Free The Butterfly Box by Santa Montefiore Page B

her head in disbelief. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’
    ‘Papa, can I tell them the story?’ Ramon nodded and Federica, her large blue eyes shining excitedly, began to tell them the legend of the butterfly box. They all listened quietly as Federica recounted what her father had told her.
    Without being seen Estella stood behind the French doors watching Ramon’s raffish face smiling at his daughter with great tenderness. He was more handsome than he was in photographs and had a charisma that filled the house and overwhelmed her. She stood in the shadows, as still as a marble statue, and left her eyes to gaze upon him while her mind drifted into the realm of fantasy.
     
    After dinner, when the children had gone to bed, Ignacio and Ramon took their
    drinks onto the beach and walked in the foam of the surf as Ignacio had done the night before with his wife. The sky was bright and tremulous, the sea lit up by the phosphorescent moon that hung weightless above them. At first they talked about trivialities, about Ramon’s latest book and his latest adventures. Finally his father drained his glass and stood in front of Ramon.
    ‘What’s going on, son?’ he asked bluntly.
    Ramon fell silent for a moment. He didn’t really know. ‘She’s leaving me, Papa,’ he said.
    Ignacio stopped walking. ‘She’s leaving you?’ he repeated incredulously.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘She doesn’t love me any more.’
    ‘What a load of rubbish!’ he growled. ‘She’s crying out for attention, any fool can see that. What else?’ he demanded.
    Ramon shuffled in the sand, making piles with his toes. ‘I’m not there for her.’
    ‘I see.’
    ‘She wants me to change.’
    ‘Why can’t you?’
    ‘I can’t.’
    ‘You’re too selfish,’ said his father grimly.
    ‘Yes. I’m too selfish.’
    ‘What about the children?’ Ramon shrugged his shoulders. ‘You love them, don’t you?’
    ‘Yes, I do, but—’
    ‘But! There are no “buts” when it comes to children, son. They need you.’
    ‘I know. But I can’t be what they want.’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘Because I just can’t be a family man, Papa. I’m not cut out for it. The minute I come home I want to leave again. I get this claustrophobic feeling in the pit of my stomach. I need to be on the move. I need to be free. I can’t be tied down.’ He choked.
    ‘Grow up, Ramon, for God’s sake,’ he said impatiently. Ramon stiffened. He felt like a little boy again being chastised by his father. They stood in silence, staring at each other through the twilight. Finally, they began to walk back up the beach towards the house, each alone with his thoughts. There was nothing more to say. Ramon couldn’t begin to explain the claustrophobia he felt and Ignacio knew his advice was unwelcome.
     
    Helena was relieved when Ramon suggested he sleep in the next-door room. She smiled at him gratefully. He didn’t tell her about the conversation he had had with his father. She wasn’t his ally any more. They were strangers. Polite, distant, mistrustful.
    Ramon slipped into bed. He could smell lavender and tuberose and thought of Estella. He thought of her hands making the bed and placing the flowers in the vase. There was no point suppressing his desires as he would have done in the old days, before adultery had become a way of life. In those early days he had desired no one but his wife. She had loved him like he believed no one else could love him. He’d close his eyes and still be with her; later he’d close his eyes to be with someone else, anyone else. Now he closed his eyes and thought of Estella. Her timid expression, fearful yet brazen somehow. Her trembling lips that begged to be kissed and her glowing skin that failed to cover the longing that lit her up inside like a fire. He wondered where her bedroom was and whether she’d be surprised to find him standing in her doorway. He
    almost climbed out of bed to find her, but he cautioned himself against such