Under the Spanish Stars (33 page)

‘And?'

‘And that's it for now.'

‘The answer is no to helping with the DNA.'

‘But you know the clan and they love you. Can't you convince someone to help?'

‘No.' He crossed his arms and studied the wall of flamenco guitars.

She hated pressing him but she couldn't return to her grandmother without confirmation about her heritage. ‘Would Leila help?'

‘You cannot ask her to do this.'

‘You're right. I'm sorry.' She pursed her lips, willing her brain to come up with another way that would make everyone happy. ‘But Leila did get excited at the prospect of us being cousins.'

‘Have you forgotten
gitanos
do not like to remember the past?'

‘Of course I remember but Leila's not like the others.'

‘Leila is the only one born into the Giménez clan who wishes to have a foot in both worlds. You are asking her to go against her people and that is not fair.'

‘But she does genealogy—'

‘That is her choice.'

‘True.' Her thoughts ran around her head then settled. ‘She's too far removed anyway. I need Syeria's brother or sister or offspring, if they're still alive, to do a DNA test and that would give us the answer we need.'

Mateo twisted his lips in a strange way and he refused to look directly at her.

‘You know something, don't you?'

‘It is not for you to know.'

‘What happened to the open book business? First, you won't tell me about what happened with Jax and now you're holding back information that could help me. You speak a load of shit, Mateo Vives. Your book is as closed as it gets.'

‘That is not true.'

‘I understand you want to look out for your people but guess what? I'm doing the same with Abuela. I don't want the Giménez clan to compromise their beliefs. I always try to be respectful of other cultures and their wishes but I'm trying to help one very special elderly lady discover the mystery behind her roots before she …' Charlotte couldn't bear to finish the sentence.

Mateo's lips remained closed as he stared off into a dark corner of the room.

She reached for his hand, but he pulled it away. Charlotte knew she should leave the topic alone but a need to protect Abuela drove her forward. ‘Wouldn't the Giménez clan want to find out if they have other living relatives? Especially one who's had a lifelong connection with flamenco?'

‘It is a fact
La Flama
left my country and refused to speak of her life as a flamenco dancer or about Spain. How can you say she has a lifelong connection with flamenco?'

‘When I was little and she looked after me while my parents worked, I often found Abuela in the kitchen or down by the back shed practising dance moves. I'm sure she misses her old life.'

‘It is hard living in the present and wishing for a past that can no longer be.' His eyes grew dark. ‘Why did she leave Spain?'

‘I have no idea.'

‘She will not tell you?'

‘No. Whatever the reason is, the memories cause her immense pain.' Just like Mateo, Abuela was a closed book.

Mateo tapped his fingers on the armrest. ‘I will help you find this gravesite for your
abuela
but that is all. What is the name of this dead person you seek?'

Charlotte reached for her handbag and dug out the ziplock bag with the envelope. Curiosity had gnawed at her from the moment she'd left the hospital, but she'd resisted opening the contents as per Abuela's request. Now safely in Granada, she hesitated for only a moment. Holding her
breath, she unfolded the paper and tried to decipher the spidery writing.

1944—Katarina

Katarina rushed towards her apartment, painting in hand. Her heart hurt with the knowledge Federico had been keeping notes on them, and anxiety pressed in on her, knowing the danger that would arise if Federico's books got into the wrong hands. Raul, Salvador and Katarina had to work on the assumption that every single move they made was being monitored. As much as she hated the thought, she had to accept it—for now.

Despite her protests, Raul had gone back to see Federico to surreptitiously find out what the books were to be used for and where his political loyalties lay. Even Raul had no idea how he would achieve this, but he had to try. She couldn't imagine the hurt Raul would suffer when he faced Federico—the man who he'd considered as a close friend and who now had the potential to ruin lives. She also worried about what could happen should Raul overstep the mark. However, she had faith he'd play this right. They needed to find out the depth of Federico's involvement with the Lobo Brothers and how far it carried over to Franco and his people. She also wondered if Federico had any inkling of their collusion with the Maquis. Surely he wouldn't turn against one of his oldest friends in a manner that was so … deceitful. But her country had been a political hotbed for years and no one could be trusted—not even an old friend.

Rounding the corner, she caught sight of a dark vehicle pulling up outside her apartment. Two men in suits and hats got out, slammed the doors, marched up the steps and bashed on her door. The way they acted and judging by the car they drove, she had no doubt Franco's secret police had just, literally, landed on her doorstep.

Ducking between two parked cars, she willed her shaking hands to stop and for her mind to kick into action. Had the events with Salvador and her run-in with Federico spurred this visit from the police? Or had this already been planned and only executed now? She squeezed her eyes shut. Raul was with Federico—had he walked into a trap?

She swallowed hard, aware the only control she had right now was to make sure the thugs on the street didn't see her. The tall one stood outside her front door while the short one smashed the handle and entered her apartment. Terror ripped through her in case the tall one glanced around and spotted her. While he looked the other way, she hastily emerged from between the cars, stepped onto the footpath with her back to the men, and forced herself to casually stroll towards the corner.

‘Katarina!' shouted Camila, as she came around the corner, juggling two baskets of food. ‘I haven't seen you for so long! Tell me, how is the
opera flamenca
going? I have heard wonderful things.'

Katarina forced a smile, petrified her neighbour's loud voice would carry to the men. They would have found photographs of her and Raul and Salvador in the apartment, and no doubt they knew the name of the person they were looking for, so her neighbour broadcasting Katarina's presence on the street put her at risk. Possibly Camila, too, an innocent bystander.

‘I'm sorry, Camila, I'm late for rehearsal,' she said, trying to remain calm on the outside. Inside, her stomach churned and her legs desperately wanted to sprint.

‘No time for a coffee and chat?' her friend asked. She lost her grip and the basket with bags of sugar and flour fell to the ground, spilling the precious contents across the pavement. Camila let out a shriek and Katarina quickly looked over to see the tall man staring directly at her. The short one walked out clutching a picture frame. Even from this distance she recognised the long-haired man with the untrusting eyes who'd sat in the front row on the first night she danced code. Had Franco's men known even then? And if so, how?

‘Sorry, I've got to go.' Katarina bolted around the corner and dodged traffic as she crossed the road and ran down an alley. Grateful for having lived in the same barrio for so many years, she wove in and out of streets and alleys, avoiding the ones that led to a dead end. As her feet pounded
the pavement and her lungs burned from the physical stress, she tried to figure out a way to get hold of Raul in case he walked into danger. With people now looking for her, she couldn't go to the theatre. And if they were searching for her they could possibly be looking for … Salvador.

Dear Lord, Claudia!

Katarina pushed her long legs hard, thankful that the years of training as a dancer meant she could outrun most people, including secret police in suits. Entering the local market, she dashed between the stalls, praying none of the shoppers or shopkeepers paid attention or recognised her. Breaking free, she took a sharp left into the side street that led to Salvador's. Taking the steps two at a time, she bashed on the door.

‘Claudia!' she yelled, thankful the thugs hadn't made it there yet. Or had they? What was taking Claudia so long? Smashing her fist against the door again she shouted, ‘Claudia! Open up! It's Katarina!'

A baby cried and a moment later Salvador's wife opened the door, panic flashing in her eyes. ‘Did you find him?'

Katarina glanced up and down the street, but it remained deserted, except for a couple of young kids playing with sticks and a wooden hoop. She pushed past Claudia and slammed the door behind them.

‘You need to get out of here.' Katarina could barely catch breath. ‘I found Salvador and he's safe.'
For now
. ‘But you might get some visitors.'

‘Who?' Claudia held Paulito tight against her chest.

‘The secret police.' Katarina rushed to the crib and started stuffing clothes for the baby and other necessary items into a calico bag.

‘What?' Claudia shrieked, her eyes wide with alarm. ‘How did they find out?' She slapped her hand against her mouth, her eyes welling with tears.

Katarina stopped what she was doing and stared at her friend. ‘Find out what?'

Claudia shook her head and held Paulito tighter. ‘Nothing. Nothing. Sorry, this is all very confusing.'

Katarina eyed Claudia, aware she'd just spun a lie, but there was no time to demand the truth. Flee now, questions later.

‘Take two bags only,' Katarina said. ‘Bare essentials. Hopefully this is a false alarm, but if it isn't we need to get out of here. Now.'

Rushing over to the phone she dialled Raul's apartment but it rang out. She tried a few more times then set her sights on getting hold of him at the
theatre. That call remained unanswered too, and she tried twice more before a staff member from the booking office finally picked up the phone.

‘Good afternoon.' Katarina forced her lips into a smile, hoping it would carry through to her voice. ‘I'm with
El Tiempo
newspaper and I am wishing to arrange a time to interview Raul Sierra Abano for a story on rising stars of flamenco. May I please speak with him?'

‘Just one moment.' A solid bang sounded as the phone was placed on the desk and footsteps echoed in the distance. After what seemed like forever, the voice on the other end of the line said, ‘I am very sorry … what is your name?'

‘Romina Ramirez Palomo,' Katarina lied, disgusted but also relieved that it had been so easy to do. Claudia looked over at her and frowned.

‘Señora Ramirez Palomo, I am afraid he has not been in today. I spoke with the manager of the theatre, Federico Basa Trujillo, but he has not seen him. He did mention Señor Raul was ill and may not perform for a while. Can I leave a message?'

‘No, that is fine. I will call next week, thank you.' Katarina slammed down the phone, her stomach churning. Federico had lied about not seeing Raul. And why would he say that Raul was ill and not performing
for a while
?

Katarina tried to quash the turbulent questions invading her brain. Moving to the front window she peered out from behind the curtain. The street remained deserted. Perhaps she was panicking about them coming for Salvador, but Claudia's strange comment kept coming back. She seemed to have taken this turn of events very well. Whatever was behind Claudia's statement, Katarina knew she'd made the right decision to come here. Better for Claudia and the baby to be safe elsewhere than run the risk of strangers turning up and accusing them of guilt by association and doing who knows what to her beautiful, adopted family.

Grabbing Claudia's bags, she put her arm around her friend's shoulder and whispered, ‘Time to go.'

* * *

Night had fallen by the time Katarina guided Claudia and her baby into the narrow alley that led to Salvador's hiding spot. They'd woven
through backstreets, the trio travelling slowly, giving the appearance of having been to the market and now carrying loaded bags of groceries. Claudia stumbled a few times, her body shaking despite the warm evening, but she'd refused to hand over Paulito, pulling the small blanket tighter to secure him closer to her body.

Reaching the outside door, Katarina rapped her knuckles against the wood with the rhythm of the four-count in
tientos palo
, just like Raul had done. A moment later the latch on the door unlocked and Salvador stood in the shadow, his large eyes wide.

‘Claudia.' Salvador reached out for his wife and child and pulled them into a strong embrace.

‘We need to get inside,' said Katarina, ushering them in and quickly locking the door behind them. They traipsed through the darkness towards the room at the back where a flame flickered from the lone candle. Salvador stroked his sleeping son's head while he hugged his wife close.

‘Have you heard from Raul?' Katarina asked, placing the bags on the floor.

Salvador shook his head and she slumped against the wall, hot tears burning her eyes. Regret wrapped around Katarina, making her wish she'd not gotten involved with the Maquis. She was a flamenco dancer from a family of privilege, what made her think she would ever be capable of making Franco pay for his sins? It had been a stupid idea and now Claudia and Salvador had been pulled into this web she didn't know how to untangle.

‘None of this is your fault.' Salvador placed his hand over hers.

‘How did you know what I was thinking?'

‘You've been wearing your heart on your sleeve the last little while. It's nice to see. Those thick walls of yours appear to be breaking down and that is not a bad thing.'