Page 71 of The Moon Sister
‘I could ask you the same thing.’ María indicated the space next to him on the mattress.
‘It is not as it seems, Mia, I swear. The room Lucía and I have is too small for both of us, so Dolores kindly let me share . . .’
‘Donotlie to me any longer, you coward! Do you take me for an idiot as well as a betrayed wife? I have known about your other women for years, but like every goodgitanawife who has children, I chose to ignore it. I . . .’ María caught her breath as the volcano of anger that she’d kept below the surface for years finally erupted. ‘And while you lay with that child, your daughter slept only next door. How you disrespect me, you pig!’ María spat on him. ‘You are filth, and my parents were right from the start. You were never any good!’
José had the sense to stay silent while she continued to rage at him. Eventually he spoke.
‘Forgive me, María. I know I am a weak man, easily led. But I love you, and I always will.’
‘Shut up!’ María shook with fury. ‘You do not know what love is. All you care about is yourself. You used Lucía to get you back here and now my daughter lies alone in a filthy room in a filthy city because ofyourambition!’
‘You are wrong, María, Lucía loves it here! She is gathering a group of fans that grows every day and learning flamenco from the very best at the Villa Rosa. No’ – José wagged a finger – ‘you cannot blame me forherambition. You ask her, she’ll tell you.’ A sneer of a smile crossed his face. ‘So, I am here, you have hunted me down. Now what do you want?’
A divorce. . . was the first thought that came into María’s head. She ignored it because nogitanocouple could end their marriage legally, and took a deep breath to calm herself.
‘I came to tell you that Felipe died of a disease of his lungs on the seventeenth of July, only a day after he was released from prison.’
María searched José’s face to gauge his reaction. And in an instant, as guilt leapt into his bloodshot eyes, she knew he had already heard the news.
‘I sent word with as many travellers heading for Barcelona as I could find, asking them to tell you that you and Lucía must return home immediately. But you didn’t. And in the end’ – María let out a guttural sob – ‘our boy’s body was stinking and I had to go ahead with the funeral without his Papá and sister present.’
Imparting the news of Felipe’s death to the man who had given the seed to create his life immediately dissipated any anger she felt. Instead her sorrow fell out in wrenching sobs, tears of despair streaming down her cheeks. She sank to the floor, her hands over her face, mourning all over again for the loss of her precious boy.
Rough hands came around her shoulders and for a few minutes she clung to them because they were finally there to hold on to.
‘Mia, I am so very sorry. Our little Felipe . . . gone . . .’
Through the mist of her emotion, María remembered the look of guilt in José’s eyes. She pulled away and faced him.
‘You already knew, didn’t you?’
‘I . . .’
‘¡Dios mío!No more lies, José. Our son lies in his grave! Did you know?’
‘Yes, I did, but not until five days after his death. By then, I knew you would already have buried him.’
María swallowed and took a breath. ‘Yet, even if you had missed the funeral, you did not think that perhaps you should make the journey back to Sacromonte to comfort your grieving wife and children?’
‘María, I heard of Felipe’s death on the very day we were due to begin our new contract at the Villa Rosa. You cannot understand what an honour it is for Lucía and I. If we had left then, let them down when they were placing so much faith in us, it would have been the end of the future.’
‘Even if you had told them that you had to return home because your young son had died?’ María could hardly voice her disbelief.
‘Yes. You know very well howgitanoshave a reputation for being unreliable. They would have thought I was lying.’
‘José, they aregitanostoo, they would have understood.’ María shook her head. ‘It was you that didn’t.’
‘Forgive me, I made a mistake. I was too scared to leave; after all these years we’d finally won a place in the cathedral of flamenco. The money it could earn for our family, the fame it could give Lucía . . .’
‘There is no excuse on God’s earth, José, and you know it.’ She rose from the floor and looked down at him. ‘Maybe I could have forgiven you your latest infidelity, but I can never forgive you this. I only hope that your dead son can.’
José shuddered and crossed himself at his wife’s words.
‘Have you told Lucía?’ she asked him.
‘No. As I told you, it was our first day at the Villa Rosa, and I did not wish to unsettle her with such terrible news.’
‘So, I will go and sleep with my daughter next door. And tomorrow morning, I will tell her that her brother is dead.’ María walked towards the door. ‘Your friend is welcome to come back to your bed if she wishes.’ María nodded at him and left the room.
