Page 135 of The Moon Sister
‘Do you know the way to the border?’ Meñique asked Fernanda’s brother, whose name was Bernardo.
‘Trust me, señor, I could drive it blindfolded.’
‘If he only lives next door, then why did his sister not return to his apartment last night?’ Meñique muttered as he sat down next to Lucía.
‘Maybe on the night that Madrid came under fire, Fernanda was having the best fun of her life,’ she smiled.
The passengers on the bus soon fell silent as Bernardo – who sported a long grey beard and curls beneath his busman’s cap – drove steadily, expertly weaving around piles of rubble and the gaping craters that had appeared in the wide roads.
‘Madrid brought to its elegant knees by the violence of a few.’ Meñique shook his head. ‘Even if the socialist part of me agrees that the Nationalists must be defeated, who could have ever imagined this?’
‘What does “socialist” mean?’ Lucía asked. She had curled herself up, rested her head on his knee and closed her eyes, unable to cope with the scenes around her.
‘Well,pequeña, it is complicated; there are two sides in this war,’ Meñique said, stroking her hair. ‘There are the socialists – people like us, who work hard, and want the country to run in a fair way – and then there are the Nationalists, who want the King back in Spain . . .’
‘I liked the King – I danced for him once, you know.’
‘I know you did,pequeña. Well, the Nationalists are being led by a man called Franco, who is good friends with Hitler in Germany, and Mussolini in Italy . . . From what I’ve heard, Franco wants to control who we worship, how we work, our very lives.’
‘I would never let anyone tell me what to do,’ Lucía whispered.
‘I fear that if he gains control of our army as well as that of Morocco, then even you cannot stand against a man like Francisco Franco,’ Meñique sighed. ‘Now, go to sleep.’
In Bernardo’s capable hands, the bus rumbled on. He obviously knew the city like the back of his hand and Meñique wondered what angel had sent him and his sister to them. They could not have dreamt up a more innocuous form of transport to carry them over the border. Soon, they were free of the city and driving through open countryside. Bernardo avoided the villages and towns, weaving his way through fields and woodland, just in case.
It was dusk when they finally arrived at the small border town of Badajoz. It was crammed with vehicles of all kinds, and the queue for the border control wound like a snake along the main road. There were automobiles and carts laden with the contents of people’s houses pulled by tired mules, and many on foot; women carrying their young children, men carrying their most precious possessions.
‘What is taking so long?’ Lucía demanded impatiently. ‘Can they not see we are trying to get through?’ She got up and walked to the front of the bus then pressed down on the horn. It blared out into the street, startling those who were walking ahead of them.
‘Pequeña, please, have some patience, and let us not attract too much attention to ourselves,’ Meñique said to Lucía as he pulled her back into her seat.
It was midnight before they pulled up at the border and Bernardo calmly handed over the company’s papers to the guard, who had climbed up onto the bus.
‘Why are you trying to enter Portugal?’ he asked the passengers.
‘Why, to dance!’ Lucía stood up, sashaying forward.
‘I am sorry, señora, but our orders are to let only Portuguese nationals across today.’
‘Then I must marry a Portuguese man. Perhaps you, señor?’ she smiled up at him.
‘We are here because the Lucía Albaycíncuadrohave a contract to work in Lisbon,’ Meñique added hastily, nodding to José, who swiftly produced the contract. The young guard stared down at Lucía, recognition dawning.
‘I saw your film,’ he said, blushing as he looked at her.
‘Gracias, señor.’ Lucía swept an elegant curtsey.
‘So, I will let you through, but the others will have to turn back.’
‘But, señor, how can I perform if I do not have my guitar players and my dancers and singers?’ Lucía clapped at thecuadro. ‘Show the señor how we play!’
Grabbing their guitars from beneath their seats, José, Sebastian and Meñique immediately began to play as Juana sang.
‘You see?’ She turned back to the border guard. ‘The Teatro da Trindade in Lisbon waits for us! How can I disappoint that wonderful city? But no.’ Lucía shook her head. ‘I must return to Spain with my friends. I cannot go without them. Driver, turn around.’
Bernardo started the engine as Lucía started to walk back to her seat.
‘Okay, okay, I will let you pass.’ The guard wiped the sweat from his brow. ‘But I will put you on the records as arriving yesterday, or I will have trouble from my boss.’
