ILLUSIONS OF LOVE

Chapter 2

Stella's room overlooked the swimming-pool; when she woke the next morning and pushed open the balcony windows, the pool looked so enticing that she put on the robe that the hotel supplied and went straight down there. She swam round the circular pool several times and then climbed out, lifting her hands to squeeze the water from her blonde hair that hung thick and curly to her shoulders. Her black, one-piece swimsuit was cut high at the legs, accentuating her slim but curvy figure, and she drew a great many admiring glances from the people breakfasting on the terrace, who didn't often get anything that good to look at early in the mornings. She was just in time to join them and helped herself to a Buck's Fuzz, thinking that it was a very civilized way to start a day, and following it up with croissants coffee.

Not in the least tired from her late night Stella went up to her room to change into shorts and a sun- top, then caught the hotel courtesy
bus for the short drive into Funchal. There she bought a large-scale map and made arrangements to hire a car for the following week. For a while she explored the fascinating town with it's cobbled streets and walled ravines, deep river beds covered with brilliantly bougainvillea that ran down through the centre of town. After an hour or so of wandering around, Stella grew hot and thirsty so made her way to a very wide pedestrian only street leading towards the sea where several cafés had tables under gray umbrellas out on the pavement.

The cafés were all doing a busy trade, the tables taken by native Madeirans as well as tourists. And it was a relief too get away from the noisy traffic that clogged the town. Kelvin had been right last night, Stella realized; driving here was certainly going to take some getting used to. Her drink arrived and she opened her map to study it, looking for the towns villages which were on the itinerary that she took from her bag. She marked them on the map and then started to draw up a schedule, wondering how many schools she could visit in a day. It would probably vary, and she would have to play it by ear, she decided.

Stella had planned a week's holiday before she started work. And she needed a rest; these last few months before taking her final exams at university had been grueling, and it was only when they were all over and the tension was suddenly gone that she realized just how hard she'd been studying.

'Hello, Stella.'

She looked up, started at hearing her names, and saw Kelvin grinning down at her.

'May I join you?' Without waiting for her to reply, she pulled out the chair and sat down opposite. He was well-dressed again, his finger at the waiter, Kelvin ordered a drink in fluent Portuguese then turned back to her. 'Surprise to see me?'

'Very,' she agreed, but without any encouragement in her voice.
'I told you I meant to see you again. I phoned your hotel and when they said you weren't there I guessed that you'd be in town somewhere.'

Stella eyebrows rose. 'You don't mean to say you've been walking around Funchal looking for me?'
'It isn't a very big town, and most people end up in one of these cafés.'

'And what if I told you to get lost?'
'You wouldn't do that,' Kelvin said confidently, reaching out to take her hand.
Stella quickly moved it away. 'Why not? If you must know, I think you're spoilt rotten,' she told him roundly.

Kelvin looked taken aback for a moment, but then he gave a long grin that was completely natural and made Stella think she could begin to like him.
'As a matter of fact, you're absolutely right,' he told her. 'I'm the one only child of rich, doting parents. I've been given everything I've wanted ever since I was born. Toys when I was a child and now cars; boat; I only have to name it and it's given to me.'

'How about girls?'
'Those I've usually managed to find for my self,' Kelvin answered with complete lack of modesty. But then he saw the derisive look on Stella's face and learned forward to say, 'You think I'm conceited, don't you?'
'And some.'
'Maybe when everything comes to you so easily you can't help but get conceited.'

'Aah, poor little kid,' Stella teased mockingly.
Kelvin laugh at that, surprised amusement in his eyes.

The waiter came with his drink and sat back. 'That line always went down very before.'
'Plan B, was it?'
'Something like that. I like you, Stella.'
'So you said last night,' she reminded him drily.
'No I really mean it. You're not like the other girls usually at some man's expense.' He grinned at her again.
'I'm beginning to think that you're not the type of a girl could have as a friend, not just girlfriend, if you see what I mean.'

'I think I get the drift. And I shall take it as a great compliment.'

Please do,' he grinned. 'But that doesn't mean that I'm not going to try my luck, though,' he warned her.

Stella grind back, liking the daytime Kelvin much better than the night time one. 'Well, on those terms I might even agree to see you again.'

'Great! Tell you what; how about coming to see my armazem?'
'You what?'
'Sorry, it means "wine lodge". My family are in the wine trade and we have a lodge where the tourists can come in and sample the wine before they buy it. It's not far from here.'

'You mean the real Madeiran wines— Malmsey and all that?'
'That's right. Come on let me show you round.'
'Ok.'

They finished their drinks and Kelvin put a familiar hand on her shoulder as they walked back through the town. Stella wasn't particularly keen on that but it was evidently a habit he had, or perhaps he just liked to show off when he was with a pretty girl.

The wine lodged was on one of the Main Streets of the town but a little away from the shopping area. It was a large old building with great wooden doors opening into a high-walled area with cellar-like rooms leading from it that housed huge old wine casks, one almost as big as a small house. There were other tourists there, some with guides, but Kelvin showed her around, telling Stella how the wine was first thought to be of very inferior quality and was used as a cheap ballast on ships in the seventeen century. But as the ships criss-crossed with their deliveries for the Americans, the wine baked in the hold and the cheap plonk matured into an extremely drinkable fortified wine.

'You're not going to tell me you still do that?' Stella remarked.
'No, now we cook it for almost six months in hot stoves called estufas. But we don't do it here anymore; we have a factory outside Funchal.'

Kelvin next took her into a small museum with some original wine pressed and casks. 'See this goqtskin,' he said, pulling her towards an ugly-looking object that hung from a shelf. 'Originally the growers picked their own grapes and trod them, then bought the juice into Funchal in dried-out goatskins which they carried on their backs. And you know what the terrain's like here—all sheer cliffs and hills—sometimes it took weeks for them to make journey. Here, try it for size.' Reaching up. he unhooked the goatskin.

'Ugh, no. It looks horrid.'
But Kelvin insisted and hoisted it on her shoulders. Several of the tourists gather around, one even took her photograph, making Stella stand with the uncomfortable, dusty thing on her back until his flashed warm up. While she did so, a door leading to a private part of the building opened and a man work through. He saw the cluster of people around Stella and came over to take a closer look. So tall that he could see over the tourist's heads, the man gave an angry exclamation when he saw Stella and started to push his way towards her.

——————End of chapter 2——————

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