Page 52 of The Moon Sister
‘Where are your girls?’ she asked him as she handed him a tin mug.
‘Off at the competition with their Seville grandparents. It seems everyone has come to Granada. And your family?’
‘José and Lucía are there already—’
‘I heard from a friend she danced last night,’ said Ramón. ‘And that she was a sensation.’
‘Yes, she was. Eduardo has gone for water, and as for Carlos and Felipe, I haven’t seen them.’
‘Well, at least we both have a few minutes to sit together and be calm. You look tired, María.’
‘Everyone in Sacromonte is tired today, Ramón.’
‘No, María, you look tired to your soul.’
She felt his gentle gaze upon her and the look of genuine concern and sympathy brought a lump to her throat.
‘What troubles you?’
‘I would like to know where my sons are, that they are safe.’ She lifted her eyes to meet his. ‘When your children are older, you will understand.’
‘Even then, I hope they will listen to their papá.’
‘For your sake, I hope so too. Well now, I must get on.’
As María made to rise, Ramón reached out a hand to her. ‘If there’s ever any moment you need my help, please tell me. We have always been friends,sí?’
‘Sí. Gracias, but all is well. And thanks to you, I have freshly pressed orange juice to offer any more visitors who come in search of Lucía.’
‘And thanks to you, María, I was able to go out to work after my wife died, knowing my children were in safe hands.’
‘We are neighbours, Ramón, we help each other.’
María watched him wander out of her cave and cast her memory back to the little boy he’d once been. He’d seemed to appear wherever she was in the village, and had often asked to accompany her on his guitar when she danced. She’d always refused, because he’d never been very good.
As she began to prepare the oranges, unable to stop herself from taking an occasional bite into a juicy segment, she pondered whether Ramón had once been in love with her.
‘María Amaya Albaycín,’ she taunted herself. ‘You’re a sad old woman clutching onto the past!’
12
‘José, wake up! We must be at my parents’ for lunchtime, and where are the boys? Did you see them up at the Alhambra last night? José!’ María raised her hand instinctively, wanting to slap him out of his drunken slumber. The sun showed her it was nearing noon, and she was in a frenzy of concern about Carlos and Felipe. Lowering her hand, she instead shook him, gently at first, but when he did not stir, with more force.
‘What is it, woman?!’ José grumbled as he came to. ‘Can a man not have a decent night’s sleep after the greatest triumph of his life?’
‘He can, when he tells his wife if he has seen their children in the past two days.’
‘Does Lucía not lie safe and sound beside you?’ he murmured, holding out a limp arm to indicate the huddled form on the pallet beside the bed.
‘I am not talking about Lucía, as you well know,’ María continued, taking courage from her mother’s words yesterday. ‘Where are Carlos and Felipe?’
‘I don’t know, all right? You are their mamá, it’s your job to keep track of them, isn’t it?’
María ignored him and turned her attention to Lucía, who was obviously as deeply asleep as her father had been. She lifted the child from the pallet and carried her into the kitchen.
‘Come, Lucía, you must wake up. Your grandparents are expecting all of us in an hour.’
‘Mamá?’ Lucía hovered between sleep and wakefulness as María sat her on her knee and took a cloth from the basin to clean her filthy face.
