Reunited at Last

/The five-star Hotel Conejio is beautiful. Its traditional
atmosphere achieves great character for this delightful hotel complete
with swimming pool, children's pool and tennis courts. It is positioned
across the road from the beach and?/

Vanessa Buckley, well-known journalist of The Times, paused in her
typing on her small, silver laptop computer. She stretched out her long
legs and looked over the blue-green Majorcan sea. She was sitting on
her balcony of her suite in the Hotel Conejio.
She reached out for her drink and heard a knocking from the main suite
door. Sighing, she struggled to her feet and went to the door. Upon
opening it, she saw one of the hotel's receptionists holding a sheet of
paper in one hand.
"A fax for you, Miss Buckley."
"Thanks."
The receptionist left and Vanessa shut the door and read the fax. It
was from her boss in England, Jason Davies.

/Fish-boy! Local legend.
Who is he? What is he? What's his story?
Find out! Help from local fisherman, Jos? Rodriguez/

"Fish-boy! Oh heck!" Vanessa exclaimed, before realising she was
talking to herself. She thought quickly.
If I go out now, the fishermen will just be coming in. I'll ask at
Reception if they know this Jos? and then I can meet him and hear more
about this local legend

An hour later, she was on the telephone to Jason.
"I found out who this Jos? was, he's got a brother in Reception here,
and met him. He's taking me by boat tomorrow to see if we can find this
fish-boy person."
"Great work, Nessa. Glad you're out there. I've got a feeling this will
be a good story."
"How did you hear of it, Jas?"
"Terry was surfing the web for interesting Majorcan legends for you to
research instead of the hotel thing and there was a short bit about a
fish-boy. Locals seem to think that he's a type of mermaid. It said and
I quote, "The creature lives in the sea and swims with seals and
dolphins. He is also friends with birds." But anyway, what did Jos?
say?"
"Not much. His English isn't too great, like my Spanish, but he did say
we might not see the boy. On the other hand we might, so tomorrow will
be interesting."
"Glad you like the idea. Well, I'd better go. I hope you'll find a way
of communicating with the fish-boy. Don't forget your camera."
"I won't. Bye, Jas."
"Bye Nessa. Good luck."
Vanessa put down her telephone and looking out at her watch, checked
her outfit and went down to dinner.

He sat on the sand, beside his friends, gnawing fish and spitting out
the bones. After five years, he'd become adapt at catching fish by
hand.
When the fish was finished, he waved to his friends, "Adios mis
amigos," and ran into the water. His deeply tanned limbs cut through
the water swiftly and strongly as he swam to the sheer cliff face.
Taking a deep breath, he dived down and swam though the submerged rocky
passageway.
He surfaced a couple of minutes later, gasping slightly for air, in a
large cave deep in the heart of the cliff. He scrambled from the pool
of water that signalised the underwater channel's entrance and ran
confidently though the stone tunnel at the back of the cave for his
nightly custom.
The roof of the sloping tunnel lowered as it went along and soon he was
crawling along the tunnel.
He slithered out of a small hole at the end and stood on a small ledge
in the cliff. In the gathering darkness, he faced towards the gradually
fading outline of Menorca and said softly, "Good night, Madre."

The next day found Jos? Rodriguez with an unusual cargo, Vanessa
Buckley. Jos? steered his fishing boat carefully to a large rock near
the cliff and alighted from the boat, throwing the rope around a spike
of rock and typing it tight.
"We sit, wait. Boy comes." Jos? said, helping Vanessa from her seat in
the boat. They sat on the large rock watching and waiting.

After an house of sitting still and silent, Vanessa was bored and about
to try to initiate a conversation with Jos?, when her companion hissed,
"Quiet, he comes."
Sure enough, some metres from the rock, some heads broke the
surface.
"Hola Pedro!" Jos? hollered, making Vanessa jump.
Pedro grinned and surface-dived. The two adults on the rock watched the
boy's slim body swim quickly through the water to their rock. The boy
scrambled up the rock, shaking himself like a dog. His seal companions
swam off and Vanessa stared at the boy, as Jos? explained to Pedro in
rapid-fire Spanish who she was and what she wanted.
Pedro was five foot, three inches of slim, strong boy. His black unruly
curls reached to his shoulders and his wary eyes were as green as the
sea surrounding them. Vanessa guessed he was thirteen or fourteen. He
was dressed in an old pair of shorts resembling Jos?'s, probably the
source of his clothing. Although he was slim, he didn't look starved,
making Vanessa wonder about his diet. As he talked to Jos?, he gestured
a lot with his tanned arms and differing expressions flit across his
face at the speed of light.
"I'm Pedro Valentino." White teeth flashed from the brown face.
"You speak English?" Vanessa was amazed.
"My mum was English and my dad Spanish, so I'm bilingual." Pedro
explained. "What do you want to know about me?"
"Who you are? Why you're here?"
"I've told you who I am and why I'm here's simple, but why should I
tell you? Jos? said you were a journalist." Pedro's words made Vanessa
even more curious.
She replied. "Are you a secret? You are a local legend. You're
mentioned on the Internet. I want to tell people your story, dispel the
rumours that you are a mermaid. Have you no one in this world who will
want to know of you?"
A shadow passed across Pedro's face and his smile vanished. "One, but
she?" He thought for a while. "I will tell you my story."

Pedro had been born in Menorca and lived most of his life there. His
father had died when he was two years old and his mother had married
again when he was seven. Pedro's English stepfather, Simon, was jealous
of Pedro's close relationship with his mother, "I was an only child, so
we were very close but he got jealous." So on Pedro's eighth birthday,
Simon had taken him on a boat-trip to Majorca. "Madre was glad that he
was being nice to me, so she agreed not to come." Simon had left Pedro
behind on purpose, "he threatened to hurt me if I went home, so I hid
in those rocks on the beach." The boat had left Majorca and Pedro had
never seen his step-father or his beloved mother again.
"I've found a cave where I live. I eat fish and stuff I steal from
orchards and gardens. Jos? gives me his old clothes and I'm
happy."
"Don't you want to go home?"
"I want to see Madre again, but I love my life here too much to
leave."
Vanessa made up her mind. She told him she wanted to write an article
on him if he agreed. Pedro nodded and she set to work, questioning him
ferociously and recording the answers on her small tape player. As they
talked, Jos? sat patiently near them, not understanding most of the
English, but not minding.

A week after the article had been published in The Times and in
newspapers in the Spanish Islands, Vanessa answered the telephone in
her hotel suite.
"Hello?"
"You have a visitor, Mis Buckley."
"Oh? Okay then. I'll come down."
She went downstairs in the lift and saw a woman standing by the
Reception desk.
"Vanessa Buckley?" The woman asked.
"Yes, that's me. Whoa re you?"
They proceeded to the bar and Vanessa ordered drinks.
"My name is Consuela Valentino. I read your article in the newspaper.
Years ago, I knew a boy called Pedro Valentino who lived in Menorca. He
was my brother's son. I thought he had died. Please can you tell me
where he is, so I can tell what he needs to know?"
"What does he need to know?" Vanessa asked, pleased her translated
article had had such an effect. Consuela's next words quickly disposed
of her pleasure.
"His mother is dead. She was in a car crash with his stepfather two
years ago. Neither survived."

Consuela broke the news to Pedro on the rock, Vanessa had nicknamed
Pedro's Rock, because it was where she first met him. Consuela was as
careful and as gentle as she could be in telling Pedro, but Pedro was
shocked and very upset.
With a heartbroken cry of, "Madre! Madre!" he plunged into the water
and swam away.
He spent that night on the rocky ledge in the cliff, looking out
towards Menorca. His bird friends perched about him and the seals and
dolphins swam about underneath the ledge; all the creatures felt his
distress and longed to help him. He sat with his arms clenched around
his knees, which were tucked into his bare chest.
"Madre," was the single word he whispered.

Consuela and Vanessa wandered the beach every day for a week, looking
out for Pedro, hoping he was safe. At long last, they sat him surfacing
by Pedro's Rock. He saw them and swam to the beach.
"I want to see Madre." He said it slowly and in English so they would
both understand.
Consuela nodded. "Come back with me tomorrow."

So the next day, Pedro, Consuela and Vanessa went by boat to Menorca.
Pedro had flatly refused to wear shoes, but had compromised with his
aunt by wearing a t-shirt and having his hair cut. Vanessa had hardly
recognised him with short hair and a t-shirt, but he seemed to like the
change.
At Menorca, Consuela collected her dark green Yaris from the car park
and drove Pedro and Vanessa to the graveyard. Pedro wasn't talking
much, but he did say he wanted to see his hometown in Menorca.
His mother was buried with his father and Consuela translated the words
for Vanessa.
"/Jos? Valentino/
/1954 - 1991/
/Beloved by All/
/Louise Eastbrook/
Eastbrook was Simon's surname. Simon's buried over there. In her will,
Louise had requested to be buried with Jos?.
/1955 - 2002/
/Reunited at Last/
That means with Jos? and since everyone thought Pedro was dead too, it
meant with Pedro too."
As Consuela explained to Vanessa, Pedro knelt by his parents' grave. He
had always loved his English mother, in spite of her stubbornness and
sometimes fierce temper, both of which he'd inherited.
He remained by his parents' last resting place for an hour before
rising and asking to see his hometown.

As he explored the small town, he realised how much it had changed. His
former home had been knocked down together with some other houses and
hotels built in their places. The old fishing dock had been
commercialised and his school had got new buildings and the old
gymnasium had been knocked down. Shops had changed or closed and he
recognised his old school friends. He didn't speak to them though,
knowing they had changed so much he would out of place. Very soon,
Pedro arrived back at Consuela's house.
"Well, Pedro. Do you want to live with me here?" Consuela asked him
cheerfully.
Looking very solemn, Pedro shook his head. "No, thanks Aunt.
Everything's changed too much. I think I'll go back to Majorca and live
in my cave again.
"What about your schooling?" Vanessa asked, knowing they were talking
in English for her sake.
Pedro shrugged. "I've missed five years of school. There's no point in
starting again."
Remembering his determination, Consuela didn't try to persuade him
otherwise, wondering if the authorities would try. She wished them good
luck if they did.

That evening, Vanessa and Pedro disembarked at Majorca. Vanessa said
goodbye to Pedro, thinking he had aged about six years in on day. His
eyes reminded her of those belonging to people living in war-torn
countries - they had seen so much of the bad side of life that they
looked wise beyond their years.
As Vanessa watched, the boy swam to Pedro's Rock and waved goodbye to
her. She felt the sand creeping into her sandals and left the beach for
her hotel.

Alone once again, he gazed toward Menorca and said softly to himself,
"Madre - reunited at last."
He dived down into the sea for the last time.
Birds called and sung on the cliff or as they flew.
Seals lay on the deserted beach.
Dolphins played in the sea.
But he still didn't surface.

Pedro Valentino was never seen again. Some say he stowed away on a boat
bound for England and left the Spanish Islands far behind. Others say
he changed his name and became a Majorcan fisherman despite his
age.
But whatever happened to him, his memory still lives on as the
legendary Majorcan fish-boy.