The Paul & Jenny Stories Pt. 15e

"Help me." I heard Miguel call.

We hurried out of the room both Roddrego and I picking up a rifle and the men's ammunition bandoleers in passing and followed the sound of Miguel's voice.

There were three girls in the room. All three were naked. They were huddled in a corner trying to make themselves as small as possible. You didn't need to see the bloodied thighs and the bruised bodies to know they had been abused. They told you with their eyes.

They cowered away from Miguel who sensibly did not approach them. I could see recognition then relief sweep over them as if a wave as first I then Roddrego entered the room. They threw themselves at his feet crying, talking then screaming. We comforted them as best we could but it seemed an age before they calmed enough for us to ask them any questions.

When we did it was to discover that Roddrego's father and mother were at the Convent higher up the valley and that the Chief of Staff had returned for the domestic staff when the Communist troops had arrived in search of drink, money and woman. They had found enough of each in the end. But it had cost them dear.

We managed to get the girls dressed and made our way back to the main entrance. They moved slowly, obviously in pain.

I looked out of the front door just as the first Communist soldiers returned. I saw them examining our Truck and tipping out the bodies of Juan and Marguita then they turned their attention towards the Villa.

Jenny.

June 1972.

I watched as Mary replaced the photograph inside the envelope. She placed her hand on mine.

"It was in 1949. I'd only been married nine months. Paul's father had qualified as an Accountant and he was working for a company in Bristol for two years. To widen his experience as his father had said. We were living in number 27. Do you like that house? I loved it?"

"So do I." I agreed.

"Natasha had to go into hospital for an operation. I agreed to stay in their flat in London whist she was in and for a few days after until she was back on her feet. Alistair was so busy. He'd leave early in the mornings and not return until late at night so I hardly saw him for the first few days. Natasha's operation didn't go as well as expected and she had to stay in hospital for longer than originally planned. I agreed to stay on. Roland suddenly had more time. I think that whatever he had been working on was finished. He had obviously been under a lot of strain. We'd both gone to visit Natasha that evening. Seven o'clock had come and visiting hour was over and we had stopped off in the Restaurant at the end of the street for supper. We'd drunk a bottle of wine and a Brandy afterwards. Normally I had found Alistair a little remote and aloof but not tonight. He was brighter and more cheerful than I'd ever seen him before. Natasha would get better. His work was finished. He made me laugh out loud. I couldn't think what the other diners must have thought. Me, a young girl in her early twenties with a man in his fifties. No, I think I could imagine what they thought."

"We strolled arm in arm back to the flat and Alistair had opened a bottle of champagne. We shared the piano stool while he played. One handed. His artificial hand resting on his lap. He played that tune. The one Paul played that night on his twenty-first birthday. I closed my eyes whilst he did and it was as if it were Alistair playing."

(note: see An Hour before Mass/A Birthday Treat)

My eyes were filling.

"He stopped once, Alistair that is, and looked down at his lap. So much talent was lost to the world that day in France. I never managed to get him to talk about it. Perhaps I would have in time but I didn't know then that time wasn't something he would have. Three years. That was all."

"He continued to play. Other tunes. All were sad and beautiful. We sipped our champagne then he turned my face towards him and he kissed me. Gently. Our lips hardly more than touching. He looked quickly away. I pulled his head back. This time our kiss wasn't gentle."

Lights from outside lit up the front room curtains and I heard the crunching of the car wheels on the gravel.

"That will be David. He doesn't know. I thought it right that you should."

She stood up and walked towards the front door to greet her husband. The tears streamed down my face.