Lilia's Secret (18 page)

Ramiro framed his face with his hands and cocked his head as if wanting me to notice how youthful his skin was. I nodded.
Satisfied, he kept going. ‘When she finally arrived, there we were, all tucked snugly into the church with the doors closed, sighing with relief that things had finally begun and, of course, basking in the warmth of the bride's beauty. But the new priest appeared to be confused during his sermon because instead of talking about love, trust and commitment, he talked of hell, fire and sin. We all looked at each other, the bad-omen smell getting stronger. I myself had just determined to step forwards and correct him when he swung on to marriage. I thought, What does it matter how many stations we stop at, as long as the destination is correct? So I settled back into the pew.

‘But just as things were going on smoothly, suddenly: BOUF! The kerosene lamps went out; we were plunged into darkness. The rain outside seemed to pelt down more loudly. The bad-omen smell got so strong that some people were overcome with coughing. However, with a little laughter and scrapping about, a group of men got the candles going and we started to settle again. Some poor souls even thought the candlelight was romantic, but even they had to admit defeat ten minutes later. BOUFF! The great oak doors of the church burst open; a devil of a wind raced in and put out all the candles. Darkness again. And that door was not so easy to move; I know, because I was one of the ones who tried to close it against the wind.

‘So you can see there was not much going for that marriage, even from the beginning.'

I wasn't sure whether to believe him, but he didn't notice – he was still lost inside the story. ‘They didn't even have the wedding rings at the church. The best man was one of those who had got lost. The official photographer never made it either. Of course there were a couple of people who had
brought their own precious cameras in their special boxes – they weren't common back then, you know. They called on Lilia to drop her handkerchief so they could capture her beautiful smile. But, you know, not one of those photographs ever came out. Not one! Which was a surprise because the storm had passed as quickly as it had come, so by the time we were taking photographs the sun was smiling again. I think she knew, then, because there was a little touch of yellow-grey in her aura round her green and brown eyes. Of course she did a very good job of hiding it.

‘You see how important decisions are?' Ramiro demanded, looking at me again. ‘You make one bad one and it contaminates the whole course of your life.' He shook his head.

‘The Spaniard was everything to her. He was the river of her life. And yet he abandoned her, broke her heart, her soul, her hope. Some say he was the devil. When her son grew up it was clear he was the devil's spawn. El Tigre.'

He looked at me to check I understood who El Tigre was. I nodded. I thought of Lilia's baby girl, but couldn't face bringing her up with Ramiro.

‘Lilia stayed alone for many years, but once it was clear that her son was evil personified she started marrying. Such a foolish way to mend a heart twice broken.'

‘What happened to El Tigre's wife?'

‘Amalia?' he squinted at me, faltering for a moment, I thought. But he recovered too quickly for me to be sure. ‘The beautiful Amalia. You are well informed.'

‘What was she like?'

‘She had a beautiful smile. Gentle. She was from elsewhere. But I know nothing more.' He dismissed the subject.

He took his white handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his forehead. ‘I felt sorry for Lilia's husbands. I could never look them in the eyes. No one could. But we didn't have to because we stopped seeing them in the village. We went to their funerals, of course. One does not miss an opportunity to honour the dead.'

He paused. ‘She was cursed, but she was too proud to admit it …'

‘Cursed? You don't think she killed all those husbands?'

He pursed his lips. ‘It is true that too many died too soon. But who knows the truth? I hate to think it of my Lilia, but certainly her colours darkened with every husband. The people here grew more and more tight against her; some would even press themselves against the wall when she passed. Of course there were others whom she had helped who would kneel down to kiss the hem of her dress. But in the end she stopped going to the village herself and sent her servants.

‘I couldn't live without seeing her. I used to sneak up and perch in the tree. I'd get there before dawn with enough
frijoles
and chilli for the day. I'd sit there and watch her, and creep out again under the cover of night. Of course she pretended I wasn't there, but I knew she knew. A little whiff of knowing orange would touch up her blackness. By that time she was almost all black to everyone else.

‘She died, you know, without anyone by her side. All those husbands and nobody there at the end. We all knew she was dying. Some longed for her to take her last breath, others were scared that she could do more harm from the grave because then she would know their very thoughts. Me? I was excited. I'd saved all my hopes for this one great moment. I took out
the special suit I'd bought years before and never worn, although I'd kept it beautifully laundered every six months, given it a little touch of starch. Starch and bleach make a man in a dusty place like this.' Ramiro brushed invisible dirt off his sleeves.

‘I bathed myself, and poured aftershave into the water and marinated in it for an hour. Then I dressed with all the care I could. I opened my bottom cupboard and pulled out a bottle of port I'd been saving since my youth.

‘I opened this bottle for the first time,' he continued. ‘I poured a little glass and took it into my courtyard to sip. When I finished I licked my lips, straightened my back and walked the two miles to her hacienda. I never wavered for a second. This was my moment. I felt safe, since she would be too weak to set the servants on me – and they had no loyalty to her, just to her money – but for extra protection I splashed light about me the whole journey.

‘When I got to the gate leading to her farm I took off my walking shoes and hid them behind the post, and put on my polished black shoes, which I had brought with me in a bag. Then I walked right up to the door and I marched in. The servants' chatter in the kitchen stopped as I shot past them. They came running after me and tried to bar my way up the stairs. But I was like a champion athlete; nothing was going to stop me. I opened doors and looked into rooms – left, right, left. Strictly speaking I didn't need to look into every room but I wanted to see the kind of house she was living in. I was not surprised to see it was all gloom and darkness. I didn't know which bedroom was hers, but the servants' loud squawking as I neared one particular door made me guess well.

‘I flung the door open and closed it dramatically behind me. It was just how I had planned.'

Ramiro closed his eyes and sighed.

‘There she was. I will never forget. She was on the bed in a white nightgown with her grey hair looped over the pillow in bundles. She was dying and still her magnificent hair was like coils of oiled snakes. What a woman! She was so vulnerable, so clean, so sweet. She was still strong enough to try to push herself up and glare at me, but I could see in her colours that she was very weak. The servants burst in behind me, shouting about how they'd tried to stop me and how rude I'd been. I waved them off with the back of my hand. She did nothing, so they left, closing the door again.

‘I marched straight over to her bed and said, “Lilia Maria de Las Flores, you should have married me when you wore daisies in your hair. I tell you now that I have loved you since then and before. I have loved you more deeply than any other man. And I love you into death.” Then I turned on my heels and left, closing the door behind me.

‘To that point everything had gone according to my dreams. I don't know what came over me then, but I departed from my script. I found myself back in her room, by her bed, where I took her in my arms and kissed her white, dried-up lips. But to me they were as ripe as plums. I kissed her and then I looked at her to see how she was taking it. She was staring at me silently. So I kissed her again. She had started to react by then, although I was ready to grab her arms to stop her wiping the kiss away. But she didn't try; she just smiled and lay back among her cushions. And then she said, “I know, I know.” I was like the sun. I turned on my heels and marched out again. Down the stairs, down the path to the gate.

‘I changed my shoes and floated back to the village. I could have died that night, happily knowing that in those moments I was the bravest and best I was ever going to be. I thank God every day I wake up that I have another day to remember that one. And I tell you, Maddy Maquire, when I die I'm going to be smiling, thinking of that moment.

‘She died, and I heard later from a servant that she never mentioned the incident. How like her that was. Our little secret pea of love.'

Ramiro's voice had dropped to a whisper and I was down there with him. He suddenly looked past me, straightened his back and spoke in a normal voice, which threw me. ‘I see Alberto is looking for my help. We will meet again; excuse me if I rush away.'

He started to move off but turned back. ‘Go home, Maddy, there's nothing for you here.' Then he was swallowed up in the crowd.

I tried to figure out what colour he would be if I saw in colours. Vibrant ones, oranges and purples maybe. And yet there was something in the old-man-paperiness of his skin that repelled me.

Bill sat in the front pew of Santa Maria's church. It was here Padre Miguel said Lilia was married. It was cool and still; the brown eyes of the Madonna above him seemed to look at him and at the same time beyond him.

He needed to get out of the thin air of Aguasecas after his argument with Angela. He winced every time he thought about it. A man his age letting his daughter get to him like that. And he was supposed to be helping her, not causing her more pain.

He'd tried to contact her the next day but she'd taken off to Monterrey. Instead, he'd gone to the wedding. Ramiro had been too busy to talk, but they'd made an arrangement to meet, Bill speaking in slow English mixed with the Spanish he knew, and Ramiro in slow Spanish. The appointment was not as soon as Bill had hoped. He had missed the Australian too. He didn't know whether he wanted to speak to somebody who might have more claim to Lilia than he, but he knew he'd have to anyway.

Sitting beneath the kind face of the Madonna he wondered about his father's wedding to Lilia. Were there flowers and music? Was her dress ivory and did it cling? He shook himself.
Or was the wedding a dry affair, with only the pen and the document between them in a room of her house?

Sitting in the cool he felt again that he could almost forgive his father his obsession with Lilia, if that was what it had been. You had to admire her, even from this distance.

There was softness in Bill when he left the church. He trailed his hand along the window-boxes outside house after house. He even caught himself whistling into the gloriousness of the soft day. A child waved from the other side of the road. Bill grinned back. ‘
Hola
,' the girl called, before ducking into the shop. Bill thought the flowers in the window box were pinker and redder than anything he'd ever seen before.

When he got off the bus in Aguasecas he saw the Australian on the other side of the square. He stepped into a side street to avoid her. She was young, her hair was spiky and it was too hot to talk just now.

He ordered a beer and tacos when he arrived at the café. A few minutes later the Australian stepped through the door and although Bill turned away slightly she came and sat down opposite him.

‘Do you mind?' she asked him.

‘Of course not,' he said, too loudly. ‘It's about time we caught up, compared notes.'

‘Mmm,' she said, turning to order a beer for herself in quick Spanish.

‘All Australians drink beer, hey?'

‘Did you enjoy the wedding?'

‘Sure, gorgeous day for it. People were having such a great time. It was really neat.'

Maddy raised her eyebrows. ‘It was good,' she replied. She scratched her wrist and smiled politely. ‘What do you do?'

‘I'm retired.'

‘From?'

Bill waved his hand. ‘Business. I was in business, but it's a long time ago now.'

‘Fair enough.' She pressed down on the bandanna around her wrist.

Bill cast around for something else. ‘So you like it here?' he asked.

‘Yeah,' she said. ‘I like the way people touch each other.'

Bill shifted in his seat: he hadn't noticed that.

‘And you're married to one of Lilia's grandsons?'

‘Ah,' she said, with her index finger in the air. ‘No. My husband is Lilia's
great
-grandson. Although he doesn't know that yet. Her grandsons believed they were her sons.'

‘Why would they think that?'

‘I guess that's what she told them, but my husband's father is dead and I haven't been able to contact her surviving grandson, Juan, to find out more.'

Maddy gave a quick laugh which changed the serious set of her face and drew a smile from Bill. ‘Juan's like a hermit,' she continued. ‘Scarred by his childhood, he and his brother both hated her so much they escaped when they were kids. Juan says she's evil.'

Bill frowned. ‘Some say evil …'

‘… Others say good,' finished Maddy.

Neither seemed to be able to hold the other's gaze. They sipped from their glasses and kept their eyes down.

‘You're about my daughter's age,' Bill said abruptly.

‘What's her name?' Maddy asked.

‘Angela.' Bill began to feel anxious. ‘Her name's Angela. I've got two others though, Hilary and Laura. Angela arrived here a few days ago.'

‘Where is she now?'

‘Gone to Monterrey.'

‘Didn't stay long then.'

Bill shifted in his seat. ‘She's coming back.'

‘She's helping you?' Maddy asked.

He nodded.

‘Your photo is about to fall out,' Maddy said, pointing to Bill's pocket.

He put his hand to his chest and patted it back in. He had a moment of calm. ‘It's a photo of your husband's great-grandmother.'

‘You carry a photograph of Lilia with you?'

‘You never know when I might need to check something for verification in the documents I am studying.'

The Australian raised an eyebrow again. ‘Padre Miguel mentioned you weren't sure why your father came down here,' she said.

‘He said he was going to investigate his friend George's death, who was Lilia's third husband. And he stayed. So either he left us for Lilia because he couldn't resist her or she entrapped him for his money.'

‘I think she was rich before,' Maddy said. She told him about Lilia's involvement in drugs.

‘A drug trafficker?' He grimaced. ‘It's sure hard to get a grip on her.'

‘It means she didn't need his money,' Maddy added, seeing his disappointment and not understanding it. ‘She could have loved your father.'

‘Yeah.' Bill nodded, not feeling much comfort. ‘And you?' he asked Maddy. ‘Why are you here?'

Maddy sighed. ‘I haven't been able to answer that question. I think it's a distraction.'

‘Trouble at home?'

She seemed uncomfortable as she took a moment to drain her glass. ‘Just … needed time to get away from it all. It was a good idea at the time. Come to Mexico, meet the family and find out a bit more about the colourful matriarch. Only …' She paused. ‘It's not so simple. As soon as you learn one thing about her and you think you have her nailed, another fact, completely the opposite, emerges. It's like now I
need
to know whether she killed all those men or not.'

‘Exactly, exactly. Even if she hadn't married my father I'd still want to know all about her. She's a phenomenon – an ambush.'

His eagerness made Maddy retract a little. But he couldn't help himself. It was happening to her too. The relief made him light.

‘But nobody talks about her easily. Which makes everything odder.' Maddy glanced up at Bill again. ‘It's as if they hope their silence will keep her in her grave.'

‘Yes, it's just like that.' Bill furrowed his forehead.

Alberto put another round of drinks before them and replaced the lunch menu with the dinner one.

‘What's Ramiro like?' Bill asked. ‘I saw you two talking at the wedding.'

‘Strange,' replied Maddy. ‘He was in love with Lilia. Correction – still is.' Maddy pushed against her wrist again.

‘Ramiro would've known my father.'

‘It's possible.' She frowned. ‘I think his obsessing was done from a distance though. He talked a lot and it was all interesting, but he didn't know much of substance. He said, like everyone else, he supposed she'd murdered her husbands.'

‘I'm applying to exhume my father's body and have it analysed. That may help.'

‘It would be good to know for sure what happened to all of them.' Maddy squinted, not really hearing Bill. ‘And it would help us know what kind of a person she was.'

Bill thought it over. ‘Angela says it doesn't matter what kind of a person she was. My father fell in love with her and that's that.'

An awkward silence fell. They both seemed to have run out of questions. Suddenly Maddy asked, ‘Is Angela like you?'

Bill nodded slowly. ‘Yes, but more awkward.' This spiky girl before him had an unexpected gentleness. Perhaps it was the relief of talking in English to somebody like him. Never would he have felt any fellow feeling for her in his old life, but in Aguasecas they were in the same category. Without knowing it she'd sprung a box open within him and inside was a naked need to talk; the words tumbled out as Maddy nodded and asked questions. His meal lay on the table untouched as he told her about his argument with Angela, and about the time he'd found her in her bedroom; about Carole and Hilary and Laura, and how he didn't fit into the skin of his family.

‘What was wrong with her?' Maddy asked.

‘Who?'

‘Angela, when you saw her in her room like that?'

‘Don't know,' Bill said.

Maddy shook her head. ‘Why don't you ask her?'

‘She won't talk to me.'

‘Then why's she here?'

‘I …'He faltered. ‘It's me. I don't know how to talk to her.' He rubbed his jaw and tried to fix on something out in the street he could count.

‘There must be a reason she's here,' Maddy pressed gently, after a moment. ‘You might find it easier to know what it is.'

Bill was grateful for the sympathy he heard in her voice, but shook his head. ‘I think she just wanted a holiday.'

Maddy let it go and stared out of the window with him.