Secrets of Spain Trilogy

by Caroline Angus Baker

  “He could follow in my footsteps,” Jaime said. “As a mozo de espadas, I could use my knowledge without killing a single bull throughout my career. Sword-handling is an important task.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Do not forget baby Alejandro,” Miguel said. “If Luna allows it, perhaps he will grow up to be a great. I’m sure baby Scarlett will grow up to be like her mother.”

  “Yeah, gutsy enough to take on the bulls,” Cayetano said with a chuckle. “Even if Paquito wishes to be a torero, he is fifteen, eighteen years away from being old enough to be in the ring. Shit, I’ll be 60 by then!”

  “Paco is now 75, and he can manage a torero as well as he could ten or twenty years ago, Caya,” Jaime said. “Don’t discount yourself due to age.”

  “I still feel 18 on the inside,” Cayetano said.

  “We all do!” Pedro said, to the laughter of the rest.

  “Ask yourself, Caya,” Eduardo mumbled as he lit the cigarette between his lips. “Why did you choose retirement in the first place?”

  “Even Paco got surprised by your announcement,” Hector added.

  “It wasn’t easy.” Cayetano recalled the moment he announced retirement to the whole family at Christmas as they sat around the table of 45 guests at Rebelión. Luna knew the announcement was coming, and even she questioned whether it was what he wanted, but Cayetano had assured her it was. “Five years ago, when I got gored at La Ventas, I had much to prove. I needed to show I wasn’t nearing the end, that I wasn’t fading in the background. Then I missed fights in 2010, while Luna recovered from her head injury, but I rebounded. I missed fights in 2012 when the twins were born. When I returned to a full season last year, something had changed. The joy is still there; the thrill and excitement, the pride and the masculinity, it still reigns in the ring. But life has so many more facets now. When I’m fighting, I’m missing out on my life. When I’m busy with my family, I think I’m betraying my skill in the ring. I can’t explain it; something has to change, and retirement is the only thing I can change.”

  “If you are overwhelmed with the schedule, we can help,” Eduardo said, and the others agreed. “If you need help with anything, we’re all here for you. I’m sure if Luna needs you, she will say so, or at least try to support you any way she could.”

  “Luna has done nothing wrong. She urges me to go and fight, to travel and perform. Luna may not love bullfighting, but she has no objections either. She copes beautifully in my absence.”

  “Would it help if Paco returned to work as your manager?’” Luis asked.

  “Maybe. But I still wish to retire. I have nothing to prove now, to myself or the bullring. I have fulfilled everyone’s needs. Now, I want to retire while I’m remembered as one of the greats, not as some old guy who faded away. That is important.”

  “Your father said the same,” Pedro said, with an air of nostalgia.

  “Then Papá was correct. Paco was 45 when he retired, and I was already 15 by then, fighting on the odd occasion in public. But it’s different now; I’m not passing the gift to anyone.”

  “Yet,” Eduardo said. “Not yet passing on the gift. Don’t give up hope. You have plenty of nephews growing up fast.”

  “I’m not regretting my life choices,” Cayetano reasoned with everyone, unable to avoid the smoke around him, the sole non-smoker of the group. “I could have a 20-year-old son to pass the cape to, but I haven’t. I didn’t meet Luna until I was 40, and that was just how life worked out. My first wife gave me no children, and I’m pleased; that’s not the life I would have wanted for myself. If I had needed to stay with María, I would have thrown myself before the bulls long ago.”

  A cautious chuckle emanated through the group, wary of upsetting Cayetano. His first marriage had been tough to say the least. “This will be a new era for all of us,” Alonso said. “We all will cease our time in the ring. It is a death for all of us, the death of our time in the dust of the bullring.”

  “I know that,” Cayetano sighed. “I have carried the weight of the whole family through my career.”

  “We can all move forward,” Jaime assured his nephew. “You don’t have to support all of us. You’ve done it through your entire career, right through this evil recession. Caya, you don’t have to bear that burden.”

  Cayetano glanced at his uncle and smiled. He couldn’t ever tell Pedro, Jaime and Luis that José murdered their real mother and adopted them. José and Consuela weren’t the biological parents of the three boys; unlike they were to Inés, their only daughter. Cayetano was the blood of the José and Consuela, but his uncles were not. But they had created a family; a whole dynasty. Cayetano had never needed his family around him as much as he did now, and Paco was the same. Luna could never share the identity of the body at Escondrijo. Miguel knew the truth, and he also didn’t wish to share.

  Jaime rose to his feet, a cold glass of rebujito in his hand. “Tonight, the Sevilla bullring, long known for its sad history of bloodletting, saw a tremendous spectacle. The final fight of the enduring Cayetano ‘El Valiente’ Beltrán Morales. The halls will whisper about this night forever. To Caya.”

  “To Caya,” everyone replied, raising their glasses.

  Cayetano grinned as each of them clinked their glass against his. The sounds around them, the other tents filled with people laughing and dancing gave off an air of happiness. But the vague sense of loss, of melancholy and confusion, seemed tight as a noose.

  4

  Madrid, España ~ Abril de 2014

  Luna stood in a daydream and waited for the espresso machine on the kitchen counter. Behind her, through the doorway into the extravagant arch-shaped living room, she could hear the sound of her sister-in-law Sofía talking to Paquito and Scarlett. Sofía babysat as often as she could for the twins, so they knew her well. After years of parenting alone, having someone like Sofía, someone Luna could trust, was invaluable.

  It had been so fortuitous that her long-time friend Darren James had married Cayetano’s sole sibling. Darren and Luna had been friends since the age of 18, and Darren was close with Luna’s first husband. While the road had been filled with bumps along the way, now Luna was married to Cayetano, and Darren had fallen for Sofía. Darren and Cayetano had never learned to be friends, something which gave Darren cause for entertainment. Yes, Darren had once been a rival for Luna’s affections, and Cayetano never got used to the idea that Darren had ‘settled’, in Cayetano’s words, for Sofía. But Darren and Sofía lived in Valencia and often travelled for Darren’s career as a professional cyclist. Luna remained in Madrid, in the La Moraleja manor of the Beltrán family. Behind the front gates stood a house filled with four happy children and a celebrity bullfighter with a stellar career. But four years on, Luna still didn’t feel as if she belonged, no matter how hard she tried.

  “Hey, beautiful.”

  Luna turned away from the counter, and Darren stood there with a broad smile. Darren’s blonde hair was so short he looked almost bald but made him feel cooler while riding all day long as summer approached.

  “I thought you were outdoors with the boys.” Luna turned as she spoke and looked out the full-length window into the backyard. The boys were riding bikes between the trees scattered around the enormous yard, away from the fenced pool and tennis court.

  “The boys don’t need me to give them any riding tips,” Darren replied, and pulled his hands from his jeans pockets. “I see my wife is getting some serious baby time in the living room.”

  “Which she loves so much, allowing me to have no-baby time,” Luna said with a fake smile.

  “Are those little angels getting to you?”

  “No.” Luna sighed and rubbed the back of her neck, her short ponytail tickling her skin. “Solitude would be nice occasionally.”

  “Lulu, you’re a strong woman, with two sets of twins…”

  “But I need hugs.”

  Darren drew Luna into his embrace, and she pretended to cry for a moment. “Why am I so tired
?” she moaned against him.

  “Because you have four children,” he mocked her complaint.

  “Yes, but two of them are small.”

  “I spent three weeks climbing the mountains of Italy in preparation for the Giro d’Italia, and ten minutes in the yard with Giacomo and Enzo has me tired. Lulu, you have two babies and those boys. I thought we had our hands full with the boys when it was just the two of them.”

  “The children are fine,” Luna mumbled as she refused to let go of Darren’s tall and lean body. “Everyone sleeps well, goes to school, behaves, does homework, obeys requests. Even toilet training has been simple. The children are angels, so why am I tired?”

  “Can I suggest something?”

  “No, it has nothing to do with my old head injury; the doctor gave me the all-clear at my check-up in Valencia.”

  “It’s not that.” Darren looked down on Luna, and her ice-blue eyes stared back at him. “You’re emotionally exhausted. The team psychologist sees it all the time.”

  “Are you suggesting I have burn-out? Don’t suggest I have a holiday –I just had two weeks in Valencia and that was exhausting. The kids stayed up late every night, excited to be away from home and in Uncle Darren’s apartment. The building is still standing, by the way; we weren’t that rough with your apartment.”

  “Good, I’ll be there in a few hours. Lulu, you’re tired because you have so much going on here!”

  “I don’t even hold down a job anymore. When Giacomo and Enzo were babies, I had a full-time job and raised them by my side, at work.”

  “Yeah, babies on the team bus while Fabrizio pedalled the Grand Tours of Europe. But were you happy? Or busy trying to prove you could raise twins and still be a pro-Tour bike mechanic?”

  “Some days weren’t so great,” Luna muttered, her eyes downcast.

  “And now?”

  “And now I live here, and it took a long time to remodel and re-furnish the place after Paco and Inés moved out to Rebelión. Then the babies came along, then Inés died, and you realise how hard that has been…”

  Darren nodded and took a deep breath. “Sofía wasn’t that close to her mother; it’s been easier for us. Cayetano was much closer to Inés. Sofía has it easy; since we live in Valencia, she knows you and Cayetano can go out to Rebelión and visit Paco, see how he’s coping.”

  “And we do, very often. When Cayetano isn’t away performing, we spend quite a bit of time at Rebelión, as much as we can while the boys are in school. That fancy private school with those fancy mothers dropping off their children, that’s a nightmare in itself. Now I don’t even get to connect with people like me.”

  “Lulu, you’re the wife of a famous bullfighter. Those mothers should be your people.”

  “Shame on you for suggesting I’m that pathetic,” Luna joked, and let go of Darren. She turned and handed him a strong black espresso.

  “That’s why I say you’re tired; you need a break. Once Fabrizio had been dead two years, you recovered, got a job, socialised again. Remember how good you felt?”

  “This is different. Look how much Scarlett and Paquito have grown. Cayetano is so busy, away all the time, missing out on his kids. I’m not having the life I want. We carry the weight of Caya’s career and the spiralling costs of the Morales bull-breeding business. Cayetano has to bear the burden of losing the Beltrán fighting legacy while Paco tries to recover from grief…”

  “But, Luna, why should you carry someone else’s burdens when you are busy enough?”

  “When Fabrizio got run over, you were there for me, helping me shoulder the weight of grief.”

  “Yes, but the burden wasn’t easy. Paco and Rebelión shouldn’t be a burden on you.”

  “No, it’s not Paco, Darren,” Luna said, careful to keep her voice down, so Sofía didn’t overhear the conversation. Scarlett and Paquito were chatting away in their slurred baby talk, which drowned out adult voices anyway. The sight of Giacomo powering along on his bike caught Luna’s eye through the bright window. “The problem is Cayetano’s retirement. Caya is adjusting poorly and is having a hard time enjoying the time he has left in the ring. I am not happy here in Madrid. I’ve tried, God knows I’ve tried. On the surface, everything is fine; I live in a manor; my sons attend one of the best schools in the country, and are gifted. My younger children are a joy of care for, my husband I have a good relationship. But none of that is me. That is a wife, a mother. I feel guilty, but I want to be me, too.”

  “I’m so glad to hear you say that.” Darren set his small cup on the marble counter. “Because I have news.”

  “Okay, do tell.”

  “This year, I’m riding the Giro d’Italia, the Tour de France and the Vuelta e España.”

  “The three Grand Tours in a year? I guess if anyone can do it, you can.”

  “I won the Giro in 2008, the Tour in 2010 and the Vuelta in 2011. One of the oldest riders ever to win. Talk about peaking late in my career.”

  “Christ, you’re not about to admit you’re using EPO again, are you?”

  “No, fuck no! I thought we had moved past all that.” After Darren’s admission to using drugs alongside Fabrizio Merlini a decade ago, it took Luna a long time to trust Darren again. “The fact is, I’m not the rider I used to be. I’m 39, so my days are numbered.”

  “You’re not suggested retirement are you?”

  “That’s what I’m proposing; do all three Grand Tours this year, riding for the younger guys, and then retire. This is it, Lulu. I’ll turn 40 and retire.”

  “Holy shit,” Luna replied and leaned back against the cold marble counter-top. “When did we get old?”

  “You’re 37, Lulu; that’s not old.”

  “After having twins at 35, trust me, I feel old. I always wanted to be a young mother, and then I gave my children an eight-year age difference. I’ve known you over half my life, Darren, and we’ve come to a real crossroads.”

  “Yep, but I want to retire. I want different things now.”

  “I’ll remember this moment when you’re on the final finish line in the Vuelta this year, in Santiago de Compostela, and you’re crying like a baby.”

  “Hell, I’ll cry when I finish the Tour in Paris this year, too. Never ride the Tour de France again? It’s hard to even contemplate.”

  “Are you sure the team will select you for all three Tours?” Luna asked. Tomás, the team manager, was a good friend. But not too many riders could cope with all three Grand Tours, and others also deserved a shot on the nine-man teams.

  “Yes, we did a deal; Tomás lets me ride all three Tours, and I forego the final two years on my contract with Ciclo Valenciana. Not paying pay my salary will enable them to hire five younger riders next year.”

  “Fair deal, I suppose…”

  “Lulu,” Darren interrupted her with a sigh. “Would you just stop analysing the practicalities of my impending retirement and listen?”

  “Sorry, it’s a big piece of news.”

  “I haven’t even got to the big bit of news yet. When I was in Italy, I met up with the Tour de France director himself.”

  “Oh, him. You know I’m not fan of The French Pri…”

  “Lulu, he offered you a job.”

  “No he didn’t.”

  “I’m telling you before you get a call from the man you call The French Prick.”

  “Darren, he believes the allegations about Fabrizio being a drug cheat.”

  “Fabrizio was a drug cheat.”

  “Yeah, but thanks to court injunctions, the truth never got out to the public. What job could anyone ever offer me?”

  “The best one of all. You will get offered the job of holding the blackboard, riding pillion on the back of the Tour race-leading motorcycle. You can do the entire Tour de France on the back of a motorbike while I ride.”

  “How could I be qualified for that job?”

  “Job? Lulu, it’s a three-week French holiday motorcycling over the best mountain climbs in France wh
ile holding a board so the race leaders know how far in front they are. You listen to the radio, write the lead distance on the board and show the riders. It’s not rocket science. Millions of cycling fans would kill for this chance.”

  “That three-week holiday as you call it, gets reserved for people who have actually achieved something, like that woman a few years ago, the BMX world champion.”

  “You were a trailblazer for women working as bike mechanics. Even now, you’re one of the rare few, and you were a lead mechanic for a Tour winner in 2004, while raising six-month-old babies. You have achieved plenty, you know the sport inside out, and it doesn’t hurt that you’re gorgeous. The organisers had someone lined up, but she has fallen pregnant and can’t attend. I lobbied for you, Lulu. The task is a prodigious role. You aren’t some podium girl there to kiss my cheeks and hand me flowers; you’ll be on a motorbike, bright yellow helmet and a big smile, no doubt. Lulu, you get to motorbike the Tour course while the rest of us sweat and cry our way over the hills.”

  Luna couldn’t help but smile; she had remarked on wanting to ride the course many times. But since she was a woman, and never good enough to make a female pro-team, this would be close as she would ever get. The fun, the thrills, the mountains, the crowds, the bikes, the action… “I can’t, I have four children.”

  “It’s three weeks.”

  “Would do you suggest, leave them with a can opener and say ‘have at it’, or ‘see you at the end of the month?’ That would be terrific.”

  Darren shook his head with a grin. “Lulu, I know the challenge to make this work is tough. I don’t doubt that. Sofía will travel with me for this farewell Tour, and she could help you. Or Cayetano, he can raise his children for three weeks, here in this manor of yours.”

  “Caya has French fights in July…”

  “Can’t he cancel?”

  “No, no way. Not after a few years of delays and cancellations. Caya needs to attend.”

  “Maybe the dates will work and you can all have your way.”