‘And-him?’
‘You want to know if I love you as I loved Roderigo? No, I don’t. And I’m glad of it. You should be too. There was always something wrong with that love, and now I know what. He wasn’t worth loving. That’s the greatest pain of all, to waste love on someone who isn’t worth it. I shall never know that pain with you.’
She tossed the letter into the fire, then lifted the photograph and studied it, while Sebastian never took his eyes from her.
‘It’s there, isn’t it?’ she said at last. ‘The slyness and meanness-it was there in his face all the time. But I wouldn’t let myself see it.’
With a quick movement she cast the picture into the flames where it shrivelled. The last thing they saw was Roderigo’s face curling up, blurring, vanishing.
‘He’s gone at last,’ Maggie said. ‘Now there is only us.’
‘Only us,’ he echoed, taking her into his arms. ‘Yes, only us. Forever.’
In the church of San Nicolas the Christmas greenery was piled high about the pulpit, the font, up against the walls. Down below, the lights glowed softly over the manger. The wooden child lay in the crib, his arms stretched slightly upward to the living baby looking down at him from wide dark eyes.
‘Look, my darling,’ Sebastian murmured. ‘He is greeting you. Say hello to him.’
‘Sebastian,’ Maggie chided him, smiling, ‘she’s only three months old.’
‘No matter,’ he said. ‘In years to come she’ll know that she came here in her father’s arms. She may not remember, but she will
‘A beautiful child,’ Father Basilio said, reaching up to lay a finger against the baby’s cheek. And then, being-for all his sanctity-a man and a Spaniard, he added consolingly, ‘And the next one will probably be a boy.’
‘Don’t let Sebastian hear you say that,’ Catalina laughed. ‘He thinks his little Margarita is a queen.’
‘Fate sends what fate sends,’ Sebastian said, straightening up and settling his baby daughter lovingly against his shoulder. ‘Fate sent this little one to be a jewel for her Papa.’
‘Who’s that in the doorway?’ the priest asked, screwing up his eyes against the poor light.
‘Jose and Alfonso,’ Sebastian said, ‘waiting to see who will be honoured with this baggage’s company on the way home. It’s time you decided between them, Catalina. You are bringing scandal on my house.’
Catalina went down the aisle to where Jose and Alfonso waited humbly. The old priest followed her to greet them.
Sebastian looked over the baby’s head at his wife. He had more than one jewel, but he never spoke of the other one to outsiders, only to her. Maggie smiled at him, then looked back at the crib, touching the wooden baby with a gentle hand.
‘That was how I saw you this time last year,’ Sebastian reminded her. ‘And I think I understood in that moment that you were far more to me than a woman I had tried and failed to conquer. You touched my heart, and that was when I began to be afraid.’
‘Afraid? You?’
‘You sought no quarter and you gave none. It was I who yielded. And I have been glad ever since. You took a robot, and brought him to life.’ He kissed his child. ‘And only life can give life.’
His wife reached up to where his cheek lay against their baby’s head, caressing them both at the same time. ‘Let’s go home now,’ she said fondly. ‘Life is only just beginning.’
They walked out of the church together. At the door she looked back at the Christmas scene and smiled, but she didn’t linger.
It would be there again next year.
Lucy Gordon
Lucy Gordon cut her writing teeth on magazine journalism, interviewing many of the world’s most interesting men, including Warren Beatty, Richard Chamberlain, Sir Roger Moore, Sir Alec Guinness, and Sir John Gielgud. She also camped out with lions in Africa and had many other unusual experiences which have often provided the background for her books. She is married to a Venetian, whom she met while on holiday in Venice. They got engaged within two days.
You can visit her website at www. lucy-gordon. com and look out for
