7

SPANISH BRIDE

Maria Anna-Fortuna Alvarez was nineteen years old when her life changed forever. It was a slightly cool June day and as usual Maria had walked the two miles or so from her home in the country to the small town of Santa Arista to buy groceries for her mother. She didn’t mind this particular chore as it got her away from her dreary life in a small, rural cottage where the only distractions were birdsong, her mother’s cooking and a secret diary Maria had been keeping since the age of nine. In recent years the diary had become dominated by one question – when am I going to meet him? By this she meant the man of her dreams, and those dreams were very specific.

The man Maria intended to marry had to have three qualities and these were not optional – he had to be good looking, he had to be rich and he had to live in a large city. Maria’s preferences were Madrid and Barcelona, which to her seemed cosmopolitan and exciting because she hadn’t been to either. She wanted to be somewhere dynamic and energetic where a lot of things happened on a regular basis. Her days in the country near Santa Arista were dull, quiet and uniformly drab. Unless she went into town she never met anyone, never spoke to anyone and filled her hours with cooking, cleaning and feeding the few pigs and chickens her father kept. Not exactly the sort of lifestyle a young woman dreams of, and Maria lived in her dreams they kept her alive.

As she neared the town she could hear the sounds of the market where every Thursday traders set up stalls and bargained noisily with each other and the people who came to buy their tatty, overpriced wares. Maria liked the market because it was so lively and you could genuinely get a bargain if you looked around and knew how to haggle. She had thought of renting a stall herself but papa had been against it,

“Not the sort of thing a young girl does,” he had said. “Young girls are always getting taken advantage of.”

There were times when Maria hoped someone would take advantage of her, it would break the monotony. But it had to be a certain type of somebody he had to fit the three rigid criteria listed in her diary. If not then he would get the cold shoulder, and Maria was known amongst the young men of the town as being picky and aloof not something she ever apologized for. She didn’t want to end up like the figure approaching her now, a girl her age called Conchita Perez who had been thrown out of the parental home for bringing disgrace on the family name. A petty-minded attitude in Maria’s view, but typical of these country backwaters or ‘dull ponds’ as she referred to them in secret. The world was full of dull ponds in her view, in fact it was divided into dull ponds and vibrant lagoons and she knew where she wanted to end up.

“Hiya,” Said Conchita with a sigh of fatigue, she looked like she’d been walking a long way and with two heavy bags as well as her other burden.

“Good morning,” Said Maria who had trained herself not to use colloquial speech. “How are you today Conchita?” her gaze rested on the gently swelling mound of the other girl’s stomach.

“Weary and bored,” Came the admission. How you’ve changed Maria thought, once you were the life and soul of the party, a lively and vibrant ray of sunshine now you’ve become as dull and pedestrian as all the other pond-dwellers. “I just want to give birth to little Carlos and have done with it.”

Carlos was the name of the baby’s father and he was so convinced that the baby would be a boy that he had already christened it. Typical of local men thought Maria, they were such sexist and arrogant creatures, what if the baby where a girl?

“Not long now,” she said trying to inject a note of positivism into the conversation.

“One month,” came the sigh. “My back aches and my legs are swollen, even having a pee is agony.”

Inwardly groaning Maria thought of all the other mothers who complained their days away, listing illnesses like items on a shopping list. Her own mama was just the same if it wasn’t her back it was her head and if not that her feet, her knees and so on. Maria had pains to but she kept them to herself, focus on the positive she had read somewhere and be optimistic well she certainly tried.

“Where will you live?” She asked changing track again.

“Carlos has been offered a two room flat over the tavern,” Conchita admitted with a defeated look in her eyes, and they both knew it wasn’t the ideal first home for a young couple with a baby.

“Only two rooms?” Maria gasped. “You need more than that with a child.”

“I know but my parents won’t help and Carlos is an orphan, there is his cousin Raphael but you know what wandering hands he has.”

Maria did thinking of her former part-time job in Raphael’s millinery store, her backside ended up bruised from all the pinches and when he pinned her to a crate and tried to remove her dress well that was the final straw. A knee somewhere tender and the words ‘stick your lousy job’ had been the end of that.

“You can’t live in a two room flat Conchita, you’ll go mad especially over the tavern.” This was full of drunks day and night, and fights were common.

“What other choice do I have Maria?” Came the wail of a frustrated woman.

“Well what about the hotel De Compostella?”

“I can’t live in a hotel,” came the cry. “Who could afford that?”

“But Carlos works there, couldn’t he come to an agreement with the manager?”

“You know how proud he is Maria, he’d never beg.”

Maria wasn’t thinking of charity, she had a much better idea and it had just popped into her head. Taking out of piece of paper and a pencil she began to write quickly, “Tell Carlos to go and see the manager and say this.”

Handing the page over with a flourish she waited for Conchita to read it, which the other girl did quickly but the response was not as expected.

“Are you insane Maria, Carlos can’t say this?”

It was a bit of a blow, “Why not?”

“Because…well because it’s outrageous,” came the bluster.

“No Conchita it is bold and imaginative, and the manager will be impressed by the initiative displayed.”

Not looking convinced the pregnant girl said, “Carlos will get the sack, then where will we be?”

How could this once brave and impetuous girl have turned into such a drudge? “He won’t get the sack, not if he’s promising to work harder and contribute more to the business. Look Connie you need to get on in life and improve your station, this is how to do it. You have to grasp the bull by the horns.” This was one of Maria’s favourite sayings, and she slipped it into conversations as often as she could.

“But Carlos would never do this, he has to mind his manners, his boss is a tyrant.”

Good grief what was wrong with these people, didn’t they have any drive?

“Mr Mendez is in business to make money and improve service, Carlos will be helping him by making this offer it’s simple enough in return for extra duties you get a suite at the hotel.”

“But what about when the hotel is full during July and August?” Conchita worried.

“Simple you ask Mr Mendez to provide you with an alternative, he owns loads of property and you’d get it at a knock down rate.”

“Oh I don’t know Maria it all seems a bit harebrained to me,” came the plaintive sob.

“What is the alternative?” Maria snapped beginning to lose her temper, here she was dishing out good advice and all Connie could do was moan and throw up objections. “It’s this or the tavern, which do you prefer? Connie when life kicks you, you have to kick back or go down for the count.”

A rather bitter and pugnacious look came over the other girl’s features, “It’s all right for you Maria Alvarez you aren’t expecting a baby in four weeks. It’s easy to be clever when life is simple and free.”

Stunned by this sharp rebuke Maria took a step back, was this really her best friend talking?

“My life isn’t simple or free, as you very well know.” She snapped back feeling a rush of anger in her belly. “I’m just offering some practical advice, and if you’d kept your legs closed a bit more often you wouldn’t need it.”

Face blushing to a strawberry tint Conchita dropped her heavy bags and flexed her fingers, outraged by these blunt but honest words.

“How dare you speak to me like that, who do you think you are?”

A friend Maria was thinking, probably the best one you’ll ever have. Oh Connie why have you thrown your life away like this, you had so much going for you and now it’s all wasted?

“I’m sorry,” she said. “But you’ve been a fool and we both know it, there’s little point pretending. You could have done a lot better than a hotel porter.”

Moving dangerously close Connie thrust out her chin, “You’re so smug Maria but one day you’ll learn the hard way that life is never fair to a woman, it breaks her heart and burns her dreams.”

Was this Connie or her mother speaking? It could easily have been any of the middle-aged harpies in the town. Not believing life was unfair, that it gave you what you asked for Maria straightened her back.

“Our lives are what we make them,” that was from one of her favourite books by a brilliant author.

“Oh are they?” Came the sneer. “Well we’ll see what you think when your belly is full of a man’s child, but your purse is empty.” And screwing up the piece of paper Connie threw it in Maria’s face. “Keep your advice and your opinions, I need neither.” And picking up her shopping with a haughty sniff the girl pushed past her friend and marched away up the hill.

“Connie come back,” Maria cried. “Let’s not part like this,” she held up the page of words. “Tell Carlos to at least try, what have you got to lose?” Connie kept walking with a rigid neck and thrust out arse. “At least think about it,” Maria shouted. “I’m still your friend.”

Pausing to look back the other girl snapped, “I don’t know who you are these days Maria you’ve changed and not for the better you’ve become a real big head do you know that? You think you’re so much better than the rest of us, well you’re going to find out that you aren’t.” And with that Connie was gone leaving Maria feeling angry and deflated, this was not how she’d wanted the conversation to turn out she’d only been trying to help.

She did think of running after her friend but there seemed little point to this so unhappily she went on her way into the town. You can’t help those who won’t help themselves, was one of the principles she’d learned in her positive thinking books. If Connie was too closed-minded to even listen to her ideas then there was nothing to be done. What a shame she thought, so young and yet so trapped I must never let this happen to me. As she drew nearer to the main street her gaze was caught by an amazing car outside of the hotel where Carlos worked, this was the biggest and most expensive hotel in the town and the car she could see now was also big and expensive. It wasn’t just a car it was a stretch limousine painted jet black with darkly tinted windows that allowed the occupants to see out but nobody else to see in. Maria had never seen a vehicle like it but she knew one thing, whoever owned it had to be very rich for such cars were not cheap.

Drawn by this exciting thought she approached the hotel, forgetting what she’d come to town for that could wait she had to find out who the car owner was and perhaps speak to him.

Always take the initiative and seek new experiences, this was another principle she had read and taken to heart. It marked her out as different from her contemporaries for they always shunned new and strange things, like Connie they were too wrapped up in their tiny little lives. Well not me Maria thought I’m going to enter the hotel and seek out this rich stranger, and I don’t care what anyone thinks. If nothing else the acrimonious encounter with Connie had stiffened her resolve, and marching purposefully up to the car she ran her hand over its smooth surface. It was beautiful to touch so polished and clean, she could see her reflection in the metal. Three times bigger than any car she’d seen before it had a personalised number plate that said – J. CASTILLAN.

Could this be the name of the owner, well it was more than likely wasn’t it? Next to the name was a symbol that marked the limo out as coming from Madrid, so this man (if it was a man), came from the capital. Moving around to the front Maria touched the hood and found it to be hot, this meant the man from Madrid had only just arrived maybe he hadn’t even signed in yet; he may still be in the lobby.

Wasting no more time she approached the front entrance, as she did Carlos appeared holding a brush in one hand and a cleaning rag in the other. She instinctively flinched not liking the tough-faced youth with his small mean eyes and thick lips, he always looked at women with an aspect of contempt especially her.

“What are you doing here Maria?” he demanded as though it was any of his business. Barring her way he assumed a typically macho posture with legs wide and chest puffed out, chin high and gaze challenging. “This is a hotel for important people not peasant girls.”

Meeting the gaze and lifting her own chin Maria told herself not to be frightened, it was only Carlos and he was a peasant to for all his harsh words and belligerent attitude.

“Let me pass Carlos, I have every right to visit the hotel.” She said not intending to tell him anything.

His sneer widening he pointed the brush at her, “Now what business would a common country girl like you have in a place like this – no pigs, no chickens, no dusty yard?” He laughed.

“I’m sure I don’t have to answer questions from a porter,” she let her own contempt show. “A boy with a hole in the ass of his pants only last month.”

Stiffening Carlos looked on the verge of lashing out he was a little too keen with his fists and was always getting into trouble for fighting. This time though he controlled himself with an obvious effort.

“Get away from here Maria, this place is for rich and important guests.”

Now that stung her pride more than a little, and she didn’t know how to answer the cruel rebuff. Before she could even try a sharp, arrogant voice called from within the hotel. “Carlos, where are you?”

Losing his cocky strut at once the youth assumed a more cringing and submissive posture, “Here sir.” He said in a wheedling voice, he was obviously talking to his boss.

“Get into the restaurant at once there are tables that need clearing.”

“Yes sir, at once.” Carlos stammered then threw Maria a foul look. She said,

“Well, run along little Carlos your master has cracked his whip.”

Faced with little choice he spat at her feet and disappeared, waiting just five seconds she slowly entered the domain of the important and rich. My goodness she thought, how clean it is everything polished and wiped until it shone. The floor was so bright she could have eaten her dinner off it, and the curtains were made of lovely rose coloured silk.

Upon each table was a cream coloured cotton cloth and on this stood a crystal vase contained carnations – pink, red and yellow ones in full bloom. Around the base were silver condiments, a plastic table number and a colourful menu that said ‘compliments of the manager’. Picking up the menu Maria was astounded to see the rich variety of foods on offer – chicken, pork, pasta, paella, beef and fish. It made her mouth water just to think about such delicacies.

As there was no one around not even Carlos she swanned in between the tables, imagining herself a guest here and being fawned over by the staff. What would madam like to eat, did madam have a good night’s sleep, is there anything I can do to make madam’s stay more pleasant?

Oh yes she thought this is the life I want to lead, a life where I am privileged and pampered my every need taken care of instantly. Good food, stylish clothes, a big limo to drive around in and of course the most expensive jewels. There was only one way for a girl of humble birth like her to attain these things, marriage!

Reaching the final table she found a message on it which said – reserved for signor Castillan and guests.

So this was where the owner of the limo would sit, how she wished she was one of his guests, his lover perhaps. Making sure no one was around Maria sat down and crossed her legs, in her mind’s eye she was a rich lady from Seville or Madrid who lived in a huge hacienda with dozens of servants and a six-figure bank account, her purse full of gold credit cards and membership to the most exclusive health club in town. Nobody would call her Maria the simple country girl, she would be Senorita Castillan, wife of the great man and treated with the same deference and respect.

I’ll have the fish, she thought to herself imagining herself talking to a flunky like Carlos who would less than the dirt under her shoes. No make that the biggest paella you have with lots of prawns and pork balls, Maria chuckled at the thought of pork balls and how red Carlos’ face would turn. Yes little Carlos lots of pork balls for me to chew, and be quick about it or I’ll have your balls you ignorant little…

“What are you doing girl?”

Jumping to her feet Maria gave a little yelp and stared at a stern-featured, rather mannish looking woman in a dowdy grey business suit with her hair combed rigidly back off her scalp. Wearing small rimless spectacles that did nothing to soften her features, the woman had pinched humourless lips, a small beak of a nose and bloodless pale grey cheeks. Hardly looking human she reminded Maria of some fascist police officer in one of those propaganda films, and Maria wonder if this was the hotel manager’s wife, if so she was a terrifying creature with her whiplash of a voice and that unearthly stare of contempt.

“Do you work here girl?” Came the hectoring question, and Maria felt about two inches tall. “No clearly you don’t,” the fascist woman concluded noting Maria’s lack of a uniform. “Perhaps you’re a thief then come to steal the cutlery.”

This was an outrageous accusation and Maria leapt to her own defence, “no!” She shrieked at the top of her voice.

Cold green eyes regarded her, “Some local floozy then here to try her luck with one of the staff, a common tart.”

Cheeks reddening Maria felt her Spanish temper rise, “I am no whore.” She shouted, “But I am a woman of passion – unlike you!”

A curiously cold smile played its way over the narrow, uncharitable lips and slowly the fascist police officer walked towards her like a cat playing with a mouse.

“A woman of passion,” she repeated mockingly and for the first time Maria felt she was in some physical danger from this bloodless creature. “Well now child that remains to be seen, you don’t look all that impressive to me.” Coming right up to M the woman pinched her chin between thumb and forefinger, yanking her head first one way then the other.

“Good bone structure, I’ll give you that with nice high cheekbones and a strong chin.” A sniff then, “Decent eyes to with a clear bright colour, full of pride and lust.” A short cough then, “Lustrous hair well looked after and just the right length for your height.”

Letting go the fascist let her eyes dip, “A good firm bust always important for a girl and with a trim waist and wide childbearing hips. Yes not a bad package, not exceptional but not bad. You may marry a more intelligent type of peasant and have 3 or 4 children, but you can never aspire to anything better than that.”

Enraged and insulted she actually extended a hand and shoved the fascist back on her flat-heeled shoes, nobody told her what she could and couldn’t do or what the future held. “You,” she said disdainfully. “Don’t know anything about me, I’m going to do a lot better than a mere peasant or even someone like you.”

Now there was blood in the grey cheeks and Maria knew she’d hit a nerve, that this creature could be ruffled out of her stride, well good because the tongue-lashing had only just started.

“How dare you, you common little trollop.”

“Shut your mouth you plain as a pikestaff little office clerk,” Maria barked and now she had the upper hand, turning the tables fabulously on her opponent.

“I am not an office clerk,” came the response but Maria wasn’t listening.

“No you’re more like a piece of the furniture, a rather dreary bureau or perhaps an old seat with crushed upholstery.”

Fascist now had fire in her green eyes and her thin features were twisted with loathing, she raised a hand to strike but a man’s voice broke in laughingly.

“I think you’ve met your match Benita, why don’t you withdraw gracefully before this young tigress gives you an even worse mauling.”

Maria turned to look at who had spoken and her heart gave a loud boom, feeling her eyes widen and knees turn to mush she experienced a strange tingling in her stomach and a curious all over warmth. The man was more than just good looking he was debonair, stylish, tall and imposing. He looked like a prince and he spoke with culture and education, his accent soften by university. Well over six-feet in height he could have been a movie star with his thick moussed hair, his laughing cobalt eyes and his perfectly even white teeth. He had a strong chin, a kind but intelligent face and very wide shoulders that spoke of physical strength. He wore a dark Armani evening jacket, a silken shirt, a red and gold Madrid necktie and gold cufflinks. His black Gucci shoes shone in the soft light and made not a sound as he prowled to the foot of the stairs to stare at the two women. This Maria knew just had to be Jose Castillan owner of the limo, and the hotel’s most important guest.

She’d never seen anyone like him outside of a film, he could have come from a totally different planet and he just oozed wealth and sophistication. Benita actually bowed to him, well it was a deep nod then and she scuttled away like a toy soldier. Coming over the man actually extended his hand, “Don’t let Benita bother you my dear, it’s just her way. I am Signor Castillan and who might you be.”

Finding she could hardly speak Maria cleared her throat with an effort, “I am Maria Anna-Fortuna Alvarez.”

Taking her small hand in his huge one he didn’t shake it, he raised it to his lips and kissed it just like a prince in a fairy tale.

“I am honoured to meet you Maria, you have a beautiful name.”

Nobody had ever said that to her before and her stomach turned over, threatening to jump up into her mouth. Jose wore an expensive after shave that was more like a woman’s perfume, not at all like the coarse alcohol based slop her father or brother used that made then stink like donkeys on heat.