Page 143 of The Moon Sister
‘Dios mío, please let it be Mamá, and not Bernardo arrived here to tell us she is dead . . .’
Five minutes later, Lucía had thrown on a pair of trousers and a blouse. She walked into the sitting room just as there was a knock on the door.
‘Do you wish to answer it, or shall I?’ Meñique asked her.
‘You . . . no, me . . . yes.’ She nodded, her small hands clenching into fists of anxiety as she walked towards the door.
He watched her cross herself as she took a deep breath and opened it. A few seconds later, he heard a scream of joy as Lucía led a skeletal woman and a young man holding a guitar inside and shut the door firmly behind her.
‘Mamá ishere! She is here! And so is my brother, Pepe!’
‘Welcome.’ Meñique stood up and walked over to them. ‘May I get you some refreshment, Señora Albaycín?’
Meñique saw how María’s body shook from the effort of simply remaining on her feet. The boy, who looked far healthier, gave him a shy smile.
‘We must order a feast! Mamá tells me she hasn’t eaten a proper meal for months,’ Lucía said as she led her mother to a chair and helped her into it. ‘What would you like to eat, Mamá? Anything you can think of, I can get for you.’ Lucía knelt down and took the bird-like hands in her own.
Meñique saw that the woman was dazed, her eyes darting nervously round the luxurious room.
‘Anything’ – María cleared her throat of its hoarseness – ‘anything will do, Lucía. Bread maybe. And water.’
‘I will order everything on the menu!’ Lucía announced.
‘No really, just some bread.’
As Lucía summoned a bellboy, then proceeded to give him a list of everything they wanted, Meñique studied Lucía’s mother, and the boy whom he presumed was Lucía’s youngest brother. There was no doubt that he was José’s son – he was the very image of his father. He clutched his guitar to him as though it were gold, as if it was all that he had left that belonged to him, which it probably was.
María’s eyelids drooped as she sat in her chair, drawing down a blind over all the horrors they’d witnessed.
‘So, the food is ordered,’ said Lucía, advancing back into the room and seeing her mother asleep. ‘Pepe, was it a terrible journey?’
‘No,’ said the boy, ‘I have never been in a motor car before, so it was fun.’
‘Did you have any problems along the way?’ Meñique asked him.
‘We were stopped only once. Bernardo, the driver, gave thepolicíamany pesetas and they waved us on.’ Pepe smiled. ‘They had a gun though, and were ready to shoot.’
‘Bernardo or the police?’
‘Both,’ he said, his eyes huge in his thin face.
‘Pepe . . .’ Lucía went and knelt by him, whispering so as not to disturb her mother. ‘Where are Eduardo and Carlos? Why did they not come with you?’
‘I don’t know where my brothers are. Carlos went into the city to his furniture shop a few weeks ago and never came back, then Eduardo went to try and find him and he disappeared too.’ Pepe shrugged.
‘But what about their wives and children? Why have they not come with you?’
‘None of them would leave without knowing what had happened to their husbands and fathers.’
Lucía turned and saw María’s eyes were now open as she spoke. ‘I tried to persuade them, but they refused.’
‘Well, perhaps they will follow you when Eduardo and Carlos have been found.’
‘If they are ever found.’ María sighed deeply. ‘Hundreds of men are missing in Granada, Lucía,payosandgitanosalike.’ María put a trembling hand to her heart. ‘Three of my sons lost to that city . . .’ Her voice trailed off as if she didn’t have the energy or the courage to say the words. ‘Ramón is gone too. He went out to his orange grove, and did not return . . .’
‘Dios mío,’ Meñique muttered under his breath and crossed himself. Hearing of the tragedy of Spain from someone who had lost and suffered so much brought it home to him like no newspaper report ever could. Lucía was weeping openly.
‘Mamá.’ She walked to her mother and put her arms around her thin shoulders. ‘At least now you and Pepe are safe.’
