Return to Fourwinds by Elisabeth Gifford Read Free Book Online

‘Eat up, boys.’ He pushed slices of tortilla omelette and grilled sardines onto Tom’s plate – and onto Ralph’s.
    â€˜So, how’s your mother?’ he said to Tom.
    Tom nodded. ‘Well.’
    There was a small silence. Ralph had also put a large napkin round his neck and was dipping fried potatoes into garlic mayonnaise. His eyes went from Tom to Mr Gardiner.
    Then Tom broke into a string of funny tales about his sisters and him, and Mr Gardiner leaned forward and took them all in, exhaling huge belly laughs. Ralph listened and thought how it might feel, to be there, in the English garden with Tom, playing cricket and rescuing the dog from the water and annoying the old lady next door.
    The night was mild. Music was playing over towards the bullring. They walked down the broad avenue past the tall buildings with their flaking plaster and ornate balconies. A sudden volley of harsh cracks exploded above the rooftops, opening out in red and silver flowers. Fireworks from the film show over in the bullring.
    â€˜How about going to the flicks?’ said Mr Gardiner, happy to prolong the evening.
    In front of the entrance to the bullring, a lady in a sparkly evening dress and exaggerated make-up was shouting invitations to come in and see the film. She blew a kiss at Mr Gardiner.
    Mr Gardiner brought them each a cone of hot, fried churros from a street seller. Shedding white icing dust on their chins, they went in through the grand entrance. Ralph thought how anyone watching them would see a boy with his father and his older brother; he felt a wave of borrowed pride, and an odd sort of homesickness, half wishing it might be true.
    The sandy bullring was strung round with a line of electric light bulbs. A large white sheet was pegged up on a wire, faint creases rippling the picture. Loudspeakers were blaring triumphant bull-fighting tunes full of horns and accordions. Above the screen hung a round moon as close and as bright as a lamp.
    They sat squashed up in the wooden folding chairs, Ralph bellowing with laughter at the Marx brothers. After a while Ralph realised that Mr Gardiner had gone from his end seat. He looked round and saw that familiar shape standing in the dark shadows at the back. He was talking with a man, his head bent as if listening hard.
    Later, while the audience was laughing loudly, Ralph jumped, realising that Mr Gardiner was next to him, speaking into his ear.
    â€˜Ferdie, old chap. You can show Tom the way back to the flat when this is over?’
    When Ralph next looked round Mr Gardiner was gone.

    It was up to Ralph to keep Tom company in the afternoons, when everyone else was busy; something he looked forward to each day. They stayed in the apartment and Consuelo joined them at the dining table to play cards and smoke cigarettes. Or they walked through Valencia, and Tom explained how school wouldn’t be so bad next time. ‘Just a question of knowing a thing or two about people. You just need to take your time, watch how the other fellows work. Theyhave their reasons and their logic for doing stuff, d’you see? And once you understand that you can step round them.’
    Ralph nodded, but he was sure he wouldn’t ever have to go back to a school like that awful place in the wet English countryside with the boys and their constant small wars. He would stay in Valencia with Mama, with Consuelo’s generous stews scented with pimentón , and always the bulky but elusive presence of Mr Gardiner.
    The night after Tom left Ralph got out the small cigar box with the two letters that his real father had sent from Chile, and his father’s gold watch from Flora and Cecily. He put the watch against his ear. The secret clicks and grinds of the mechanism lit up inside his head, keeping their old vigil. He thought of Mr Gardiner’s shining happiness when he first hugged Tom at the station, and he wondered what it would be like to have your own father