Amanda in Spain: The Girl in the Painting

by Darlene Foster

  “My ride!” She ran towards the gate. She turned, flashed a big smile, and said, “Thank you. Gracias amiga,” before she disappeared through the gate.

  Amanda stared after the red lights of the car as they faded into tiny dots in the dark, completely confused.

  Chapter 5

  The following morning Amanda woke up stiff and sore with a large bruise on her left thigh. She managed to get back into the hotel by going around to the front door and retracing her steps back to the room where she found Leah still sound asleep. It all felt like an absurd dream except for the reality of the bruise.

  The hotel served a fabulous breakfast of hot chocolate and warmed chocolate-filled croissants. “Yum! I love chocolate,” said Amanda as she helped herself to a second delicious pastry.

  “You will find some nice chocolate here in Spain,” replied Mrs. Anderson.

  “Where are we going today?”

  “To a town called Cuenca. You will like it; it is perched on top of a mountain. Eat up. The bus will be leaving soon.”

  “Sorry you didn’t get to explore this place like you wanted to,” said Leah as they got on the bus.

  “Oh, that’s okay. I saw quite a bit of it.” Amanda reached into her pocket and discovered the bun and piece of cheese she had taken from dinner to give to Dona. She glanced out the window of the bus and wondered if the younger girl got away all right. Her heart skipped a beat and she just managed to stop herself from gasping. There outside the bus stood the big guy with the ponytail talking to another man. He shook his head and waved his arms around like he was upset about something. Why did she have an uneasy feeling whenever she saw him? She turned her face from the window before he noticed her.

  The bus ride to Cuenca didn’t take long. A deep ravine surrounded the quaint old town built high on the top of a hill. The houses looked like they would tumble down into the ravine any minute.

  “Wow! Why would anyone build a house so close to the edge like that?” exclaimed Amanda.

  Leah’s mother had done her homework, as always. “A couple of hundred years ago, as the town started to grow, they ran out of room on the top of the hill so they built the houses as close to the rim as possible. It is also very windy up here so over the years the wind would have eroded the soil away causing the houses to look like they were ready to fall over the cliff.”

  “I wouldn’t want to be a sleepwalker and live in one of those houses. Look at that balcony over there. It is suspended in mid air, hanging right over the ravine. Scaaary! Do you think we could go inside one?” asked Amanda.

  “They are called the Casas Colgadas, or The Hanging Houses. They are very famous,” explained Leah’s mom. “I am not sure if we are allowed inside.”

  The bus stopped and let everyone out to have a look around. Amanda loved the picturesque stone houses in the village and the amazing ancient cathedral in the middle of the market square.

  “What is this?” In front of Amanda, against the cathedral wall, was a bronze face of a lion with a large mouth, open wide, waiting to devour the next person who wandered by.

  “I believe it is where people post their letters,” said Leah’s mom.

  “I dare you to put your hand in it,” said Leah. “Perhaps it will bite it off if you’ve been telling lies.” She giggled.

  ‘I wonder if keeping something from someone counts,’ thought Amanda. She reached out her hand to put inside the lion’s open mouth and felt afraid. ‘This is silly,’ she thought. ‘It is just a decorative letter drop box.’ Still she hesitated.

  ‘Oh what the heck.’ She jabbed her hand into the opening and immediately pulled it out, noting that her hand was still all there.

  “You looked a little scared,” said Leah. “Like it would really bite off your hand. You haven’t been lying have you?” Leah looked at her friend sideways and giggled again. “Have you been up to something you shouldn’t have?”

  ‘Oh no! Perhaps she wasn’t sound asleep last night after all.’

  Leah ran to join her parents who had gone into a shop to buy post cards and souvenirs.

  “I’ll meet you in a minute,” shouted Amanda. “I want to take some pictures.” She turned down a cobblestone street, lined with white-washed houses surrounded by black wrought iron fences. Heavy, clay pots full of colourful flowers were placed around the front patios and all the way up the stairs. ‘I should take a picture of this,’ she thought. ‘It is better than a postcard.’

  The large man and his friend came around a corner.

  “YOU!” he shouted. “I want to talk to you.”

  Amanda turned around and ran down the cobblestone street, her camera strapped around her neck bouncing against her chest. She heard a sound like a dinner plate hitting a tile floor. The next thing she knew she was flat on her back looking up at an older man and woman leaning over her.

  “Are you all right, dear?”

  A sharp pain shot up from her ankle. She started to shake and wanted to cry.

  “Can we help you? Where are your parents?” asked the gentleman with a German accent. She resisted the urge to laugh because it would have sounded so funny if she had said her parents were in Canada. Fortunately, Leah and her parents appeared just then.

  “Amanda, what happened to you?” asked a concerned Leah.

  “I must have slipped on the cobblestones. My ankle hurts.” Amanda tried to wriggle her ankle. “Do you think I broke it? I thought I heard something crack.”

  “Let’s see if you can stand on it.” Mr. Anderson helped her up.

  A sharp pain shot up her leg, like someone had stuck an ice pick in it. Soon she was able to put her weight on it and take a couple of steps.

  “I don’t think it’s broken, but it is probably sprained.” Leah’s dad picked up her camera. “I think the sound you heard was your camera hitting the stones. Let’s get you inside somewhere.”

  They helped her to a nearby restaurant where she was given a comfy chair and a cup of tea. On the way, she looked around but the two men were nowhere in sight. Did she really see them? Her foot started to swell up like a melon. ‘Oh great,’ she thought, ‘I sure won’t be able to run very far if I’m chased again.’

  At lunch, Amanda mentioned the picture of the monk carrying the skull she had seen the night before. She thought that maybe Mrs. Anderson might know something about it.

  “Where did you see that?” asked Leah.

  Amanda had to think fast, “I did some exploring at the hotel this morning before breakfast when I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Sounds weird. I think you must have been dreaming. Next you will be telling us someone was hiding under the bed or in the closet.” Leah winked and laughed out loud.

  Amanda felt dizzy and suddenly very cold.

  “Are you okay? You look like you are going to faint. Should we take you to a doctor?”

  “No! No, I’m okay. I don’t want to go to a doctor.” She wouldn’t let a little old sprained ankle spoil her holiday. She would just suck it up and carry on as if it hadn’t happened. “Okay, what’s next on the agenda?”

  Chapter 6

  Amanda slept for most of the five-hour bus trip to the Anderson’s time-share on the Costa Blanca where they often spent their holidays. The older couple, who saw her fall, was on the bus as well. Twice they stopped by to see how she was doing. She was tempted to ask them if they had seen two men chasing her but that would have prompted questions from Leah.

  “At last we are here,” shouted Leah. “I can’t wait to get in the water.”

  The Mediterranean sparkled with the most intense turquoise Amanda had ever seen and looked inviting. Large, colourful umbrellas sprinkled the beach and little children ran along the shore splashing each other. As soon as they put their luggage in the rooms and had a cold drink, the two girls changed into swimsuits. They would have run to the beach but a slow limp was all Amanda could manage as she followed her taller friend. The salty water felt good on the damaged ankle and she soon forgot about it as the gen
tle waves flowed over her parched skin.

  She also forgot about Dona, the big scary guy and the monk with the skull. Sun, sand and fun, that’s what she came here for. ‘No more getting involved in other people’s problems,’ she promised herself.

  The following evening Leah’s parents took the girls to a Spanish restaurant featuring flamenco dancers. Amanda and Leah shared a dish of seafood paella loaded with mussels, crab, shrimp, red peppers and peas.

  “How did they get the rice to be such a bright yellow?” asked Amanda.

  “It is the saffron that makes it that colour,” explained Mrs. Anderson. “Saffron is a spice derived from the stigma of the saffron crocus flower. It is very expensive. Approximately 150,000 flowers are needed for one kilogram of dried saffron. In other words it would take about a handful of crocus flowers to make that paella dish you are eating right now. There is an interesting legend about the Greek messenger of the gods, Hermes, who accidentally gave his friend Crocos a mortal wound. The blood that flowed sprinkled on the ground, and wherever the blood dropped, a crocus plant grew in its place. This, according to Greek mythology, is where saffron came from.”

  “Oh Mom, we aren’t interested in your Greek mythology stories. It just tastes good and looks pretty.” Leah rolled her eyes.

  “I liked the story,” argued Amanda. “I love that everything in Europe has a story connected to it. It’s like living in a fairy tale.”

  “Seriously, you are both too crazy,” Leah went back to eating her paella.

  Amanda agreed it was very tasty and wanted to take a recipe home for her and her mother to try. She helped out in the kitchen at home and often prepared meals when her mom worked late or was out of town on business.

  After a delicious dessert called flan – a sweet custard-like dish, the lights dimmed. A young woman appeared on stage wearing a dazzling red dress with matching red shoes and a black lacy shawl tied around her hips. The music started and she danced with such grace and ease, it was as if the wind carried her across the stage.

  Amanda sat mesmerized. ‘Wow – to be able to dance like that!’ Her ankle hurt just thinking about it.

  Three younger girls, about 10 years old, joined the woman in red. They wore shiny, tight white tuxedo pants, red shirts with puffy sleeves and white vests. The music started, they stomped their feet and looked left; all at the same time. They stomped their feet again and looked right – right at their table. Amanda gave a start. The girl in the middle looked remarkably like Dona.

  The dances were incredible, every movement precise and fluid. As the evening wore on, Amanda convinced herself that it was Dona dancing on the stage. The younger girl wore make up with her hair pulled back from her face in a ponytail, but those large, intense eyes belonged to Dona. Amanda hoped she would look her way again and wondered if she had been recognized.

  When the performance was over, the dancers went backstage. Amanda excused herself to look for the bathroom. On her way, she noticed the backstage consisted of a flimsy curtain separating the back of the room. Tempted to see if she could find Dona back there, she reminded herself that it would be best to leave it alone. ‘What if it wasn’t Dona, but someone who looked an awful lot like her?’

  A dancer came out from behind the curtain leaving an opening. Amanda caught a glimpse of the girl she thought was Dona wearing a tracksuit and putting her dance costume into a duffle bag. As she lifted the bag onto her shoulder, her eyes met Amanda’s. She smiled slightly and shook her head. Obviously, she didn’t want to be recognized. Amanda held the curtain open a little, smiled and said, “That was a great performance, I really enjoyed it!” Dona smiled, “Gracias.” Amanda let the curtain drop and continued to look for the bathroom. She was so confused. ‘Why did this girl keep popping up wherever she was? Could it just be a coincidence?’

  When she returned to the table, Leah’s mom asked, “Did you enjoy the performance?”

  “I loved it! I wish I could dance like that. I especially liked the girl in the middle.”

  “Yes, she is good. She must be new; I don’t recall seeing her here before. Those girls practice a long time before they make it to the stage. They have, most likely, been practicing since they were little girls. Tomorrow night we will go to a fiesta. You will enjoy that also.” Amanda was being treated very well by Leah and her parents.

  “Thank you so much for bringing me here.”

  That night Amanda’s ankle throbbed and she didn’t sleep well. When she did sleep, she dreamt she was on stage wearing a fabulous red outfit dancing with Dona, stomping, twirling, snapping her fingers and feeling carefree and happy. But was Dona happy?

  Something about that little girl bothered Amanda.

  Chapter 7

  The next evening they ate tortillas on the patio of the timeshare. Amanda took a bite. “These taste like potato omelets; not like the tortillas we get at Mexican restaurants.”

  “That is exactly what they are, eggs, onions, a bit of red peppers and potatoes sliced thin. Very easy. You could make them,” replied Leah’s mom.

  “I think I will!” Amanda was getting a nice collection of recipes to try when she got home. “What’s a fiesta anyway?”

  “It’s a street party. You will love it. Wait and see.” Leah’s dad placed a jug of orange juice on the table.

  They arrived early in the town of Pillar that evening to get a good viewing spot on the sidewalk. Many people already lined the streets. Little children darted in and out, old women with canes and long dark dresses hobbled along, and men gathered in clumps smoking cigarettes and catching up on news. The smell of popcorn and frankfurters mingled in the air. It reminded Amanda of a carnival.

  A shadow passed in front of her. She looked up and thought she saw the man with the ponytail in the crowd. She felt a chill crawl up her spine. She looked again but he wasn’t there. Maybe she was mistaken.

  After what seemed like forever, the parade started. Beautiful women in tight gold outfits, golden, high-heeled boots up to their thighs and mile-high, gold-feather head dresses, marched by with sparkling smiles. Multi-coloured floats passed by playing loud music. Amanda laughed when guys with huge heads rode past on small bicycles. They looked like they might topple over any minute. Cartoon figures ran around handing out candies. Some Amanda recognized like Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck but others she hadn’t seen before. There was so much excitement everywhere.

  Just when Amanda thought her head would explode with all the images, graceful dancing horses arrived. Young girls in wide-brimmed felt hats, black boleros, tight pants, boots and white frilly shirts rode the smaller ponies. After the dance routine, the ponies approached the crowd on the sidewalk and gave a dainty curtsy.

  One pony came right over to Amanda and Leah. The young girl bowed her head and coaxed the pony to place one foot in front of the other, bend his knee and curtsy. Both rider and horse kept their heads down. Everyone clapped and the young girl looked up at Amanda. ‘Not another Dona look-alike. How can so many girls look like Dona?’

  The young girl smiled and Amanda knew it was Dona. Incredible!

  In a moment she disappeared; to perform for another group of eager observers.

  “So how was that?” asked Mr. Anderson when it was all over. “Have you ever seen anything like that before?”

  “It was truly awesome! I loved it, especially the dancing horses,” answered Amanda. “Thank you for bringing me here. I’ll never forget this night.”

  The grown ups went for coffee and the girls wandered off to find candy floss. They heard raised voices when they turned a corner.

  “Leave him be.”

  “He’s mine and you know it little girl. Your father gave him to me to pay for the gambling debt.”

  The voices sounded familiar. Amanda peered through a hole in the fence separating the girls from the argument. She saw the big guy with the ponytail trying to pull the reins of the pony from Dona who hung on tight.

  “He is mine,” Dona cried. “My father gave him to
me when I was a little girl. He would never give him away – never.”

  “Well, he did, little missy.” The man tugged harder at the reins. The pony got upset and backed away, pulling the reins taunt and digging his hooves into the ground. Dona bit hard into the man’s hand.

  “You wee brat!” he said as he struck her with his other hand. Dona fell backwards and lost her grip. The man whipped the reins out of her hands and dragged the reluctant pony toward a horse trailer. Another man appeared, helped load the horse into the trailer and closed the back firmly. Dona got up off the ground and ran sobbing after the trailer as it drove away.

  “We have to help her.” Amanda found an opening in the fence and ran toward the distressed girl. She put her arms around her to comfort her.

  A confused Leah followed. “What is going on?”

  Amanda looked up, “I’m not sure but I think we’re going to find out.”

  The girls found a soda shop and Dona explained, as best as she could in English, that she worked as a flamenco dancer to save up money to pay off her Dad’s gambling debt. She told them about her pony. “His name is Pedro and I love him so much.” She choked on her words. “I would rather die than see him in the hands of that mean man. He will not be kind to him. I have been trying to get away from that horrible man. You helped me escape from him at the Cueva Del Fraile.”

  “What?” Leah looked even more confused.

  “Si, your very kind friend let me hide in the closet and helped me escape.”

  “While I was sleeping? Amanda Ross, I can’t believe you. On the other hand, why am I even surprised?”

  “Will you help me get Pedro back? Please.” Dona pleaded as she gazed at both girls with her big round eyes.

  “We’ll see what we can do,” said Amanda. “Right now we have to get back to Leah’s parents before they start to worry. Tomorrow we will be at the castle in Alicante. Meet us there and we will make a plan.”

  Leah shook her head and rolled her eyes.