Read Our Man In Havana for Free Online Page A

I?’
    ‘Seraphina. Isn’t it just like the hand of God?’
    ‘But, Milly, I can’t possibly afford …’
    ‘You needn’t pay for her all at once. She’s a chestnut.’
    ‘What difference does the colour make?’
    ‘She’s in the stud-book. Out of Santa Teresa by Ferdinand of Castile. She would have cost twice as much, but she fouled a fetlock jumping wire. There’s nothing wrong, only a kind of lump, so they can’t show her.’
    ‘I don’t mind if it’s a quarter the price. Business is too bad, Milly.’
    ‘But I’ve explained to you, you needn’t pay all at once. You can pay over the years.’
    ‘And I’ll still be paying for it when it’s dead.’
    ‘She’s not an it, she’s a she, and Seraphina will last much longer than a car. She’ll probably last longer than you will.’
    ‘But, Milly, your trips out to the stables, and the stabling alone …’
    ‘I’ve talked about all that with Captain Segura. He’s offering me a rock-bottom price. He wanted to give me free stabling, but I knew you wouldn’t like me to take favours.’
    ‘Who’s Captain Segura, Milly?’
    ‘The head police officer in Vedado.’
    ‘Where on earth did you meet him?’
    ‘Oh, he often gives me a lift to Lamparilla in his car.’
    ‘Does Reverend Mother know about this?’
    Milly said stiffly, ‘One must have one’s private life.’
    ‘Listen, Milly, I can’t afford a horse, you can’t afford all this – stuff. You’ll have to take it back.’ He added with fury, ‘And I won’t have you taking lifts from Captain Segura.’
    ‘Don’t worry. He never touches me,’ Milly said. ‘He only sings sad Mexican songs while he drives. About flowers and death. And one about a bull.’
    ‘I won’t have it, Milly. I shall speak to Reverend Mother, you’ve got to promise …’ He could see under the dark brows how the green and amber eyes contained the coming tears. Wormold felt the approach of panic; just so his wife had looked at him one blistering October afternoon when six years of life suddenly ended. He said, ‘You aren’t in love, are you, with this Captain Segura?’
    Two tears chased each other with a kind of elegance round the curve of a cheek-bone and glittered like the harness on the wall; they were part of her equipment too. ‘I don’t care a damn about Captain Segura,’ Milly said. ‘It’s just Seraphina I care about. She’s fifteen hands and she’s got a mouth like velvet, everybody says so.’
    ‘Milly dear, you know that if I could manage it …’
    ‘Oh, I knew you’d take it like this,’ Milly said. ‘I knew it in my heart of hearts. I said two novenas to make it come right, but they haven’t worked. I was so careful too. I was in a state of grace all the time I said them. I’ll never believe in a novena again. Never. Never.’ Her voice had the lingering resonance of Poe’s Raven. He had no faith himself, but he never wanted by any action of his own to weaken hers. Now he felt a fearful responsibility; at any moment she would be denying the existence of God. Ancient promises he had made came up out of the past to weaken him.
    He said, ‘Milly, I’m sorry …’
    ‘I’ve done two extra Masses as well.’ She shovelled on to his shoulders all her disappointment in the old familiar magic. It was all very well talking about the easy tears of a child, but if you are a father you can’t take risks as a schoolteacher can or a governess. Who knows whether there may not be a moment in childhood when the world changes for ever, like making a face when the clock strikes?
    ‘Milly, I promise if it’s possible next year … Listen, Milly, you can keep the saddle till then, and all the rest of the stuff.’
    ‘What’s the good of a saddle without a horse? And I told Captain Segura …’
    ‘Damn Captain Segura – what did you tell him?’
    ‘I told him I had only to ask you for Seraphina and you’d give her to me. I said you were wonderful. I didn’t tell him about the