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did not welcome the marriage but she accepted it, as she accepted the country’s dictate that a young lady of good breeding is not free to choose her own husband. Honour demanded that she respect her parents’ wishes, and so she resolved to make her chosen novio a good and obedient wife, hoping perhaps that love would come later as it sometimes did in an arranged marriage.
    She knew it was wrong to look at the handsome young Englishman. She slid him the briefest of glances, knowing that reputations, and hearts, have been lost for less. The one glance became two, and three, and four. Their meetings, because inevitably they did meet, were brief and clandestine, and after each one Inez wept because she was extraordinarily pure. No man’s hands had even as much as spanned her waist and now she was not only allowing a man to make love to her (in the most innocent sense of the word) but responding hungrily to his kisses. Then suddenly the kisses weren’t enough. It must have slain the sweet young Inez to permit a deeper intimacy, but she was very much in love and so she risked the wrath and ruination that was eventually her lot.
    Her father called her a reckless, sinful girl, but he attended the hastily arranged wedding, and his heavily lidded eyes contained a shine that looked suspiciously like tears.
    Anita never knew for certain whether it was shame that kept Inez from her father’s house, or whether it was because he requested it. Once, curiosity pushed Anita to ask. But no reply was forthcoming. Instead she was told to practise her scales.
    She remembered climbing up on to the old piano stool and feeling the piano keys cold beneath her fingers. Soon, the painfully picked-out notes blotted out her thoughts. Even then, crucifying music, she had loved it. Perhaps one day she might take it up again. She had lost too much time to hope to pick up where she had left off and, in any case, she no longer had the dedication to achieve her earlier ambitions. But, she could still make music her profession, in a teaching capacity perhaps.
    She slept then. She must have been very tired because she slept through the recognized hours of siesta and into the hours of evening. When she drew back the shutters the sky was no longer full of yellow glare, but radiated a gentle, fading light, and the horizon was brushed with shades of afterglow. Very exciting, very dramatic; she felt not only newly awakened, but vitally alive.
    The telephone, situated on the table by her bed, suddenly rang. Her heels clicked sharply on the tiled floor as she went to answer it. Anticipating the caller would be Edward to query how long she was going to be, she said: “We can go and buy my toothbrush now. I’m dressed. I’ve even got my shoes on.”
    â€œReally? Both shoes? I’m delighted to hear it. It means your ankle must be better.”
    â€œIt is. Almost. But that isn’t Edward.”
    â€œNo.”
    That ‘no’ tumbled into her senses with the sweetness of wine.
    â€œFelipe?” The recognition in her voice must have made him smile because it was spiced with ecstasy.
    â€œI rang to enquire after your health, but, I wonder, may I be permitted to escort you on your shopping expedition? For a toothbrush, you said?”
    â€œAnd certain other necessary items.”
    â€œI won’t ask what items.”
    â€œI wouldn’t tell you if you did. And I’m sorry, but I’ve already got an escort.”
    â€œOf course. Edward.”
    â€œYes, Edward.”
    â€œIn that case, adiós. ”
    â€œ Adiós, ” she said wistfully.
    She had only just replaced the receiver when a knock sounded on the door. This time it was Edward.
    â€œEdward, why did you want to come to Leyenda?”
    â€œI didn’t. You did.”
    â€œNo, Edward. You were equally as enthusiastic.”
    He smiled at her over the rim of his glass, took a sip of his Spanish wine. Admitted: