“Some people I can’t understand, no matter how long I live in Spain,” Michael commented.
“Ten years in Spain, and I don’t pretend to know Spanish people all that well yet,” Luna chuckled.
“I tell you, last night I went to a meeting in Serra. I only went out of curiosity, but wow, the tension in there!”
“What was it about?”
“One of the properties just outside the town, they have afosa, mass grave pit, on it…”
“As in civil war graves?”
“Yes. It’s been known about for years, but the owner, he’s getting old, and he knows his father is in the grave along with many others. Now, he wants to move his father to the local cemetery, and it’s caused an uproar.”
“No one wants him to?”
“The families of the others buried there are not so keen. The rumour is…. and it’s only a rumour… that one the Falange members who shot them all is still living in Serra.”
“What?” Luna frowned. “The killer lives in the town with his victims’ families?”
“That’s what they say.” Michael’s voice didn’t hold as much scepticism as Luna’s. “Nothing surprises me. Mostly this was a meeting of older people who want the past to stay packed away. Locked in an innocuous hole in the ground. They seem to be worried about old grievances.”
“My grandfather is missing.”
“Really? As in a Spanish grandfather?”
“Yes, last seen at Valencia Port, March 1939. Disappeared off the face of the earth, and left several women pregnant and alone.”
“Bad choice of words.”
“Which ones?”
“Disappeared off the face of the earth. He may he just beneath the surface instead. Sorry, that was a bit heartless.”
“It’s okay,” Luna shrugged. “I’m not sure I want to know him. But it seems like he is one of many who have just been forgotten.”
“There was a concentration camp not far from here after the war. Who knows who will find a body next. Many people disappeared in that time, here and everywhere around Spain. People rarely talk about it. These people are not forgotten, just spoken about privately. That’s why I was interested in this meeting about getting bodies put in the cemetery. They had a speaker come in from Madrid to help out.”
“What was the result?”
“There wasn’t one. The man who wants to rebury his father ended up storming out in tears. It took a lot of courage for him to bring it up after all these years. It’s remarkable that animosity can last for so long.”
“Got to wonder what they’re afraid of.” Luna looked out the window. There could be bodies anywhere out here, and no one would ever know. Or maybe they did… maybe they were sat in long buried secrets.
“We’re of a generation that doesn’t have the horrors of war on our minds. Who are we to judge what others say or feel?”
“Very, very true,” Luna agreed.
“The war may be old news, but the tough life that followed isn’t that distant. Franco still signed death warrants from his death bed in 1975. That isn’t stuff in history books for people over 40, that was part of life. Spaniards deserve a lot of credit for the work they have done to form the country they have, despite all the ups and downs since the 1978 constitution.”
“The conservative media, the army, the church, the Royal House, all like to think the wounds have healed, but not all of them have.”
“Maybe they haven’t, but there’s no quick fix.”
27
Valencia, España ~ Noviembre de 2009
“There you are!” Darren said when Luna came in the front door of the apartment.
“What, is something wrong?” She pulled her scarf from her neck. “I thought you would pick the boys up from school.”
“I did! No, no, everything is fine with the kids, but I wanted to talk to you. Tomás came by earlier.”
“You’re babysitting, not having friends over. What are you, a 15-year old girl?” Luna teased.
“Very funny. No, he had something interesting to say.”
“All right, one minute.”
Darren stood in the living room, and heard the sound of squeals of delight when the boys saw their mother in the doorway to their bedroom where they had played. It was several minutes before Luna returned, with a smile on her face.
“So, have you become a real estate tycoon yet?” he asked as they sat down together.
“I own one apartment, and want one house. It’s hardly an empire,” she snorted. “It was a fascinating trip. The place was perfect, but… I don’t know…”
“Good, because I have a counter offer to you going off on your life of country living. Tomás asked if you would be interested in coming back to work for the team.”
“As a bike mechanic?”
“Yes. You have been out for three years, and he wondered if you would like to come back. One of the guys has quit, so there is a space for you. The team is finished for the year anyway, so next year you could join us on the road. We are sending a team to the Giro D’Italia, the Tour de France, and the Vuelta a España, plus some smaller tours, like Switzerland, Austria, Ireland. I won’t ride all of them, but you could work on them all.”
“With you.”
“And the others.”
“The others. Your teammates are assholes. I always knew that. They seem to think that since I’m a woman, they can speak to me like I’m a piece of shit.”
“But we all worked together for years…”
“Yeah, I did that because Fabrizio needed all his lesser men around him for work. It wasn’t because I was happy.”
“But it gives you a job, which extends your permit here. You could sign the contact and always bail out later.”
“I’m not that kind of person.”
“I thought you would be pleased I got you a job. One you liked… or I assumed you liked.”
Luna sighed. “I love being a bike mechanic. I appreciate that you want to help. But… but you and I don’t need to spend that much time together, do we? Plus, the kids are older now, it’s hard for me to move around for work and have them with me. They need things they can’t get on the road. It’s not like when they were infants on the tour bus with the team. It’s harder now.”
“Since when did something like that stop you? We will still be based in Valencia most of the time.”
“It’s not the life I want for myself anymore.”
“What’s so bad about what we have?”
“We don’t have anything.”
“You know what I mean. Who would want to leave Valencia?”
“I don’t; I want to enjoy more of it, outside the city.”
“It was Fabrizio’s idea to leave the city, you always wanted to move into the old town. Rescue an old building here instead of out in the middle of nowhere.”
“I know that. Sometimes plans change.”
“You don’t have to change your plans. It’s your life, Lulu.”
“Exactly! My life! Why would I want to work for a cycling team that is funded by the Valencian government, as a tourism promotion tool? That money was spent on bike racing, which I love, but it has come at the expense of essential services to this city. There is so many problematic areas in Valencia not being addressed, yet they can pay for you to ride your bike!”
“The money spent on the team wouldn’t be enough to save the world, Luna.”
“No, it wouldn’t, but it would be a bloody good start!”
“Since when did it matter where the money came from, as long as the team got paid? Neither of us got rich by saving the world.”
“I care about the place I live in,” Luna said with a shake of her head. “Spain is the home of my kids. It’s their country. Am I bitter? Of course! I spent years fighting the legal system that was happy to let some guy off the hook for killing an innocent man. I have seen the in-fighting and the disdain that this region’s government has for its people. The thought of taking money for a cycling campaign,
after all the money already blown on stupid things…”
“Then take your part of the cash and do good things with it!”
Luna shut her eyes for a moment. Why did life have to be so fucking hard? Now she was moaning about some moral code of not accepting money that was a foolishly spent by the government. She was far from the only person who didn’t trust the leaders of the region of Valencia, but they all would probably take money from them given the chance. Stop fighting everything, Luna. That was never going to happen. What she wanted was to run off with her half-cousin, and that creepy thought clouded everything she did. That wouldn’t happen – Cayetano was a famous man, he was never going escape the life he had. The good life, in his swanky Madrid apartment. His family was rich of the back of entertaining a dictator in the sixties. Okay, that was mean. If only Paco was wrong about it all, but he had got the information first hand from his mother.
“Lulu, I’m sorry,” Darren said. “I thought I could help.”
Luna opened her eyes and looked at the man across from her. “I know, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to snap. I’ll have to think about it. I’m just sick of lurching from one disaster to another. I don’t know what I want anymore.”
“It’s not like that. You’re too hard on yourself.”
“I know what my problem is. My life is devoid of people. I stand here and say I am proud to have come to Valencia and made it my home. I say I belong here, like my blood is in the soil. I don’t belong here! I’m not living a life like an average Spaniard. How many people come home to their large new apartment, that is fully paid for, after a day of not working for a living? I’m not living with many generations of my family because life is a struggle. I have nothing in common with the people around me. I don’t have any friends. I know people who were friends with my husband, either real or superficially, but I’m not an extension of him. Whatever bond I had with Fabrizio and his life is over. It hurts, but it’s true. I came here because I was pulled along, but I’m here now because I want to be. At least if I moved I might have a chance to genuinely, meaningfully integrate into the place I’m raising my children in. Like the guy I met today, when I went to look at his property. He took one look at me and wrote me off. I can’t blame him.”
“If only you had found Cayetano Ortega. Maybe that would have given you a bit of peace.”
Maybe she was the King’s long lost cousin. No, she still refused to believe that ludicrous scenario. “I’m the daughter of Alex Montgomery, and granddaughter of Scarlett Montgomery. That is all that matters. Surely what I do with my two little Montgomery’s will define me.”
The sound of two little raised voices echoed down the hallway, and Luna rolled her eyes. They had Fabrizio’s temper in them, that was for certain. “I will go and see what international crisis has been sparked in there,” Darren chuckled.
“You don’t have to,” Luna said, but he was already on his feet.
“You and I may not be a couple anymore, but I still care about them as much as ever.”
“You’re going to make an excellent wife one day,” she teased.
“Anything that means I can ride every day works for me,” he called back as he went down the hallway.
The phone rang the moment Luna sat back in her seat, and she groaned. She pulled from her pocket and looked at the screen. Michael. “Hey, back so soon.”
“All part of the service,” he replied. “I just wanted to apologise again for today. It wasn’t my best viewing.”
“Not your fault,” Luna said as she examined her slightly chipped blue fingernail polish. “Honestly, don’t worry.”
“I might have time to go back up there tomorrow and talk to Alejandro, if you like. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.”
“Don’t trouble yourself.”
“It’s my job. Who knows, maybe I will get inside his messy little house full of bullfighting memorabilia again yet.”
“Bullfighting?” Christ, who didn’t like bullfighting?
“Yeah, the guy is a massive fan. We all love something. If you want to buy Alejandro Beltrán’s property, I will make it happen, don’t worry.”
Luna’s polite farewell to Michael was distracted at best. Alejandro Beltrán, who loved bullfighting? No way. How did you find me? What else had he said? Your hair is black. Luna Montgomery, the black-haired mirror image of Scarlett. Scarlett, who once knew a man named Alejandro Beltrán. Shit.
28
Valencia, España ~ Noviembre de 2009
The blue rock thrush birds chirped when Luna stepped from her car at Escondrijo. The roads had been silent as she made the steep and winding trip. Being up here was a splendid example of the Spain that she loved – the differences that made up the country. Not long ago she was in the city, a vibrant and modern place to live, and now she was not just out in the country, but isolated. A whole community lived out here, tucked away, living a decidedly different life to the Spaniards in the city. When Luna had first come to Valencia, she only had to drive five minutes south, and she would come to where donkeys and carts were still a legitimate form of transportation. While the city grew and changed right in front of her over the last ten years, out here on the mountain was the same as it had been for countless years. Spain was like that – embracing the new and holding on to their traditions all at the same time. A 40-minute drive had transported her to a different world.
A few purple heather flowers clung to life in the rapidly cooling November weather as she walked towards the house. The silence almost overwhelmed Rebalsadors mountain. Not too far away there would be cyclists and hikers, but in this cold weather, only the hardy souls would be out. Fabrizio would often ride L’Oronet mountain nearby, along past Rebalsadors and on to the Olocau and Gátova townships nearby. Luna had time to stop and take in the view from the house again. The house was built just back from the limestone cliff, and the world dropped away, spread out along the flat Turia land to the city, and the Mediterranean was beyond it, shining in the sunlight. What had gone on in the hills and out on the plain over the last several thousand years was mind-boggling.
“You again.”
Luna spun to see Alejandro there, covered in dust. “Me again,” she replied and took her hands out of her pockets.
“Whatever you’re looking for, it’s not here.” Alejandro marched straight past her in the direction of the front door to the old house.
“How do you know what I’m looking for?” she called over her shoulder; she didn’t bother to turn and face him. She heard his rough footsteps stop on the flaky ground.
“You’re another one of them,” she heard him call back. “You come to Spain, no idea what it’s like here, taking over the place without any thought of what it means to be a Spaniard.”
“Is that why you are out here, not even speaking Valencian? You’re also a foreigner around here, aren’t you?” Anyone who wasn’t a native of Valencia could be considered a foreigner.
“Where I come from doesn’t matter,” he snapped. “You don’t belong out here.”
Luna turned around and faced him. He stood tall in an attempt to be intimidating, but it wasn’t going to work. “Why are you surprised that I found you?” Luna had no idea why he had said that to her on her last visit, but she may as well see where it lead.
“I was mistaken.”
“Mistaken for someone that you used to know?”
“I don’t know anyone.”
“Not even Scarlett?”
Alejandro’s gaze fell to the ground. He was looking for a lie, and she knew it. But she saw him glance back up. “Who are you?”
“Luna Montgomery.”
She saw him raise his eyebrows. “Luna?”
“Are you Alejandro Beltrán Caño?”
“No.” Alejandro turned away again and started back towards the house.
“I know you are,” Luna called. Now that she thought about it, he bore a resemblance to Paco Beltrán.
“What the hell do you want?”
“I
’ll tell you what I want!” Luna cried. “All I bloody wanted was to find a place to live out here, somewhere to hide away from the world. None of it had anything to do with you.”
“For some skinny little girl, you seem damn sure of yourself. What would you have to hide from?”
“You would be surprised.” For a man who wanted nothing to do with her, he seemed to have an interest in what she had to say. “But, the question is, why do we know each other?”
“We don’t.”
“Fine.” Luna passed the dusty man by the house in the direction of her car. “I can hide out anywhere. I will leave you to hide out here on your own.”
“You shouldn’t mess with things you know nothing about.”
Luna stopped and turned around again. “I know more than you would think. Besides, once you have your husband die, most things in life don’t seem like such a big deal.”
“You lost your husband?” He couldn’t suppress his interest.
“Yes.”
“Any kids?”
“Two boys.”
“You poor girl,” he muttered.
“I’m no poor girl,” she fired back. “I’m perfectly capable of carrying on alone. If there is another property out here that would happily take my money, then so be it. You can rot out here. But remember, I know where you are now.”
“You wouldn’t do anything with that information.”
“So you are Alejandro Beltrán Caño.”
He sighed. “La chispa.”
Luna frowned. “Meaning?”
“You have the spark in you.”
“Are you, or are you not the man who knew my grandmother during the war in Cuenca?”
“You’re the spitting image of her. You have the eyes… and the attitude. But I have no idea what happened to her.”
“She died in 1973, in a small town, in New Zealand.”
Alejandro’s head hung as he listened to the words. “She was such a wicked woman. I hope she had a happy life.”
“I didn’t know her.”
They stood in silence as they looked at the expansive view before them down the mountain. “You’re looking at the monastery.”
Secrets of Spain Trilogy Page 29