by Kerry Postle
‘The list,’ his wife mouthed at him. ‘Remember. Names for the list.’
‘I blame the teacher, of course. Should have known better. Seňor Suarez, isn’t it?’ he asked.
Cecilia nodded.
‘Ah yes. And those two boys. Friends of your son. Those two boys he was seeing the teacher with. The …’ Don Felipe said, with cunning.
‘The Espinoza brothers? Raul and Pedro?’ Cecilia asked.
‘Yes, They’re the ones,’ Don Felipe said, ‘Espinoza. Raul and Pedro. That’s what I thought.’
Cecilia watched as Don Felipe wrote what she could only assume were the names of the Espinozas on his list. She breathed deeply and waited for Don Felipe to bring up Maria. It was a bittersweet moment when he did not.
‘Along you go now,’ Dona Sofίa said, dismissing her. ‘You don’t need to read, Cecilia dear. Now return to your chores. There’s so much to do for tomorrow I don’t know where I’m going to find the time to fit it all in.’
And with that Cecilia returned to the kitchen and Dona Sofίa returned to her magazine.
Chapter 16
Cecilia had not lost her job. Manuel had. But it wasn’t only losing his job that Cecilia now had to worry about. She felt sick with a vertiginous dread for his future shot through with a maternal anger that her precious fool of a son hadn’t listened to his mother’s words of caution in the first place. She might soon lose Manuel and it was all his fault. It was all her fault. Her mind vacillated wildly.
Her body yearned to run to him, protect him. But it didn’t have that luxury, bonded as it was in servitude to employers upon whom she had come to depend her whole life.
As she busied herself with preparation for the dinner, she found herself pushed into thinking seditious thoughts. While she peeled, chopped, diced and sliced, salted, oiled, broiled and boiled she hatched a plan. For the first time in her life she was going to follow her own mind, put her head above the parapet. She was ready to be counted, ready to do the right thing. Her son’s life depended on it and she summoned up every cliché, proverb and rallying cry to back herself up.
Cecilia knew everyone on the estate, everyone in the village. Knew what they did and didn’t do, what they thought and who they sided with now that this madness called war had begun. She knew who she could trust and who she couldn’t. She saw everything, the unfairness on the estate, the quiet resistance in the village. No one realised. Cecilia – the dutiful housekeeper, put upon, under-estimated. She said nothing about the things she knew. Kept away from action, be it positive or negative. She was the epitome of servitude, the essence of passivity.
But now Manuel’s life was at risk. And the realisation that she had condemned the Espinoza boys just by naming them jolted her into action. She would call on those who could help them. It was her duty to give the boys a chance to escape.
It was dark by the time she got back to the village and although Cecilia was exhausted, she was relieved to see her son at the table, eating some dry bread, alive and well. She burst into tears. Then told him her plan.
Within seconds Manuel had set it in motion, making his way along dark lanes, slipping past patrolling soldiers and knocking on the door of the only man who could help.
‘Doctor Alvaro,’ Manuel said in hushed tones as he stepped inside.
The next day was the day of the dinner. Up at the farmhouse Cecilia had cleaned the monographed dinner service, ironed the table linen, wiped the crystal glasses with a cloth and was now polishing the cutlery and sharpening the carving knife on a stone. She’d already been working for hours in the kitchen by the time Dona Sofίa made it downstairs. She fully expected that her mistress would find her additional jobs to do. And Dona Sofίa, one never to disappoint, came down and sent her to cut some wild flowers to put on the table. And so, Cecilia wrapped her newly sharpened tool in a cloth, placed it in the voluminous pocket of her apron and went outside, past the stables and into the fields and woods beyond.
In Doctor Alvaro’s house, there was also much excitement. Maria was delighted to be going to the dinner, although she was a little tired, after having been awoken by a knock on the door the night before. Her father had ushered her back to bed but the fact remained that her sleep had been disturbed, which was why she was now suppressing a yawn as she embroidered a sunflower onto her only lemon dress. It would go with the sunflower pendant Paloma had entrusted into her care and which she had decided to wear to her first grand dinner party.
She was also needed to accompany her father on a visit that morning, a fact that she’d found strange as he didn’t usually allow her to go with him.
He had been called out to pay a visit on the Espinoza brothers and, to give his daughter a change of scene, he was taking Maria with him.
When daughter and doctor arrived, the pair were taken into a darkened room by Pedro Espinoza, the older of the two brothers. Raul, the younger, was lying on the floor. The doctor touched the boy gently on his shoulder. He opened his heavy lids to reveal bleary eyes.
He’d had an accident up at the farm over a week ago and injured his leg. The wound had become infected. He’d also lost his job – a fact the doctor already knew, told to him as it was by Seňor Suarez before he’d left.
Seňor Suarez. As Doctor Alvaro thought of his dear friend he breathed a sigh of relief and a smile touched his lips. The good man had had too much involvement helping the workers, had been too public in his hostility towards what he openly called ‘right-wing forces’, namely Don Felipe and his Falangist friends, to remain safe for long. The new regime was tightening its grip on the region and those against it were being punished in every village and every town. It would soon be the teacher’s turn to feel the force of its wrath, which was why both doctor and priest had hatched a plan to help their friend escape – he’d stood up and been counted far too many times to be able to stay on in Fuentes without being shot at.
When the priest had told Alvaro he’d been called upon to administer the last rites to a dying man who lived a good hour’s cart-ride away from the village the doctor saw it as the perfect opportunity to steal the good teacher away. ‘Why Anselmo, your God truly does work in mysterious ways.’
Raul Espinoza was also at risk. Alvaro needed to help him escape but first he had to make sure he was fit enough. He thought of Suarez. He would be miles away.
The doctor laughed as he imagined his friend lying on the floor of a dusty, wooden cart, covered by hessian and inhaling the pungent aroma of Father Anselmo’s feet. If anyone could smuggle a godless communist past Rebel troops it was a man in a cassock with a scapular, a bottle of holy oil and a flagon of sacramental wine.
Suarez hadn’t wanted to go when his friends had first told him of their plan to smuggle him to safety. He had wished to stand his ground, stay on in solidarity with the villagers. But he knew that it was only a matter of time before that fateful knock on the door came in the early hours of the morning.
The doctor looked at Raul Espinoza and ran a finger around the neckline of his own shirt, undid a button. He would have to work fast. If Manuel’s information was to be believed, then the knock on the door was fast approaching for his young patient too.
Maria laid out the scalpel, tweezers, scissors and bandages, and cut strips according to her father’s instructions.
‘You’ll be ready,’ Alvaro whispered in the lad’s ear. ‘Make a parcel up,’ he instructed his daughter. He pointed to a small bottle of iodine and the cut dressing and went to talk with Pedro, the brother, in the adjacent room.
‘We need to be quick,’ the doctor said as he closed the door behind him. Then all Maria could make out was ‘Manuel’, ‘Cecilia’, ‘tonight’ and ‘horses’ but little else, despite straining her ears to hear. Raul opened one eye to watch her. ‘Your father is a good man,’ he said.
‘Come, Maria,’ her father said when back in the room. ‘We need to make two more calls before we can go home,’ and then he embraced both brothers as if he didn’t expect to se
e them again for a very long time.
Chapter 17
‘Two horses are missing!’ Guido rushed into the house and started calling out for Don Felipe, alarm in his voice. The landowner was upstairs, called on by his wife to help her pick out a dress to wear to the dinner. The big day was upon them and Dona Sofίa had a mountain of decisions to make, none bigger than selecting an outfit to wear that evening, the enormity of which rendered her deaf to the protestations of the estate manager.
Don Felipe turned with the intention of going downstairs to find out what the matter was but the sudden sharpness of his wife’s nails as she placed her fingers tightly around his wrist made him think again.
‘But he’s calling out about the horses,’ Don Felipe reasoned. Dona Sofίa pulled a face. ‘He’s the estate manager. What on earth are we paying him for if he can’t deal with issues on the estate himself?’
‘Don Felipe! Don Felipe!’ Guido’s shouts intruded into the dressing room once more.
‘What, in heavens name, does he do when we’re not here?’ Dona Sofίa snapped, becoming angrier as insistent cries about missing horses trampled in and disturbed her peace. ‘He must have left them somewhere,’ she said to her husband. ‘Either way the man’s an incompetent fool.’ With that she pulled another dress to her and contemplated her reflection in the cheval mirror. ‘Oh, go on then, if you must!’ she said to her husband as she caught his look of concern hovering behind her shoulder, marring as it did the otherwise elegant vision she beheld of herself. ‘Go see the man, if only to shut him up.’
All the while Cecilia rushed round and in and out of the house. Dona Sofίa, when not deciding on which frock to wear, still had a few ‘wonderful ideas’ and ‘tiny tweaks’ to make to the evening’s plans and Cecilia’s head was full of them. Shall we have fish? Too late? We’ll need ten bottles of wine, no, twenty, no, fifteen. We’ll sit her by him, or shall we place him by her? Do I have to invite that insufferable bore? Oh, I wish we’d gone for Duck à l’orange now! Didn’t I say we should have gone for duck à l’orange? Try the flowers here. No, here.
But there was nothing in the preparation of tonight’s dinner that Cecilia couldn’t handle. She had everything under control. The only thing that troubled her (well, the only thing that she could admit to) was the possibility that her beloved Luis would not come and seek her out in the kitchen. It had been such a long time since she’d last seen him. But he always did, on those rare occasions when he returned home. Why would tonight be any different? Her heart started to race and her head to pound. Though she believed she was on top of everything, her emotions were running high.
She pushed open the back door to let some air in. The sleeves of her dress were making her hot. The second she did so three flies flew in buzzing around the meat. Dona Sofίa had given her strict instructions to keep all doors to the kitchen closed – she hated flies with a passion bordering on obsession. Cecilia then went to the larder and pushed the door open there too. Her mistress would fly into a fury if she came in and discovered that her cook had left open not one but two doors. But today not even that disturbed Cecilia. The arrow had left its bow and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
Clip, clip, clip. Cecilia made out the sound of expensive shoes tapping their heeled and pointed way down the staircase. It was Dona Sofίa, followed by the familiar flat-footed stamping of her husband. Cecilia arched her neck towards the door that was still shut, the one leading onto the hall. She opened it enough to hear better but not so much as to draw attention to herself or to anything happening in the kitchen.
‘I must speak to you about the horses.’ It was Guido. She heard a snap – the familiar clicking of Don Felipe’s fingers that indicated ‘go’. The cacophonous footsteps of husband and wife disappeared into the air as they went one way, while the angry male footsteps of the estate manager pounded their way towards the kitchen. Cecilia moved back just as Guido swung open the door and stormed in.
She looked momentarily flustered. He didn’t notice. ‘Two horses have been stolen,’ he said. ‘Have you seen anything? Noticed anything?’ The look on his face told her that he expected nothing worth hearing from her. It was a longshot, last chance. His expression told her that he thought her a brainless imbecile. She made sure she did not disappoint. ‘What’s that Guido? No!’ she cried in mock horror. ‘There’s something strange going on around here, that’s for sure,’ she said, conscious that to say something while saying nothing at all was a rare and wondrous thing.
Cecilia picked up her knife and set about her next task, preparing the meat. ‘Now Guido, there’s more than one way to skin a rabbit,’ she whispered to herself as he went outside.
Chapter 18
Manuel had been a very sweet baby, attached to his mother more than most. Cecilia would have to bring him up to the estate with her and he would sleep on the kitchen floor wrapped up in a blanket. He grew up loving it on the estate. For a short while he considered it his home. He grew up loving Luis. He considered him his brother, and the boys played together as equals. Dona Sofίa allowed it because she would allow her only child no contact with anyone else in the area. He was never taken to the village. A doctor would be brought in from elsewhere for him rather than call on Doctor Alvaro. And Cecilia was even made to swear never to talk about him outside of the estate. Allowing her son to have a friend his own age was a concession Dona Sofίa was willing to make.
Yet as the boys grew older so Manuel was made to feel owned while Luis was forced to adopt the attitude of owner. Not that Luis was comfortable with this. He showed signs of resistance and his mother would laugh indulgently – about her own son’s generous spirit, his happy, kind heart, his goodness. But it irked her intensely. When the ornament smashed into a thousand pieces so did the boys’ lives. Luis was ripped up from his native soil, sent to a boarding school far away in a cold land. Manuel was banished, only allowed to return years later when he could be put to good use and worked like a beast of the field.
Luis was lonely, living in a strange country. Manuel was confused, abandoned like a toy. Cecilia was heartbroken, disappointed. As for Dona Sofίa, it was as if she’d torn a limb from her own body such was the anguish that flooded every fibre, but she had done it to herself.
But now Luis was coming back. Both women would see him again. And Cecilia hoped that he would be the same kind-hearted boy he’d always been. Her future and the future of Manuel depended on it.
Cecilia couldn’t afford to think it would be otherwise and she threw herself into her work completely, losing herself in its endless repetitions and reassuring smells, textures and tastes.
She began gathering together all the ingredients she needed for the dinner.
She stepped into the generously stocked larder, checking that no one was around. She looked up and reached out to press the meat of a ham appreciatively between her thumb and forefinger. She brought them to her nose. Inhaled deeply. She had never helped herself to anything extra in the larder – not once. The fact that she had known such riches existed had been enough to feed her soul. And she had been truly grateful. But the events of the past few days had changed all that.
She reached up and took down a huge well-hung ham from its hook, shifting the ones either side so as not to leave a space. She rolled up her sleeves and as she stretched up, she looked at her own fleshy forearms. They wobbled on the bone. As she slapped the ham on the counter at the side she held up her fingertips, shrivelled like prunes from immersing them in water, scrubbing worktops and floors endlessly. Her hands were dry, her skin scaly. She was an old woman. Illiterate. Stupid. She saw herself as others did and felt relief. No one would suspect her.
She looked along the row of hams above her, looked all around the larder as though looking for someone. ‘Manu,’ she whispered. His presence caused ripples in the air that washed up against her until she saw his face appear to her out of the gloom. He bowed his head. His mother kissed him tenderly then moved on along the suspended hams
, stopping by the most majestic, placing them on the counter, then popping the tell-tale empty hook in her apron pocket. She took down five in all.
Next she put out cheeses, preserves. Manuel placed his hand on hers. The sack his mother was helping him to fill was bulging. It was time to stop. Manuel, the Espinoza brothers and whoever else her son was set to join tonight would not be going hungry. Cecilia went over all the things she’d stolen. And felt no guilt.
Chapter 19
On the menu for the dinner of the year was serrano-wrapped rabbit in Cecilia’s wine sauce, which, Dona Sofίa had to admit, was quite delicious, if a little heavy for her own refined tastes. The dessert was a fig concoction to which Don Felipe was particularly partial and the cheese was their own as was the wine. Dona Sofίa had toyed with the idea of a French menu to share their sophistication with guests undoubtedly less well-travelled than themselves but then thought better of it. The dishes would most likely be a little too unfamiliar for some. Certainly for Seňora Gonzalez who had airs that did nothing in Dona Sofίa’s eyes to hide the lack of taste crying out in everything the woman wore, said and, probably, ate. She worried that the menu might say ‘peasant’ but it was too late to change it now.
She walked down the staircase with her husband to inspect the dining room. They were briefly put off the task by their estate manager still bleating on about some horses but thankfully even her husband found the man’s approach tactless and timing thoughtless.
Annoyed, and secretly grateful to have an excuse not to have to measure distances between place settings, Don Felipe went to take some air at the front of the house, while Dona Sofίa pursued the matter in hand.
Cecilia had already set the table. Beams of sunlight played on the silver candelabra, reflecting out to the fastidiously polished cutlery, ricocheting as far as the cut glass, going on to shatter into a thousand scintillating parts that created brilliant patterns on the white linen table cloth all around. It really did make a most splendid impression. Dona Sofίa gave a smile of self-congratulation. She’d planned everything, even thinking to keep Cecilia out of the way in the kitchen. Never mind the extra expense of having to employ one of the woman’s daughters to help out. Surprisingly pretty girl, Dona Sofίa thought to herself. And such lovely arms.