‘I cannot say that I do, María. If I remember, you were still here when both of them disappeared into the city.’
‘Yes, I was. And they have not been seen since?’
‘No, I am so sorry, María, but few of our menfolk, who either were taken by force or simply never returned from the city, have been sent back to us . . .’ Micaela reached for María’s other hand.
Lucía watched in fascination as Micaela’s eyes rolled back in her head, just as Chilly’s had done when he was seeing a vision from the Upperworld. ‘They are telling me they are there. They are up there, looking down on us now. They are well and safe.’
‘I . . .’ María’s throat was so dry that she could not swallow. ‘I knew it here, of course.’ She thumped her heart. ‘But still I hoped.’
‘What are we human beings without hope?’ Micaela sighed. ‘There is not a family who remained untouched in Sacromonte, and even Granada itself. Generations wiped out . . . men, women, children . . . murdered for crimes they never committed. Payo and gitano alike. Well . . . you saw what it was before you left, María. And it only got worse.’
‘But . . .’ María could hardly speak, her throat still constricted with emotion. ‘What about Eduardo and Carlos’s wives and children?’
‘After you left, the Civil Guard came up here to clear the rest of the gitano community out. María, I am so sorry but Susana and Elena were both taken, and their children . . .’
‘No!’ María gave a sob. ‘So they too are dead? How can I bear it! And I left them here to die as I saved my own skin . . .’
‘No, Mamá! That is not true!’ Lucía interjected. ‘You did it to save Pepe, to give at least one of your sons the chance of a life. Remember, you begged both Carlos and Eduardo’s wives to come with you.’
‘You must not blame yourself, María, you gave them the choice. I remember Elena telling me so just before she was taken,’ said Micaela.
‘Elena was pregnant . . . She was Eduardo’s wife, Lucía. You could not imagine a sweeter girl. Did she have her baby before . . . ?’ María could not speak the words.
‘Sí, she did, María.’ For the first time, a smile played on Micaela’s full lips. ‘And that is when the miracle occurred.’
‘What do you mean?’ Lucía asked.
Micaela sat her bulk down at the table and indicated mother and daughter should do the same.
‘In life there is always a balance – even when there is evil all around, there are good, even beautiful, things that happen to provide the natural harmony. Just a few weeks before she was taken, Elena gave birth to her baby girl. I was there with her, helping her, just as I helped your mamá give birth to you, Lucía. And it seems, María, that you are blessed, for not only did you have your Lucía, who is in so many ways special, but your granddaughter, Eduardo’s daughter . . . the minute I saw her I knew.’
‘Knew what?’ asked Lucía.
‘That she was the one who had inherited the gift of seeing from your great-grandmother. The spirits in the Upperworld told me she was to be the next bruja, and that I was to protect her.’
‘Eduardo’s daughter had the gift?’ María whispered.
‘She did. And the prophecy came true: the very morning that she and the rest were taken, Elena had come to me with her baby – she had called her Angelina because she had the face of an angel – and asked me would I take care of her for a couple of hours whilst she went down to the market. I was happy to do this – both Elena and I already knew I would be part of Angelina’s future. I strapped the baby to me and we went out into the forest to search for herbs and berries. We were gone for many hours, because already I was beginning to teach Angelina to listen to the rhythm of the universe through the earth, the rivers and the stars. I did not know that while we were there, the Civil Guard had come up to Sacromonte and taken Elena, Susana and their children, as they were on their way into the market.’
Lucía realised she was listening to the old bruja as if she was telling one of her tales of the old times. Yet this was reality and . . . Lucía could not even think of where the story might be leading.
‘Almost the whole village had been marched away. Only those who were not in their caves when the Civil Guard called managed to escape,’ Micaela explained. ‘I knew then that the Upperworld had sent me into the forest to protect Angelina. From that moment on, María, I have brought up your granddaughter as my own child.’
There was silence in the cave as both María and Lucía tried to rationalise what Micaela was telling them. And what it meant.
‘I . . . are you telling me that she is alive?’ María whispered, hardly daring to ask in case she had heard wrong.
‘Oh yes, alive as anything could be. What a clever and beautiful girl you have as a grandchild, María. She already has powers far beyond my own.’
‘Then where is she?’
‘She is out, foraging in the forest as I have taught her to.’
‘I . . . cannot believe it! Out of so much tragedy, Eduardo’s daughter survives! It is indeed a miracle, is it not, Lucía?’
‘Ay, Mamá, it is!’
‘There have been many times when I thought we were discovered,’ Micaela continued. ‘Yet always, Angelina’s sixth sense was one step ahead of the Civil Guard. She would tell me when we had to leave the cave and hide in the forest until the “devil men”, as she called them, were gone. Never once was she wrong, and I have learnt to trust her instincts better than my own.’
‘So you left your own home and moved in here?’ María asked.
‘It was better that my cave remained empty – it is too near the city gates and I am not someone who can hide herself easily.’ Micaela gave a deep chuckle. ‘Whereas your cave is far away from the city gates and close to the forest, so we could make our escape there easily.’
María looked at the size of the woman and agreed how difficult it would be for Micaela to become invisible. But somehow she had managed it. Managed it to save Eduardo’s daughter, Angelina. Her grandchild . . .
‘Will she be back soon?’ asked Lucía. ‘I cannot wait to meet my niece!’
‘She will be back after she has conversed with the trees to discover where exactly she can pick the magic herbs she uses to brew her potions. She is like the wind, a spirit who listens to nothing but her own infallible instincts.’
‘How can I ever thank you, Micaela? What you have done for me, for this family . . .’
‘No. I have done nothing. I was saved because of Angelina. I know it.’
‘And now, do people return here to live in Sacromonte?’ Lucía asked.
‘The community we had once is gone. Dead, or scattered across the world. Sacromonte can never be as it was,’ Micaela said darkly.
‘Maybe in time,’ countered María.
‘Now you are here, my work is done.’ Micaela shrugged. ‘And I am grateful for I was worried what would become of Angelina if I was not here. I was told someone would come for Angelina when I needed them. My heart – it cannot support me much longer, you see.’ She roused herself from the table, her face purple with effort. ‘Now, I have some soup for lunch. Are you hungry?’
Both María and Lucía accepted Micaela’s offer, more for want of something to concentrate on than hunger as they waited for the little miracle child to come home. María told Micaela a little of their life in the past nine years, and that they were now living in an orange grove in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains.
‘Hola, Maestra,’ said a high voice as the front door opened, and a waif-like creature entered the cave with an overflowing basket of what resembled weeds.
María drew in her breath, for this child could not look less gitana than if she had been transported from the host of the angels she was named after. With her red-gold hair and blue eyes, Angelina looked payo through and through.
The wise, calm eyes stared at the two women sitting at the table. ‘You are something to me, aren’t you?’ she said quietly as she came towards them. ‘Are you
my family?’
‘Yes,’ said María, yet again close to tears, ‘I am your grandmother, and this is your aunt, Lucía.’
‘They told me something special would arrive today,’ Angelina nodded, seemingly not at all surprised. ‘Is this who I will live with when you travel to the Upperworld, Maestra?’
‘Yes.’ Micaela met María’s astonished expression almost smugly. ‘I have been telling your grandmother and aunt all about you.’
Angelina placed her basket on the floor, then opened her arms wide to hug María and then Lucía in turn. ‘I am glad you have come. The maestra was getting worried that her time was running out. Now she can prepare for her journey without fear. Is there soup?’ she queried.
‘Sí,’ Micaela began to rise but Angelina used a hand to stop her.
‘I can get it. She tries to do everything for me, but I tell her she must rest. Your baby will be a girl, and we will be great friends,’ Angelina nodded to Lucía as she scooped some soup into a tin bowl.
‘Micaela already told her,’ said María. Lucía – for once – was silenced by this extraordinary little girl and María could only continue to stare at her in wonder.
Eduardo’s child . . . she is to be given to me . . .
Angelina sat at the table and ate her soup, asking a hundred different questions about María and Lucía and the other members of her family.
‘I have an uncle as well as an aunt, sí?’
‘You do, Angelina, and he is called Pepe. Maybe one day he will visit us here.’
‘I will know him a long time. The prophecies are coming true, Maestra,’ she said to Micaela in delight. ‘I knew they would not let us down.’
‘Does she go to school?’ María asked Micaela.
‘What do I need with school?’ Angelina answered. ‘I learn everything I need from the maestra and from the forest.’
‘Perhaps you should learn to read and write,’ Lucía said as she ferreted in her basket for her cigarettes and lit up. ‘It is something I wish I had done.’
‘Oh, I can do that, Lucía. The maestra had a payo come here and teach me.’ She stared at Lucía inhaling her cigarette. ‘You know that it is bad for your heart. It will help kill you. You should stop.’
‘I shall do as I wish,’ Lucía replied, now irritated by this angel child, who seemed to know the answers to everything.
‘Each of our destinies is down to us. Sometimes.’ She laughed as she gave Micaela a knowing look. ‘When can I come and visit you?’ she asked María. ‘Your home sounds beautiful.’
‘You must come soon,’ María said, a wave of weariness overtaking her. There had been so much to take in; this child’s sheer vitality and life force was almost overpowering and she was still to process the final confirmation of the loss of her sons and their families. ‘Micaela and I will arrange for us to come and collect you and take you there by car.’
‘Thank you,’ said Angelina politely. ‘Now, I must make a potion before the energy in my herbs is gone. It is for the maestra’s heart. I will make you one for your baby too,’ Angelina declared. She took her basket over to the work surface and wielded a large knife on the chopping board.
Emotional goodbyes were said and arrangements made to collect Angelina in a couple of days’ time.
‘Thank you for coming, Grandmother, Aunt,’ said Angelina as she hugged them. ‘It has made me very happy. Goodbye.’
Outside, María and Lucía walked back to the car in silence.
‘She is . . . extraordinary,’ María whispered, more to herself than her daughter.
‘She is, even if I find a nine-year-old child telling me I must stop smoking irritating,’ Lucía grimaced as she started the engine. ‘Well, at least we know what colour to crochet the baby’s blanket,’ she added with a throaty chuckle. ‘She reminds me of Chilly when he was a boy. He was always precocious. Goodness, I miss him. Another loved one we have almost certainly lost to the stinking Civil War.’
‘Should I send a telegram to your father to tell him about the death of his sons and his granddaughter? Surely he should know?’
‘Why not? Maybe his newest whore can read it to him,’ Lucía drawled, as she steered the car carefully down the narrow cobbled alleys.
‘Please,’ María sighed. ‘There’s been enough hatred and loss in both of our lives for one day. Whatever José is, he is your father and my husband.’
‘Do you even know where he is?’
‘Pepe sent me a telegram to tell me that they were going on another tour of the States next week.’
‘How did you read it, Mamá?’
‘Alejandro read it for me,’ María admitted. ‘He has offered to help me learn to read better.’
‘I told you you had a boyfriend,’ Lucía giggled, ‘which is more than I have – or,’ she said, looking down at her stomach, ‘will ever have now.’
‘You are still young, Lucía! Your life has just begun.’
‘No, Mamá. I think it is yours that has, but . . .’ Lucía paused for a moment. ‘Does Alejandro know yet we are gitanos?’ Lucía asked her.
‘No.’
‘Would it change things if he did?’
‘I don’t know, but perhaps it is safer for you and the baby if he does not.’
‘From the sound of things, better for you too.’ Lucía smiled wryly. ‘Many would say we are betraying our culture, acting like payos – living like them too, in a normal house . . .’
‘Maybe we are,’ María sighed, ‘but when I think back to the years up there in Sacromonte, where we were treated no better than dogs, it has been pleasant to live without the prejudice. And we are still who we are inside, Lucía, no matter whether our hair is short or long, the clothes we wear, or where we live. It is . . . easier,’ María acknowledged.
‘So you do not wish to go back and live in your own cave, Mamá?’
‘I can hardly throw Micaela out on the street after all she has done to take care of Angelina. I think the arrangement suits us all.’
‘Yes, Mamá. For now, I think it does.’
32
Angelina came down to visit them at the Villa Elsa the following week. Just like Lucía when she had been younger and had visited payo houses with her father, Angelina had ooh-ed and aah-ed over the modern conveniences. The inside toilet and bathtub fascinated her the most, and Lucía found her peering down the toilet bowl as she pulled the long chain to flush it.
‘Would you like to take a bath?’ Lucía asked her. ‘The water is very warm.’
‘I think I would be too frightened! See how deep it is. I cannot swim and I may drown.’
‘I would stay with you to make sure you didn’t. And look,’ Lucía proffered some bubble bath she’d stolen from her stay at the Waldorf Astoria. ‘Now this really is magic.’
The little girl had giggled in surprise and delight as she’d watched the big creamy bubbles appear on top of the water.
‘What alchemy makes this?’ she said as Lucía had encouraged her to climb in and dab some on her nose.
‘American alchemy,’ she said. ‘Have you ever seen a movie, Angelina?’
‘No, what is that?’
‘Moving pictures on a screen. I have been in one. Perhaps one day I will show you.’
*
‘Angelina is such an odd mixture,’ Lucía commented when she’d arrived back from Sacromonte after dropping the child back at her cave home. ‘She has wisdom beyond her years, yet she is a child who has grown up purely in nature, and her innocence is breathtaking.’
‘You too grew up in nature, Lucía, in the same cave as Angelina.’
‘I was not hidden away from the world, Mamá. I understood it all too well from a very young age. I asked her if she wished to come and stay with us for a while. She refused, saying that she could not leave Micaela alone, that she was too sick, but that she’d also miss her forest home.’
‘Well, one day she will have no choice,’ said María. ‘From what they both say, Micaela does not have long.�
�
‘It is almost as if this was all planned by an invisible hand,’ mused Lucía. ‘If we had not returned, what would have become of the child?’
‘Oh, I am sure she would have survived,’ María smiled. ‘That is her destiny.’
Lucía stood up from the table where they’d been eating supper, and yawned. ‘I am off to my bed, Mamá. I am tired tonight.’
‘Sleep well, querida.’
‘I will, goodnight, Mamá.’
María sat there for a while longer, before she cleared away the dishes, thinking what a change had come over her daughter. It was barely ten o’clock – the time when the old Lucía was only just beginning to come alive in front of an audience of hundreds, sometimes thousands – yet here, Lucía often retired early and slept peacefully through the night. The way Lucía had continued to exert herself over the years was frightening – she’d often worried that her daughter would dance herself to death – but this new Lucía was calm and a pleasure to be with. For now, at least . . .
*
Three weeks later, as the sun was setting, María saw a forlorn figure walking along the track towards the house.
‘Lucía,’ María called as she saw the fading light illuminating the small red-gold head, ‘Angelina is here.’
María ran down the steps to meet Angelina. When she reached her, she saw the little girl was ready to collapse.
‘Please, may I have some water?’ she panted as María helped her onto the terrace. ‘It has been a very long walk to get here.’
‘What has happened?’ María said as she sat Angelina in a chair and hurriedly poured her some water from the jug on the table.
‘Micaela has gone to the Upperworld, Abuela,’ she told her grandmother. ‘She left this morning at dawn. She had told me to come straight here to you if it happened.’
‘You mean . . .’
‘Yes,’ confirmed Angelina. ‘She is no longer here with us on the earth.’
‘Ay! Pequeña, if only we had known, we could have come to you. No wonder you are exhausted, it is a very long way to walk.’
‘A man offered me a lift on his cart, but then he started asking me strange questions, so I jumped off.’ Angelina drank the water thirstily. ‘Still, I am here, but we must go back soon because the maestra must be buried as soon as possible, or her soul will not settle.’
The Moon Sister Page 49