Autumn in Catalonia

by Jane MacKenzie

  It was all very confusing, and Joana made the decision to take the envelope with her and consult the others. She quickly took some cash from the safe – enough for her own needs, some more to give to Sergi tomorrow, and as much as she dared for Carla and Luc. There was always a good quantity of money in the safe, but she had to be careful, because Sergi would know how much had gone.

  She closed the safe carefully, and took a quick look around the study. If Sergi was unworried about this space being searched, then obviously he didn’t have any very political documents kept here. Did his enemies know that? Was that why they hadn’t sent anyone to visit? Or were they just content that what they’d already thrown at Sergi was quite enough to finish his political career?

  Poor Sergi! A small, but very small, part of her felt suddenly sorry for him as the work of a lifetime lay in ruins in front of him, not because he’d lost it, but because it had been all he ever valued. Was it worth it, then, Sergi, or would a quieter life have left you with fewer enemies and less far to fall? It was a stupid question – Sergi had always been driven, with everything to prove, and there really wasn’t any other life she could imagine him living. What a life, though, now she knew more about it! She shivered, and whisked herself quickly out of the study and through the front door to where Toni was waiting.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Toni had had his coffee too, she realised, so Josefa must have looked after him. He was sitting on the bonnet of the car in the late-morning sun with an empty cup beside him. He leapt up as she emerged from the house, and opened the passenger door for her before disappearing round the back of the house with the cup. Toni had been in a state of high excitement in the last two days, and seemed to be running everywhere.

  The journey to the apartment took them through an area of Girona that she couldn’t remember ever visiting, narrow and mean and far from her other life. Was this really where her mother had been living for the last few years? It was a district that she knew wouldn’t even exist in perhaps ten years’ time – such areas would be pulled down to make way for the new Girona. And yet the lives lived here were the norm rather than the exception – people slept and ate and went to work and school, and to all intents was it not the same as the villages, with their run-down houses and hard-working lives? People had gained proper wage packets by coming to the cities, and from all over Spain people were flocking to Catalonia in search of a better life, for here there were jobs, and Girona was going to flourish, everyone knew that. It couldn’t come too soon, she thought, as she looked out at the crumbling facades.

  Nerves ate at her as they neared the apartment. They were all so united as a family, Victor, Maria, Carla, and now Martin and Luc, but her own place among them was too compromised and complex, and she felt like an outsider. And she would be seeing Victor for the first time in many years. How many she couldn’t remember, but she knew that for as long as she’d been married to Sergi, Victor had regarded his niece Joana as a person lost to the world.

  She entered the apartment behind Toni, who was her guide. The men were seated around the table already, and she avoided Martin’s eyes as she looked around the small space, which reminded her strangely of the main room in the old house in Sant Galdric. She certainly knew that embroidered tablecloth.

  Victor got up from the table and came towards them, and Joana watched his grave, gentle face. This was the man who had taught her to play botifarra, the card game in which he was the acknowledged champion of the village, and who had taken her triumphantly as his partner in a competition in the village bar – much to Maria’s disapproval! He’d mended her pens, and her dolls, and rebound her favourite book with all the care of a professional binder, and all with a twinkle in his eyes, which she remembered with sorrow, for there was no twinkle in him today.

  But it seemed there could be acceptance. ‘Welcome to our little apartment, Joana,’ he was saying to her. ‘It’s not quite your magnificent mansion, but you’ll find your mother’s cooking is as good as ever.’

  There was something speculative about his voice, but there was a hint of warmth there too. He took her hand and drew her forward, and she wanted to kiss him, but it felt too soon for that. It was a very long time since she’d last kissed Victor.

  Carla appeared at the kitchen door, and gave her a worried look. ‘So what is happening, Mama?’

  Joana gave her a smile. ‘Don’t worry, carinyo, all is just as we expected.’

  Carla began to speak again, but Victor interrupted her. ‘We are all hoping things are going to be all right, for our little Carla’s sake. You can tell us in a moment about what you’ve found out, Joana, but let’s wait until we are all seated at the table together. It seems your daughter and your mother have some treat they want to serve us.’

  She ate lunch with them at the little table, tucked between Victor and Carla, and the dish of pork and beans took her way back to her childhood. She wondered if her mother had prepared it deliberately to awaken her memories. It certainly awoke her appetite, and she found herself eating far more than she’d expected, given the state of her stomach. Toni ate with them, which was another novelty for her – she’d never eaten with any of her servants before. He sat next to Martin, and as she looked up and away quickly, she saw Martin put his arm around him briefly, and get a small smile in response.

  Maria fussed over them all, serving the food in large bowls, and scolding Luc in particular to eat. He looked a little haggard today, as though he hadn’t slept. Where had they all slept, Joana wondered, in this tiny apartment?

  Luc looked even more haggard after she told them what she’d been detailed to do for Sergi, and Carla gulped a little when Joana told them about the money.

  ‘So, by tomorrow Sergi will have money to start buying his way out of gaol? Oh help! He’ll get himself released, you wait and see, before we have time to get married and get away!’

  ‘No, no!’ Joana said. ‘Whatever happens, it’ll take time. However cleverly Sergi works, the wheels turn slowly in officialdom, and some delicate greasing of palms will be necessary before he can be free to do anything about his anger towards you. Stop worrying and go to Terrassa. If Sergi gets out of gaol I’ll phone you, and we can think again.’

  ‘You don’t think you should take this opportunity to get away and disappear yourself, since you have all that money at your disposal?’ Luc asked. ‘It would give you a new start, and it might mean that Sergi would be stuck where he is. He wouldn’t have the money to free himself.’

  Joana shook her head. ‘I thought of that, but it wouldn’t work. There’s plenty of money left in the bank, and Sergi could find someone else to get it out and pay people off for him. And then what would happen? He’d get free eventually, and come looking for me – much more than he’ll ever come looking for you, believe me! He’d be out for vengeance big time! And the money that’s there isn’t enough to buy me a complete new life – it would only keep me for a year or so, and what would I do after that? No, I have to see this through, and play the faithful wife, and do what I can to hold him in check until you can get away.’

  ‘Martin thinks we should all go to France,’ Carla threw in. ‘You, and me and Luc – all of us together.’

  Joana looked up, startled, and caught Martin’s eye. She felt herself flushing, and stopped herself from blurting out a violent no.

  She shifted her gaze to Carla. ‘Would you want to go to France? Do you think you’d have a better life there?’

  It was Luc who answered. ‘I think for both of us it would be a last resort, but it does have the attraction that Sergi could never find us there. He could never find you, either,’ he added, cocking an eye at her.

  But Carla objected. ‘No Luc, you know how it is with Spaniards who get out to France! They can’t use their qualifications, and because they don’t speak the language and don’t have proper papers they end up doing manual jobs! And we could never come back – not even to see Grandma, or your parents!’

  The two of them had
clearly allowed their worries to creep in again since Sergi’s arrest, and Joana spoke quickly to stop them.

  ‘Let’s not jump guns here,’ she said. ‘There’s no reason at all to think you have to flee the country. We all know Sergi would do you both damage if he could get hold of you, but right now he can’t, and even when he first comes out he won’t be able to either – not if he has to reach beyond Catalan borders to find you. He’ll be struggling to reinstate himself, and trying to get his job back – or any job, come to that! I’ve seen him, remember, and I can tell you, he’s already a fallen man. Go off this afternoon, and see your family, and find out when the priest has scheduled your wedding for, and when you could therefore get away from Terrassa if you need to.’

  She took another sip of Maria’s appalling coffee, and fished out of her bag the documents she’d taken from the safe. ‘And I’ll watch over Sergi, and if there is any sign that he’s going to get out of gaol too quickly, then we’ll use these. I’ve got the original letter from the blackmailer to Sergi here, which Sergi wanted me to burn, but I haven’t. Providing the original to the authorities might just add some weight to the evidence against Sergi and keep him inside for a bit longer if we really needed it.’

  ‘Wouldn’t that be dangerous for you? He’d know you must have provided the original to the police,’ objected Carla.

  Joana chuckled. ‘Oh yes, if it comes to that point, then I’ll certainly have to run for it, like it or not! I’d have to run with whatever cash I can get hold of, and I’ll rely on you to keep me in my old age, Luc! But somehow I don’t think we’ll need to go that far. Let’s not panic, but keep these for me, will you Carla?’

  She held out her hand and Carla took the envelope, holding it carefully as though weighing its value.

  ‘I guess it could help, for what it’s worth,’ she said, at last, though the tension didn’t leave her voice. ‘It’s a shame we don’t have the original of the actual hit-and-run driver’s evidence! Do you think the police are looking for that?’

  ‘I would guess so. They’ll be searching his home and questioning his family. I’ve been wondering whether that’s why they haven’t yet bothered with our house, but I guess they must realise that any blackmailer would have kept the key documents well away from Sergi.’

  ‘All right, then,’ Carla agreed. ‘We go to Terrassa as planned, and we’ll work on the basis that Sergi is stuck for long enough for us to get married and get away, and we’ll get all our connections working on some kind of decent job for Luc, somewhere far from Catalonia, but still in Spain.’

  ‘I have some family in Asturias,’ Luc offered.

  ‘Well that should be far enough!’ Joana shot him a smile. ‘I can’t see Sergi looking for you there!’

  ‘And what happens to you then?’ It was Martin who spoke. His tone of deep concern took her aback, and her gaze flew to his troubled face. He was watching her with troubled eyes. How young he looked, and yet he seemed to have aged!

  ‘I’ll come out all right,’ she answered, trying not to look at him. ‘I promise you I’ll be all right. I’ve been thinking, and what I need to do is negotiate with Sergi. He’ll be a different man when this is all over – less powerful and perhaps a little bit grateful. We need to come to terms so that I can have a freer life.’

  Maria had got up from the table, and came behind Martin to hold him by the shoulder. With her free hand she stroked his wavy hair. For Maria, Martin was another adopted son. My cousin, Joana reminded herself.

  Maria was looking over Martin’s head towards Joana, with a quizzical expression which Joana couldn’t quite pin down.

  ‘We’ve put this young man through a lot, don’t you think, Joana? He’s done everything he can for us, surely, and we should let him go back to his mother.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Martin cut in hurriedly. ‘Honestly, I’m really fine. You haven’t put me through anything at all.’

  Joana studied him again, and saw a hint of tears in his eyes. Back to his mother? How old was his mother, she wondered? And then she felt full of remorse. Martin’s mother was old enough to have been Uncle Luis’s lover, and Martin was his son. It was enough, and whatever his age he was her dear cousin, troubled now and hurt by her rejection when he was worthy of so much more. Why should she feel so humiliated to have bared her soul to a nineteen-year-old, when that nineteen-year-old was Martin, dear ageless Martin, with Luis’s eyes.

  ‘Martin, el meu cosí, you know how grateful we all are for everything you’ve done, especially me,’ she said. ‘If you need to go, then of course we understand, but we’ll miss you terribly. I’ll miss you.’

  He looked at her doubtfully, caught her smile, and returned it. ‘Don’t listen to my Aunt Maria,’ he answered her. ‘She worries about my studies, but a few more days won’t change things. I’ll stay until we know Carla and Luc will be all right, and don’t need to bolt for the border with me. Until Carla comes back from Terrassa, at least, and until you’ve seen Sergi again tomorrow. I’d hate to leave with things so much up in the air.’

  ‘Well, for Sergi things aren’t so much up in the air as down in the mud,’ Joana commented with a grin. ‘And for the rest of us, well things aren’t settled, but they will be, and they may not be perfect, but I’m sitting at my Uncle Victor’s table, with everyone I most care about around me, and I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.’

  She looked around for Victor, who had gone across to his beloved radio, and was fiddling with it again, looking for music.

  ‘Uncle Victor?’ He looked up. ‘Before we send these young people off to see Luc’s parents, do you have a little after dinner drink to offer us? A moscatell, perhaps? Because when Luc walks out of that door this afternoon we may not see him again for a very long time. Carla will come back to us tomorrow, briefly, but these young people will have to leave Catalonia after their wedding, and Martin will have to go home, and this may be the last time we are all together for longer than I care to think about. I’m not going to get maudlin, because one day I know there will be a reunion, but could we raise a glass, do you think, to the future, and to happy outcomes?’

  Victor gave an enthusiastic assent, and within minutes had produced little glasses and an unopened bottle of moscatell from the old sideboard. With a unanimous kind of gravity they all stood, and Victor pronounced the toast:

  ‘To all of us,’ he intoned, and they all sipped the sweet liquor.

  Maria put her hand out to touch Carla’s stomach.

  ‘And to the baby, God bless him,’ she said.

  Carla’s eyes filled up, and Luc drew her to him.

  ‘She’s a her!’ he corrected Maria. ‘Although, if I’m honest I don’t care, as long as it’s a baby! But above all, I’d like to raise a glass to you all, for all you’ve done for us, and for keeping my Carla safe. I’ll take care of her and our baby, I promise you.’

  It was Victor who answered him. ‘You’d better, my lad! Off with you now to your parents and find out when you’re going to make our Carla a respectable married woman!’

  Carla grinned through her tears, and Luc kissed the top of her head. ‘Respectable? Carla? Oh no, don’t wish that on me! What a disappointment that would be!’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The prison looked no better on the Sunday morning than it had the day before. Toni dropped her there and then went off to Terrassa to collect Carla, who was still refusing to stay away from Girona while things were so uncertain. He’d dropped both her and Luc there early yesterday evening, and told of an emotional reception for Luc from his parents. They seemed like nice people, he’d said – Joana just hoped they would be kind to her daughter.

  In the visitor’s room at the gaol Sergi was waiting for her just like yesterday, looking more unkempt this time, and as though he hadn’t slept well, despite his better-than-average prison quarters. Joana handed him a package of clean clothes, and when the guard wasn’t looking she slid the loose cash from the safe across the table to him. He grun
ted his thanks, and shoved it quickly into his trouser pocket.

  ‘I got the money from the bank yesterday,’ she said. The bored guard didn’t seem to be listening, but she spoke in a whisper, nevertheless.

  ‘Good. You got the full 500,000 out of Montilla?’

  She nodded. ‘And I put 100,000 of it in with your clothes. But are you sure it’s safe to have so much money in here with you?’

  Sergi shrugged. ‘I won’t have it for long – this first lot is for the police who’ve been questioning me. But I’ll need you to pass the rest to Rafael,’ he said, naming an old ally of his, a man somewhat junior to him who had always admired and emulated him. ‘He’ll know how to use it to reach the right people outside. I’ll give you a note to pass to him – he’ll be able to get in to see me easily enough here, and after I’ve told him what to do he can collect the money from you.’

  Joana was calculating furiously. Could she delay at all in handing over a note to Rafael? She didn’t think so, because she would have to phone him, and Sergi would know afterwards when she’d done so. But whatever happened, Rafael wouldn’t get in to see Sergi until tomorrow at the earliest, and then he had to put the cash to use and start work greasing palms.

  Could he be trusted to do exactly what Sergi asked? There would be a strong temptation to hold on to some of the cash himself, surely, since Sergi could never be sure if Rafael had paid out exactly what they’d agreed? He would have to offer considerable inducements to keep Rafael on his side. All in all she thought it would be some time before Sergi could win freedom. It was time bought for Carla, and time also for Joana to start her own negotiations.