Page 119 of The Moon Sister
Then she sat upright, common sense prevailing. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she told herself. ‘Meñique is a star, a heartthrob. He is famous in Spain and can have any woman he wishes with a click of those fingers.’
But maybe hewouldhave had her last night, and she’d have surrendered willingly, had it not been for her father hanging around like a protective mother hen at the end of the evening.
‘Will I see you tomorrow, Lucía?’ he’d asked, as her father had made it clear it was time for them to go home.
‘She must dance at three cafés tomorrow night, Meñique,’ José had reminded him.
‘Then maybe I can come and play for her at the Villa Rosa?’
Meñique’s request had hung in the air as José led his daughter away.
*
That evening, Lucía went to the Villa Rosa where she was due to perform, but there was no sign of Meñique.
‘Perhaps it’s for the best,’ she muttered, disappointment flooding through her as she took the stage. ‘My dress smells even more tonight than it did yesterday.’
Later, she and her father trudged along the street to the Bar de Manquet with her usual clutch of ardent admirers following on behind her. There, waiting outside the café, was Meñique.
‘Buenas noches, señorita, señor. I’m afraid I was delayed earlier, but as I mentioned, I would like to play for Lucía tonight,’ he said as the three of them walked inside. ‘I have asked the manager and he has agreed, if you are both happy.’
‘Sí, Papá, I would like it very much,’ Lucía urged her father.
‘I . . . of course if the management, and my daughter, wish it,’ José agreed, but Lucía could see the thunderclouds gathering in his eyes.
That night, Meñique tested her to her limits. Starting deceptively slowly, suddenly he stamped his foot, shouted ‘Olé!’ and moved into a series of arpeggios that were almost impossible for even Lucía’s feet to keep up with. The audience clapped, cheered and stamped as the two protégés – one of the fingers and one of the feet – tried to win the battle to outshine each other. Lucía transformed into a whirling dervish of heat and passion until Meñique gave a final strum, shook his head, and stood up to bow to Lucía. The crowd erupted as they moved off stage together to drink brandy washed down with plenty of water.
‘Do you always have to win?’ he whispered in her ear.
‘Always.’ Lucía flashed her eyes at him.
‘Meet me for lunch tomorrow? At the Cafè de l’Òpera, without your chaperone.’ Meñique nodded at José, who was holding court further along the bar.
‘He never wakes up until three.’
‘Good. Now, I must leave. I promised to play at the Villa Rosa.’ Meñique took her hand and kissed it. ‘Buenas noches, Lucía.’
*
He was already waiting for her at an outdoor table when she arrived at the café the next day.
‘Forgive me,’ Lucía said as she sat down opposite him and lit a cigarette. ‘I overslept,’ she added with a casual shrug.
In truth, she had spent the past hour trying on every dress, blouse and skirt she owned, all of which were old and out of date by about ten years. In the end, she’d settled for a pair of black practice trousers and a red blouse, with a jaunty red scarf tied around her neck.
‘You look captivating,’ said Meñique, standing to kiss her on both cheeks.
‘Don’t lie to me, Meñique. I was born with the body of a boy and the face of an ugly grandmother, and there is nothing you or I can do about it. But at least I can dance.’
‘I assure you that you do not have the body of a boy, Lucía,’ Meñique said, his eyes resting briefly on the veiled outline of her small, upright breasts. ‘Now, shall we take some sangria as the day is warm? It is very refreshing.’
‘It is apayodrink,’ she said with a frown, ‘but if it tastes good, why not?’
Meñique ordered a jug of sangria then poured some into her glass. Lucía took a sip, swirled it around her mouth, then spat it out on the pavement.
‘It is so sweet!’ Lucía snapped her fingers at a waiter. ‘Bring me some black coffee to take the taste away.’
‘I am learning that you have a fiery temperament to match the passion of your dancing.’
