Page 61 of The Moon Sister
‘Are you all right, Mamá?’ Eduardo asked as they walked inside. ‘Perhaps you should come with me and spend some time with Grandmother. Today must be difficult for you.’
‘They will be back.’ María dug deep to say the words. ‘And I wish them all the success they deserve.’
‘Then I must be off to work. Carlos is coming with me to see if he can beat some metal into a pan.’
María glanced at her middle son as he shrugged in uncomfortable submission. As the two of them left, she consoled herself that at least beating metal was better than beating up a human being in a bare-knuckle fight.
‘So,’ she said to herself, ‘I am alone. What do I do?’ She looked around her cave in confusion. Even though she knew that many of her days began like this, with her husband and children absent, the difference today was that three of them would still be missing tonight.
But there was good news too, she told herself firmly. Perhaps Lucía and Josécouldmake enough money for them all to move to Barcelona, even if it meant leaving the only home she’d ever known. It might give them all the fresh start they needed.
*
‘I do not know how you can bear to show your face in the village, María,’ Paola murmured the following Friday as María prepared to go into Granada to visit Felipe in the prison. ‘Your son has brought disgrace on both our families. Let us hope your father’spayocustomers do not hear he is our grandson and withdraw their business.’
‘I am so very sorry, Mamá,’ she sighed, ‘but what’s done is done and now we must all make the best of it.’
In the centre of Granada, the streets were teeming with the morning rush to the market, and María and Eduardo dodged past carts piled high with figs, lemons and oranges, spreading their fresh scent through the dusty air. They joined the long queue of visitors outside the prison gates and, with the sun pounding down on their heads, waited to be admitted.
Eventually, they were let through, and in stark contrast to the bright sunshine, inside the air was dank and fetid, the smell of unwashed and festering bodies so strong that María had to use a handkerchief to cover her nose. The guard led them down numerous steps, using a candle to light the way.
‘Why, it is as if the prisoners are buried alive in here,’ whispered María as they followed him along a narrow corridor, the floor beneath them wet with what smelt like sewage.
‘Your son is in there,’ the guard said to them, pointing to a big cell. Behind the bars, María could only just make out a mass of bodies, sitting, standing or lying where they could find space.
‘Felipe!’ she called out. A few of the prisoners roused themselves, then looked away.
‘Felipe? Are you in there?’
It took some time for him to appear and push his way through the throng. When she finally grasped his hands through the metal bars, she began to weep.
‘How are you holding up,hermano?’ Eduardo asked, his own voice choked with emotion.
‘I’m okay,’ Felipe said hoarsely, but he looked far from well. His thin face was as pale as the moon, his long black curls roughly shorn off, leaving scars on his bald head. ‘Mamá, don’t cry, it’s only a month, I can manage.’ His lip began to tremble. ‘Forgive me, Mamá, I did not know what I was doing, I did not understand. I am so stupid! You must want to thrust a knife through my heart for the shame I have brought on the family.’
‘Querido, it will be all right, Mamá is here for you, and I forgive you.’ She clutched at his hand; it felt clammy despite the bitter cold. ‘Are they feeding you? Where are you sleeping? Surely there must be more room . . .’ María’s voice trailed off as her son shook his head.
‘I sleep where there is space andsí, they feed us once a day—’ He clutched his chest suddenly as a cough rattled through him.
‘I will bring you a flask of tonic from Micaela for that cough. Oh my Felipe, I—’
‘Please, Mamá, do not cry. I have brought this on myself. I will be home soon, I promise.’
‘Is there anything you need,hermano?’ Eduardo took over, seeing his mother’s distress.
‘There’s a black market here for everything, and it’s the strongest men who dole out provisions to the rest of us,’ Felipe admitted. ‘Anything you can bring . . . some bread and cheese and maybe some warm clothes.’ He shivered involuntarily.
‘Of course,’ Eduardo agreed, as the guard told them their time was up. ‘Keep strong, and we will see you next week. God be with you,’ he whispered as he led his distraught mother away.
In the days that followed, María took the miserable journey to the prison alone, whenever visiting was permitted. And at every visit, her son seemed weaker.
‘It is so cold here at night,’ he whispered to her, ‘and the blanket you gave me was stolen immediately. I did not have the strength to fight him . . .’
‘Felipe, it’s only two more weeks, that’s all you have left here, and then you can start again,sí?’
‘Sí, Mamá.’ He nodded wearily, his tears making tracks down his filthy face. María’s heart had clenched as she heard his wheezing breaths.
‘Here is the potion for your breathing, Felipe. And here, eat this quickly before anyone else sees it.’
