The Moon Sister

by Lucinda Riley

  ‘No, Papá! I will never be so stupid again. It was the other boys’ idea, I swear, and me and Felipe, we thought we could help Mamá to buy some food and perhaps a pretty dress for Lucía.’

  ‘Shut your filthy mouth,’ snarled José. ‘No more excuses, when we both know all the money you stole would have been tipped down your throat! Never in the history of the Albaycín family has one of us gone to jail. Even when we were starving to death, we may have scraped through the payo bins for what food we could find, but none of us has ever sunk so low as you. You are a disgrace to the Albaycín name! I have a good mind to turn you out of this house and set you onto the streets. Now, get out of my sight.’

  ‘Yes, Papá. I’m so sorry, Mamá.’

  ‘You put a foot wrong again, and it will be your own father who turns you in to the police!’ José roared as Carlos slunk away and disappeared behind the curtain into his bedroom.

  ‘What is happening, Papá? Why were you shouting at Carlos?’ Lucía had appeared in the kitchen.

  ‘It is nothing, querida,’ María comforted her daughter. ‘Why don’t you go and visit your little friend Inés next door? Perhaps you could show her and her sisters your dance,’ she encouraged as she shooed her out of the cave.

  José sank onto a stool, head in his hands. ‘Ay, María, I am so ashamed.’

  ‘I know, José, and what will we do if one of the other boys names Carlos when they are questioned by the police?’ María asked him.

  ‘That is one thing I shouldn’t worry about. Honour amongst gitanos will keep him safe. Dios mío, that boy has a wildness in him that makes me look like a kitten. Perhaps he needs the love of a good woman to tame him.’ José reached out a hand to his wife and gave her a weak smile. ‘You are a good woman, María. Forgive me for not remembering that as often as I should.’

  María took José’s proffered hand and a rare moment of tenderness passed between them.

  ‘So, what do we do now?’ she asked him.

  ‘We wait for Eduardo to come back. One of the other boys’ parents went down to the jail this morning, but the guards would not let him in to see his son. The jail is packed with those who had taken advantage of the visitors to the Alhambra. Another gang held a payo couple at knifepoint. They ambushed the carriage and stole their money and jewellery.’

  ‘If Felipe is sentenced, how long will he get?’

  ‘It depends on the judge. It will be a busy courtroom tomorrow.’

  Eduardo arrived back an hour later with no more news than José had already imparted. He looked haggard and twice his young age, but he was at least relieved that Carlos had been found and was home. Once the children had been fed and were in bed – José had insisted Carlos ate alone by candlelight in his room – María brought her baskets out of the stable and sat down to work.

  ‘There’s no need to do that tonight, Mia.’

  She looked up at José, surprised that he was using his pet name for her. He had not done so for many months. ‘Using my hands soothes my mind. Are you not going out with your friends tonight?’

  ‘No. You and I need to talk about Lucía.’

  ‘I think there’s been enough talking today, don’t you?’

  ‘This cannot wait.’

  María put the basket down and watched her husband settle himself into his chair in the kitchen. ‘Then you’d better tell me.’

  ‘I have had many offers.’

  ‘So you told me.’

  ‘Serious offers, which would bring in good money to this household.’

  ‘And as I said, they are offers that you must turn down.’

  ‘And as I said, there are ways around that. It will be me who is employed as a guitarist. Lucía will suddenly appear on the stage, just as she did at the Concurso. Everyone is prepared to take the risks to show Lucía’s talent off to a wider audience.’

  ‘And to fill their own pockets, while they make my child work illegally and pay you a pittance for both your troubles, no doubt.’

  ‘No, María, my old boss in Barcelona offered to triple my wages if Lucía was with me. That amount would enable you to cook a decent meal for our family every day of the week!’

  ‘Yes, but without you and Lucía here, José. Barcelona is a long way away.’

  ‘Mia, do you not think we should try it? What kind of life do we have here now anyway? Sons who are so desperate for money that they are prepared to steal! Nothing in the pot for you to cook, clothes that are threadbare?’ José stood up and started to pace. ‘You saw Lucía dance, you know what she can do. She is unique, and we are desperate.’

  ‘Desperate enough to separate this family so that my husband and daughter go away and we are left behind without you?’

  ‘If all goes well, you can move to Barcelona with the boys in a few weeks’ time.’

  Even though María had not been expecting her husband to suggest she came with them immediately, the fact that it had actually crossed his mind as an option to leave them behind shocked her.

  ‘No, José! Lucía is too young, and that is that. Barcelona is a big city, full of thieves and vagabonds . . . you know it is.’

  ‘Yes, I do, because I know the city well, which is why I will choose it above the other offers from Madrid and Seville. I know people there, Mia. I can keep our daughter safe.’

  María saw a light in his eyes, one she hadn’t seen for years, and realised that this wasn’t just about Lucía, but about him too. He was being given another chance to shine, to attempt to make his own thwarted dreams come true.

  María narrowed her eyes, suddenly seeing the truth. ‘You’ve said yes, haven’t you?’

  ‘He was leaving today. I had to give him an answer.’ José’s eyes beseeched her to understand.

  Silence fell in the kitchen. Eventually, she gave a deep sigh and looked up at him, tears pooling in her eyes.

  ‘When do you leave?’

  ‘In three days’ time.’

  ‘Does Lucía know?’

  ‘She was there, begging me to say yes. The Bar de Manquet is one of the best flamenco cafés in Barcelona. It is a wonderful chance for us . . . for her. Surely you must see that?’

  ‘She did not even think to ask her mamá,’ María whispered. ‘So, what if Felipe goes to jail? Will you leave your son to fester there alone? And Carlos needs the guidance of a father, José.’

  ‘I am sure that for the short time it will take to establish Lucía’s reputation in Barcelona, you can be both mother and father. This could be the start of a whole new life for all of us,’ he implored.

  ‘So, the decision is made.’ María stood up and turned her back on her husband. ‘There is nothing more to say.’

  He stood up and trailed a hand along her back. ‘Come, Mia, let us go to bed. It is a long time since you and I . . .’

  Because you are never here when I fall asleep alone . . .

  Knowing a gitana wife must never deny her husband his marital rights, María reluctantly took his hand and followed him into their bedroom. She lay down next to him and felt him pull at the cotton skirts that shielded her most intimate part. As he climbed on top of her and thrust himself into her tender flesh, she merely waited for his moment of release, and the peace and silence that would follow.

  It didn’t take long before he grunted and rolled over. She lay there, her skirts still bunched above her waist as she stared into the darkness. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

  What have you become, María? she asked herself.

  Nothing, was the reply from her weary spirit.

  13

  ‘A month?’ María looked at José and Eduardo in horror. ‘Did you not explain to the judge that he is only thirteen? ¡Dios mío! He’s a child, and he will be locked up with the rest of those criminals when all he did was follow his brother!’

  ‘We tried, Mamá,’ Eduardo explained, ‘but the courtroom was madness – so many men to be sentenced, we could not get near to plead for him. They brought them all on together – the whole gang.
The charge was read out, and within a few seconds the judge had pronounced their sentence.’

  ‘That is not justice!’ cried María.

  ‘Gitanos never receive justice, only punishment,’ said José, going to the kitchen cupboard, where he kept a dwindling bottle of anise brandy. ‘It could have been worse, the thieves before him received six months.’ He pulled the cork from the bottle and took a large swig. ‘We are all guilty as charged in payo eyes.’

  ‘My poor son,’ María said, not caring if tears streamed down her face.

  ‘Let us hope the experience teaches him a lesson. And you,’ José barked, as a sheepish Carlos appeared from the bedroom. ‘Look what this has done to your mamá.’

  ‘Forgive me,’ Carlos pleaded as he held out his arms to embrace María. She turned away from him.

  ‘Can I at least go and visit him?’ she asked as she harshly wiped away the tears.

  ‘Yes, I have the times written down here,’ replied Eduardo, who was the only one in the family who could read. He handed the piece of paper to his mother. ‘I will come with you.’

  ‘What’s happened to Felipe?’ Lucía appeared through the entrance of the cave. ‘Someone just told me that he is in the jail in the city. Is it true?’

  ‘Sí, it is true,’ said José. ‘Felipe did something bad – he stole some money at the Concurso – and now he will be punished. You would never steal, would you, mi princesa?’

  ‘I will not need to, Papá, because you and I are going to make this family rich with our singing and dancing!’

  ‘What does Lucía mean?’ Eduardo turned to his father.

  ‘You’d better tell your sons, José.’ María wiped her nose on her apron, as Eduardo and Carlos looked on, confused.

  José did so, his excited daughter now perched on his knee.

  ‘And whilst I’m gone, you boys had better look after your mother, or there’ll be me to answer to.’

  Standing in their miserable little kitchen, for a moment María wished it was her who was running away to Barcelona. Word was already out in the village about Felipe, and however talented her daughter might be, nothing could make up for the humiliation she felt as his mother.

  When Carlos had slunk back to his bedroom and José had announced he had ‘things to see to’ before they left, Eduardo sat with his mother on the step outside. He took her hand in his, and she saw how his young skin was already calloused and scarred by the rough work he did at his grandfather’s forge.

  ‘I’ll look after you, Mamá, while Papá is away.’

  María turned to him, cupped his face in her hands, and gave him a weak smile. ‘I know you will, my beautiful boy. And I thank God for it.’

  *

  ‘Goodbye for now, Mia.’ José took María’s hands in his and kissed her fingertips.

  ‘How will I know you have arrived? That you are both safe?’ she asked as the family stood next to José’s cousin’s mule and cart, on which José and Lucía’s luggage had been placed, her husband’s guitar case taking pride of place.

  ‘I will send a message to you with a traveller coming back this way as soon as I can. Lucía, say goodbye to your mother.’

  ‘Adiós, Mamá,’ Lucía said dutifully. But as she hugged her tightly, it was obvious to María that her daughter was eager to be on her way.

  ‘It is a pity you were unable to visit your son in jail before you leave,’ she said under her breath to José.

  ‘Visiting is not until Friday and I promised my boss Lucía and I would be there by Thursday. It is only a month, María. It will pass quickly and teach him a lesson he will never forget.’

  ‘If he survives it,’ María muttered, seeing that José wished to leave in triumph, with no negative thoughts of his jailed son.

  ‘So.’ José plucked Lucía out of her mother’s embrace as if he was worried María would never let her go, then lifted the child up onto the rough wooden bench at the front of the cart. ‘We must be off.’ He climbed up next to Diego, his cousin, who took hold of the reins. ‘Send news with everyone who is travelling to Barcelona. Tell them to come to the Bar de Manquet and see the new star! ¡Vamos!’

  Diego slapped the reins against the mule’s backside, and they began to move off down the path. There were others standing in front of their caves to wave the travellers off, so María did her best to restrain herself from an emotional performance, leaning heavily on the firm arm of Eduardo.

  ‘Adiós, Mamá, come and see me dance in Barcelona! I love you!’ shouted Lucía as the cart rumbled away.

  ‘I love you too, querida!’ María waved until they were just specks in the distance.

  ‘Are you all right, Mamá?’ Eduardo asked as they walked inside. ‘Perhaps you should come with me and spend some time with Grandmother. Today must be difficult for you.’

  ‘They will be back.’ María dug deep to say the words. ‘And I wish them all the success they deserve.’

  ‘Then I must be off to work. Carlos is coming with me to see if he can beat some metal into a pan.’

  María glanced at her middle son as he shrugged in uncomfortable submission. As the two of them left, she consoled herself that at least beating metal was better than beating up a human being in a bare-knuckle fight.

  ‘So,’ she said to herself, ‘I am alone. What do I do?’ She looked around her cave in confusion. Even though she knew that many of her days began like this, with her husband and children absent, the difference today was that three of them would still be missing tonight.

  But there was good news too, she told herself firmly. Perhaps Lucía and José could make enough money for them all to move to Barcelona, even if it meant leaving the only home she’d ever known. It might give them all the fresh start they needed.

  *

  ‘I do not know how you can bear to show your face in the village, María,’ Paola murmured the following Friday as María prepared to go into Granada to visit Felipe in the prison. ‘Your son has brought disgrace on both our families. Let us hope your father’s payo customers do not hear he is our grandson and withdraw their business.’

  ‘I am so very sorry, Mamá,’ she sighed, ‘but what’s done is done and now we must all make the best of it.’

  In the centre of Granada, the streets were teeming with the morning rush to the market, and María and Eduardo dodged past carts piled high with figs, lemons and oranges, spreading their fresh scent through the dusty air. They joined the long queue of visitors outside the prison gates and, with the sun pounding down on their heads, waited to be admitted.

  Eventually, they were let through, and in stark contrast to the bright sunshine, inside the air was dank and fetid, the smell of unwashed and festering bodies so strong that María had to use a handkerchief to cover her nose. The guard led them down numerous steps, using a candle to light the way.

  ‘Why, it is as if the prisoners are buried alive in here,’ whispered María as they followed him along a narrow corridor, the floor beneath them wet with what smelt like sewage.

  ‘Your son is in there,’ the guard said to them, pointing to a big cell. Behind the bars, María could only just make out a mass of bodies, sitting, standing or lying where they could find space.

  ‘Felipe!’ she called out. A few of the prisoners roused themselves, then looked away.

  ‘Felipe? Are you in there?’

  It took some time for him to appear and push his way through the throng. When she finally grasped his hands through the metal bars, she began to weep.

  ‘How are you holding up, hermano?’ Eduardo asked, his own voice choked with emotion.

  ‘I’m okay,’ Felipe said hoarsely, but he looked far from well. His thin face was as pale as the moon, his long black curls roughly shorn off, leaving scars on his bald head. ‘Mamá, don’t cry, it’s only a month, I can manage.’ His lip began to tremble. ‘Forgive me, Mamá, I did not know what I was doing, I did not understand. I am so stupid! You must want to thrust a knife through my heart for the shame I have brought on the
family.’

  ‘Querido, it will be all right, Mamá is here for you, and I forgive you.’ She clutched at his hand; it felt clammy despite the bitter cold. ‘Are they feeding you? Where are you sleeping? Surely there must be more room . . .’ María’s voice trailed off as her son shook his head.

  ‘I sleep where there is space and sí, they feed us once a day—’ He clutched his chest suddenly as a cough rattled through him.

  ‘I will bring you a flask of tonic from Micaela for that cough. Oh my Felipe, I—’

  ‘Please, Mamá, do not cry. I have brought this on myself. I will be home soon, I promise.’

  ‘Is there anything you need, hermano?’ Eduardo took over, seeing his mother’s distress.

  ‘There’s a black market here for everything, and it’s the strongest men who dole out provisions to the rest of us,’ Felipe admitted. ‘Anything you can bring . . . some bread and cheese and maybe some warm clothes.’ He shivered involuntarily.

  ‘Of course,’ Eduardo agreed, as the guard told them their time was up. ‘Keep strong, and we will see you next week. God be with you,’ he whispered as he led his distraught mother away.

  In the days that followed, María took the miserable journey to the prison alone, whenever visiting was permitted. And at every visit, her son seemed weaker.

  ‘It is so cold here at night,’ he whispered to her, ‘and the blanket you gave me was stolen immediately. I did not have the strength to fight him . . .’

  ‘Felipe, it’s only two more weeks, that’s all you have left here, and then you can start again, sí?’

  ‘Sí, Mamá.’ He nodded wearily, his tears making tracks down his filthy face. María’s heart had clenched as she heard his wheezing breaths.

  ‘Here is the potion for your breathing, Felipe. And here, eat this quickly before anyone else sees it.’

  She passed him a small loaf of bread and watched him wolf half of it down, then hide the rest under his thin shirt.

  Leaving him when visiting time was over was one of the hardest things María had ever had to endure. She cried all the way home, wishing she had José to talk to. She did not want to burden her other sons.