Chapter 2
Margaret had a few errands to run after leaving the salon before meeting her friends at the club for tea at five, and it was going on half four before she finished and slipped Persephone into the traffic on her way there. As usual, the traffic was terrible at this hour. When they had first moved to Portugal, she had demanded that Christopher pay for a driver to take her to the shops and to her various appointments; but after the first year, after he had learned to navigate the roads himself, he had insisted that she learn to drive. He pointed out that the savings they would incur would finance her frequent trips to Lisbon as well as one or more trips she might enjoy each year, perhaps to Barcelona or Paris. At first, she had resisted. They had always lived in London where one never needed a car, where driving oneself just wasn't done, not in their circle, but Christopher had been insistent. He signed her up for lessons which she had attended grudgingly despite the charm of her handsome instructor. She had never been behind the wheel of a car and driving had been unsettling at first, but after a few months of lessons, she found that she could be just as assertive as any other driver on the road. She also discovered that driving opened up whole new worlds, and she loved the thrill she felt when speeding down the highways. Unless traffic were at a standstill because of an accident or some idiotic road work, she was able to manoeuvre through the streets without any problem.
Margaret had never owned a car before Persephone, as she liked to call her, and she found the freedom that came with her automobile exhilarating. She had always been ever so proper, always following the etiquette rules in which she had been immersed from an early age, never straying from the boundaries of decorum that defined her position as the wife of an eminent surgeon. She had gone in search of something elegant and sophisticated, something that heralded her position in society, perhaps a navy BMW or Jaguar, but this little car with its saucy attitude had called out to her from across the dealer's lot; and for once, she threw caution and decorum to the wind. It was love at first sight and, after prudently taking a test drive, she asked the salesman, "When can I take her home?" Persephone was bright red, a MINI Cabriolet with personality; she was exciting and a little bit naughty, just like herself, Margaret liked to think.
She smiled as she took a corner at a speed that wasn't altogether safe, remembering Christopher's reaction when she first brought Persephone home, how shocked he was that she would buy a car without consulting him first. And the expression on his face when he saw Persephone, a convertible and bright red to boot! "Whatever will our friends think", he cried. She gave him a satisfied smirk and thought to herself, "Yes, what will he and his friends think of me now? Perhaps there's more to Margaret Ellingham than they had ever imagined."
She hadn't really thought why she had christened her car Persephone until her friend Carly asked. "I suppose I like the way her name rolls off my tongue", she answered. That was certainly true, but Carly's question triggered her curiosity about the Greek goddess' story. She learned that Persephone was married to Hades, the god of the underworld. He had abducted her from her mother Demeter, the goddess of agriculture and fertility, and he kept her in his cold underworld until her mother prevailed upon Zeus to command Hades return the girl. Unfortunately, whilst she was there, she had absentmindedly eaten a few kernels of pomegranate, the food of the dead, and because of that, she was consigned to live with him in his kingdom for several months every year. Whilst she was gone, all the earth turned cold and dark with winter. But once she was allowed to return, the earth burst forth with the new life of spring. The more she thought about the goddess and her trials, the more she realized that she herself was a bit like Persephone. It wasn't that life with Christopher was like living in the underworld; certainly, she had all the material possessions to which she was entitled by birth and marriage, all that she could ever want. It was just that he had become cold and uncaring and as a result, she had found herself growing cold, her life force withering within her. But when she opened the door and slid behind Persephone's wheel, she felt liberated, free from the dark confines of her indifferent husband and the restraints that society had always held for women in her position. She felt suddenly more alive.
Indeed, even in the late afternoon traffic that she was now encountering, she felt a sense of freedom whilst driving through the streets of the Algarve, a sensation she had never felt in the confines of upper crust London. She knew that heads were turning, certainly at the sight of her little car, but also at herself, the beautiful woman she knew herself to be. The attention was intoxicating, and feeling quite pleased with herself, she tilted her head even higher than she usually carried it and laughed with the sheer joy of the day.
Unfortunately, because the traffic had been heavier than usual that afternoon, she was a trifle late meeting her friends for their regular afternoon "tea" at the club. It appeared that others were held up as well because only Carlotta was seated at their usual table, drumming her fingers impatiently as she waited. Margaret made her way over, passing by the open patio doors where she noticed Christopher and his friends noisily enjoying their post-game drinks at the bar.
She paused for a moment, examining the group of men, most of them balding and portly, but not Christopher; even now, even with his thatch of white hair, Christopher was a handsome man. Only a few creases marred his otherwise well chiselled face. She had been lucky to catch him back when she was young. The chemistry between them had been irresistible; she could remember even now the sparks that flew whenever he touched her. Their romance had been heated and passionate. He was always touching her, glancing her way when they were out and about, unable to resist her charms; but somehow the romance had faded, he had lost interest. She shook her head, wondering how it had happened and sighed. In her heart she knew it was motherhood; he could never see her as the same woman after Martin was born.
She noticed Carlotta waving at her from their table, trying to get her attention. She lifted her hand in acknowledgement as she wandered slowly past the piano nodding at Angelo who was playing soft show tunes suitable to the late afternoon hour. She straightened her posture and patted her hair, then shared a conspiratorial glance with him as she glided past to join Carlotta, who sniped at her, "I've been here for ten minutes already. Where is everyone?"
Ignoring Carlotta's irritation, Margaret pulled out a chair and gently seated herself, gazing absently at the azure blue of the sea as it lapped the shores of the beach a few yards away, "I was in town and the traffic was abysmal. I suppose Sylvia and Portia must be delayed as well." She stared at the glass in Carlotta's hand, "What are you drinking this afternoon?"
Carlotta swirled the liquid in her glass, "Vinho Verde." It was a signature Portuguese wine and was considered the perfect afternoon drink.
Margaret turned up her nose and huffed, "I don't know how you can drink that swill." Margaret preferred her wines with a little more body, and she turned in her chair to signal the waiter just as one of their friends arrived, "Ah, here's Portia."
"About time you got here Tia. Maggie and I were about to give up on you and Sylvie." Carlotta was in a mood this afternoon. Drinking alone was not her style.
Margaret glanced over at Portia, "I just arrived a few minutes ago myself." And then, hardening her expression she turned toward Carly and chided her, "You know not to call me Maggie here at the club, Carly."
Carlotta rolled her eyes, "Oh, give it a rest Mags. Waiter!" She and Carlotta had been friends for years; they went way back to their school days and Carlotta knew just how to get under Margaret's skin. Portia pulled out a chair and plopped down. She had been a beautiful young woman and was still lovely, if truth be told, but she had filled out in middle-age and had resisted the call of the gym, relying on the skill of her seamstress to camouflage her ever expanding figure.
The waiter came over and took both Margaret and Portia's drinks order, asking if he could bring them anything to eat. Margaret quickly sent him on his way despite Portia's feeble attempts to ask for the menu. They would join the men for a full supper later in the evening and she was not going to be tempted to join Portia in spoiling both her appetite and her figure with afternoon appetizers. Christopher may have lost interest in her, but there had been other men over the years and several still who showed interest and she enjoyed the attention. She might not be part of the yoga or Pilates set, but she wasn't about to forfeit what sex appeal she still had to some savoury bites from the kitchen. She glanced Angelo's way; she was thinking that he might be an interesting diversion next month. Christopher would be attending a conference in Edinburgh, and he had discouraged her from joining him in Scotland; she was certain he had a tryst or two planned for the conference. No reason she shouldn't indulge herself whilst he was away.
Carlotta interrupted her reverie as she reached for her purse and pulled out a small picture album, "Diana has just sent me new pictures of Mindy and Reggie. Would you like to see them?"
Diana was Carlotta's daughter-in-law and was diligent about supplying her husband's mother with pictures of her grandchildren. Margaret sighed with the thought of making a show over her friend's "darling" grandchildren, but smiled wanly as she reached for the photos, "Certainly, I'm sure they have grown." She glanced briefly at the latest pictures of the two very handsome four-year-old twins, whilst Carlotta burbled on and on about their latest adventures. She mumbled the requisite "Mmm ...very cute", as she passed the pictures on to Portia, just as Sylvia arrived, out of breath.
"Oh, are those new pictures of Reggie and Mindy?" Sylvia leaned over Portia's shoulder to see, "Aren't they darling? I've got some new pictures of my four as well." As she sat down, she opened her purse. "Let me just pull them out."
Portia glanced over at Margaret who discreetly rolled her eyes. Neither she nor Portia had been "blessed" with grandchildren and their two friends, Sylvia and Carlotta, could talk about the grandchildren all evening. "Here, let me see Sylvie." Margaret took the pictures Sylvia had instantly produced, scanned them quickly and passed them over to Carlotta. "Yes, they are adorable." She turned to Portia and asked, "Are you planning a shopping trip up to Lisbon anytime soon? Christopher is going to a conference in three weeks and I was thinking it might be the perfect time to treat ourselves to a little couture and culture."
"A Cidade da Luz? What about your other plans?" Portia rolled her eyes in the direction of Angelo who was flirting with a blond middle-aged woman who had just come in from the tennis courts and was still glowing with the exertion of the game.
Margaret glanced his way and shrugged, "I'm sure I can fit that in as well. So … what do you think?"
"I think it's a good idea. I need to find something smashing for our fall charity ball. What do you ladies think?" Portia raised her eyebrows and ticked her head, first to Carlotta and then to Sylvia. They had their heads bent over the pictures of the children, ardently comparing the attributes of each child. "Ladies?" Portia repeated in a more demanding tone. Finally, they looked up and asked in unison, "What?"
"A road trip up to Lisboa? Some shopping, some theatre, some elegant dinners, perhaps a museum or two? What about it? Hmmm?"
"When?"
"Maybe three weeks? I'm sure we can book a nice hotel or perhaps a villa for the week. Doesn't it sound perfect?" Margaret knew Portia was always ready for a trip to the capital city and would be able to organize a fabulous week. She had friends everywhere who would guide them to the best restaurants and the best shops where bargains could be found. It was the only city in Portugal where she had been able to find evening wear that had that perfect combination of elegance and panache for which she was always known.
Carlotta twisted her mouth in thought, "I'll have to check with Geoffie first. He hates it when I go out of town, even for a day or two. I don't know about a week."
Carlotta kept close tabs on her husband; they had only been together for the past five years. Her first husband, Reginald, had died unexpectedly in a car crash several years before that and she counted herself lucky to have found Geoffrey Macgregor, a retired financier, who had lost his wife at about the same time.
"Isn't that when Morgan and Chris are going to that conference thing in Edinburgh?" Sylvia asked Margaret.
"Yes, it is. Christopher indicated that I needn't come, nothing for me to do there. I think he has other plans, if you get my drift." Margaret arched her eyebrows and pulled a face as she responded to Sylvia.
"Mmmm. Morgan told me the same thing. All day meetings and late-night networking he told me. They're both retired. Why do they need to network?" Sylvia replied with a bit of puzzlement in her voice.
"Oh Sylvie, don't be obtuse. They don't want us there so they can seek out other entertainment, as if two old codgers like them could ..." Margaret waved her hands and rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Whatever, as they say. Do you want to join us in Lisbon or not?"
"Might as well spend his money in Lisbon with you three than freeze to death in Scotland," Sylvia huffed, as she gradually realised what her husband had planned for Scotland.
"So, it's settled. Portia, can you find us accommodations? I can book us first class tickets on the Alfa Pendular ... unless one of you would prefer to drive?" Margaret looked round the table, "I thought not."
Author's note: Much thanks to my friend Apl9662 for the suggestion that a Cabriolet might be a car which Margaret Ellingham would enjoy driving. My initial reaction was, "Really?" and then, "Well maybe..." and then after considering the possibilities, "Oh yes!"