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ePaper created 2014-06-22, 15:43:25 | version 1.31.00
29The English Newspaper for Gran Canaria TheCanaryNews.com News, Views & Sunshine Summer 2014 ‘Ellen, this is my husband. Gavin, my new friend, Ellen. It’s high time you two met.’ Queenie stood tall with Gavin – my Gavin – at her side. He was almost a head shorter than her. I scarcely reached his chin. She smiled. It took me a while to register what she was saying. A buzz of voices. The club was full. Members and guests were milling around, talking to each other. Polite conversation. Chit-chat. I think it was a dinner dance to celebrate something or other. I don’t remember what. With cocktails first so that folk could mix. Gavin, calm, in control, took my hand in his, professed himself pleased to meet me, his blue eyes intent on mine. I couldn’t move, couldn’t say a word. I don’t know how I got through the rest of that evening. I couldn’t believe it. I had given my virginity and, more im- portantly, my heart, to a married man, the husband of my only friend on the island. How could I have been so naïve, so gullible? I would have nothing more to do with him. Ever. He phoned me, left memos in my pigeonhole at work, notes in my letter box. I put the receiver down, refused to talk to him tore up the memos and notes without reading them. He cornered me at work and begged to be given a chance to explain. He managed to persuade me to meet him in a bar, a public place, but not too public. He leant over the table and whispered in my ear. What did he tell me? That he had pursued me because I was so beautiful he couldn’t help it. What young woman wouldn’t be flattered by that? ‘You shouldn’t even think about someone else in that way when you are married,’ I told him. ‘Oh Ellen, you’re so young, so innocent. You see the world in black and white. Things aren’t as clear-cut as that.’ ‘I think being married and making love to someone else is very clear-cut. It’s wrong.’ ‘You must know, my darling, that Queenie and I, well, we like each other well enough and try to be good parents to our daughter, but we are more like brother and sister than husband and wife. We’ve slept in separate rooms for years. Don’t judge me too harshly, Ellen. Don’t blame me for falling in love with you.’ ‘It’s over,’ I told him. ‘How can you say that, when you know how much you love me?’ he asked. It was true. I did love him, but I swore I would never make love to him again. The strange thing was that, from that moment on, my friendship with Queenie grew. Maybe I wanted to make it up to her for any damage I might have done to her mar- riage. She seemed to have made up her mind to be friends with me and that was that. As I said, she appropriated me. She was a person it was difficult to refuse. It was at Queenie’s suggestion that I began to spend more time in their villa in Palmeral Viejo, a kind of oasis of calm in the centre of the city, and there I saw a different side to Gavin. He spent hours with Barbara, taking an interest in the things that meant the most to her: her love of animals, her interest in science and her fascination with Canarian festi- vals. In contrast, I couldn’t help feeling that Queenie was over strict with their daughter and didn’t show her much affection. ‘One parent fussing over her is more than enough,’ Queenie said. ‘I tell Gavin he spoils her, but he takes no notice. I am left with the result. A spoilt brat. No wonder I have my work cut out trying to bring her up properly.’ I was shocked by the way Queenie grumbled about her husband. It seemed there was little he could do to please her. As Gavin had said, they slept in separate bedrooms, an arrangement that appeared to suit Queenie very well. If I were married to Gavin I couldn’t imagine any circum- stances that would make me banish him to the spare room. But I wasn’t married to him and never would be. I continued to refuse to speak to him alone, refused to answer his persistent letters assuring me that he loved me. I put the phone down when he called, determined not to have anything to do with him. I convinced myself I was over him. Betrayed by Jeannie van Rompaey Part Five