comment. She realised that where Elena was concerned she must choose her words carefully and at least try to appear neutral.
“Now you must always pray that the weather will keep fine,” Adrienne continued. “One year we started out in bright sunshine, but thunder clouds descended from the mountains. All Sitges was drenched with rain and the flower carpets were spoilt.”
Nicola realised that all the rest of the party must have visited Sitges at Corpus Christi many times, yet Ramon and Adrienne at least were taking the trouble to show her one of the loveliest of their local sights.
The drive itself was exciting, sometimes hair-raising, for Ramon swung at top speed round sinuous bends along the winding coast road, where a slight error of judgment could send the car and its occupants plunging over the edge to the rocks below.
The little town of Sitges was crowded with tourists and inhabitants alike. The narrow pavements served as margins from which to view the roadways completely carpeted with flowers, each street with its own individual pattern. Some designs showed giant cherries, nasturtiums and red and yellow canna lilies on a background of white jasmine. Another took the conventional geometrical motifs and worked them in green, yellow and red, so that the whole appeared like a huge stair-carpet unrolled in the roadway.
“Hours of work it must take,” commented Nicola.
“Many days,” agreed Adrienne. “But everyone helps. The inhabitants regard the ‘ Alfombras de flores ’—the flower carpets—as a kind of fancy dress for their town for this one day, and they put in their spare time and money making its costume.”
After they had toured the various streets, Ramon suggested lunch at a restaurant in the old part of the town towards the end of the bay where a church on massive ramparts jutted out almost into the sea.
Dr. Montal became more genial during the meal, helping Nicola to understand the various dishes.
“You must try this white wine,” he invited, showing her the label on the bottle, Priorato blanc.
Almost at once Dona Elena claimed his attention, and Nicola found when she looked across the table Ramon’s dark twinkling gaze fixed on her.
“You are enjoying yourself?” he queried.
“Oh, yes,” Nicola agreed easily. “Who wouldn’t on a day like this?”
He nodded approval. “Together we must have many days of showing you places and interesting sights.”
His smile was suddenly extinguished and he bent his head to concentrate on his food. Nicola, aware of the abrupt break, glanced beyond Sebastian who sat next to her to Dona Elena at the head of the table. Indoors, Dona Elena had discarded her usual heavily-smoked glasses and now Nicola caught an expression of ice-cold dislike in those green-brown eyes. Momentarily, Elena maintained her gaze, but Nicola looked away first. She felt that she was caught here in shafts of cross-fire that she did not know how to parry.
After lunch and a long rest for coffee and liqueurs, Sebastian suggested that Nicola might like to visit two very interesting museums close by.
“One was originally a Basque-style house where three painters lived for a few years. One of the three was Picasso.”
Touring the lovely old house with its typical Basque furnishings, Nicola stood entranced by those earlier paintings, gentle pictures of harmony.
The other small museum, Sebastian told her when they arrived, had been bought and completely restored by an American millionaire who then gave half to the town and the other half to his son.
“The division is curious,” Sebastian said. “You see the blocked doorway ahead. It happens to be on a bridge across the roadway.”
“Perhaps it was meant to be symbolic,” Nicola observed. “A door between public property and private.”
The doctor gave her a sharp questioning glance, but made no further comment.
When Sebastian and Nicola rejoined the others to walk along the palm-edged promenade, Ramon escorted her,
“Now you must always pray that the weather will keep fine,” Adrienne continued. “One year we started out in bright sunshine, but thunder clouds descended from the mountains. All Sitges was drenched with rain and the flower carpets were spoilt.”
Nicola realised that all the rest of the party must have visited Sitges at Corpus Christi many times, yet Ramon and Adrienne at least were taking the trouble to show her one of the loveliest of their local sights.
The drive itself was exciting, sometimes hair-raising, for Ramon swung at top speed round sinuous bends along the winding coast road, where a slight error of judgment could send the car and its occupants plunging over the edge to the rocks below.
The little town of Sitges was crowded with tourists and inhabitants alike. The narrow pavements served as margins from which to view the roadways completely carpeted with flowers, each street with its own individual pattern. Some designs showed giant cherries, nasturtiums and red and yellow canna lilies on a background of white jasmine. Another took the conventional geometrical motifs and worked them in green, yellow and red, so that the whole appeared like a huge stair-carpet unrolled in the roadway.
“Hours of work it must take,” commented Nicola.
“Many days,” agreed Adrienne. “But everyone helps. The inhabitants regard the ‘ Alfombras de flores ’—the flower carpets—as a kind of fancy dress for their town for this one day, and they put in their spare time and money making its costume.”
After they had toured the various streets, Ramon suggested lunch at a restaurant in the old part of the town towards the end of the bay where a church on massive ramparts jutted out almost into the sea.
Dr. Montal became more genial during the meal, helping Nicola to understand the various dishes.
“You must try this white wine,” he invited, showing her the label on the bottle, Priorato blanc.
Almost at once Dona Elena claimed his attention, and Nicola found when she looked across the table Ramon’s dark twinkling gaze fixed on her.
“You are enjoying yourself?” he queried.
“Oh, yes,” Nicola agreed easily. “Who wouldn’t on a day like this?”
He nodded approval. “Together we must have many days of showing you places and interesting sights.”
His smile was suddenly extinguished and he bent his head to concentrate on his food. Nicola, aware of the abrupt break, glanced beyond Sebastian who sat next to her to Dona Elena at the head of the table. Indoors, Dona Elena had discarded her usual heavily-smoked glasses and now Nicola caught an expression of ice-cold dislike in those green-brown eyes. Momentarily, Elena maintained her gaze, but Nicola looked away first. She felt that she was caught here in shafts of cross-fire that she did not know how to parry.
After lunch and a long rest for coffee and liqueurs, Sebastian suggested that Nicola might like to visit two very interesting museums close by.
“One was originally a Basque-style house where three painters lived for a few years. One of the three was Picasso.”
Touring the lovely old house with its typical Basque furnishings, Nicola stood entranced by those earlier paintings, gentle pictures of harmony.
The other small museum, Sebastian told her when they arrived, had been bought and completely restored by an American millionaire who then gave half to the town and the other half to his son.
“The division is curious,” Sebastian said. “You see the blocked doorway ahead. It happens to be on a bridge across the roadway.”
“Perhaps it was meant to be symbolic,” Nicola observed. “A door between public property and private.”
The doctor gave her a sharp questioning glance, but made no further comment.
When Sebastian and Nicola rejoined the others to walk along the palm-edged promenade, Ramon escorted her,
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