Free The Butterfly Box by Santa Montefiore

asked. That was initiative, she thought to herself contentedly.
     
    As the car descended the sandy road into Cachagua, Federica rolled down the window and poked her head out. Cachagua was the most charming of seaside villages. A low wooden fence, partly obscured by rich green ferns and palms,
    surrounded each thatched house. Sometimes the only visible proof that a house lay concealed behind such an abundance of nature was the tall water tower that rose up to catch the rain. It was an oasis of trees - palms, acacias and eucalyptus. Their sweet scents mingled with the salt of the ocean and the bushes of jasmine buzzed with the contentment of bees. The sandy track weaved its way through the pueblo down to the long golden beach and navy sea. Ignacio and Mariana’s house was the nicest house in the village. Obscured behind frothy trees it resembled a log cabin on stilts with a large terrace overhanging rocks at the water’s edge. Inside it was sparsely decorated with brightly woven rugs and deep crimson sofas. Mariana had always had beautiful taste and Ignacio hated clutter. He had been known to throw his hands impatiently across surfaces that he felt were too busy, knocking everything onto the floor. He had a violent temper, which only Mariana could assuage with her calm, soothing voice and gentle manner, always detecting it early by the sudden swelling of his ears.
    As the car drove through the gates into the sandy driveway, Ramon beeped the horn. Mariana’s heart jumped in her chest, more out of surprise than delight, for she had drifted off and forgotten to listen out for their arrival. She called to her husband and, getting up slowly - age didn’t allow her to leap to her feet as she used to do as a young woman - she made her way through the house to greet them.
     
    Estella’s hands were clammy with nerves. She leant back against the kitchen sink and smoothed down her pale blue uniform. She heard the excited voices of the children, the bubbling laughter of Señora Mariana as she hugged and kissed their eager faces, then the deep, gravelly voice of Don Ignacio. She strained her ears to find the voice of Ramon Campione but the low chatter of adult voices made his unrecognizable. She didn’t even know what he sounded like.
    Federica skipped onto the terrace holding her box out for her grandmother to admire. Helena gently told her to be patient, Abuelita would have all the time in the world to look at it later, once she had had a chance to talk to Papa. Federica retreated obediently to the hammock, where she curled up like a dog and watched as her grandparents chatted to her parents. Hal sat on Helena’s knee with his train, which he rolled up and down the table. After a while Federica grew tired of waiting and opened the box to gaze into her secret world of
    make-believe.
    ‘How long will you be staying?’ Ignacio asked bluntly, noticing the impatience in his son’s eyes. Ramon shrugged and glanced warily over at the hammock. Federica was no longer listening.
    ‘I don’t know,’ he replied.
    ‘You will stay for Christmas, won’t you?’ Mariana said. ‘Surely you weren’t going to leave again before Christmas?’ she added, appalled at the thought.
    ‘Of course not,’ Helena said and smiled tightly.
    ‘Then why don’t you stay here until New Year? I don’t know who’s coming yet, probably Felipe and Maria Lucia and Ricardo and Antonella. No one tells me anything, you just all turn up when you feel like it,’ she said, pretending to complain but smiling happily. Ramon looked at Helena, but their art of silent communication had been lost long ago with their intimacy.
    ‘We’d love to,’ Helena replied, thinking of the children and the extra week they would have with their father. They could return to England after New Year. A new year and a new start, she thought and sighed heavily. Mariana noticed the strain between them and her buoyancy subsided a little. She glanced at her husband who could feel her