Eduard was very pleased to ask Digger to come to the wedding, and thrilled that Clara wanted Emma as well; Senor Lopez gave his blessing, and Digger applied for the necessary leave. Eduard also managed to get to Barcelona for a couple of days to meet Joan Monzo, and play with him. To his relief, the organist had practised intensively, and had mastered both pieces.
A clear blue sky with a spectacular rising sun announced the dawn of Monday 23rd April 1951. For the Bonet family, the day started much like every other, with Manel unlocking the shop at the crack of dawn. The first sign of anything unusual came with the announcements posted on the windows that the store would not re-open after the siesta that day, for this was Clara’s wedding day.
Emma had been delighted to be invited to be flower girl, although she had never met Clara. Some weeks in advance, she had sent her measurements to the bride who had made the simple black silk dress her flower girl would wear. It was a smaller and simpler copy of the black gown Clara had designed and made for herself. The weekend before the wedding, Digger and Emma had arrived in Barcelona, and whilst Eduard took Digger and his drum to rehearse with Joan Monzo in the church, Emma had met Clara and had a successful dress fitting. The girls had become instant friends.
It was a little after six-thirty in the evening when the neighbours watched as the family groups walked down Balmes to the church. First came Eduard and Digger, resplendent in their dress uniforms. Both men turned all eyes as they marched purposefully down the hill, their uniforms looking particularly smart in the evening sunshine. Many of the neighbours had never seen the white pillbox hats with red feather and gold badge. The red stripes and red collar glowed against the blue of their jackets and trousers. The dress uniform, finished with the white Sam Browne harness and immaculately polished boots, turned all heads. Eduard was tempted to blow a tune on his trumpet as they walked, but he resisted. As they passed the department store, he could not help but look at his reflection in the window. Perhaps Emma was right: in their full uniforms, he and Digger were certainly a very handsome pair.
A few minutes later Anna appeared with Ambros and Carlos. She was exquisite in the latest Parisian style: a fashionable blue silk dress and jacket, designed and sewn by her daughter. Ambros was wearing a well-cut dark suit, supplied of course by the Bonet department store. Senora Pinto had supervised her son getting cleaner than ever before. Even Carlos’s nails, usually filled with the grease of his work, were clean and polished. His mother had even insisted that he scrub his crutches.
There was a suitably long pause before Manel appeared with the bride and the flower girl. Clara had spent long hours over her sewing machine, and the results were astonishing. Earlier Senora Pinto had been given a preview of the dresses, and had been amazed at the transformation of the old parachute silk.
Clara’s dress was long and full, and she wore her mother’s black lace mantilla with its long train, held by Emma. She carried a bouquet of orange blossoms with their scent filling the air around her. A single sprig of orange blossom was woven into her hair. In her hand, with the flowers, she carried the little bible given to her so many years ago by her old teacher, Senora Mirlo.
Emma’s dress was a simpler version of the wedding dress, shorter and with less fullness in the skirt. Nevertheless, she looked pretty, with her pale complexion standing out against the black silk. Walking close behind the bride, she held the train of the mantilla well clear of the dusty pavement, and was unable to stop herself grinning with excitement and anticipation. Just as her brother and Eduard had admired themselves in the windows of Bonet’s store, Emma also stole a glance and was thrilled by the reflection.
The staff from the store had been marshalled by Salvador Ribera, who had appointed himself as a kind of major domo for the day, ensuring that the congregation, as well as the groom and his party, were all in the right place for the arrival of the bride.
As Manel and Clara appeared at the door of the church, surrounded by a small crowd of well wishers, Senor Ribera gave the signal to Eduard, high in the organist’s gallery to play. Eduard in turn nodded to Joan, the organist, who gulped and turned to the organ. As the organ and trumpet launched into the stirring chords of Wagner’s Wedding March, the congregation stood. Somehow it was Eduard’s trumpet which turned an ordinary wedding into an extraordinary occasion, and everyone turned and smiled as her proud father led the bride down the aisle.
At the altar, Emma helped arrange the lace train, and then took the bunch of orange blossoms from Clara. Father Matias stepped forward, and despite his usual scowling demeanour, seemed to be smiling.
The wedding proceeded, with both bride and groom taking their vows with clear ringing voices. At the appointed moment, Carlos handed the ring to Ambros, who slipped it onto Clara’s finger, her hand resting on her little bible. Carlos then produced the little leather pouch of thirteen gold coins, which Ambros held to be blessed by the priest. Finally Father Matias placed a rosary over the joined hands, symbolising the church’s blessing upon the union. His assistant handed him the censer with the smouldering incense, and the fragrant smoke was blown over the hands, the rosary and the little bible.
The bride and groom then sat as Father Matias prepared the solemn mass. Quiet organ music filled the air as the congregation, one by one, filed past the priest and his assistant to take the mass.
Finally the service was over, and Senor Ribera gave the signal to Eduard who had been watching breathlessly from the organ gallery. With a nod to the organist who pulled a face indicating his fear mixed with confidence at tackling the challenging score, and a wink to Digger, Eduard stood and began Jeremiah Clarke’s thrilling Trumpet Voluntary.
As Ambros led his bride back along the aisle, a nun, in full habit, stepped out in front of them.
“The Love of God be with you,” whispered the nun, smiling.
“Sister Mirlo!” gasped Clara. “Thank you so much for coming.”
“Thank you for giving me so much pleasure,” replied Sister Mirlo. “I am now Sister Maria Monserrat.”
“Sister Maria Monserrat,” said Clara, “you will see I am carrying your bible.”
“I saw it when you arrived,” said the nun. “I cannot tell you how pleased I am. Listen to this wonderful music,” she continued. “Who is playing with such passion?”
“You remember my brother Eduard? It’s him, with his trumpet.”
“Wonderful. Now you must not let me delay you. Go into the world, and God will smile upon you.”
With the trumpet voluntary ringing about their ears, Ambros and Clara emerged into the warmth of the setting sun. Abruptly, firecrackers were ignited in the street, another product of Senor Ribera’s organisational skills, and soon the family were all gathered, bringing the traffic on Balmes to a halt.
“Come,” called Manel. “Now we walk to supper!”
The wedding party walked back up the hill, once more past Bonet’s store, and all the way to the Windsor Palace Cinema, where a table was waiting for their wedding breakfast. As they approached the cinema, Ambros laughed.
“Look what film is showing!” he said.
“The Thing from Another World,” said Carlos, hopping and waving his crutches, “that’s me! We should all go to see it next week.”
“Not until we are back from our honeymoon,” said Clara. She turned to Ambros: “Where ever that might be.”
The rest of the restaurant was excited to see the wedding party arrive, and applauded the newly married couple as they took their places at the table. Soon the wine was flowing. After supper, there was dancing, with Clara picking up her skirt to dance with her husband, and Eduard taking Emma to the dance floor.
Just as Eduard leaned down to whisper something to Emma, Manel turned to Anna. “Look over there,” he said. “Another wedding perhaps?”
“Not yet,” said Anna, “she’s only fifteen. But she is a lovely girl.”
Carlos interrupted the band, brandishing a large pair of scissors. “My sewing scissors!” said Clara.
Carlos grinned at her, and snapped them in mid-air. The rest of the group surrounded Ambros, and one by one took the scissors and snipped a piece from Ambros’s tie. In mock fear, Ambros and his bride turned and ran down the grand staircase from the restaurant, passed the bemused queue waiting to see the thing from another world, and escaped laughing into the Eixample evening.
CHAPTER NINE
The next day, Eduard, Digger and Emma took the train to Madrid. Eduard was carrying a suitcase.
“What’s in there?” asked Emma.
“Clothes for coming home,” said Eduard. “I’m leaving the army soon, and will have to hand in my uniforms. I’ve put on so much muscle in the army that my old clothes don’t fit.”
“So you won’t be coming for lunch with Diego anymore?” said Emma.
“I don’t leave the army for a few weeks yet, so I expect I’ll come to lunch again before I return to Barcelona.”
“But then, when you’re in Barcelona, how will I see you?” Emma was increasingly anxious.
“I’ll write to you, and I’ll come to see you sometimes,” said Eduard.
“Meanwhile, you will still be at school if father has anything to do with it,” said Digger.
“I’ll miss you,” said Emma, and then impulsively she added, “you will wait for me to grow up, won’t you?”
Eduard smiled. “I’ll wait. Now stop worrying and watch the scenery go by.”
Although Emma was distressed that she would not see Eduard so much, Anna was delighted when the time came for his discharge. Eduard had been under a great deal of pressure as it grew near to the time for him to leave the army. On one hand, he loved the music-making, the camaraderie of his friends and the conviviality of the officers’ mess; and he knew he would miss his regular visits to Emma. On the other hand, it had become increasingly difficult to deal with the adoration with which so many of the bandsmen regarded Franco, and he had had enough of playing for the dictator and his cronies. There was a limit to thinking “Bastard, bastard, bastard” every time he saw the man, or had to give the stiff-arm salute; and he knew that he was close to exploding with anger at the obvious poverty and wretchedness caused by the Fascist regime.
The Sergeant Major had tried to persuade him to extend his contract, but he was resolved. The army band had given him three happy years, but the time had come to leave. With his uniforms returned to the stores and in his civilian clothes, Eduard went to the Sergeant Major’s office for the last time.
“We’ll miss you, Staff Sergeant. Your trumpet talent has been admired, and will be hard to replace. Good luck finding work in the civilian world.”
The Sergeant Major shook hands with Eduard, then turned to the large photograph of Franco hanging on his office wall, and gave the Fascist salute. Eduard didn’t move. The Sergeant Major turned briskly to Eduard. “Staff Sergeant?”
“I don’t think so,” said Eduard, with a scowl.
“Salute El Caudillo,” snapped the Sergeant Major. “That’s an order.”
“I am no longer a soldier, and you cannot give me an order,” said Eduard. “For the first and only time in this office, I will not salute.” Turning to the photograph, he said only one word, “Bastard.” Then turning back to the officer, he smiled. “Goodbye Sergeant Major.”
With that he turned smartly, but walked, not marched, out of the office, out of the parade ground and out of the army.
Emma and her mother were waiting for him at the gate. He greeted them warmly, and then heard the noise of Digger’s boots running across the parade ground, and though the gate.
“What happened then?” shouted Digger.
“Nothing,” said Eduard. “Just as I planned, nothing happened.”
“But the Sergeant Major is exploding, screaming orders at everyone, calling a full parade. I must go quickly, before I’m missed. Tell me next time.”
“Tell him what?” said Emma.
“Not now,” said Eduard. “One day perhaps. Now I’m ready for the lunch you promised.”
As they were getting into the Lopez family car, Emma looked at Eduard. “Something did happen, didn’t it?”
Eduard looked at Emma’s mother. “Not now, it’s not the right time.”
Back in the house in Guadalajara, Emma’s mother went to the kitchen to check the lunch, and Emma took Eduard to the garden.
“Now tell me,” she said. “What happened with the Sergeant Major?”
“He expected me to salute the picture of Franco, like I’ve done so many times, but I refused.”
“Go on,” said Emma. “I can tell from your face, there’s more.”
“I called him a bastard!”
“The Sergeant Major?” gasped Emma.
“No, silly, Franco, El Caudillo, the Generalissimo, the Bastard!”
Emma burst out laughing. “Brilliant!” She paused. “But don’t tell father, he’d explode just like the Sergeant Major did, and he’d never let me see you again.”
“It will be our secret for the time being,” said Eduard, “but Digger will find out. There are no secrets in the officers’ mess. I’ll keep quiet, but you’ll have to stop your brother from saying anything.”
“I’ll be very interested to know how he reacts,” said Emma. “Perhaps he agrees with you.”
It was much later that night when Eduard’s train drew into Franca Station, and his mother was running to meet him. His father was walking with a little more dignity behind her. They embraced and walked happily through the grand hall of the station. Looking up at the enormous picture of Franco hanging high above them, Eduard stopped, and pulled his father close. “Bastard, bastard, bastard,” he whispered. “I’ve never forgotten father, and do I have a tale to tell you of what happened this morning!”
The next day, Eduard went to visit Clara and Ambros. They had made their home with Ambros’s father. The old man had been delighted. Ever since his wife and younger child had died in the Coliseum bombing, Ambros and his father had rattled around in the large apartment, and the gloom of their grief had not lifted until they met the Bonet family. Senor Sanchez knew that Anna had become almost like a mother to Ambros, and at last, more than ten years since his wife had died, there was some sunshine in their lives.
Clara had wasted little time organising the apartment, and Anna had sent her maid Catarina to help. Anna had never quite got used to having a maid, and thought of Catarina almost as another daughter. For Clara, it was as if she had a hard-working younger sister to assist turning the sombre and old-fashioned apartment into a sunny and modern home. Ambros’s savings made it possible for the old apartment to be transformed into the latest 1950’s fashion, copied by Clara from several glossy magazines.
Manel was not surprised that his daughter insisted on continuing to work at the store after her marriage. “After all,” Clara had said, “it’s not like before the war, when girls had to give up work when they got married. I have good skills, and I can continue to contribute to the family business.”
Eduard admired the welcoming apartment, and was very pleased to see the transformation in Senor Sanchez, who had been given a new lease of life by the arrival of his daughter-in-law. Clara breathlessly gave her brother a tour, and finished by producing a delicate tea set, and pouring tea in a very English style. Eduard laughed. “We ate very well in the officers’ mess,” he said, “but we never had such delicate little cups of tea. We drank strong coffee and lots of beer.”
“What will you do now you’re home?” said Clara.
“Work for mother and father, I suppose,” replied Eduard, “but I’m not sure about staying with them in their little apartment. It was fine for growing up in, but now I’ve had time to myself, I can’t go back to that tiny bedroom. I’m going to look for rooms for myself.”
“Tell me about Emma,” said Clara.
“She’s very nice,” said Eduard.
“No, tell me properly. I know she’s very nice, but do you love her?”
“I suppose so,” replied Eduard, “but
she’s still very young. She’s still at school, and who knows how she’ll change as she grows up? With so much distance between us, she may find others to spend time with.”
“Have you written to her?”
“It was the first thing I did when I got home last night.”
“Good,” said Clara. “That shows you care.”
Eduard was restless during his first days back in Barcelona. He wandered around the shop, but everything seemed to be running very efficiently without him, and he wandered around the city, where the scars of war were finally disappearing. He wondered if he had made a big mistake leaving the army and his beloved band, but every time he was confronted by another huge photograph of Franco, he knew his decision had been the right one.
In the twilight of the warm summer evenings, Eduard started to look for rooms to rent, but he was still very restless and unable to settle. One evening he sat and talked to Manel.
“I suppose it’s predictable after the life in the army, but I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he said.
“You can come back to work in the store,” said his father. “We are doing very well, and I can find you something to do.”
“That’s the trouble, you finding me something to do. It doesn’t make me feel very useful.”
“Will you feel better when you get a flat of your own?” asked Manel.
“Perhaps, although I’m not sure.”
“Then you must look for somewhere to live. It’s a move you need to make. And how long is it since you played your trumpet?”
“Ages,” said Eduard. “In the army, I played every day, never missed a day; now I’ve not touched it since I came home.”
“Is that the problem?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps, but now I’m out of the band, I don’t have a reason to play, and anyway, it’s not going to get me a job.”
“Why not? We have a new orchestra in the city. They play in one of the theatres, although I’ve never been to one of their concerts.”
The Phoenix of Montjuic Page 20