away from here and marry.’ Then he laughed bashfully. ‘This isn’t exactly an ideal moment, but if I don’t ask you I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?’

  She smiled at him in the way that a mother might indulge a child. ‘Yes. I’ll marry you, Santi,’ she said sadly and kissed his agitated face, wondering if such a thing were possible with so much against them.

  ‘Don’t forget to write,’ he said.

  ‘I promise.’

  ‘Bueno, my darling, until we see each other again. And we will, so let’s not be sad.’

  After holding each other one last time they made their way back to their houses in silence, their hearts throbbing with the belief that they would eventually be reunited.

  Chapter 20

  One moment Sofia was there, the next she was gone. Maria ran over to her cousins’ house when her mother told her the news and demanded an explanation. Her aunt looked red-eyed and weary. She explained that Sofia had gone to visit friends in Europe before studying at a finishing school. She would be away some time. She had done very badly in school, which had been due to too many distractions in Buenos Aires, so she had been sent off in disgrace. Anna apologized that she hadn’t given her time to say goodbye. It had been a last-minute thing.

  Of course Maria didn’t believe her. ‘Can I write to her?’ she asked tearfully.

  ‘I’m afraid not, Maria. She needs to be away from everything that was distracting her here. I’m sorry,’ Anna had replied, closing the conversation by pursing together her pale lips and walking out of the room. When Maria noticed that her mother no longer sat taking tea on the terrace with her aunt she knew something had happened between their two families.

  The weekend after Sofia had inexplicably disappeared from the ranch, Paco went for a long ride with his brother Miguel to explain to him what had happened. It was early morning, the long grass glistened in the pale light and an occasional vizcacha hopped sleepily across the plain. Paco and Anna had decided not to reveal that Sofia had been pregnant. They could not risk the scandal getting out. So he told Miguel only that Sofia and Santi had fallen in love and embarked on a sexual relationship.

  Miguel was appalled. He felt humiliated that his son could stoop to such a level. It wasn’t so bad that the two cousins had fallen in love - these things happened! But to have a sexual relationship was irresponsible and unforgivable. He blamed his son. ‘He’s older and should know better,’ he said.

  When they returned a couple of hours later Miguel was ashen with rage. He marched into the house and confronted Santi immediately.

  ‘This is to remain within the walls of this house. Do you understand?’ he barked, his fists clenched with fury.

  Chiquita burst into tears when she heard. She knew what it would do to their family - that it would put a strain on her relationship with Anna. She felt guilty that it was her son who had committed the offence. She also felt desperately sorry for Santi, although she shared that sentiment with no one.

  Miguel and Chiquita knew that Sofia was in Geneva with their cousins and

  they agreed with Paco and Anna that it had to be kept secret in order for the two lovers to get over their infatuation. They needed time without contact. They would make sure Santi wasn’t able to write to Sofia. In spite of his pleas they withheld her whereabouts from him.

  Anna was so upset she withdrew completely. Keeping herself busy in the house and garden she refused to see anyone. She felt so ashamed and thanked God that Hector wasn’t around to witness her humiliation. Paco told her gently that life had to go on, she couldn’t hide away for ever. But this only led to arguments, which always ended with Anna stalking out in tears and then refusing to talk to him at all.

  After a couple of weeks she decided to write to Sofia in a calm tone, explaining why she had sent her to Europe. It won't be long, my love, before you are back at Santa Catalina again, and all this mess will be forgotten, she wrote affectionately because she felt guilty. After the third letter Sofia still hadn’t replied. Her mother couldn’t understand it. Paco also wrote; the difference was that he continued to write long after his wife had given up. ‘If she doesn’t respond, what can I do? I’m not going to waste my ink. She’ll be home before too long,’ she said angrily. Months pa
ssed and there was still no reply; not even to Paco.

  Chiquita had attempted to see Anna, but she must have seen her coming and retreated into the house. She had telephoned a few times but Anna had refused to speak to her. It wasn’t until Chiquita wrote a letter, begging to talk it through, that Anna weakened and allowed her to visit. At first the atmosphere was raw. They sat opposite each other, their bodies stiff as if ready at any moment for fierce confrontation, and talked about the most mundane things, like Panchito’s new school uniform, as if everything was normal, yet watching each other warily through glassy eyes. They were unable to sustain the charade for long. At last Chiquita collapsed like an empty sack and began to weep. ‘Oh Anna, I’m so desperately sorry. It’s all my fault,’ she sniffed, reaching out to her sister-in-law with solicitous arms. Anna wiped away a tear from her own cheek.

  ‘I’m sorry too. I know what a minx Sofia can be. They are both to blame,’ she said, longing to blame it all on Santi, but knowing that Sofia must take her share of it.

  ‘I should have seen it coming - I should have noticed,’ grieved Chiquita. ‘I just thought nothing of them spending time together. They always have. We weren’t to know that they were being irresponsible when they were alone together.’

  ‘I know. But the important thing is that Sofia spends a few years away from home without contact with anyone. By the time she returns they will have grown out of it.’

  ‘They’ll probably feel very foolish,’ said Chiquita hopefully. They’re young. It’s puppy love.’

  Anna stiffened. That wasn’t the behaviour of puppies, Chiquita. The physical act of love is as far from puppy love as one can get - let’s not forget that,’ she said coolly.

  ‘You’re right, of course. One mustn’t make light of it,’ Chiquita agreed sheepishly.

  ‘Santi is the one with sexual experience. Sofia, in spite of all her sins, was still a virgin and would have been one on her wedding night. God help her.’ Anna sighed melodramatically. ‘Now her husband will have to accept her as she is. Used goods.’

  Chiquita wanted to remind her sister-in-law that it was the 1970s. That sex was seen differently now than in their day. The 1960s had seen the most monumental sexual revolution. But according to Anna, that revolution had happened in Europe and hadn’t reached Argentina. ‘European women can reduce themselves to the level of the common tart.' she had once said sharply. ‘But my daughter will be a lady on her wedding night.’

  ‘Santi is indeed the one with the sexual experience. He’s also the man and I completely accept responsibility. I cannot apologise enough. In fact, he must come and apologize in person,’ said Chiquita, prepared to do anything to mend their fraying relations.

  ‘I don’t want to see Santi at the moment, Chiquita,’ Anna replied frostily. ‘You must understand that my nerves are raw. I can’t face my daughter’s seducer right now.’

  Chiquita’s bottom lip quivered and she clamped her teeth together in order to restrain herself from violently defending her son. But she kept quiet in order to make peace with Anna.

  ‘We are both suffering, Anna,’ she conceded diplomatically. ‘Let’s suffer together and not hurt each other with accusations. What’s done is done and we can't turn back the clock, although I would do anything to be able to.’

  ‘Yes, so would I,’ she replied, thinking of the life that had been squandered. ‘May God forgive me,’ she said in a low voice that seemed to come from the bottom of her throat. Chiquita frowned. Anna had almost whispered it and the

  other woman wasn’t sure if she had intended her to hear it or not. She smiled and lowered her eyes. At least they were able to talk, but it was an arduous conversation. When Chiquita returned to her house later she lay down on the bed and fell into a tormented sleep. They might have opened the lines of communication, but she knew it would take years for their relationship to return to normal.

  Agustin and Rafael were told that Sofia had developed a crush on her cousin and had been sent abroad to get over it. Their father made light of it, but the brothers knew that if it was serious enough for their sister to be sent to Europe it must have been more than just a crush. Rafael, in defence of his sister, confronted Santi and blamed him for being so irresponsible. He was older, had lived abroad, he shouldn’t have encouraged her. She was barely more than a child. He had ruined her future. ‘When she comes back, I don’t want you anywhere near her, do you understand?’ he said. He didn’t know, of course, that she didn’t intend to come back and that Santi was preparing to fly over to join her just as soon as he received word.

  Agustin enjoyed the scandal. He thrived on the intrigue and gossip and enjoyed lying on the grass analysing the situation with his cousins Angel,

  Sebastian and Niquito. He went out of his way to be close to Santi, hoping that he would open up and tell him the details of their affair. Was it an affair? Did they really sleep together? What had his parents said? What was he going to do when Sofia returned? Did he love her? But much to his disappointment, Santi didn’t reveal anything.

  Fernando was delighted that his brother was in trouble. He’d finally fallen off his pedestal with a most satisfactory crash. He wasn’t the golden hero any longer. In fact, Fernando couldn’t have been happier, for he had always been irritated by Sofia, showing off all the time, intruding into their polo games, hanging around with Santi, the pair of them looking down their smug noses at everyone else. They deserved it. Talk about killing two birds with one stone. He felt six inches taller.

  As much as he tried to hide his misery, Santi’s pain showed all over his face. His limp got worse. He cried when he was alone at night and waited impatiently for a letter so he could go and join Sofia. He needed to be reassured that she still wanted him, now that she was far away. He wanted to reassure her too that he was waiting for her. That he loved her.

  When Maria finally found out that her brother and cousin had been lovers

  she screamed at her mother: ‘How could you not tell me, Mama! I had to hear it from Encarnacion! I’m the last person to know. Didn’t you trust me?’

  Furious with her uncle and aunt, she avoided them. She blamed her brother for getting her friend into such a terrible situation, and waited for a letter apologizing for not saying goodbye and for not confiding in her. She was astounded that she hadn’t suspected anything, but when she reflected on the summer she remembered sadly that she had always been the spare part in their relationship. Santi and Sofia had often excluded her, leaving her to play with Panchito while they went off on horseback, or sloped off to play tennis without her. She had grown so accustomed to it over the years that she hadn’t even noticed. She had always been grateful to be included and had accepted it meekly when they had brushed her off. It didn’t surprise her at all that she hadn’t noticed. No one had noticed.

  Sofia had always been devious, but Maria never thought she’d be the victim of one of her plots. She recalled their argument a couple of years before when Sofia had confessed to her that she was in love with Santi. Perhaps if she had listened and tried to understand, Sofia might have confided in her now. She resigned herself to the fact that it was partly her fault that her cousin had kept it from her. But she still felt angry and jealous and neither emotion diminished over the weeks while she waited for a letter.

  A month later, when finally a letter arrived at their home in Buenos Aires, it was not addressed to Maria, but to Santi. He had paced the hall every morning with the misery of a caged bear, hoping for a thin blue envelope to release him from his desolation. Miguel had instructed Chiquita to go through the pile and take out any letters that might be from Sofia before Santi had a chance to find them. But Chiquita’s heart had softened, watching her son decline further and further into his unhappy, solitary world and so she had deliberately begun to let them sit on the table just long enough for Santi to see them before she descended the stairs to do what her husband had instructed.

  Santi was grateful to his mother but they never spoke about it. Both preten
ded they had not noticed. Every morning he flicked through the letters, mostly addressed to his father, and watched his hope fade away with each letter that he rejected. What Santi and Chiquita didn’t know was that Maria went through the post in the entrance hall every morning on her way to the university, before the porter took it up to their apartment.

  When Maria saw the letter she picked it up and studied the handwriting. It

  wasn’t Sofia’s writing and it had been posted in France, but it was definitely from Sofia. Who else did he know in France? It was obviously a love-letter and it was obviously written and posted in such a way as to prevent anyone from discovering it. They were once again excluding her. She felt she had been slapped in the face. The hurt grabbed her by the throat and she gasped for air. She was too angry to cry. Jealousy overpowered her and consumed her until she ached to scream out at the unfairness of it all. Hadn’t she been a good friend to Sofia? How could she so callously turn her back on her like that? Wasn’t she her best friend, after all? Didn’t that count for anything?

  Maria crept into her bedroom with the letter and locked the door. She took off her shoes and lay on the bed tucking her feet in behind her. She spent a long while looking at it, wondering what to do. She knew she should give it to Santi, but she was so angry that her fury blinded her. She wasn’t going to let them get away with it. She wanted them to suffer like she was suffering. Ripping open the envelope she pulled out the letter within, and immediately recognized the messy scrawl of her cousin. She read the first line. To my love, it said. Without reading the rest she turned over the page to confirm that Sofia had signed it. She had. My heart beats with the anticipation that you will soon be here with me. Without that promise, I don't think it would beat at all. Then she had signed it simply, Chofi.

  So, Maria thought bitterly, Santi is going to go and join her. He can’t leave, she raged silently, he can’t leave too. Not both of them. That means that they are planning to run off together and never come back. What will Mama and Papa think? They’ll die of grief. I can’t let this happen. Santi will regret it for the rest of his life. He’ll never be able to return to Argentina - neither of them will. Her heart quickened as she devised a plan. If she burnt the letter, Sofia would believe he had changed his mind. She would endure her three years in Europe; by then she would have grown out of the infatuation anyway, and then come back as planned. Whereas, if Santi followed her there now, neither would come back, ever. She couldn’t bear to lose them both.