Page 140 of The Moon Sister
‘Where is the manager?’ she demanded of a waiter pouring drinks behind it.
‘I . . .’ The waiter looked on nervously as the rest of thegitanoscrowded around Lucía. ‘I will go and find him.’
‘Lucía, don’t, there are other places you can dance!’ Meñique warned her. ‘We will not perform where we are not wanted.’
‘Look around, Meñique,’ Lucía whispered under her breath, indicating the guests at the tables behind him with a small nod of her head. ‘These are richpayos, and we need their money.’
The manager emerged, crossing his arms defensively, as if he was ready for a fight.
‘Señor, I am Lucía Albaycín, and I have come with mycuadroto dance in your café. Señor Matos’ – Lucía indicated Manuel – ‘tells me you have many customers who are educated in the creative arts and would be appreciative of our craft.’
‘That may well be, but no gypsies have ever performed in my café. Besides, I have no money to pay you.’
‘You mean, señor, that you do not wish to pay us, for it is obvious from the suit you wear and the way that your customers are dressed that you live well.’
‘Señorita Albaycín, the answer is no. Now please, I would ask you and your troupe to leave the café peacefully before I call the police.’
‘Señor, by your perfect Spanish I know you are one of us,sí?’
‘I am from Madrid, yes.’
‘And do you know what has happened in our country? And what we have done to be here in Lisbon to perform for you?’
‘I have heard about the problems of course, but I did not ask you to come—’
‘Then I shall ask the customers themselves whether they wish to see me dance. And tell them how we have been forced into exile from our home country, only to be thrown out by one of our own!’ Lucía turned from him and grabbed a chair from a nearby table. Using Meñique’s shoulder, she hauled herself up onto it and clapped her hands together in a loudpalmas. As her feet began to drum on the chair, and her clapping continued, the room fell silent as Lucía stepped onto the table, its occupants quickly swiping their glasses from it before the continual beating of her feet sent them flying.
‘¡Olé!’ she shouted.
‘¡Olé!’ repeated hercuadroand the odd member of the audience.
‘Now,señores y señoras, the manager does not wish us to dance for you. Yet we have come from Spain, risking our lives on the way to escape from our beloved homeland with nothing more than what we stand up in.’
Manuel translated Lucía’s words into Portuguese.
‘So, will you have me and my friends dance for you?’
She surveyed the audience.
‘Sim!’ came a response from one of the tables.
‘Sim!’ shouted another table, until the whole bar was with her.
‘Gracias. Then we shall.’
As tables were cleared to make a space for thecuadro, the manager pulled Lucía aside.
‘I will not pay you, señorita.’
‘Tonight we dance for free, señor, but tomorrow’ – Lucía prodded him between his scrawny ribs – ‘you will be begging to pay me.’
*
Meñique watched Lucía devour the bread and meat – the only sustenance the hotel had been able to rustle up at three in the morning. While he was dropping from fatigue, not only after tonight’s performance, but from the trauma of the past few days, Lucía seemed unaffected, sitting on the floor and regaling the assembled company with their triumph of tonight.
How does she do it?he asked himself. She looked so fragile, yet her body seemed to be able to withstand the punishment she gave it, and her mind and emotions were like a steel trap that closed around anything unfortunate that had happened, allowing her to wake afresh to embrace each new day.
‘So! Now we can stay here!’ Lucía clapped her hands together like a child. ‘And we can buy ourselves some new costumes. We must find some suitable fabric tomorrow, and then a dressmaker.’
