Bianca saw the waiter coming back with her carafe of wine. ‘Well, I’d better go back to my own table.’
Freddie glanced across the room. ‘Are you alone too?’
Bianca nodded.
‘Well, then, will you join me? I’ve had my meal, but I’m going to have some coffee. It would be nice to have some company.’
‘I’d love to,’ Bianca said, sitting down opposite her. She looked round to wave at the waiter. He had already noticed her change of place, and came over at once with her wine. ‘Thank you,’ she said, smiling at him, and he gave her a polite, grave bow.
‘Will you have some of this?’ Bianca asked Freddie who shook her head, smiling.
‘I had a glass with my lunch, thank you; that’s more than enough for me. I get a headache if I drink much wine in the middle of the day.’ She gestured at Bianca’s plate. ‘Do eat your lunch. Ah, here comes my coffee.’
Bianca began to eat her poached salmon, which was dressed with hollandaise sauce, beautifully made, smooth and cool with a light lemon flavour. It was the perfect accompaniment to the fresh, crisp salad to which she had added a spoon of home-made vinaigrette at the buffet table.
Freddie sipped her coffee and sighed. ‘Ah, I do love good coffee, and they know how to make it here! That’s Gil, of course—he insists on his kitchens turning out good coffee as well as the best possible food.’
‘Has he always worked in hotels?’
Freddie looked up and grinned at her. ‘His family have been in the hotel business for generations; he trained in some of the best hotels in Europe. It came naturally to him, the business. He is like all hoteliers—a fanatic about detail. They have to be. Nothing escapes Gil’s eye; he notices everything. He had a hotel in Madrid when he met my sister but he sold it after their divorce, bought this place and moved down here.’
‘He owns this hotel?’
Nodding, Freddie said, ‘He wanted a change of scene. He’s not a man who likes to fail, and the failure of their marriage depressed him for a long time. For the first couple of years he was very angry, but I’m glad to find he is over that now. He has realised that Mady was the wrong woman for him—and he was the wrong man for her. Their divorce was inevitable, and you can’t fight inevitability.’
‘Is she happy with her second husband?’ asked Bianca, remembering what Gil had told her about the German millionaire his ex-wife had chosen.
‘Oh, idyllic’ Freddie met her incredulous eyes and gave her a dry, amused smile. ‘Yes, I am serious! Gil has told you about them? Look, I love Gil, Karl and I are most fond of him, but he is bitter about Mady now. She hurt him, he is over it now, but it has left him cynical about her; he is hard towards her. OK, you can understand it—he is a man, very much a man, and Mady behaved badly to him—but still, do not believe everything he says about my sister.’
‘I imagine divorce does warp the way someone feels about their ex-partner,’ Bianca murmured, pushing away her plate as she tired of her salad. She felt curiously depressed herself. When Gil had talked about his ex-wife he had not sounded as if his heart was broken, but what Freddie had said made sense. Mady had hurt him when she’d left him. Maybe under the cynicism he still loved her? He must have done once or he would never have married her in the first place, and love didn’t die just because someone walked out on you. Or died, she thought, suppressing a sigh.
Gil Marquez did not give her the impression of being the sort of man who recovered easily or quickly from a wound like that, any more than she had. She, of all people, knew what it felt like—she still missed Rob every day. His absence from her life was like a hole in the heart. Was that how it was for Gil?
‘Mady was wise to get out of a marriage that had been a mistake,’ said Freddie flatly. ‘Gil believes she left him because she wanted a richer man, but it is not true. Oh, Gustav is very, very rich, but that is not why Mady needed him. Gustav is old enough to be her father—that is true too—she is thirty, Gustav is sixty-five and already has two sons who are older than Mady. It is easy to see why Gil is cynical about what happened, but he does not see them together. Gustav makes her happy; he takes care of her, looks after her.’
Frowning, Bianca said, ‘I’d have said Gil was the sort of man to do that too.’
Freddie shrugged, spread her hands and leaned towards Bianca. ‘In some ways, that’s true, but...Mady was the last child my parents had, you see. They adored her, and they spoiled her—we all did—and in some ways she is still a little girl. Mady is not very bright, not strong-minded—oh, she is not mentally retarded, but she is childish, to be honest. Spoilt and childish, but she can be very sweet, and she is beautiful. She made a big mistake marrying Gil. They got married too quickly, before they knew each other. They both soon realised it was not working, but Gil probably wouldn’t have given up so soon; he is the sort of man who hates to admit a mistake; he would have gone on trying to change her, make her into the sort of wife he wanted and needed. He never asked himself what Mady wanted and needed. Gil scared her, made her feel inadequate; she got more and more unhappy.’
‘You’re making Gil sound very unlikeable,’ Bianca commented slowly, frowning.
‘No, no, I’m very fond of Gil—it wasn’t his fault any more than it was Mady’s. It was just a mistake for both of them. Luckily Mady met Gustav and ran away with him, and ever since she has been happy.’
‘Is he?’ asked Bianca drily. It sounded such an odd marriage—a spoilt young woman and a man old enough to be her father!
‘Gustav? Very happy; he’s proud of having a beautiful young wife, and he enjoys taking care of her, spoiling her. He never had a daughter, only two sons—I think Mady is the daughter he never had, and far more than that. He really loves her.’
‘Didn’t Gil?’
Bianca felt almost angry on Gil’s behalf—Freddie had just said that Gil had been hurt, so he must have loved his wife, and it must have been humiliating to lose a wife to a man old enough to be her father. People had probably laughed at Gil behind his back—they wouldn’t dare laugh at him face to face. He must have been very angry for a long time; she had picked up the echoes of that anger when he’d spoken to her about his wife and her new husband.
Freddie gave her a searching glance as if guessing that Gil must have talked about her sister. ‘Yes, of course he thought he did,’ she said defensively. ‘But I don’t think he ever really knew her. The Mady he fell in love with didn’t exist. You see, Mady is beautiful and she has style, she knows how to dress, she looks sophisticated and worldly-wise, but she isn’t. He thought what he saw was what Mady was like, but he didn’t know enough about her, and he never really understood her. You see, she has the mind and heart of a child, a very vain child; she spends a lot of time in front of her mirror, she loves clothes and jewellery, anything that makes her look even prettier, but she is never spiteful or mean; she has a sweet nature, she is kind, and loving to anyone who is loving to her. It is just that you cannot expect her to be an adult; you can never lean on Mady or rely on her.’
‘You can’t blame Gil for feeling cheated,’ protested Bianca. ‘Didn’t he only want what most men want from a wife? It was certainly what Rob... what my husband expected from me—a partner to share life with, have children with...’
‘I know,’ said Freddie, smiling with faint sadness. ‘I know it’s what Karl expects. But then I am not my sister. Mady can’t help being the way she is—there is something missing in poor little Mady; she is stuck at about twelve years old. Lucky for her that she finally met the perfect man for her: Gustav adores her.’
‘And what do his sons think of her?’