Page 166 of The Moon Sister
‘Yes, alongside her beloved husband, Ferdinand. Ready?’ she asked me with a smile.
‘Ready.’
*
The woman at the travel agent frowned as she checked her computer screen.
‘It is not an easy journey from Granada to Geneva, señorita.’
‘How long will it take?’ I asked.
‘At least twelve hours, maybe more, depending on connecting flights from Barcelona or Madrid.’
‘Oh I see, I didn’t realise—’
‘That’s ridiculous, Tiggy,’ Ally interjected. ‘You’re not in a fit state to spend that long travelling.’
‘But you came here from London, and you’re nearly eight months pregnant!’ I protested.
‘That’s different, Tiggy. Pregnancy isn’t an illness – unlike a heart condition,’ she reminded me. ‘Forget this, I’m going to call Ma. Wait here.’ With that she marched out of the shop, all action as usual, and already pulling her mobile from her bag.
I shrugged apologetically at the woman behind the desk and began flicking through travel brochures to hide my embarrassment, while I waited for my sister to return.
Five minutes later, Ally was back with a satisfied smile on her face. ‘Ma says she’s going to call Georg Hoffman and arrange a private plane to take you directly to Geneva tomorrow evening. She’ll text me shortly with the details.’
‘But that’s ludicrous, Ally! It’s not necessary, and besides, I don’t have the money for that kind of thing, nowhere near it!’
‘Ma insisted – she wants you back there as soon as possible. And don’t worry about the cost; just remember, we are all daughters of a very wealthy man, who left everything to us. Occasionally that legacy comes in handy, especially in cases of life or death,’ she added grimly. ‘Now, I don’t want to hear another peep out of you on the subject. Let’s get to that cathedral.’
Inside the Royal Chapel, it was cool and dark, and I looked up at the high Gothic arches, wondering ifmyfamily had lived here as far back as the time of Queen Isabella. Ally took my hand, and together we walked towards the white marble monuments, where Isabella and Ferdinand’s outlines were carved into visages of peace. I turned to Ally, who I had expected to be looking at Isabella’s image, transfixed, but she was already walking down a staircase. I followed her hastily and we found ourselves in a low-ceilinged crypt underneath the towering cathedral, the air cool and the walls damp. In front of us, behind a wall of glass, were a number of ancient lead coffins.
‘There she is, next to Ferdinand for all eternity,’ Ally whispered to me. ‘There is her daughter, who they called Joanna the Mad, and her husband. Isabella’s little grandson is also here . . . he died in her arms when he was only two.’
I gave her hand a squeeze. ‘Tell me about her. Now that it turns out IamSpanish, I need to catch up on my history.’
‘I remember seeing a picture of her in a history book at school and thinking that I looked a little bit like her. Then I read more about her life and I became obsessed. She really was one of the first feminists – she rode into battle alongside her husband, even though she had five kids. She brought huge wealth to Spain, and without her, Christopher Columbus never would have made it to the New World – but when he brought back Native American slaves, she ordered them to be set free. Even if she did start the Spanish Inquisition, but that’s another story. Anyway,’ Ally said, then winced and held her stomach. ‘I think we’d better head back to the hotel so I can lie down. Sorry, it’s probably a combination of late pregnancy and sightseeing.’
As we crossed the plaza outside, blinking in the bright sunshine, I heard a gravelly voice shout, ‘Erizo!’
I spun around, shocked, and saw an elderly gypsy woman looking straight at me.
‘Erizo,’ she said again.
‘Sí,’ I breathed. ‘How do you know who I am?’
Wordlessly, she held out a bouquet of rosemary, tied together with string, from a basket full of them.
I took it from her with a smile, and gave her five euros. Then she placed my hand in her rough one and muttered something in Spanish before ambling away.
‘What was that about? Did you know her?’ Ally asked.
‘No,’ I said, rubbing the rosemary between my fingers, the fresh herbal scent rising up to my nostrils. ‘But somehow she knewme. . .’
We returned to Sacromonte as the sun was setting and found Charlie, Pepe and Angelina in the little terrace garden.
‘It smells wonderful out here,’ Ally commented.
‘Are these some of the herbs you use in your work?’ Charlie asked Angelina.
