Page 133 of The Moon Sister
‘Okay,’ the occupants of the cellar chorused.
Meñique and José ventured out into the street, José seeing what Meñique had already witnessed. ‘What have they done?’ he said in horror as they hurried down a street where a few dazed residents had also ventured out. ‘And which side are we on?’
‘Our own, José, our own. Now, let’s get to that apartment.’
Thanking God that they lived only a couple of streets away, José went to retrieve thecuadro’s papers, his sack of pesetas and two of Lucía’s dresses, whilst Meñique went to perform a similar salvage exercise at his own apartment.
After gathering what he could, Meñique glanced down from the window and saw that the streets below him were still silent, so on impulse he grabbed the keys to his car then set off in the direction of Chilly and Rosalba’s apartment, a ten-minute drive away. He had travelled less than three hundred metres before he spotted the military road block. In anguish that he was unable to ascertain his friends’ safety, but mindful that Lucía was waiting for him back at the theatre, he made a swift U-turn and drove the short distance to the Albaycíns’ apartment, praying that he would still be able to get through. As he arrived, José stumbled down the stairs with all he could carry and they piled it onto the back seat.
‘Hide any valuables in your clothes for safekeeping in case we are stopped.’
José did so, but placed the large sack of pesetas between his legs in the passenger seat. ‘Even I cannot fit that in my trousers,’ he said, rolling his eyes.
They set off along the street, and had only travelled a few metres before they saw an army truck appear from a side road. A hand was held up, and Meñique brought the car to a halt.
‘Buenos días, compadre. Where are you heading?’ asked a uniformed officer as he descended from the truck and approached the car.
‘To the theatre to pick up our family, who were stranded there during the troubles last night,’ Meñique explained.
The man peered into the car, his beady eyes fixed on the sack between José’s legs.
‘Get out of the car now!’
Both occupants did so as the soldier pointed his gun at their chests.
‘Hand me the keys. I am taking your car for the use of the military. Now get on with you.’
‘But . . . my daughter is Lucía Albaycín!’ José cried. ‘She must have her dresses to wear for tonight’s performance.’
‘There will be no performance tonight,’ the soldier said. ‘A curfew will be in place by sunset.’
‘But the car, my mother, she is old and ailing and—’
The soldier jabbed José’s chest with the muzzle of his gun. ‘Shut up,gitano! I have no time to stand and argue. Move on or I will shoot you where you stand.’
‘Come, José,’ said Meñique. ‘Gracias, capitán, andviva la republica.’ He put his arm through José’s and dragged him away from the car, not daring to look back into the soldier’s line of sight until they were safely around the corner. When they were, José sank to his knees and sobbed.
‘Everything we had! It is all gone!’
‘Nonsense! We escaped with our lives.’
‘Twenty thousand pesetas, twenty thousand . . .’
‘And you will earn it again, a hundred times over. Now, get up and let us return to the theatre and work out how we leave Spain.’
Everyone crowded around them as they arrived back down in the cellar at the theatre. José was still sobbing inconsolably.
‘I should have left it where it was,’ he moaned, ‘or put it in a bank . . .’
‘I wouldn’t worry,’ El Tigre said. ‘By tomorrow, the peseta will be as worthless as a grain of sand on the beach.’
Lucía grabbed Meñique’s hand. ‘Did you bring my dresses?’
He frowned at her. ‘No, but I did try to look for Chilly.’
Lucía looked momentarily chastened. ‘Did you find him?’
‘It was not possible to reach his apartment. There are too many soldiers on the streets. All we can do for now is plan our own escape and hope Chilly can follow us to Lisbon later.’
