“Where are we going?” she asked. “Why can’t he come with us?”
“I don’t where we’re going. Cayetano will arrange it.”
“I don’t want to go anywhere with him.” Luna turned away from her brother to the pair who had begun to dig a grave.
“You told me that you would marry him two days ago.”
“That was before I knew he had got Scarlett pregnant. He has to marry her!”
“No, he doesn’t. Scarlett won’t have him. She doesn’t want him. I think Cayetano will take us to Francia, where the Medina’s are.”
Luna looked down at her hand. She still wore the Medina diamond. She wasn’t sure why. “Who are the Medina family?”
“They are Cayetano’s parents. His mother is Pilar Ortega, and she married Sergio Medina. He is not Cayetano’s natural father. I don’t know who is. Sergio took on Pilar’s baby when he was young. He paid us well to get him, his wife and their other children out of España. They have a home just over the border in Francia. They are so many refugees in the area now. We could get there and blend in.”
“Cayetano is rich?”
“Cayetano is aristocratic, but he doesn’t fit into that life. He ran away from home pretty young. He is not right for you, Luna.”
“I know, I don’t want him. Please, Ale, let’s take the baby with us. I can care for him.”
“No, you’re young. We can find you a husband. Scarlett is already ruined with the baby in her belly. She wants no man anyway, not after what happened to Ulrich. She can care for the baby.”
“How can you just turn your back on him? He’s Sofía’s child!”
“I love him, and that’s why I’m sending him away. Who knows, maybe we could send for him. Where we are going, we will be outcasts. Refugees. We have nothing. With Scarlett, he can go home with her, where there is food, shelter, warm clothes… we have none of those things. Do you think any of the children who were shipped away from España during the war were just abandoned? No, their parents loved them, all 34,000 of them.”
“Can’t we stay here, blend in, pretend we were never Republicans?”
“They will flush us out eventually. The killing won’t stop once the war is over. Who knows, maybe the misery has only just begun. We have to leave.”
“I would rather be dead,” Luna muttered.
“We already are. They have broken our spirits. The only difference between us and Sofía is that she can’t feel the pain.”
The siblings watched Cayetano and Scarlett stab the hard soil with their shovels, their faces as cold as the early morning in the frosty surroundings. They knew that this wouldn’t be the only pain they would experience today.
~~~
Luna again sat in the back of the truck with her brother on the slow and bumpy ride towards Valencia city. He sat next to her, and drank out of a bottle of sherry that Cayetano had got from God-knows-where. After all they had seen, the moment that they placed Sofía in the ground was not a time for tears. The goodbyes had already been said, this was simply like mailing an envelope, which sent the goodbyes on their way. They had no idea what awaited them in the city. If only they could drive forever. If only Luna could sit there, and smell the mixture of fuel and alcohol, and let her joints get constantly jolted by the bumpy roads. They wouldn’t stop. The door wouldn’t be opened. The world would never come in. When they finally stopped, Luna felt dread in the pit of her stomach. Who knew what was going to happen.
The moment the heavy engine stopped, Luna could hear it; the gentle sound of water. “I know where we are,” Alejandro said. He crawled over and pushed the door open and looked out; the late afternoon sun flooded into the enclosed space. “Come and see the Río Turia,” he said to his sister.
Luna jumped off the back of the truck and looked around. They parked on the side of the road, hard against a small stone barrier that dropped down into the river below them. Across a bridge that beckoned nearby, there was Valencia city. The Torres de Serranos, the ancient gate to the city, stood tall at the end of the bridge. The road seemed unusually quiet around them, but the road on the other side of the bridge was busy.
“We’ll leave the truck here and walk the rest of the way,” came Scarlett’s voice. She and Cayetano had just jumped out of the front.
“Are we going to César’s place?” Alejandro asked.
“Sí,” Cayetano said with a sharp, serious tone in his voice and expression. “We will see what he knows. The man can get us anything we want.”
Luna looked to Scarlett, who held the baby tight in her arms. He seemed unsettled and she seemed distracted by him. There was so much to do, and she wasn’t exactly maternal, that was obvious. “Would you like me to carry the baby?” Luna asked.
“Please,” Scarlett said and handed the baby to her. “I did feed him a little, but he is unhappy.”
“Good idea,” Cayetano said. “If Luna is carrying a child, people are more likely to leave her be. Scarlett, you look scary enough, people won’t approach you. Any chance you could look more pregnant? That could help.”
“¿Qué coño? How fucking stupid are you?” Scarlett snapped. “Look more pregnant… honestly…”
“Why would anyone approach us?” Luna asked.
“Fuck knows what’s going on in the city, or who is running the place now,” Alejandro said as they started over the bridge. The huge stone structure of Puente de Serranos had run over the Turia river for many years, and had seen many of Valencia’s battles, leading to the gate of the once-walled city, the only way in or out of the place via the road north to Barcelona. The narrow yet imposing bridge heaved with history. The Torres de Quart, the gate to Madrid, was in worse wear over on the west side of the city, especially after Napoleon’s troops bombardment years ago.
They walked along in the sun, and the sounds of the bustling city ahead got louder and louder as they walked. “The problem is, the war is all but over,” Alejandro said to his sister. “We are the losers. We don’t have our stories straight. We can’t be a few rojos and a foreign woman wandering the streets, looking for trouble. Let’s just keep our heads down and see what we find.”
Luna looked up at the Torres de Serranos as they walked around it. Its Gothic style was imposing and majestic; once it held the world at bay and now it was alone with the city walls destroyed. Still, the huge stone defence was a remainder of the powerhouse Valencia had once been.
“The Prado museum in Madrid put many of its most valuable artworks in there,” Scarlett commented to her as they walked. “When Madrid was getting bombed, everything got shipped out here. Then Valencia got bombed. It’s lucky the Serranos is still standing at all. Over 440 aerial bombings of Valencia in two years.”
The group headed into the shelter of Calle de Serranos, the road that led directly away from the gate. The stone buildings were only few stories high, but down on the narrow one-lane road, they felt like protection. The road was filled with people, all dashing around as if the world was about to end. Maybe it was.
Luna trailed behind Cayetano and Scarlett, who were in no doubt about where to go. Her brother stood at her side, one arm around her as they darted around corners of streets barely bigger than footpaths. The area they walked in seemed increasingly rundown. They passed a group of gypsy girls standing on a corner; their clothes were ragged, and their cutting remarks gave no illusion to the type of morally corrupt profession they were pedaling. This was a place of survival, not life. It was only when they popped out into a small triangular plaza that had several tiny roads leading off it, did Luna look around her. Plaça de L’Angel, the ceramic tile street sign said above her head. Valencian Catalan. She had never spoken any language other than her own castellano, the main variant of Spanish in the country. Rumour had it that once Franco took over, that was the only Spanish to be spoken. Regional native languages, like Valencian, would be banned.
They stopped at the tall wooden door at the first house in the plaza, a narrow but tall building of four stories, and Cayetano banged
his fist on it. “César, que es Cayetano Ortega. ¡Abre la maldita puerta! Open the damn door!”
The door swung open, and Luna felt overwhelmed by the heavy smell of cigar smoke. Cayetano, Scarlett and Alejandro all smoked, but that was hideous. The filthy young man gestured for them to come in, and they trailed into the very dark living area, Luna going in last. Even the baby coughed when they went into the cramped space. Smoke wasn’t bad for babies, was it?
“¡Ajá, this must be the lovely Sofía!” César said, his arms out wide for a hug from Luna. “The Beltrán Perez baby has come at last!”
“No, this is my sister, Luna,” Alejandro said, slumped in a chair at the tiny dining table.
“The famous Luna, the lady who holds Cayetano’s heart!” César looked to Cayetano, who scowled back. Now was not the time for sharing stories of drunken nights spent talking about the fantasy girls they couldn’t have.
“I am Luna Beltrán Caño, and I don’t belong to my brother, or that man over there,” she gestured at Cayetano, who stood into the corner of the windowless room. She was sick of being the weakling of the group. No one would speak to Scarlett as if she was merely a companion of a man. She stood alone, and as much as Luna hated the redhead, she wanted Scarlett’s independence.
“¡Ay! This one has the fire in her too, like my feroz princesa,” he said to Scarlett.
“I’m not your fierce princess, and I still won’t sleep with you,” Scarlett shot back. “We need information.”
“You have money, I have information,” César shrugged, and put his cigar in the ashtray on the table.
“I have money, if you have another cigar.” She fished into her pants pocket. “Is your wife here?”
“She is upstairs, with her dying mother. I wish she would just give up and die, the old witch.” César produced another cigar from a box under the table, lit it, and handed it to Scarlett who stood with Cayetano. “What do you want to know?”
“Sofía is dead.” Scarlett blew smoke as she said it. “She died having the baby. It’s a long story, but we needed to get out of Cuenca.”
“And now, we want out of España,” Cayetano added. “We need a ship.”
“No ships in Valencia, not since Franco banned shipping on March 8, you know that,” César shrugged. “It’s why we have no food or anything here. The aid ships can’t dock here. The Mar Negro is stationed off the coast, from Sagunto in the north to El Saler in the south and then south down the coast all the way to Jávea, stopping ships from coming in. The Británico ships, the Sussex and Stanhope, both tried to get into Valencia last week, but the Mar Negro and the Mar Cantábrico, they fight off any ship. They captured a ship that left port in Gandia only a few days ago. They capture cruise ships, hospital ships, freighters, they are strong. The Italian ship, the Melilla, they are close to Valencia port and are under orders to stop all ships from landing. But…”
“We have no time for games, we have women we need to get out the country,” Cayetano said. He faced the floor, but his dark eyes were firmly fixed on his ‘friend’. César was a slimy bastard who had his finger on every illegal pie in Valencia. If something was available for a price, César knew about it.
“The Stanland, a Británico aid ship, has just docked. Franco’s high command let her through. But their immunity may be lifted as soon as they dock out, leaving them at the mercy of the Mar Negro or her sister ships. Who knows? There will be no more ships. You heard about Madrid, ¿no?”
“What of Madrid?” Luna asked. Her father was in Madrid and she hadn’t got word from him.
“We have been on the road for days,” Cayetano said, “high up in the hills.”
“Madrid was captured yesterday. The war will be declared over in a few days. Valencia will be the last place to fall, tomorrow they reckon.”
“Are troops coming in?” Alejandro asked.
“Most certainly! They’re ready to control us all.”
“We need to get on this Stanland ship,” Cayetano said. “Can you get us on?”
“Everyone in the city wants on the Stanland!” César scoffed. “Every Republican has run to ports up and down the coast of Valencia. In Gandia, a ship was let out to sea with refugees, but then captured. Every rojo in España is now trapped like a rat. They will round us up and shoot us.”
“What will it take to get on that ship, César?” Cayetano asked. He leaned off the wall and stood with his arms folded. “Any cost, any job, any lie, you know we can do it. We have helped hundreds of people out of España. Now it’s our turn.”
“You have left it too late, while you chased all those pesetas from your Madrid passengers,” César said, and sat back with a smile. Cayetano Ortega always turned up thinking he could have whatever he wanted and this time he wouldn’t get it. He would get a bullet like the rest of his type, if César didn’t help him. This time Cayetano and Alejandro would have to pay more – and let César borrow Scarlett or Luna for a few minutes of pleasure. Perhaps both of them, one at a time. “Maybe you could get Scarlett on board, she is Inglés, ¿no?”
“Close enough,” Scarlett quipped.
“She looks foreign, and she can speak inglés. But the rest of you…. I don’t know. If the ship is captured and you’re found, they will give everyone a bullet, not just the four of you.”
“Then we get Luna, Scarlett and the baby on the ship,” Alejandro said. “Where is it headed?”
“No!” Luna interjected. “We all go. I won’t go without you, Ale.”
“I don’t know where the ship is bound,” César said. “Maybe Marseille? Where do you want to go?”
Cayetano was staring at Luna, and she knew it. She wouldn’t acknowledge it, instead jiggling the fussing baby in her arms. “Scarlett, you can take the child and we know you will be able to get your way safely to Londres and then bound for home. But Luna, what to do with you?” he said.
“I’m not going anywhere!” she cried.
“She could come with me,” Scarlett said. “Once we dock in Nueva Zelanda, we demand refugee status. They will hold her in custody, but she will be safe until I can get her cleared and free.”
“I hate you!” Luna cried. Scarlett’s ice-blue eyes were staring right at her, as cold as Luna's tone. “I’m not going anywhere, or giving you the baby!”
“Luna, do as I say!” Alejandro banged his fist on the small table. “Scarlett can save you and the baby. If Cayetano and I die here, then so be it!”
“We need to get down to the port right now,” Cayetano said. “When does the ship dock out?”
“No idea,” César said. “All I was interested in was the supplies I could get off it. Soon the black market will thrive with food for the damned.”
“I need some air,” Luna said, and turned away from the group. She pulled the heavy door opened and stepped out into the sun.
“Is she safe out there?” Scarlett asked César.
César shrugged. “Safe enough. Though, if she wanted to make a few pesetas, she could probably earn them in the alley around the corner.”
Cayetano sighed, and went after Luna. He didn’t care how much she hated him; he worried for her. He went out into the light, to find her a few houses down, cooing to the baby. She looked like a woman, not a young impressionable girl. He had no idea how he was going to convince her to get on that ship. It was their one and only hope, especially if Valencia was only a day from falling to the enemy.
“La chispa,” he called, and he saw her roll her eyes. “Luna, preciosa, please come back inside.”
“No,” she said, defiant. “This is a failed attempt, a desperate act. I should have married Ignacio long ago. Now I would be safe with him in Madrid.”
“Safe… saluting fascism, hatred, and oppression.”
“Not much different to here then,” she scoffed.
“Luna, come with me! I will look after you!”
Luna turned and slapped Cayetano hard across the face. “You betrayed me!” she cried through gritted teeth as she held the
baby close.
“Jesús, Luna! I love you! Yes, I slept with Scarlett once, but that’s no betrayal to my love for you. I sleep with everyone! I slept with César’s wife one time. He was in the room, drunk and asleep! I’m sorry! But I never painted myself as an angel. You know who I am, and where I come from.”
“Ale says you come from the Medina’s.”
“No, my Mamá, she was a whore, a mistress to a rich man. She was sold to Sergio Medina through some arrangement when she got pregnant, and they kept me. I’m no one, but if I marry you, I will be someone. All I want is you. I will take the damn baby if you want! Don’t hate Scarlett, she’s strong and smart and capable. She can help us. What she has done, what she has seen, who she has killed… please, don’t hate her. This isn’t her fault. It’s not anyone’s.”
Tears streamed down Luna’s face. There was no point in hiding them. “I’m not a kid. I’m not weak. You all treat me like an idiot…”
“No, we love you!” Cayetano said. He placed his hands on her shoulders and she tried to fight him, but he was much too strong. “Luna, now is not the time to be a strong, independent Republican woman. Now is the time that we group together and save our lives!”
“What for? None of us has a future.”
“We might! Let’s get the others. We will go to the port right now, and see who we can talk to about getting on board the Stanland. I know you love me, you still wear the diamond.”
“Then take it back,” she spat at him.
“No, I won’t. It’s safe with you. We aren’t going to die.” Cayetano thrust his lips on hers, and felt her tears against his skin. There was no way that the love they shared could be broken over one stupid incident months ago. When he let her mouth go, she looked more confused than ever. Confused was fine; it was better than mad. “We will go back to the truck, and we get down to the port. We will get out of España. If you still hate me, then so be it. I can live with that as long as you and the baby are both safe.”
22
Madrid, España ~ Septiembre de 2009
Secrets of Spain Trilogy Page 24