Page 121 of The Moon Sister
‘Well, you told me you are already twenty-one, so you are technically in charge of your own destiny. Although I think your father was right about New York.’
‘Right to be scared of crossing water because of somegitanosuperstition?’
‘No, right to let you continue to mature here. The Barrio Chino produces some of the best flamenco dancers in the world. Keep watching and learning, my Lucía. You will blossom with the right teaching and guidance.’
‘I don’t need a teacher! I improvise every night! Stop treating me like Papá does, when you’re little older than I am!’
Their food arrived and Meñique watched Lucía wolf down the sardines in order to light another cigarette as soon as possible. He knew she was sulking about his comments, and it was obvious she was potentially a diva of extraordinary proportions . . . Yet, there was something about her that fascinated him, like no other woman had before. He wanted her.
‘You should come to Madrid if you can. There is a wider audience and I live there too . . .’ He smiled, moving his hand across the table in her direction. She looked at it in surprise and with a little fear.
His fingers reached her hand and closed over it, and he felt her shudder slightly, then compose herself.
‘I . . . where would I dance in Madrid?’ she asked, trying to concentrate on the conversation.
‘There are many large theatres that have productions with a cast and a full orchestra. I will mention your name to those I know, but in the meantime, my Lucía, try to remember that the goal is not fortune and fame, but the art itself.’
‘I will, I already do . . .’ Lucía sighed, the touch of his hand on hers feeling like a balm to her soul. She offered him a weak smile. ‘I am bad company,sí? All I do is sit here and complain.’
‘I understand, Lucía. Like me when I play guitar, you give your innermost self every time you perform. I agree that your career has stagnated and that you and your talent deserve to be seen and recognised by the world. I swear I will do what I can to help you. For now, you must be patient and trust me, okay?’
‘Okay,’ she agreed, as Meñique brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.
*
For the next month, Lucía and her troupe trudged by wagon through the provinces of Spain; along the coast to the small villages surrounding the great city of Valencia, to Murcia where the Gothic cathedral spanned the skyline. Then further south, where she could see the mountains of the Sierra Nevada glimmering in the distance, a tantalising glimpse of her true home.
She danced night after night for ecstatic but small audiences, then returning with the other musicians and dancers to sit round a fire and drink brandy or wine as they listened to Chilly’s mystical stories of the other worlds. Some nights, as she lay in the wagon, Meñique’s words of encouragement were all that kept her going.
I must keep learning, she thought, so, rather than leaving a bar after her own dance had finished and sitting outside smoking, Lucía remained there and studied Juana la Faraona’s flawless technique and grace.
‘I am a bundle of fire and spirit, but I must learn to be feminine,’ Lucía muttered to herself as she watched La Faraona’s elegant arms, the graceful way she picked up her train and the sensual curve of her lips. ‘Then maybe Meñique will love me . . .’
*
‘Papá, Juana said we will be performing in Granada next week,’ Lucía said as they walked back to their campsite in Almería after the night’s show. ‘We must go and visit Mamá and Carlos and Eduardo,sí?’
José didn’t answer, so Lucía gave him a sharp jab with her finger. ‘Papá?’
‘I think it is best if you go alone,’ he said eventually. ‘I am no longer welcome in Sacromonte.’
‘What do you mean? Of course you are!’ Lucía chided him. ‘Your wife and your children and many of our relatives are there. They will be so happy to see us.’
‘Lucía, I . . .’
She saw José had stopped where he was in the middle of an orange grove.
‘What, Papá?’
‘Your mother and I are married in name only. Do you understand?’
Lucía put her hands on her hips. ‘How could I not understand, Papá? I have had so many “aunties” over the years, I’d be anidiotaif I didn’t. I thought that you and Mamá had an arrangement.’
‘The truth is, your mother did not wish for an “arrangement”, Lucía. She hates me, and maybe Carlos and Eduardo do too. They might think I deserted them to take you to Barcelona and give you your chance.’
Lucía looked at her father in horror. ‘You are saying this is my fault?’
‘Of course not. You were a child, and I had to make a decision.’
