Brazilian Boss, Virgin Housekeeper

‘Hello, there. It’s Marianne—the busker from town,’ she explained, a light tremor in her voice. ‘I—I hope you don’t mind me ringing, but you said…’

‘What is it that you need?’

Marianne glanced up to the heavens for courage. ‘A job…and a home,’ she replied, then made herself breathe deeply and mentally count to ten, so that she didn’t succumb to her fears and change her mind. ‘Are you still looking for a housekeeper?’

Sweat broke out on Eduardo’s brow. The visiting physiotherapist might have been a torturer straight out of the Spanish Inquisition, he thought grimly as the man manipulated his scar-criss-crossed leg into yet another excruciatingly painful position to test its flexibility. He swore…loudly. The therapist looked startled and carefully moved his patient’s leg back down onto the treatment couch with a murmured apology. Staring up at the ornately plastered Victorian ceiling in the library as he lay there, Eduardo sensed his racing heart slowly return to a more normal rhythm.

‘Are we finished?’ he asked, gravel-voiced.

The sandy-haired physio gave him a respectful and sympathetic smile. ‘I agree you’ve probably had enough for now, Mr De Souza. My advice is to take it easy for the rest of the day. Try and get some proper rest tonight, and don’t overdo things.’

‘Do they teach you at medical school to come out with these clichéd platitudes?’ Eduardo remarked irritably, swinging his legs over the side of the table and ignoring the other man’s immediate move to help him.

Unoffended, the man smiled again. ‘Sometimes rest really is the best course of action when dealing with any kind of physical trauma,’ he explained. ‘The body needs to access its own powers of healing, and rest gives it the opportunity to do that. I realise it may have been a little uncomfortable for you today, but the fact is your leg is definitely recovering from that last operation. Another month or two and you should notice a significant improvement when walking. I can practically guarantee it.’

‘Give me your hand,’ Eduardo muttered, and accepted help to stand—though it psychologically pained him to accept anyone’s help these days, when he had previously been so fit and able.

Hearing the heavy oak front door open downstairs, then shut again with a sonorous clunk, he remembered that he’d instructed Ricardo to take the four-by-four and go and collect Marianne. Ironic that he had been reflecting on his resistance to accepting help when he had just effectively hired a girl he had only recently met to come and live in his house and act as his housekeeper!

What had made her change her mind about accepting the post? he speculated. Perhaps it wasn’t so difficult to deduce. Common sense had simply prevailed, and the plummeting temperatures had forced her to make a more sensible decision about her living and working arrangements after all. At least now he would not have her wellbeing on his conscience, as he imagined her standing at the roadside singing and ending up in hospital with hypothermia!

‘Sounds like you’ve got company,’ the therapist said cheerfully. ‘Why don’t you let me tidy up here, then I’ll be on my way?’

‘Ricardo…Take Miss Lockwood’s coat and hang it up, if you would, and when you’re done perhaps she would like a mug of hot chocolate to warm her up? We will be in the sitting room.’

Watching Ricardo help their visitor out of her too-large tweed overcoat and then leave, Eduardo skimmed his gaze over the medley of colourful clothing the girl wore underneath, and the curtain of long rippling hair over which she’d jammed the quite outrageously bright cerise woollen hat. He frowned.

‘It might be a good idea to remove your hat too,’ he suggested, the urge to smile suddenly too overwhelming to resist.

‘Oh. I forgot.’ Grabbing it off her head, Marianne stuffed it into the large bag made up of multi-coloured velvet squares that she’d temporarily left on the smooth marble floor in front of her.

For a few moments static electricity turned her light brown hair into a wild and silken tangle, and Eduardo could not help but stare at the arresting picture she made. A cinematic image of Mary Poppins the quintessential eccentric and pretty English nanny appeared in his mind. She sang too, he remembered, this time without amusement. Being bereft of the child he might have had, he was in no need of a nanny but a housekeeper. Someone who might help make his day-to-day living in self-imposed exile a little more bearable and smooth-running.

‘Follow me,’ he instructed, moving down a corridor that led away from the generously proportioned hall, with its solid brass chandelier, and bypassing several closed doors before finally reaching one that was slightly ajar. Painfully and bitterly aware of his limp, he leaned a little too heavily on his walking cane and turned into the comfortably furnished sitting room. The only noise was the crackle and hiss of the blazing fire and the sedative ticking of the clock on the marble mantel. He stood aside to let Marianne precede him.

‘Oh, how beautiful!’

Her gaze was not on the room itself, he saw, but on the incredible view that the tall curved windows with their parted drapes displayed. Eduardo sensed an arrow of pride shoot through him as he stared through the unadorned glass at the silhouette of majestic firs against the navy blue skyline. Stars were dotted about like splashed pinpricks of luminous paint, and a dazzling crescent moon hung suspended as though it were a bright magical toy controlled by a master puppeteer. He heard her softly appreciative gasp of pleasure.

‘I told you that you would not be disappointed with the views, did I not? And it is nothing compared to what you will see in the daytime’

‘I’m almost speechless at the sight of it!’ Swinging her glance back in his direction, Marianne smiled at him with uncensored delight.

Again Eduardo had the disturbing sensation of his skin being too tight and hot to contain the avalanche of sensation that poured through him…a wave of sensual longing that was as powerful and unpredictable as El Niño…and prompted entirely by that bewitching smile. For a moment he could do nothing but stare. Automatically his mind took a snapshot of the captivating glowing features before him, and an old excitement that he had not experienced for ages pulsed strongly through his veins.

‘We could be in another realm,’ she enthused, greengold eyes shining. ‘However did you find such a place?’

‘My mother grew up in this area. Whenever she brought me here as a child I loved it. So when I was looking for a house I knew immediately where I wanted it to be situated. I visited several before I was shown this place. As soon as I saw it I knew it was the right one.’

‘You were right when you said it was remote.’As she secured the strap of her bag against her shoulder, Marianne’s expression was thoughtful. ‘When Ricardo was driving me here I didn’t see another house or building for miles!’

‘You are thinking maybe that it is too remote for your liking?’

‘I don’t think that at all. Seeing as I’m not someone who needs company all the time, being remote doesn’t bother me. Besides…being around people too much can really get to you after a while, and I’d go crazy if I didn’t have some peace and quiet to balance things out. Do you know what I mean?’

‘Clearly I do—or else I would not be living here.’ Eduardo smiled reluctantly, but he was genuinely surprised by the fact that she was apparently quite content with her own company. These days, when most people he observed seemed driven by the need for perpetual noise and distraction, it was positively unusual. ‘Shall we continue our discussion sitting by the fire?’

Once they were ensconced in comfortable leather armchairs, Eduardo followed Marianne’s mesmerised gaze to the dancing amber-gold flames. For a while companionable silence settled over them, like another softening blanket of snow on the desolate winter landscape outside.

‘Warm enough?’ he asked, almost reluctant to intrude upon the stillness and quiet with words.

Withdrawing her glance from the fire, she blinked at him as though momentarily forgetting who he was and why she was even there.

‘Oh, yes…perfectly warm, thanks. I expect you’re wondering why I changed my mind about taking you up on your offer,’ she said in a rush, her pale, slender-fingered hands twisting together restlessly in the lap of her red wool dress. ‘The truth is I suddenly realised that a change was what I needed after all. Being snowed in for three days certainly helped focus my mind on the subject! Although I was playing my music, doing what I loved, I was also in a bit of a rut. I figured it was time to try something different.’

‘So you decided to ring me after all?’ Linking his fingers steeple-like beneath his chin, Eduardo thoughtfully studied the pretty oval face and expressive hazel eyes before him. There were myriad conflicting emotions behind that arresting gaze that he couldn’t help but wonder at. Was she running away from something…some cruelty or unhappiness that she hadn’t revealed? Something like an abusive relationship, perhaps?

‘I did. You—you didn’t mind?’

‘I would not have given you my card if I minded.’

‘I just wanted to make sure.’

‘And can I ask about the jobs you have had previously—before this?’

‘Well. I…’ Briefly Marianne’s attention returned to the fire, where a hot coal sizzled brightly before settling more deeply into the nest of flames. ‘I’ve worked in shops, mostly…a large clothing store, then a music store selling instruments and sheet music…that kind of thing.’

‘You must have been in your element there.’ Eduardo remarked, already knowing that music was a passion for her—the same as the career he had chosen had once been a passion for him. He quickly quashed the thought.

‘I was.’ The bewitching smile returned, naked and unguarded, and it was as though someone had brought a rare and beautiful orchid into the midst of a grey concrete prison cell. ‘Look…I know I’m not exactly qualified to be a housekeeper, if you go by my previous employment, but I’m a fast learner, and I actually get great pleasure from doing the things that help make a house a home.’

‘Talking of home…where was it you last lived, Marianne?’ he enquired, intrigued. ‘A commune or a squat, perhaps?’

Her glance was perturbed. ‘No. It was a house that I shared with somebody.’

‘A boyfriend?’

‘No…not a boyfriend. Can we talk about the job and what the daily routine is? I’d like to get a feel for things as soon as possible, so that I won’t have to trouble you with too many questions.’

Reluctantly Eduardo curbed his curiosity. A businesslike approach to work was not what he had expected from someone who appeared as Bohemian as Marianne, but nonetheless it could hardly displease him, he mused silently. Not when he had begun to realise that established routines and a smooth-running household could sometimes help take the edge off the mental torture that plagued him, by acting as a sort of shield that could occasionally cushion him from the painful events of the past. For someone who had once been an inveterate risk-taker this was a revelation to him…even though he privately despised himself for succumbing to such appalling weakness.

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