Angelina’s fingers crept under the blanket and headed for Isadora’s middle, which was where she was most ticklish. They moved lightly around her tummy like small spiders, until Isadora started giggling.
‘Stop it! Stop it!’ she laughed as she threw the covers back and climbed out of her bed. ‘Look, I am up! What do you want?’
‘For you to come with me into the city before Abuela and Ramón wake up.’
‘But they say you are not to go and fortune-tell for the payos,’ Isadora said, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with her small hands.
‘I looked in the money tin and they will also tell us there is nothing for supper if I don’t,’ Angelina announced. ‘Will you come? Please? I always get more customers when you’re with me,’ she begged.
‘All right,’ Isadora sighed. ‘Do I have to wear that stupid dress? It is too small for me and it scratches.’
‘Yes, you do, because you look so sweet in it.’ Angelina held up the dress, made of floral cotton with puffed sleeves. Isadora let Angelina remove her nightgown and replace it with the dress.
‘This is for babies,’ she said sulkily, ‘and besides, I have told you, I am a tomboy. Ouch!’ she complained as her cousin ran a stiff brush through her long dark curls.
‘Afterwards, I promise that I will buy you an ice cream,’ Angelina cajoled as she fastened a pink ribbon to one side of Isadora’s hair. ‘There now, put on your shoes and we will go.’
As they tiptoed past the curtained entrance to their grandmother and Ramón’s bedroom, Angelina paused to pour some water from the jug into a flask. As they stepped outside, Isadora felt the heat of the day, even though it was only just past eight o’clock.
‘You look pretty in your dress,’ Isadora commented as she gazed at her cousin. Secretly she thought Angelina was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, and she knew all the boys in Sacromonte did too. With her long gold hair, big blue eyes and skin that never went dark in the sun, Isadora thought she looked like a princess from the book of fairy tales that Ramón had bought her when he taught her to read. ‘Will you ever get married? You are nearly sixteen, after all.’
‘I will never marry, pequeña.’ Angelina shook her head firmly. ‘It is not in my destiny.’
‘How can you say that? All beautiful princesses meet their prince. Even Abuela met Ramón,’ Isadora giggled.
‘I just know,’ Angelina shrugged. ‘I have much other work to do, you see. Whereas you’ – Angelina caught her hand and swung it high with hers – ‘have already met yours.’
‘I hope not. All the boys I know are ugly and rude. Are you sure?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘How do you know all these things?’ Isadora asked her as they passed through the city gate and began to walk down the steep cobbled alleys to the centre.
‘I don’t know, I just do. And sometimes, I wish I didn’t. Especially if it’s horrible things.’
‘Like monsters, or big long snakes?’
‘Yes, those too.’ Angelina smiled.
‘I wish I had a gift like yours. Then I could see if Abuela was going to make me magdalenas for tea when I come home from school.’
‘Keep up, pequeña, and stop dawdling!’
Isadora took her eyes from a green caterpillar that was slowly mounting a stone wall and skipped down the hill towards her cousin.
In the plaza, she stood smiling sweetly as Angelina enticed her first client to have her fortune read. Whatever Angelina said to them about their future, Isadora knew that the conversation between them must remain private, so she would amuse herself by looking along the narrow alleyways that led from the plaza. Her favourite place was the café with the opening to one side that sold ice creams to passing tourists. Every different colour was there and she had tried most of them.
‘Today, I will have the green one, with the chocolate bits in it,’ she told herself, looking longingly at it. ‘Today is so hot,’ she said as she wiped her brow and peered round the counter to see if her friend Andrés was at the café today. Andrés was the son of the bad-tempered café owner. He was seven years old – a little over a year older than she was. At weekends and in the school holidays, like her, Andrés came to work with his mamá and papá, but he was always dropping plates and couldn’t place the ice cream neatly in the cornets, so his parents shooed him outside into the plaza to play.
They had met along the alleyway next to the café, both of them crouching out of the glare of the midday sun. Andrés had offered her a sip of his lemonade – which had made her mouth all fizzy. And from that moment on, she had loved him – and lemonade – with a passion.
Of course he was a payo, so when Angelina said she had already met her prince, she knew Andrés couldn’t count. He was so handsome, with his light-coloured hazel eyes and lots of curly brown hair. He was gentle and clever too – he could read and write much better than she could. Unlike other payos, he didn’t seem suspicious of her at all; in fact, he seemed fascinated by the fact she lived in a cave and had a cousin who could tell the future.
He looked at her sometimes like he wanted to kiss her, his lips near hers, but then he’d blush, wipe his mouth on his hand and suggest they went to kick a football around the plaza.
Isadora hadn’t told anyone about her friend. She knew her family hated payos, who were only good to take money from for fortunes or baskets. But Andrés was different, and she knew he liked her. He had said that one day he would marry her and they would run their own olive grove together.
‘But I don’t like olives,’ she had said stubbornly, secretly thrilled by his words.
‘We can have other things too,’ he had said quickly. ‘Anything you want.’
‘Can we have ice cream every day?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘And can we have a kitten or a baby and a bathtub?’ she’d asked as she’d kicked the football to him.
‘We will get those things and many more. When we get married, we’ll have a big fiesta in your cave like the ones you tell me of. We’ll dance together, and everyone will eat ice cream.’ He’d grinned and kicked the ball back to her.
‘You want one, señorita?’ said Andrés’ father from behind the big freezer that displayed the ice creams.
Isadora emerged from her reverie. ‘Sí, but I have no money, señor.’
‘Then go away,’ he shouted at her. ‘You are putting other customers off.’
Isadora shrugged at him and decided she would not be inviting him to any fiesta. Andrés was not at the café yet, but it was still early in the morning.
‘She’s not putting me off,’ said a deep voice from behind her. ‘I would like two of those.’ The man pointed to the green ice cream.
‘Sí, señor.’
Isadora turned and saw crowds flooding out of the cathedral. Early morning Mass must have just finished. She saw Enrico, Andrés’ father, change his expression and become all smiles for the payo. While the two cornets were filled, Isadora looked up at the man, who was very tall and sunburnt, with a pair of deep brown eyes. He looked kind, she thought, and a bit sad.
‘Here, señorita,’ he said as he handed one of the cornets to her. She looked up at him in surprise.
‘For me?’ she asked.
‘Sí,’ he nodded.
‘Gracias a Dios,’ she said as she took a lick of the ice cream that was already melting in the sun and dribbling down the cornet. And having identified a potential customer, she smiled up sweetly at him. ‘Would you like your fortune told?’ she asked him in Spanish.
‘No comprendo. Hablo Ingles,’ he said.
‘You like fortune tell?’ The words had been taught to her parrot-fashion by Angelina, just in case she got talking to an English-speaking tourist in the plaza.
‘You can tell my fortune?’ The man looked down at her.
It was Isadora’s turn to say she didn’t understand. ‘Mi prima, Angelina.’ Isadora pointed to the plaza. ‘She very good,’ she said, as she stretched out her palm an
d mimed the reading of it.
‘Why not?’ The man shrugged as he licked his ice cream and indicated that Isadora should lead the way.
Angelina was just finishing with another client and Isadora held back whilst the money was exchanged.
‘Here,’ she said, when the woman had walked away, ‘I have a man for you. His Spanish isn’t good,’ she whispered quickly.
‘Hola, señor,’ Angelina smiled her brightest smile. ‘I see hand?’ she asked in English. ‘Then I tell you about your daughter.’
‘My daughter?’
Seeing the man’s shocked face, like all Angelina’s clients had when she told them a secret she somehow knew, Isadora walked away and went to finish her ice cream in the shade of an awning across the plaza. She hoped that she would receive a few céntimos in commission from Angelina for bringing the man to her. Perhaps she would buy a present for her grandmother with it. Just as she was thinking this and also feeling sad that Andrés had not yet appeared at the café, a black and white kitten appeared from the alleyway next to her and began to weave its skinny body around her legs.
‘Oh! You’re so sweet,’ Isadora said as she picked the kitten up in her arms and it began to purr. ‘Maybe I could take you home as a present for Abuela,’ she said as she kissed its head. Looking across the plaza, she saw that the man she had taken to Angelina was walking away. She crossed towards her cousin, still holding the kitten.
‘Look what I found.’ Isadora looked up hopefully, but Angelina’s eyes were still following her customer. ‘Look!’ she demanded. ‘Can we take him home, Angelina? Please,’ she begged.
‘No, you know we cannot. We can hardly feed our own mouths, let alone animals. Now, I am too tired and hot for more clients, and we must go home.’
‘What about my ice cream?’
‘You already had one, didn’t you, you naughty girl. That man bought one for you. There is so much sadness in the world . . . Ay,’ Angelina brushed her hand across her eyes. ‘Now, put that kitten back where you found him and we will go.’
Isadora did so, sulking because it was a long hot walk home, she hadn’t seen Andrés and, no matter how hard she begged, she was not allowed to have a pet of her own.
‘Did you make good money this morning?’ she asked Angelina; she was used to her cousin’s silences when they returned from her seeing. Abuela said it drained her energy, so she would always try to cheer her up on the walk home.
‘Yes, that man gave me ten pesetas.’
‘Ten pesetas!’ Isadora clapped her hands. ‘Why aren’t you happy?’
‘Because even if they are payos, I wish I didn’t have to take their money, that I could see for them for free.’
‘You don’t take money from the gitanos who come to see you, do you?’
‘No, but that is because they have none.’ Angelina smiled down at her weakly, then ruffled her head. ‘You are a good girl, Isadora. And I am sorry if I am cross sometimes.’
‘I understand.’ Isadora patted her hand. ‘It is a big burden you carry,’ she said solemnly, repeating the words she had heard María use three nights ago when one of her neighbours had come to their cave, begging for a potion to save her seventy-year-old mother. Angelina had given it, but when the woman had gone, she had shaken her head. ‘She will be dead by morning, and there is nothing I can do.’
‘Well, that is kind of you to say, but my gift is also a great privilege. And I should not complain.’ She stopped suddenly and hugged Isadora to her. ‘I love you, querida, and we must spend the time we have been granted together happily.’
*
A month later, as the heat of June melted into an even hotter July, Isadora came home to find a stranger sitting in her grandmother’s kitchen. She looked up at María, who was sitting in her wooden rocking chair, her eyes red-raw from crying.
‘What is it? What has happened, Abuela?’ she said, ignoring the man and walking across the kitchen to clamber into María’s lap.
‘Ay, Isadora, I . . .’ María did her best to compose herself as she put her arms around her granddaughter. ‘I am so sorry, querida, so sorry . . .’
‘What is it? What has happened? You all look so sad.’ Isadora stared at the man sitting at the table nursing a glass of Ramón’s special brandy. ‘Who is he?’
‘Well, that is the happy news.’ María managed a weak smile. ‘This is Pepe, your uncle.’
‘Pepe! You mean your son who lives in America?’ Isadora’s expressive eyes turned back to María. ‘My uncle?’
‘I do, yes.’
‘And he has come here?’
‘He has, yes.’ María smiled and indicated Pepe.
‘But . . .’ Isadora put her finger to her mouth as she did when she was thinking. ‘Why are you not happy, Abuela? You said so often that you miss him and now he is here.’
‘I did . . .’ María nodded. ‘And I am very happy to see him, yes.’
Isadora got down from her grandmother’s knee and crossed the kitchen to stand in front of her uncle.
‘Hola, my name is Isadora, and I am pleased to meet you.’ She held out her hand formally.
Pepe chuckled as he offered his in return and she shook it. ‘I see my niece has learnt excellent manners.’
‘She has, yes. That is Angelina’s doing – she takes her sometimes into the city when she is telling the payos’ fortunes. She speaks a little English too.’
‘Well, little one, I am not a payo, so come here and give your Uncle Pepe a big hug.’
Isadora allowed herself to be gathered into Pepe’s arms. When he kissed her, she could feel his enormous moustache tickle her cheek. ‘Look, I have brought you a present all the way from America,’ he said as he reached for a box on the floor next to him and handed it to her.
‘A present? For me? Look! It’s a box wrapped in pretty paper, Abuela! Thank you, Uncle Pepe.’
‘No, Isadora,’ Pepe said smiling. ‘You must take off the paper and find what is inside it. That is the present.’
‘But the paper is beautiful and I will spoil it if I take it off,’ Isadora frowned.
‘Here, I will show you.’ Pepe took the box and put it on the kitchen table. He began to undo the reams of pink ribbon and then tear open the paper at one end. ‘See? You do the rest.’
Isadora did so, and, with Pepe’s guidance, removed the lid of the box. She gasped when she saw what was inside.
‘It is a doll! And it looks like Angelina! She is so beautiful. Is she really mine?’
‘She is, and I hope you will take good care of her. Her name is Gloria,’ Pepe said, as Isadora lifted the doll out of the box, transfixed.
‘I have seen them in payo shops, but they cost many pesetas. Thank you, Tío,’ she said, holding Gloria to her. ‘I promise I will look after her.’ She turned to María. ‘Maybe you were crying with happiness, Abuela?’ she said hopefully.
A look passed between Pepe and María.
‘We were both sad because Pepe tells me that your mamá, Lucía, has gone up to the heavens to be with the angels.’
‘She has gone to the Upperworld?’ Isadora asked, as she moved Gloria’s arms up and down, then fiddled with the miniature shoe and little sock that slid off her tiny foot.
‘Yes.’
‘So I will never meet her on earth?’
‘No, you won’t, Isadora.’
‘Well, I would have liked to meet her, but I am sure she is happy where she is. Angelina says that the Upperworld is a very beautiful place. May I go and show Gloria to her now?’
‘Of course you may. She is in the courtyard, tending her herbs.’
When Isadora had left the room, Pepe smiled at his mother. ‘She is a beautiful child, Mamá. So natural, unlike the kids in America.’
‘Yes, she is. And in many ways I am glad that she was too young to remember her mother. Her death will not hurt her so much. You were telling me what happened, Pepe?’
‘We were in Baltimore, and yes, Lucía was exhausted and drinking and smoking
too much, but no different from normal. She stood on stage as she always did and began her farruca. At the end of the dance, she shouted out “Olé!”, then dropped to the floor. The audience thought this was part of the performance – and so did we, and it was only when she did not get up that we realised something was wrong. An ambulance was called, but she was pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital. They said she’d had a big heart attack. She would have known nothing, Mamá.’
María crossed herself. ‘She danced herself to death.’
‘Sí, Mamá. At least she died doing what she loved.’
‘But she was so young! Not even forty yet! And it is so sad she was never able to return to Sacromonte to see her daughter.’
‘Yes. Many times I asked her if she would come here, but she always found an excuse. Having seen Isadora, I think I know why. She is the image of her father!’
‘I suppose she is, yes,’ María agreed. ‘And very like him too. Gentle and kind and very, very patient. She follows Angelina around like a puppy.’
‘Mamá, do you think we should tell Meñique that he has a daughter?’ asked Pepe.
‘Lucía always made me promise that I wouldn’t, but now she is no longer here . . . What do you think?’
‘I heard Meñique is married now, living in Argentina with his wife and two children.’
‘You mean he has finally moved on from Lucía?’
‘Yes. Is it fair to disrupt his new family with such news, I wonder? But equally, is it fair for Isadora never to know her father?’
‘She has had Ramón here, Pepe, and me and Angelina. One thing I must tell you – never did I receive a penny from Lucía after she left. Even though I sent you a telegram saying we had moved and the money should be sent care of the post office.’
‘Yes, Mamá, I received the telegram and I swear I was with her when she sent the money to you regularly. None of it ever reached you?’
‘No. Even though Ramón has been down to the post office in the city once a week for the past five years. They said that nothing had arrived.’
‘Well, then we can assume there is a very rich man at the post office, who is driving around in a fast car. Why did you not tell me if you needed help?’
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