Page 128 of The Seven Sisters
‘Yes,’ agreed Bel as she blew her nose on a handkerchief he passed her. ‘Forgive me, Laurent, but Gustavo and Luiza were so cold when I told them that I thought you would be too,’ she confessed.
‘I’ll refrain from comment on your husband and mother-in-law, but I can assure you there is only sympathy for you in my heart. Besides’ – his eyes twinkled suddenly and a smile came to his lips – ‘I have the luscious Alessandra Silveira to keep me company until you come back.’
‘Laurent—’
‘Izabela, you know I am only teasing you. She might be attractive to look at from the outside, but she has the personality of the rock I am fashioning her from,’ he chuckled.
‘I saw the photograph in the newspaper the other day of you at Parque Lage, attending a charity gala hosted by the famous Gabriella Besanzoni,’ Bel commented morosely.
‘Yes, it seems I’m quite the toast of Rio presently. But you know it means nothing without you,chérie. Just as I hope your life is as empty without me.’
‘It is,’ she answered vehemently.
‘And your father? How is he?’
‘Broken,’ Bel shrugged sadly. ‘Part of the reason Mãe wants to go to thefazendais to spare him the pain of watching her slowly die. He will visit when he can. If I were in her shoes, I would wish for the same. Men are not good with illness.’
‘Most men, I agree. But please don’t tar us all with the same brush,’ Laurent chided her. ‘If it were you dying, I’d like to think that I’d be there for you. Will I see you again before you leave?’
‘No, forgive me but I cannot, Laurent. I have many things I must do, including an appointment with my mother’s doctor so that he can give me the necessary pills and some morphine for her when the time comes.’
‘Then let us waste no more time, and spend the last few hours we have only thinking of each other.’ Laurent stood and pulled her up, then led her in the direction of the bedroom.
41
Bel felt a terrible air of finality as her father helped a weak Carla into the back of the Rolls-Royce. As Antonio climbed into the driver’s seat and Loen sat in front with him, Bel settled her mother next to her with pillows to support her fragile body. When Antonio started the engine and began to pull out of the drive, Bel watched her mother strain her neck to look back at her home. Bel understood Carla knew that this was the last time she would ever see it.
On arrival at thefazenda, Fabiana struggled to drag a bright smile to her lips as she greeted her frail mistress. Exhausted after the journey, Carla staggered as Antonio helped her from the car. Immediately, he swept his wife into his arms and carried her inside.
During the next few days, Bel felt redundant, as Antonio, knowing he must soon leave to attend to his worsening business situation in Rio, spent every waking moment with Carla. His devotion to her brought tears to both Fabiana’s and Bel’s eyes as they sat in the kitchen together, currently unwanted either by the patient or her unlikely nurse.
‘I wouldn’t have thought your father had it in him,’ said Fabiana for the hundredth time as she mopped her eyes. ‘Such love for a woman . . . it breaks my heart.’
‘Yes,’ sighed Bel. ‘And mine too.’
The only member of the household who was happy – but was doing her best to hide it given the circumstances – was Loen, who was reunited with Bruno. Bel had granted her maid an initial few days off, knowing there was little for her to do with Antonio so devoted to caring for his wife. But equally, how she would be needed as Carla’s time drew nearer.
Bel watched again in envy as Loen and Bruno spent every hour they could together, their love prompting thoughts of how much had changed since she was last at thefazenda. At least the time she had gave her the chance to write long letters of love to Laurent, which she handed surreptitiously to Loen to post when she and Bruno took a walk into the nearby village. Laurent replied regularly, addressing his letters to Loen as they had discussed. Reading them over and over, Bel felt she had never missed him more.
As for her husband, Bel thought about him as little as she could. Despite the dreadful circumstances, she was simply relieved to be away from the claustrophobic and miserable atmosphere of the Casa and the realisation that she was married to a man she now actively despised.
Ten days after they’d arrived at thefazenda, Antonio, looking grey and drawn, took his leave. Clasping Bel to him and on the verge of tears, he kissed her on both cheeks.
‘I will be back next Friday evening, but for God’s sake, Izabela, please call me every day to let me know how she is. And if I need to come sooner, you must let me know. No secrets any more, please?’
‘I will do as you ask, Pai, but Mãe at least seems settled for now.’
With a nod of despair, Antonio climbed into the Rolls-Royce and drove off at a pace down the drive, sending a shower of dust and gravel into the air from beneath the tyres.
*
Gustavo sat in his club reading the newspaper and noticed that the library was empty this afternoon. Apparently, President Washington Luís had called the major coffee producers together for an emergency meeting on the tumbling bean prices, and at lunchtime the restaurant had been deserted too.
As he drained his third whisky, Gustavo thought about his wife and her pale, drawn features when she had said goodbye to him three weeks ago. Since she’d been away, he’d missed her terribly. The household seemed to have contracted without her presence, reverting to how it had been before Izabela had married him.
The fact that his mother continued to treat him as a naughty little boy, patronising him constantly, seemed even more obvious with his wife missing from his side. And his father still assumed he was equally inept on the financial side of things, brushing away his tentative enquiries into the running of the family coffers as if he was an irritating fly.
Ordering another whisky, Gustavo grimaced at the thought of his initial cold response to his wife’s news about her mother. He’d always prided himself on his sympathetic nature, which his mother had sniffed at when he’d been a child, if he’d cried over a dead bird in the garden or a beating from his father.
