Page 125 of The Moon Sister
‘Mamá, you can be little older than forty! Many of the dancers in Barcelona are in their fifties and sixties. So you’re happy here?’ Lucía probed.
‘Yes, I believe I am.’
An hour later, as Lucía sat listening to Pepe playing his guitar in the sitting room that María told her had been fashioned out of the old stable, she heard a male voice from the kitchen.
‘Hola, mi amor, I brought us a treat for our dessert after the stew tonight.’
Lucía heard her mother hush the guest as she walked into the kitchen and saw Ramón, their next-door neighbour, standing with an arm around her mother’s shoulder. María blushed and stepped away from him.
‘Hola, señor, how are you?’ Lucía asked.
‘I am well, thank you,’ Ramón answered stiffly, the colour rising to his cheeks. Lucía wanted to giggle.
‘How are your daughters, Ramón?’
‘They are well, yes, very well.’
‘Two of them are married and we celebrated Magdalena’s engagement only a week ago, didn’t we, Ramón?’ María encouraged him.
‘Yes, yes, we did,’ Ramón agreed with a nod.
‘How are your oranges?’
‘They are well, thank you, Lucía.’
‘Ramón now owns a small grove of his own.’ María continued to speak for him. ‘His parents died within a few months of each other and after their funeral, Ramón found some coins hidden in their chimney. Who knew how long they had been there, but the fact they had never melted after all those years made Ramón believe they were a gift from the Blessed Virgin. So, he bought his orange grove with them.’
‘I did.’ Ramón looked nervously at Lucía, waiting for her reaction.
‘Gracias, Ramón, for taking care of my mother while I have been gone. I’m sure you have been a great comfort to her.’ Lucía put a placatory hand on his.
‘It has been my pleasure, señorita.’ Ramón smiled in relief.
When he left, María turned to her daughter, her flapping hands trying to cool the embarrassment flooding her cheeks. ‘What must you think of me?’
‘I have learnt that life is hard, Mamá. And you have taken solace when it has been offered. There is nothing wrong in that.’
‘I . . . we, Ramón and I do not advertise our . . . friendship. Believe me, I would never disrespect your father in public.’
‘Mamá, I have seen everything in the Barrio Chino. Nothing – least of all a need for comfort – can shock me.’
‘Gracias, Lucía.’ María took her daughter’s hands and squeezed them. ‘You have become a lovely young woman.’
‘Mamá, I hope I have your sense and Papá’s passion. It is a good mixture,sí? Now.’ She looked at the sun beginning to dip its nightly curtsey below the Alhambra. ‘I must begin the walk back to the city. We leave tonight for Cadiz.’
‘Can you not stay a little longer,querida?’
‘I cannot, Mamá, but now we are reunited, I swear I will visit more often. Perhaps even come and stay for a holiday.’
‘Next time, give me notice and I will arrange a party for you to meet all your family. My door is always open and I am always here.’
‘Mamá, what do you wish me to tell Papá about . . . his son?’
‘If you can bear it, I think it is best if you say nothing for now. One day, I must tell him in person.’
‘Of course.Adiós, Mamá.’ As she hugged her mother, Lucía felt the prickling of tears. Before they could hatch, she left the cave and walked back along the dusty path of her childhood.
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