Secrets of Spain Trilogy

by Caroline Angus Baker

  “The council probably watches over them, in keeping with the world heritage listing that the town has. But still, who knows… maybe the owners will let us inside. We will have to come back.”

  “We certainly will,” Luna said and peered in again. She turned around to see Cayetano grimace. “Should we go and sit down somewhere? There was a bar just up around the corner.”

  “You are such a mother.”

  “Yep, our Mummy,” Enzo added.

  “She does all the Mummy stuff,” Giacomo added. “Like caring for us and being lovely.”

  “You have these children well-trained,” Cayetano joked, and the group turned back into the direction of the top of the street. “They say all the right things.”

  “Now Mummy needs someone to look after her so she doesn’t cry all night long,” Enzo said.

  Luna shut her eyes. Kids. Never could keep their mouths shut. She opened her eyes and tried to pretend it never happened. “Would you boys like some lunch?”

  “Yay!” they both cheered and started up the stairs of the narrow lane again.

  “Luna…” Cayetano began.

  “Don’t,” she interrupted. “Please, just don’t ask.” Some pain needed to remain private.

  It was only a short walk to the bar, the Libertad, on the corner of the street. From there it was only another short stroll to Plaza Mayor and the cathedral, the next stop. The foursome sat outside, to enjoy a lunch of the boys’ choosing – tortilla bocadillos and chocolate milkshakes. Luna watched Cayetano in his seat; he was almost back to his old self. He sat straight back, his posture was perfect. His confidence had returned to him. She was happy to see it, because to see him broken was such a shame. He was an interesting and proud man. He possessed a gentility about him that no longer existed in others. It was like there was contemporary sophistication on the outside, but inside was still a very traditional gentleman. She certainly had her hands full with this torero. He stared at the table, but his mind was elsewhere. “Penny for your thoughts?” she asked.

  “Sorry,” he half-smiled. “Just work.”

  “Do you have to fight again soon?”

  “I got an offer to make my comeback after injury already. In Valencia, for Las Fallas in March.”

  “Wow, that is a big one,” Luna said with raised eyebrows. “Fallas means everything to Valencia. It will be an honour to perform.”

  “Maybe put all these retirement rumours to rest. I would rather die doing what I love than give up.”

  “Like Daddy,” Enzo said innocently. “He died riding his bike.”

  “Díos mio, Luna, I’m sorry,” Cayetano spluttered. The sudden pain in his chest outweighed the pain brought on by any bull horn. His panic-stricken eyes looked at the two boys that sat either side of him at the table. They seemed totally unfazed.

  “It’s all right,” Luna said with a deep breath.

  Cayetano could see that it wasn’t all right. In quiet moments, he could see that Luna’s heart was fragile. She was as delicate as an eggshell that might crack if handled incorrectly. He couldn’t think of the right words for this one.

  “It all means nothing to the kids. The boys don’t know their father. They were too young to know what was going on. I’m both devastated and grateful for it. At least they don’t have to be hurt because of it… but they have missed out on a father. Fabrizio was a wonderful man.” She paused for a moment. “Sorry, I don’t know why I said that.”

  “Because it’s true?” Cayetano offered.

  Luna smiled and watched the kids, engaged in their own conversation again. “Yeah,” she said slowly. “It is true. You should have seen his face the day that the boys were born. He had two sons, and he was so proud. Then he realised they had red hair… certainly not normal for Italian babies, but he loved it.”

  “Where does it come from?”

  “My father told me that his mother, Scarlett, had red hair. She would have stood out here in Cuenca with red curls.”

  “It’s nice. They wear a bit of fiery family tradition.”

  “Cayetano Beltrán?”

  Cayetano turned to the man who had appeared next to the table and squinted to take a look at him. “¿Sí?”

  “How’s your leg?”

  “Fine, thank you.”

  “After years of brutally killing animals for entertainment, how does it feel to get what you deserve?”

  Cayetano rolled his eyes. A great time for an anti-taurino to come and hassle him. He never even saw Luna reach for her glass of water before she threw it on the guy. The chilled liquid landed squarely on the front of his beige trousers, and he yelped.

  “Ha-ha,” Enzo said. “It looks as if that man wet his pants!”

  “Puta. Bitch,” the man spat at Luna and tried, in vain, to wipe his pants. It did look as if he had pissed himself, and Luna had planned it that way.

  Cayetano rose from his seat in an instant and towered over the man. He looked straight down on the guy, who took a few steps back. He knew how a bull felt now. Cayetano didn’t need to say anything to make his intentions clear – the guy turned and left the table at a brisk pace, and only once dared to glance over his shoulder at the angry torero he had left behind. The thunderous scowl on Cayetano’s face would have scared the sun itself away had he looked up at it. When he turned back to the group, he still had his shoulders back, his chest out. “I’m very sorry,” he implored.

  “Don’t be,” Luna said.

  “That was really funny, Mummy. You got him,” Enzo said.

  “And Cayetano scared him away,” Giacomo giggled.

  “Come on, boys,” Luna said to them. “Let’s carry on our day.”

  They started up the hill along the paths in Plaza Mayor toward the gothic cathedral, the Basílica de Nuestra Señora de Gracia. “I am sorry about that,” Cayetano said while he limped along on his cane, and hoped that the children weren’t listening. “Unfortunately, I do have to hear the opinions of those who hate bullfighting sometimes. Most don’t have the guts to say anything, but every now and then I get an idiot who can’t help himself.”

  “It’s okay, really,” Luna replied. “Fabrizio was the same. Though his were mostly over-enthusiastic female fans.”

  “I have those, you know,” Cayetano said in an effort to talk himself up.

  “Oh, do you now?”

  “I rather like it.”

  “I’m sure you do, you cheeky bastard,” she muttered with a smile.

  “None from them ever compare to you.”

  “Keep it clean, we are just friends, remember?” She gestured at the boys, who walked in front of them, and Cayetano saluted back.

  Luna helped Cayetano and the twins up the big stone steps to the entrance to the cathedral, and they stepped through the huge iron doors inside the archway of the white stone façade. The cool of the building washed over them; as it did its peacefulness. It had only just opened again after siesta, and was empty, except for the young women who were the staff at the entrance way.

  “You must be very quiet in here, boys,” Cayetano whispered. “There are ghosts in here, and you don’t want to disturb them.”

  “Ghosts?” Enzo asked, instantly convinced.

  “It could be anyone. This building has been here for over 700 years. You never know who could be lurking. Look at me back at home, I was just having a beer, and I was struck by an angel. Who knows what could happen in here?” He smiled and watched the boys’ eyes widen. “And also, whoever behaves gets more lollipops at the end of the trip.”

  “Do I get one?” Luna asked.

  “Only if you’re a good girl. Which I doubt.” He smirked at the face that Luna pulled at him, and the boys both giggled. “Why don’t you all take a look around, and I will go and see if Father Murillo has any news for us? I spoke to him on the phone yesterday, and he seemed confident he might be able to help us with baptism records.”

  As Cayetano left them, Luna took the boys to wander the spaces of the cathedral. They walked and t
ook in the stained glass windows, and the only sounds Luna could hear were her high heels shoes on the stone floor, and the excited whispers of the ghost-hunters next to her. Luna always freely confessed to being a fanatical lover of history. She had lost track of how many cathedrals she had seen in Spain, but had lost her faith in God when Fabrizio died.

  Cayetano seemed to take a long time, so Luna took the boys in search of their new friend. The place was empty, but he was nowhere to be found. She sat the boys down on a wooden bench seat and took few steps around the confessional towards the altar. There he was. He sat a few rows from the front, his hands clasped in front of him and leaned on the seat in front. She glanced at the golden altar, complete with the obligatory Jesus on the cross in the centre. From the huge vaulted ceiling above them down to the ground was an architectural marvel. Huge stone pillars encased the altar in the centre, which allowed worshipers to sit in a pocket of privacy as the tourists trailed around the outer edges of the masterpiece. She could see that Cayetano had rosary beads between his fingers. He had unrolled his sleeves but hadn’t done up the buttons, and the sleeves hung on his taut arms. He hadn’t done up the three buttons of his shirt either, and just a faintest hint of chest hair peeked out.Bloody hell, Luna. You are lusting after a man while he prays. That had to be a new low. Look at him, with his curl on his forehead, his eyes closed in concentration while he mouthed something to himself. It certainly wasn’t something she imagined from him.

  Luna took a deep breath and tried to purge the image from her mind. Lusting in church. Cayetano Beltrán had no idea what he did to her. “Señora Montgomery?”

  Luna spun round the see the middle-aged priest there. “¿Sí?”

  “I’m Father Murillo. Are you here to look at historic baptism records? Would you like to come through to my office to take a look at what I found for you and Cayetano?”

  “I… my friend isn’t quite ready.”

  The priest looked over Luna’s shoulder, to see Cayetano, and then looked back to Luna with a smile. “You are the woman with him. Now I can see what he was talking about.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Nothing,” he dismissed her, but his smile remained. “I just spoke with him a moment ago, that’s all. Ah, here he is.”

  Luna turned to see Cayetano come towards the group again, while he pushed his rosary beads in his jeans pocket. “Ready?” he asked to Luna and Father Murillo.

  The group headed through into the priest’s private office, where a large book sat open. Surely now they had something.

  “I’m sorry,” Father Murillo said and sat down behind his desk. “I had a look right through 1914 and 1915, and no babies named Cayetano Ortega were baptised here.”

  “Are you sure?” Cayetano asked, and looked at Luna and the boys.

  “There were a few Cayetano’s baptised, but none fit what you called and asked me to look for.”

  Luna sighed. “Maybe he was baptised at another church…”

  “Not many churches have records. They were destroyed during the war. Could I suggest hospital records for births?”

  “No, already tried that. Nothing.”

  “Makes sense, many babies weren’t born in the hospital during the time period. People lived in a very different world back then.”

  “So what do you have here?” Cayetano asked.

  “You asked me to look up the baptism of Luna Beltrán Caño? I have found her.”

  “Wow,” Cayetano said and looked at Luna. “I just wondered about my family… I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not. I think it’s amazing that our families lived here together.”

  The priest ran his finger down the page to find Luna’s name. “Luna Beltrán Caño, born January 3, 1919, and baptised here on January 29, 1919.”

  Cayetano lifted himself from his seat and rounded the desk to look at the entry. Sure enough, Juan Pablo Beltrán Moreno and Isabel Caño Saenz baptised their baby in this very church. The priest also showed him the baptism of her brother, Alejandro, five years earlier. “It’s amazing,” Cayetano said. “A piece of my history sits right here. People I know nothing about, yet are part of me, were once here.”

  “I’m sorry I can’t help you with Cayetano Ortega,” the priest said, and looked up at Luna. She had an encouraging smile for Cayetano, but she looked disappointed. “As you know, the first 40 years of the last century were tough times here for the cathedral. Much damage… and then the… war… so only a handful of records made by the priests of the time remain. Most were destroyed.”

  “It’s all right,” Luna sighed. “I just thought that he might be here. At least I know he lived in the town.”

  Once Cayetano had copied all the information on his family, they all trailed back out into the warm sunshine on the steps to the cathedral. “I wish you all the best with your search, Luna,” Father Murillo said. He looked at Cayetano who stood with to Giacomo and Enzo, who were having a turn each with his cane. “Cayetano tells me that you have been through much pain in the last few years.”

  “Did he?”

  “While you were taking your children through the halls, Cayetano spoke to me about his accident. He is lucky to be healing well.”

  “I agree.”

  “I reminded him that all things happen for a reason. Even though he prays before every performance in the ring, he did fall to the bull. God did allow this to happen, but he knows that his angel got sent to watch over him. And don’t worry, any concerns you have about late husband, or Cayetano’s wife should be able to be smoothed out if you want to marry in the church again.”

  Luna raised her eyebrows. Okay, that came from nowhere. “Ah… gracias, for everything.”

  The priest went back inside and left Luna with Cayetano and the weary-looking children. “So,” Cayetano said full of enthusiasm, “what does the rest of our day hold?”

  “I might take the kids back to the parador. They’re tired.”

  “Oh,” Cayetano replied, and looked at the little redheaded darlings next to him. She was right. “Maybe we could have dinner at the parador? They have the best Manchego cheese here, and I hear they make a dish with it and that purple garlic from Las Pedroñeras, and they mix it with loads of saffron, and…”

  “I would like a break. Let’s just walk back to theparador, please.”

  “Is everything all right?”

  “Did you talk to the priest about my marriage?”

  “Only in passing. He asked about you and me.”

  “How was our relationship status a factor? Whether I can remarry in the Catholic church? I only met you a month ago. What did you ask, ‘the first husband is dead, so what are my chances?’”

  “No!” Cayetano cried. They were walking through a tunnel, an archway cut through the stone of a building that led them down to the path back to the bridge across the gorge. His deep voice echoed when he tried to defend himself.

  “Father Murillo caught me off guard with that. He spoke as if I needed assurance that I could marry again. I don’t want to get married ever again! I have had my love. After your true love, others are just people to pass the time with.”

  “Thank you very much! So, what, you are just passing time with me? You won’t get married again?”

  “No.”

  They stopped on the edge to the bridge, and Luna placed a hand on each of the boys’ shoulders when they leaned over to take a look into the gorge. One of the great icons of Cuenca, the Casas Colgadas, the hanging houses, sat perched out over the edge of the cliff just behind them. Cayetano knew there would be no more sightseeing today. “You know what? I have had a really crappy year,” he said. “All my life things have gone my way, and then just after the new year I found that my wife cheated on me. All I had tried to build with her was gone. Then, my parents, who I love, and my sister, who is my best friend, had a huge fight. I’ve been stuck into the middle for months, and it’s miserable. Then, I get gored at a premiere event, which hurt my entire reputation! But I ha
ve always been told that things happen for a reason.”

  “So, you are deeply religious all of a sudden?”

  “No, I’m not. I pray to La Macarena, the patron saint oftoreros before a fight. It’s a tradition. Beyond that, I’m not a strict Catholic, or I would burn in hell. But after so much trouble, I thought ‘what-if?’ What if fate threw you into my path right when I needed you?”

  “We just met!”

  “I know, and Father Murillo just jumped to conclusions.”

  “Or you gave him the wrong idea.”

  “So, what are we doing there then?” Cayetano asked. “You know I’m interested in you. If you aren’t interested in me, are you using me to get what you need?”

  “That is a really shitty thing to say,” she fired back.

  “I suddenly have a really shitty feeling about all of this!”

  “I don’t believe God has a grand plan, Cayetano. People cheat, they get hurt, and they get killed. There is no reason why. You just have to accept that sometimes life doesn’t go well. God can go to hell as far as I’m concerned. If you think that I would use you for a few fucking pieces of paper from the Registro Civil, maybe I should just go home to Valencia and accept Darren’s proposal.”

  “What? Are you marrying Darren? You just said you wouldn’t marry again.”

  “Who is getting married?” Enzo asked.

  “No one, sweetheart. Let’s go back to the hotel, shall we? Say goodbye to Cayetano.”

  “Goodbye, Cayetano,” they both said. “I hope you get better soon. I hope that the angel leaves you alone,” Giacomo added.

  “That’s exactly what she is doing,” he said. “Hasta luego, chicos.”

  Cayetano stood on the spot and watched Luna take the boys over the bridge towards the parador. She was right; he had asked the priest about marrying again. Clearly that was a fatal mistake.

  13

  Cuenca, España ~ Marzo de 1939

  It started to rain as Cayetano, Luna and Scarlett scrambled up the sets of stairs of the Barrio San Martín in the dark. Luna could see why Scarlett wore those heavy boots; Scarlett was able to move much quicker than her. Her mind was in a panic – to be caught in bed with a man was humiliating, but her sister-in-law and her precious child were in peril. Scarlett had Sofía’s blood splattered on her; it was a sign. A fatal mistake must have been made.