Legacy

by Hannah Fielding

  She levelled her benevolent gaze at Luna, wagging a plump finger in the air. ‘My child, you already stand out from the crowd. If he’s an experienced man, and a man of honour, he’ll appreciate that. Trust me, no matter how much they deny it, no man can resist the purity and innocence of a woman like you. Your virginity is the reward after the wait. You must come to my house one day. I will cook you my special paella and tell you a very beautiful love story, which I witnessed thirty years ago.’

  Luna laughed, feeling cheerful for the first time in what seemed ages. ‘Thank you, Señora Sanchez, I’d love that.’ She laid a hand on the Spanish woman’s arm and her eyes met her serene gaze. ‘It was kind of you to listen to me and share your wisdom. I’m afraid I got somewhat overwhelmed by everything,’ she whispered. ‘I feel quite relieved now.’

  Señora Sanchez beamed. ‘I’m very happy to have been of use. It is bad to bottle up such things. Rest assured, my lips are sealed.’ She crossed herself again. ‘Que Santa Maria y los santos son testigos de mis palabras, may the Virgin Mary and all the saints be witness to my words, your secret will be buried at the bottom of a well.’

  Luna helped her get up and once Señora Sanchez had whistled for the spaniel, who came bounding back from the water’s edge, she watched her move away until the older woman and her dog were two black specks in the distance.

  She started back to the beach house feeling calmer, as though a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Señora Sanchez’s words made a lot of sense; perhaps she should act upon them. If only she could get rid of this crack in her personality that seemed to divide her thinking into two contradictory aspects, life would be so much simpler. It wasn’t only Ruy she was torn about. The article she had to write was dividing her loyalties too. If only she could find some clarity.

  It was just past noon when she got home. She made herself a cup of coffee and a sandwich, turned on her computer and stared at her notes.

  The more she thought about Ruy and what she’d seen at the Institute, the more the morality of his work took on a different aspect in her mind. Her mission to expose him as a quack seemed ridiculous now, after everything she’d seen and researched. His passion and dedication, not to mention his innate skill, were obvious, and Luna’s previous commitment to the god of orthodoxy now seemed not only misplaced but downright pigheaded too. She stood up from her desk and walked out on to the terrace, where she paced back and forth. Could her conscience allow her to continue with the article or with the deception? None of it felt right. Her mind struggled to formulate a plan – anything to extricate herself from the tangle in which she found herself.

  Ruy. His compassion moved her, and his passion terrified her.

  Her conversation with Señora Sanchez circled around in her head, alternating with the unwelcome images of her dream.

  Restless, she picked up the phone, dialled a number and listened to it ringing.

  Almost immediately, Charo answered. She sounded delighted to hear Luna’s voice. ‘Of course I’d love to have coffee. I was just about to leave for the Plaza de las Flores to go shopping. Why don’t you come along and meet me there?’

  Luna grabbed her bag and headed out of the door. Company was what she needed, and Charo was the perfect choice.

  * * *

  Less than an hour later, Luna was sitting outside a lively street café with Charo, sipping an ice-cold granizado de limón and watching the crowds of people browsing the colourful market stalls of Plaza de las Flores.

  ‘You know, Spanish families are full of dramatic feuds and secrets,’ Charo shrugged, as she added milk to her coffee. ‘But I must admit, that’s a pretty fascinating story,’ she added with a grin.

  She had told Charo about her aunt’s disdainful revelations, hoping to sound her out discreetly about what she knew of Ruy’s family, if anything. Charo had listened attentively to Luna’s brief account of her conversation with the Marquesa, her large blue eyes widening at the part about Ruy storming out, dragging Vaina with him.

  ‘Luna,’ Charo’s voice was now hesitant, ‘given Isabel Herrera’s reputation, I’m not surprised that she would try and tarnish Ruy’s integrity by telling you all that.’

  ‘Reputation?’ Luna asked casually, interested to have someone else’s take on her great-aunt.

  ‘Well, I don’t wish to speak ill of your family …’

  Luna waved a hand as she took another sip of her drink. ‘Feel free. There’s little you can say that I don’t already know. There really is no love lost between us.’

  Charo looked relieved. ‘I think there were stories going around years ago about the Herreras, all sorts of scandals and intrigues. Ruy would never talk about his family’s past, he’s too private, and of course that’s his business. Do you believe everything your aunt told you?’

  ‘No, of course not. I’m sure elements of her story are true, but I took it all with a large pinch of salt. I don’t believe for a minute that the Herrera women were the innocent party in any of it.’

  Charo nodded and raised her eyebrows. ‘Yes, even at her age the Marquesa still has a reputation for being somewhat ruthless in getting what she wants, either for her or for her family.’ She leaned forward, propping an elbow on the table, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. ‘Is it true that she got her title by marrying a marqués three times older than herself, who keeled over from a heart attack as soon she married him?’

  ‘Something like that,’ Luna admitted ruefully. She knew little more herself but remembered her father had chuckled over it on a few occasions, admiring Isabel Herrera’s astuteness, if nothing else. ‘I think Ruy’s grandfather, Salvador, had a narrow escape not marrying her, to be honest. I’m under no illusions about my aunt’s character.’

  Charo peered at her. ‘Yet there’s something bothering you?’

  Luna shifted in her chair. It was true, something was bothering her but pride prevented her from voicing it. Spanish men are a rule unto themselves … you’d be wise to steer clear of Don Ruy … commitment is not on offer. Doña Isabel’s words still echoed harshly in her head.

  ‘No, nothing’s bothering me,’ Luna lied, then added truthfully, ‘except the fact that I’m not particularly proud to be a member of the Herrera family, nor do I wish to see any more of them while I’m here.’

  Charo held her gaze steadily. ‘Well, I can’t see why it would make any difference to Ruy whether you were a Herrera or not, despite all this bad blood between your families.’

  ‘He didn’t look too pleased after he met my great-aunt.’

  ‘Look, Luna, I must admit when you told me at the gallery that the Marquesa was your aunt, I was surprised too for a minute but anyone who knows you can clearly see you’re nothing like the Herreras.’

  Luna looked warmly at the young woman who was fast becoming a true friend. ‘Thanks, Charo, I’m relieved to hear it.’

  ‘As for Ruy’s reaction in the restaurant,’ Charo eyed Luna with a wicked smile, ‘didn’t you say the owner’s son was serenading you at the time? Everyone says he’s quite a dish.’ She adopted a dramatic swooning expression. ‘I hear all the señoritas would kill to have him turn up at their table – or their door.’ She giggled. ‘I told you Ruy wouldn’t like another man paying you attention.’

  Luna rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, Charo!’

  Yet the idea of Ruy being jealous still gave her a secret thrill, just as it had when the flirtatious attentions of Diego Montez had provoked him in a way she was unlikely to forget.

  ‘Well, if you’re in no hurry to see your relatives, at least you’ll have more time to come out with me. I think you could do with a friend in Cádiz, someone to loosen you up a bit and stop you becoming one of those hopeless workaholics.’

  Luna smiled at Charo’s teasing. ‘You may be too late for that.’

  ‘Ay Dios! In which case, I have my work cut out for me. Listen, as you were ambushed by the scary Marquesa last night at the exhibition and we couldn’t go out, why don’t you come to a con
cert with me this evening? It’s at the cathedral. I have a spare ticket and Miguel can’t come.’ A gleam appeared in Charo’s eye. ‘There’s a very special soloist playing.’

  ‘Oh yes? Who’s that?’

  ‘Rodrigo Rueda de Calderón. I hear he’s a very gifted guitarist.’ She laughed, seeing the look on Luna’s face. ‘It’s a fund-raising concert for a cancer charity that Ruy is very involved with. Did you know he was a musician too?’

  Luna’s mind flew back to the tavern in Barcelona: Ruy’s long fingers speeding over the strings of his mandolin, the fiery vigour of the music invading her, body and soul. ‘No, I didn’t,’ she lied. The idea of listening to him play again made her spine tingle.

  ‘So you’ll come?’

  Luna hesitated. ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Come on, Luna. It’ll be fun.’ Charo’s shoulders slumped in mock despair. ‘Otherwise, you’ll be making me go on my own.’ She made puppy-dog eyes at Luna and pouted. ‘And I’ll be lonely.’

  Luna still wasn’t convinced, but Charo’s face made her burst out laughing.

  ‘Yes, all right, enough, enough! I’ll come. Besides, I haven’t been to a concert in a long time and I’d love to see the cathedral. I’ve walked around St Patrick’s in Manhattan, which is stunning, but listening to music somewhere like that must be something else.’

  Charo leaned her chin on her hand and sighed. ‘Ay, Manhattan. It must be so exciting.’ She paused, her gaze refocusing on Luna’s face. ‘So, amiga, why did you decide to come to Spain and apply for this job when you could have found a research position somewhere in New York?’

  Luna stared at Charo for a moment. She had instantly taken to the young woman’s sisterly warmth and she was so easy to talk to; besides, she was becoming tired of carrying so many secrets around. Perhaps it wouldn’t give too much away to tell her some of the truth.

  She hesitated, lowering her gaze, then said: ‘I had a cousin who loved Spain. I lost her to cancer. It made me interested in finding a cure, I suppose.’

  ‘Poor you … poor her.’ She gave a sad little shrug. ‘Cancer is often so unpredictable. You were right to come here, though. Ruy has a natural gift for predicting which way it’s going to go, and how best to fight it. You’ve seen for yourself the number of success stories resulting from his approach.’ Her expression became sombre. ‘He does a lot of work in the San Servando hospice. I know it gets to him, particularly when the person dying is young. It must be truly heartbreaking when it’s someone you love. I do feel for you.’

  Her words prodded a raw place inside Luna. She had studied science in the quest for knowledge – partly because it fascinated her, but also to make a difference to people’s lives. Still, it seemed such a second-hand gesture. She was a loner, and poring over test tubes in labs had allowed her to keep some distance from the world. Here was Ruy, doing frontline work, helping to save lives and also giving comfort to the dying. Yet again Luna was seeing a whole other aspect to the man reveal itself.

  Charo continued. ‘The gift that Ruy has is quite extraordinary. His very fingers seem to heal, and somehow he has a spiritual ability to make things better, and ease the person’s fears and grief, like no one else. I’ve always thought it must be something in his gypsy DNA.’

  Something in Luna’s mind was beginning to shift, lit by a new understanding, like someone rounding the corner of a maze and knowing they will soon be at the heart of it. How could she have been so wrong, so set in her narrow tramlines, that she had actually set out to ruin something that she was coming to see was quite precious – the work of Ruy and his clinic.

  Luna’s head finally lifted, meeting her friend’s concerned gaze.

  ‘Are you all right, Luna?’

  ‘Yes, Charo.’ Her smile was luminous. ‘I’m fine.’

  As Charo waved to the waiter for another coffee, Luna sat perfectly still, trying to assimilate this new information, to steady herself in the rush of feelings that beset her following her friend’s revelations. So much about Ruy conflicted with the image her great-aunt, and his general reputation, would have her believe: that he was a shallow philanderer and some sort of flaky medic.

  At that moment, a renewed compulsion took her over: she wanted to find out more about the complicated, enigmatic man who had turned her life upside down. It was now not only the foundations of her assignment that were teetering precariously, but so much of what she had held as dependable truth about herself was crumbling into dust.

  * * *

  A lilac dusk descended over Cádiz Cathedral. Inside those soaring, floodlit walls, the echoing hum of conversation and movement swelled as the nave filled up with people. From a pew near the front, Luna watched the city’s great and good arrive for the gala concert, dressed to impress, enjoying the ceremonious feel of the occasion.

  The cathedral’s vaulted ceiling rose above them in a tessellation of rounded arches, reaching up to the famous dome itself, which was suspended like the pale insides of some magnificent giant sea urchin. Below it, wall lights and tall candles offered a warm, sacred glow; the air smelt of cool marble, roses and incense. Luna’s gaze travelled over the heads of the audience finding their seats, and around the vast stone hull of the interior. History and piety, suffering and bliss were etched into every piece of wood and stone that surrounded them, and it was hard not to feel awed by it all. Yet, added to this, an unexpected feeling of comfort struck her; she was not immune to the profound spiritual atmosphere here.

  Beside Luna, Charo was talking to a stranger in her usual ebullient manner. Content to rest with her own thoughts, Luna picked up the programme and glanced through it. Ruy was playing the Adagio from Rodrigo’s famous Aranjuez Concierto for solo guitar. Of course she knew the piece but had never heard this arrangement before and hadn’t realized, until Charo had invited her here, that Ruy also played the guitar. She thought back to the wild magic of Ruy’s mandolin playing, how its gypsy fire had mesmerized – how intriguing it would be to hear something so utterly different from him tonight.

  Her gaze was drawn to the empty chair and music stand that stood on one side of the dais, at a respectful distance from the altar. Knowing he would soon be performing just a few feet away made her excited and nervous – for him, but also for herself. That savage, wonderful kiss at the exhibition had stayed with her all day. It had turned her inside out. Her pulse skipped again at the thought and at the prospect of seeing him again: they were bound to meet once the concert was over. After the drama of the previous evening, how would he respond to her?

  A nudge from Charo jolted her out of these thoughts. ‘So, have you spotted your great-aunt yet?’

  Luna looked at her sharply and then relaxed, seeing her friend’s mouth twitch with amusement.

  ‘That’s not funny, Charo.’

  ‘Well, after all, this is the kind of event where all the powerful, rich and influential people of Cádiz want to be seen. Then again, given the Marquesa’s antipathy to the de Calderóns, I think you’ll be safe tonight.’

  Luna followed her friend’s gaze to the opposite side of the nave, where Count Salvador sat at the front with his wife, Alexandra. Next to them was Luz de Rueda, dressed in pearl-grey chiffon, her dark hair drawn into an elegant chignon. She too was scanning the audience, and her sapphire-blue eyes eventually fell on Luna. For a moment a curious expression flashed in them before she smiled and nodded a silent greeting, then turned to resume her conversation with the Countess.

  Luna’s awkward smile of response faded on her lips. Of course Ruy’s family would be here. Foolish of her not to have thought of it. Now that she knew the history between them and the Herreras she felt tense but she couldn’t help craving their approval somehow. If only she could let them know that she viewed her Spanish relations with just as much distaste as they did.

  She had seen that same speculative look cross Luz de Rueda’s face before, when they had met at the El Pavón ball. With dismay, Luna now understood what it meant. Ruy’s mother must have r
ecognized her as Adalia’s daughter, or at least suspected as much. Would Ruy confirm his mother’s fears? If they knew Luna was a Herrera, would the de Ruedas be as welcoming as before?

  Her eyes still lingering on the de Ruedas, she murmured to Charo: ‘I don’t think even Aunt Isabel would dare to appear here tonight.’ Then she transferred her gaze to her friend. ‘Did you tell Ruy you were bringing me as a guest instead of Miguel?’

  Charo looked guilty. ‘Not exactly. I thought it would be better to surprise him at the end. We don’t want his concentration ruined, do we?’ she added with an impish grin.

  Luna gave her a long-suffering look and was about to retort when the crowd hushed. A man dressed in an elegantly tailored, dark evening suit had emerged from the left-hand aisle to stand at the front of the nave. Luna recognized him instantly as Andrés de Calderón, Ruy’s father.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he began, in a strong, deep voice that was clearly accustomed to addressing an audience, ‘thank you for joining us on this very special evening. As you know, tonight is part of the Fiesta de las Rosas, a series of charity concerts and social events in aid of cancer research. As the foundation’s chairman, I’m delighted to see so many familiar faces supporting us again this year.’

  He went on to speak briefly about the charity’s work and thanked the audience for their generosity. ‘Now, I have great personal pleasure in introducing our first artist, who will be performing a classic piece, courtesy of his namesake … Rodrigo Rueda de Calderón.’

  The audience clapped warmly as Ruy appeared on the platform, guitar in hand. He bowed and took his seat.

  Luna inhaled sharply. There he was, looking stunning in a plain black shirt and trousers, one knee raised by his foot stand, his guitar resting on his lap. He looked so different to the unkempt, tousle-haired gypsy who had met her eyes across the bar in Barcelona, yet he had the same relaxed air, as if he were in his element. Luna wondered if he would look up and see her now, as he had before. The light from the column behind him lit up his face as he briefly gazed out at the crowd, tuning his strings, yet his eyes never paused to rest on her this time. He began to play.