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Authors: Elizabeth Ashton
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‘other things besides.’
It was the first time he had made a suggestive remark, and Laurel looked at him disdainfully.
‘I think you must have got a touch of the sun,’ she rebuked him.
His face changed, became sombre, and he sat back in his chair, seeming to withdraw into himself.
‘You are an enticing little witch, Laurel,’ he said coldly, ‘but you do right to remind me that I cannot afford to indulge in midsummer madness.’
‘Who’s mad?’ Peter enquired, his interest caught.
‘Your uncle has occasional bouts of lunacy,’ Luis informed him. ‘Fortunately they can be controlled before any real damage is done.’ He turned his shoulder to Laurel, as he informed the boy that on the morrow he had to go on business to Seville, but the day after they would go to Ronda.
‘To see my hotel?’
‘And other things.’ He began to talk about that town, but his manner was abstracted. Laurel felt she had been snubbed by this exclusion, but what else could she expect? To flirt with Luis was to play with fire, and they both knew it. It would have been more generous to allow her to be one to withdraw, but perhaps he feared she wouldn’t. It was galling to think that he might imagine she wanted to encourage him.
Their refreshments finished, he asked when Peter was going to see his grandmother, almost as if he suspected she was trying to keep him from her, which was totally unjust. Coldly she explained about the migraine, of which it seemed he had not been informed, adding that in the meantime she supposed they could amuse themselves as they pleased.
‘Riding burros ?’ he asked with a sneer. ‘You are not turistas .’
‘We are this morning,’ she retorted. ‘Don’t be stuffy, Luis—all this,’ with a sweep of her hand she indicated the crowded square, ‘is new and exciting to us both.’
‘You are easily pleased.’ Then he begged to be excused—he had an errand to perform, and must leave them. ‘Do not stay too long out in the sun,’ were his parting words.
‘Why does he change like that?’ Peter, who was a perceptive child, demanded. ‘First he was quite matey, then he goes all snooty.’
‘He must have remembered some business worry,’ Laurel said vaguely. Luis had changed because he had recalled his position and that it hardly became it to be exchanging backchat with a little nobody in public, for in spite of his gallantries, that was all she was to him.
Next morning, Peter refused to go in the pool in spite of the water-wings, and loudly deplored his uncle’s absence. Laurel was still trying to persuade him when Esteban came out of the hotel to tell her his mother had recovered and wanted him to fetch Pedrillo to spend the morning with her and stay to lunch. He seemed embarrassed, and guessing what was troubling him, Laurel declared it was an excellent idea to have Pedro to herself for a while. He seemed relieved and flashed her a grateful smile.
‘ Bueno, she thinks he will more quickly adjust if you are not always with him. Not that we do not appreciate your care of him, comprende ?’
She did, all too well. Grandmother wanted to wean Peter from her as quickly as possible. He went off quite happily with Esteban, ‘to see Pompom.’ The dog was much more to his fancy than the lady.
The hotel seemed extraordinarily empty without Luis and Peter, though there were plenty of pleasant people willing to talk to her. Laurel had her hair done—the place had its own beauty salon—and lay in the sun, treating her arms and legs with sun lotion. She was pleased to see they were browning nicely. Esteban brought Peter back at siesta time, and was quite prepared to flirt with her, but Laurel was not responsive, for Peter seemed subdued and she knew there was something wrong. She said the boy needed a nap and she must take him indoors, much to Esteban’s disgust.
‘ Hasta manana ,’ he said, shaking her hand and gazing soulfully into her eyes. ‘I am hoping his business keeps Luis in
It was the first time he had made a suggestive remark, and Laurel looked at him disdainfully.
‘I think you must have got a touch of the sun,’ she rebuked him.
His face changed, became sombre, and he sat back in his chair, seeming to withdraw into himself.
‘You are an enticing little witch, Laurel,’ he said coldly, ‘but you do right to remind me that I cannot afford to indulge in midsummer madness.’
‘Who’s mad?’ Peter enquired, his interest caught.
‘Your uncle has occasional bouts of lunacy,’ Luis informed him. ‘Fortunately they can be controlled before any real damage is done.’ He turned his shoulder to Laurel, as he informed the boy that on the morrow he had to go on business to Seville, but the day after they would go to Ronda.
‘To see my hotel?’
‘And other things.’ He began to talk about that town, but his manner was abstracted. Laurel felt she had been snubbed by this exclusion, but what else could she expect? To flirt with Luis was to play with fire, and they both knew it. It would have been more generous to allow her to be one to withdraw, but perhaps he feared she wouldn’t. It was galling to think that he might imagine she wanted to encourage him.
Their refreshments finished, he asked when Peter was going to see his grandmother, almost as if he suspected she was trying to keep him from her, which was totally unjust. Coldly she explained about the migraine, of which it seemed he had not been informed, adding that in the meantime she supposed they could amuse themselves as they pleased.
‘Riding burros ?’ he asked with a sneer. ‘You are not turistas .’
‘We are this morning,’ she retorted. ‘Don’t be stuffy, Luis—all this,’ with a sweep of her hand she indicated the crowded square, ‘is new and exciting to us both.’
‘You are easily pleased.’ Then he begged to be excused—he had an errand to perform, and must leave them. ‘Do not stay too long out in the sun,’ were his parting words.
‘Why does he change like that?’ Peter, who was a perceptive child, demanded. ‘First he was quite matey, then he goes all snooty.’
‘He must have remembered some business worry,’ Laurel said vaguely. Luis had changed because he had recalled his position and that it hardly became it to be exchanging backchat with a little nobody in public, for in spite of his gallantries, that was all she was to him.
Next morning, Peter refused to go in the pool in spite of the water-wings, and loudly deplored his uncle’s absence. Laurel was still trying to persuade him when Esteban came out of the hotel to tell her his mother had recovered and wanted him to fetch Pedrillo to spend the morning with her and stay to lunch. He seemed embarrassed, and guessing what was troubling him, Laurel declared it was an excellent idea to have Pedro to herself for a while. He seemed relieved and flashed her a grateful smile.
‘ Bueno, she thinks he will more quickly adjust if you are not always with him. Not that we do not appreciate your care of him, comprende ?’
She did, all too well. Grandmother wanted to wean Peter from her as quickly as possible. He went off quite happily with Esteban, ‘to see Pompom.’ The dog was much more to his fancy than the lady.
The hotel seemed extraordinarily empty without Luis and Peter, though there were plenty of pleasant people willing to talk to her. Laurel had her hair done—the place had its own beauty salon—and lay in the sun, treating her arms and legs with sun lotion. She was pleased to see they were browning nicely. Esteban brought Peter back at siesta time, and was quite prepared to flirt with her, but Laurel was not responsive, for Peter seemed subdued and she knew there was something wrong. She said the boy needed a nap and she must take him indoors, much to Esteban’s disgust.
‘ Hasta manana ,’ he said, shaking her hand and gazing soulfully into her eyes. ‘I am hoping his business keeps Luis in
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