Secrets

I sat in the rocking chair on the veranda, soaking up the Spanish sun. Looking out onto the vast lawns that stretched before me, a smile formed on my lips. I couldn’t quite believe that all this was now mine.

I could hear my mum and sister in the kitchen putting lunch together. Some Serrano ham, salads, a loaf of bread from the baker and a pichet of Tempranillo. My mouth began to water in anticipation.  At least mother and Chrissie had got used to the idea that the estate was mine. It wasn’t as if I was going to be a strict gatekeeper of the house. It was here for all of us to use – I was the last person to put down any restrictions. But I suppose it was the principle that stung them. Why did Aunt Mathilde leave her house to me and not to Chrissie and me or even just mum, after all she was her only sister.

Nothing weighs on us so heavily 
as a secret.
~ Jean de la Fontaine

I got up from the rocking chair and started to set the table. I used all my energy to shift the heavy marble stand to a shaded area of the balcony. Mum was never good in the sun.  It was then that I noticed the shadow cast on the orange pillar that framed the veranda. I looked to the right to see where the shadow was being cast from and located it just meters away from where I had been sitting. How had I not noticed this before? The shape was most definitely that of Mathilde! I walked over to it to examine the bust further. It looked like it had recently been moved.

The face looked intense like Mathilde was trying to say something. The gaze of the statue pointed me towards a large cicada in the garden. I don’t know whatpulled me towards the tree, but I walked several meters over to it and in the trunk there was a hole. Instinctively I put my hand through the space and felt around. There was something in there: a letter. I pulled it out and held it in my hands. ‘Angelica’ was scrawled across the envelope in Mathilde’s hand; a letter addressed to me. 

I looked back up towards the balcony; Chrissie and mum were waving me over. I turned back towards the tree and slit open the letter with my fingernail. Slowly, I read through the sheets of onionskin paper carefully put together by my aunt. Once I read through them I read it again. unable to believe what she had said. I heard footsteps behind me and quickly slipped the letter in my pocket.

“Come on Ange, didn’t you see us calling.” It was Chrissie. “What are you doing out here?”

“Oh nothing. I just wanted to see the garden.”

“Well come and have lunch. I am starving.”

Chrissie put her arm around me as we walked back towards mum.  I no longer had an appetite though  because now I knew why Mathilde had left all this to me.


About the photo: This photo was taken at the Alhambra in Granada on a crisp December morning.