‘Sí, señora,’ the youth answered. ‘Your mare is much better mannered.’
Emelia looked at him blankly. ‘I have a horse of my own?’
The youth looked at her as if she was loca but then he must have recalled what he had been told about her accident. ‘Sí, señora,’ he said with a white toothed smile. ‘She is in the stable. I exercised her earlier this morning.’
‘Could I ride her, please?’ Emelia asked.
He gave her a surprised look. ‘You want to ride her?’
She nodded. ‘Of course I do.’
‘But you have never wanted to ride her before,’ he said with a puzzled frown. ‘You refused to even look at her.’
Emelia laughed off the suggestion. ‘That’s crazy. I love to ride. I had my own horse when my mother was alive. I used to spend every weekend and holidays at Pony Club or on riding camps.’
Pedro shrugged his shoulders as if he wasn’t sure what to make of her as he made his way to the stables.
Emelia jumped down from the railing and followed him. ‘I’m sorry but I’ve forgotten your name,’ she said.
‘Pedro,’ he said. ‘I look after the horses for Señor Mélendez. I have been working for him for two years now. The same time you have been married, sí?’
Emelia gave him a small smile, not sure how much he knew of her situation. The stallion snorted and pawed the ground and she stepped up to him and stroked his proud forehead. ‘You are being a great big show-off, do you know that?’ she crooned softly.
The stallion snorted again but then began to rub his head against her chest, almost pushing her over.
Pedro’s look was still quizzical. ‘He likes you, Señora Mélendez. But you used to be frightened of him. He is big and proud and has a mind of his own. He is…how you say…a softie inside.’
Emelia wondered if Pedro was talking about the horse or her husband. Probably both, she imagined. She breathed in the sweet smell of horse and hay and felt a flicker of something in her memory. She put a hand to her head, frowning as she tried to retrieve it before it disappeared.
‘Señora?’ Pedro’s voice was concerned as he pulled the horse back from her. ‘Are you all right? Did Gitano hurt you?’
‘No, of course not,’ Emelia said. ‘I was just trying to remember something but it’s gone now.’
Pedro led the stallion back to his stall and a short time later led out a pretty little mare. She had the same proud bearing as Gitano but her temperament was clearly very different. She whinnied when she caught sight of Emelia and her big soft round eyes shone with delight.
Emelia put her arms around the horse’s neck, breathing in her sweet scent, closing her eyes as she searched her memory. A scene filtered through the fog in her head. It was a similar day to today, sunny with a light breeze. She was being led blindfolded down to the stables; she could even feel the nerves she had felt buzzing in the pit of her stomach. She could feel warm strong hands guiding her, a tall lean body brushing her from behind, the sharp citrus of his aftershave striking another chord of memory in her brain…
‘Señora Mélendez?’ Pedro’s voice slammed the door on her memory. ‘Are you all right?’
Emelia opened her eyes and, disguising her frustration, sent him a crooked smile. ‘I’m fine,’ she said.
‘Callida looks very well. You must be doing a wonderful job of looking after her.’
‘Señora,’ Pedro said with rounded eyes, ‘you remember her name, sí? Callida. Señor Mélendez bought her for you as a surprise for your birthday last month.’
Emelia stared at the youth for a moment, her brain whirling. ‘I…I don’t know how I remembered her name. It was just there in my head,’ she said.
Pedro smiled a wide smile. ‘It is good you are home. You will remember everything in time, sí?’
Emelia returned his smile but a little more cautiously. If only she had his confidence. But it did seem strange that Callida’s name had been there on her tongue without her thinking about it; strange too that her Spanish had come to her equally as automatically. What else was lying inside her head, just waiting for the right trigger to unlock it?
Callida nudged against her, blowing at her through her velvet nostrils. Emelia tickled the horse’s forelock. ‘Can you saddle her for me?’ she asked Pedro.
The lad’s smile was quickly exchanged for a grave look. ‘Señor Mélendez…I am not sure he would want you to ride. You have a head injury, sí? Not good to ride so soon.’
Emelia felt her neck and shoulders straighten in rebellion. ‘I am perfectly well,’ she said. ‘And I would like to take Callida out to see if it helps me remember anything else. I need some exercise, in any case. I can’t sit around all day doing nothing until my…hus…until Señor Mélendez returns.’
Pedro shifted his weight from foot to foot, his hands on Callida’s leading rein fidgeting with agitation. ‘I have been given instructions. I could lose my job.’
Emelia took the leading rein from him. ‘I will explain to Señor Mélendez that I insisted. Don’t worry. I won’t let him fire you.’
The lad looked uncertain but Emelia had already made up her mind and led the mare to the stables. Pedro followed and, wordlessly and with tight lips, saddled the horse, handing Emelia a riding helmet once he had finished.
Emelia put it on and, giving him a smile, swung up into the saddle and rode out of the stable courtyard, relishing the sense of freedom it afforded her. She rode through the fields to the woods beyond, at a gentle walk at first and then, as her confidence grew, she squeezed Callida’s sides to get her to trot. It wasn’t long before she urged the horse into a canter, the rhythm so easy to ride to she felt as if she had been riding her for ever. How strange that Pedro had said she had refused to ride the horse Javier had bought for her. The horse was well bred and would have cost a mint. Why had she rejected such a beautiful precious gift?
After a while Emelia came to an olive grove and another flicker of memory was triggered in her brain. She slipped out of the saddle and led the horse to the spot where she thought the photograph she had seen in Javier’s study was taken. Callida nudged against her and Emelia absently stroked the mare’s neck as she looked at the soft green grass where she had lain with Javier. Had they made love under the shade of the olive trees? she wondered. Her skin tingled, the hairs on the back of her neck rising as she pictured them there, limbs entangled intimately, Javier’s leanly muscled body pinning hers beneath the potent power of his.
She thought back to their conversation about the terms of their marriage. The rules she had accepted supposedly without question. No children to tie either of them down. When had she decided she didn’t want children? Had she said it just to keep Javier happy? He struck her as a man who valued and enjoyed his freedom. In many ways he seemed to still live the life of a playboy: regular international travel on private jets, a disposable income, no ties or responsibilities other than a relatively new wife who apparently didn’t travel with him with any regularity. Children would definitely require a commitment from him he might not feel ready to agree to at this stage of his life.
Emelia, on the other hand, had always loved children; it was one of the reasons she had wanted to teach instead of perform. She loved their innocence and their wonder at the world and had always dreamed of having a family of her own some day. Growing up as an only child with numerous stepmothers entering and exiting her life had made her determined to marry a man who would be a wonderful husband and father, a man who was faithful and steadfast, nothing at all like her restless father. Why then had she married a man who didn’t want the same things she did? Surely she hadn’t slept with him for any other reason than love. She had vowed ever since her disastrous affair of the