Secrets of Spain Trilogy

by Caroline Angus Baker

  “I hate Communists.”

  “Freemasonry? Socialism?”

  “They are both against all I stand for, Caudillo.”

  “You’re a good Catholic, I assume.”

  “Of course.”

  “Married? Children?”

  José gestured in Consuela’s direction. She smiled so beautifully when she looked at José and Franco together. Franco waved, and she waved back with a giggle. “Consuela and I have been married four years,” José explained. “She too is a Madrileño. Our daughter is three years old.”

  “She is lovely,” Franco replied with a straight face. “I have grandchildren now, my grandson is three years old. You’re a man who needs a son, Teniente Morales.”

  José thought of Inés at home with a neighbour, along with Carmelita’s three children. “I have three sons, Caudillo.”

  “You’re a lucky man. The world needs three more respectable men like you.”

  José wanted his children to grow up nothing like their father. “Gracias, Caudillo. God has been kind to us.”

  “I took a fly-over of the city with the army this morning,” Franco said in a change of subject. “Much is still damaged and mud-covered. What do you suggest would help the city recover, Teniente?”

  José felt taken aback by the question. “We need time, Caudillo. We are working as hard as we can and civilians are keen to help and restore their city. Their will didn’t wash away in the flood. Any aid given, such as food or clothing would be appreciated, especially for those who lost everything down at the port area. We also need temporary housing for the homeless.”

  “That is a noble thing to say,” Franco replied and looked at his aide, who stood like a puppy ready to play. Had Franco ordered him to bark, the man would have obliged the dictator. “Get this officer’s details for me,” Franco said to his aide. “If he wants to join the Brigada Especial, he needs to be transferred to Madrid.” He turned back to José. “That’s what you would like, isn’t it? To leave Valencia?”

  “I will do my duty as required, but to return home in my dream.”

  “It’s cold in Madrid already, I tell you, Teniente. As a reward for your efforts, you can come home to Madrid. But work in my special forces, it’s not easy, and it’s not pretty. Can you handle that?”

  “I can handle anything, Caudillo. All I need is a chance to prove it. I wish to uphold Spain’s legal and moral code.”

  “Are you prepared to do anything to uphold my laws?”

  “Anything, Caudillo. It’s time criminals and socialists got what they deserved. Spain belongs to the winners, and the losers need to be reminded who is in charge.”

  Franco half-smiled and shook José’s hand again. “Congratulations, Teniente Morales, on your medal, and for impressing me. I’m sure we will meet again. Expect orders for relocation soon.”

  José stood tall and saluted Franco, and in a flash, the captivating man in white vanished from the room. José blinked a few times as he realised what he had done. He had just asked for a job and got it! He saw Consuela dart across the room in her new black high heels.

  “My darling, what he did say to you?”

  “Franco said we can go back to Madrid,” José said, breathless from the encounter. “He said he would see me sent into the Brigada Especial.”

  “Franco’s special forces want you? José… it’s your dream!”

  “I told him we had four children, which impressed him.”

  Consuela smiled. “You mean,” she whispered, “we can keep the boys?”

  “We will go home to Madrid and have our family, just the way you want it. This is the first step in the start of our new lives. Let’s leave Valencia and start again in Madrid.”

  43

  Valencia, España ~ Junio de 2010

  Luna threw an evil glare at her wheelchair across the living room. It sat there, looking straight back at her.

  “Fuck you.”

  “Who are you talking to?” Cayetano asked as he poked his head in the doorway.

  “No one!” Luna smiled and pulled her legs up onto the navy leather couch. “Don’t mind me, I just took a blow to the head and went a bit mad.”

  “Trust me, I know.”

  Luna patted the seat next to her. “Come and sit with me.”

  “I have to do the laundry.”

  “Oh, okay. I do like you here… as my slave.”

  Cayetano laughed and sat down with her. “I will let that mean comment slide, this one time. Being a stay-at-home father to an instant family isn’t easy.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  Cayetano touched Luna’s head; almost half a centimetre of black hair already wanted to curl. “What do you need, la chispa?”

  “I want to talk about some things.”

  “Okay.”

  “Today is the last day of school for the summer. We won’t get one minute’s peace after this afternoon.”

  “We weren’t getting much with my family here anyway.”

  “I do love your family, but I loved it more when they went back to Madrid last week. It’s brilliant that Sofía stayed, though. I hate to say it, but we need her help.”

  “It won’t be forever; you can go back to being mamá estupenda in no time. Why do you need to talk to me?”

  “How bad is my injury?”

  Cayetano took Luna’s hands and closed his eyes. The horror of the hospital still seemed too recent to discuss. “Let me put it this way – I’m amazed you’re sitting here, four weeks on from your fall, talking, sometimes walking unaided and getting back to normal life. I did have thoughts of how I would cope with the boys without you, emotionally, physically, legally…”

  “That bad?”

  “That bad.”

  “Who pushed me at Escondrijo?”

  “No one pushed you, preciosa. You were alone when it happened.”

  “That’s what Jorge said when he came to visit. But no one claims to have seen my accident, so how do we know what happened? A number of people would have liked to shove me that day… I think.”

  “Do you believe someone pushed you? After all, you can’t remember much of the day of the accident.”

  “Someone pushed me, Caya. I’m sure of it.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “I just have to live with a target on my back.”

  “If I thought someone did this to you, then I would deal with the situation, I promise.”

  “Let’s talk about the baby, then. We can’t avoid it forever. I’m amazed you haven’t told anyone yet.”

  “You wanted the boys to know first.”

  “They need to know, but I not ready to tell them. Hasn’t life been hard enough for them?”

  “Giacomo and Enzo coped just fine. But it’s up to you.”

  “Let’s just wait for the ultrasound next week, and then tell them. We will tell everyone. It’s not going to be easy to have this baby.”

  “We will have a child, at Christmas.”

  “I can’t believe it. As if life isn’t messy enough.”

  “What’s messy? You and me have a baby, I adopt Giacomo and Enzo, we get married, I move to Valencia and tend to your every whim.”

  “I won’t always be injured and helpless – thankfully!”

  “You do want a baby, don’t you?”

  “The baby is coming, so I don’t have a lot of choice! Going right back to the parenting starting line is scary, but it’s new for you.”

  “Is the sleep deprivation as bad as people make it out to be?”

  “With one baby? I doubt it. Twins are tough, but I managed and did a lot of it alone. Fabrizio was away all the time. This will be different. I guess going back to work is out of the question.”

  “What you want to do?”

  “I could go back to being a tourist guide on my bike. I was decent at that. Forget the company I worked for, I could work on my own, perhaps repair bikes on the side. Baby could come along for the ride.”

  “You do
realise you don’t need the money, right?”

  “Yes. But old habits die hard.”

  “Luna, you almost died a month ago. Please slow down; life can wait until you recover.”

  “I promise not to work for the next year…”

  Cayetano threw her a look.

  “Eighteen months?”

  “Better. If you think you can get on a bike in the next six months, you’re dreaming. Plus, I want the boys and the baby to have a stay-at-home mother. Call me old-fashioned if you wish.”

  “Hey, I always wanted to be a stay-at-home mother. After Fabrizio died, I didn’t have any choice but to work. When will you go back to bullfighting?”

  “My whole year is cancelled now. I won’t perform again in 2010.”

  “Why not?”

  “Ahh, because I have you and the boys.”

  “Don’t let me hold you back.”

  “You don’t! If anything, you let me stand back from the life which was driving me crazy.”

  Luna smiled, but closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. “Christ, I’m tired again already. I only got up from my last nap an hour ago.”

  “That’s normal with a head injury, sweetheart. Do you want to go back to bed?”

  “No, I want to get better! I want to go outside without a bloody foam helmet. I want get this fucking cast off my arm. I want to be allowed to walk around without the need for a wheelchair or cane. I’m not paralysed.”

  “No, but you do get dizzy and disorientated. One slip or a bump on the head and who knows what could happen.”

  “Getting wheeled through the park for school runs is rather enjoyable. I’m enjoying the whole process of being doted on by you, by Sofía, everyone…”

  “Good, you should enjoy it. We will get you back to your best.”

  “When can we visit Escondrijo?”

  “When you’re ready, I suppose.”

  “The dig is finished, the bodies are gone. I missed the whole thing?”

  “Jorge had to finish up, for the safety of the souls he found. The DNA results will be complete soon.”

  “Did Miguel supply a DNA sample to eliminate him from the results?”

  “Yes he did.”

  “Miguel hasn’t come to see me since the accident. Your cousins didn’t visit.”

  “I asked for space, and they have given it, but your next trip to Madrid and Rebelión will be chaotic.”

  “Let’s make that visit soon.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, you have a business to save and your family have been great.”

  “Okay, but no more weird midnight strolls with José.”

  “I walked about twenty steps the whole time.”

  “I’ll need to lock you inside when you see José. Who knows where he’ll take you next time.”

  “He is filled with horror stories from Valencia and he needed to let them go. I’m glad I spoke to him. I’m not sure he’s an upstanding guy, but he isn’t scary anymore either. He’s a complex man. He told me that he made journals of his life. I wonder where he hid them.”

  “Maybe they set fire to themselves, in fear of the words.”

  “Caya, you don’t have to give up your life and career in Madrid for me.”

  “What if I want to give up my life? We could move to Madrid, to live in my little apartment, or we could stay here in this huge place. Your building has a playground for the kids, plus a pool, sauna and gym, all across the street from the Turia. I could live here, I promise you.”

  “But do you want to be in Valencia?”

  “I want to do whatever you need.”

  Luna sighed and looked at the cast on her right arm. The boys had drawn all over it; bikes, along with one random dragon and a ride-on lawnmower. “Never mind my physical injuries… I am broken.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t feel like myself anymore.”

  Cayetano ran his thumb back and forward on Luna’s hand and looked at the Beltrán diamond. “You’re not yourself, preciosa. But that’s okay. You have had a lucky escape. You could have suffered brain damage.”

  “I’m so tired all the time. I’m forgetting Spanish words when I speak. I can’t look after the kids by myself, I can’t dress myself. I even get confused about what time it is, so I don’t want make any serious decisions right now.”

  “That’s why we will stay in Valencia. By the time the baby comes, you should be back to your normal self.”

  “Who I was died when I fell down that hill. Once the baby comes, I will be a new person. I should be grieving for the person I was a month ago.”

  “That woman is still in there, she’s just tired right now.”

  “Don’t make big life changes while I’m a mess.”

  “I have to, and I want to while you need me. How many times do I need to say it, Luna Montgomery?”

  “More times, I guess. I do have one thing I need you to do. The baby needs to be born here, in Valencia. Even if he becomes a full Madrileño like his father, still, I want him born here, like Giacomo and Enzo.”

  “Deal. Do you think you’re having a boy?”

  Luna shrugged, her right shoulder still sore from the fall. “Saying ‘he’ is a habit.”

  “Maybe we will have a little girl. We already have two boys.”

  Luna screwed her face up as she tried not to cry. “Darling,” Cayetano said and pulled her into his arms, “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” she mumbled against his shoulder. “I just… I got it into my head, years ago, that no man would look twice at me. I assumed I would be a widow my whole life. No one wants a woman with two kids to another man. But you just said ‘we’ have two boys.”

  “I would like to say it more often, but think I’m overstepping the mark.”

  Luna pulled herself away from Cayetano and wiped her tears with her good hand. She took a deep breath and smiled. “If you adopt my boys, they’re bound to you. Not just because you married me; they become family. If I died, you would still be their guardian.”

  “I know that. When you were in the hospital, I worried that you would die and since the paperwork wasn’t formalised, Giacomo and Enzo would be taken away from me. If I adopt them, they would grow up safe and happy as Beltrán’s if something happened to you.”

  “Are you prepared for that commitment?”

  “Yes! They will be the big brothers to my son or daughter. The children should be together.”

  “You might change your mind in a decade. One of the boys will yell ‘you can’t tell me what to do, you’re not my real father’, and you’ll wonder why you bothered marrying me.”

  “I would hope that in ten years, they consider me their father. Paco and I argued endlessly, we still do. We survived. It’s part of the growing up process.”

  “The adoption process is far easier if we get married, I think. I’m confusing details in my head again.”

  “No, you’re not. Once we’re married everything is simpler.”

  “My citizenship will be final in two weeks. When the time comes, marriage and adoption will be simpler since I won’t be ‘foreign’ anymore, at least not on paper. It feels so daunting right now, though.”

  “You said you don’t want to make big decisions while you’re ill.”

  “I won’t. But what I don’t want is you, throwing your career away because of my six month sabbatical from well-being. You need to be making all the serious decisions for us, and you don’t need to retire from bullfighting.”

  “In that case, I will sell my apartment in Madrid, which will mean my finances are healthy again, and move here. Then, I will take Paco’s business plan for Rebelión and squeeze it until every unnecessary cost and relative falls out the bottom. Then, at least one aspect of my life is not an issue.”

  “Do you want to sell your apartment?”

  “I bought it when I married María. I live there now out of habit. I’ll just have to put that wall back in my dressing room, to make it two bedrooms agai
n.”

  “That’s what a horde of cousins is for; free labour. The apartment must be worth a fortune now.”

  “Tres millones,” Cayetano shrugged.

  “Three million? As in, Euros? We’re not talking dirty old pesetas?”

  “No, though I did buy it in pesetas in 2001. Yes, three million Euros. I’m not old enough to think in pesetas, you know.”

  “I love stores which still put the price in Euros and pesetas. It’s quaint.”

  “I will bail out Rebelión one more time, and then run it my way.”

  “From Valencia.”

  “Yes. Plus, we’ll have money to restore Escondrijo.”

  “I can afford that on my own.”

  “I realise that.”

  “But I’m not sure I want to go back to Escondrijo. Someone tried to kill me there. My boys were traumatised, and my wedding was cancelled.”

  “Escondrijo has been there for hundreds of years. We don’t need to rush into anything.”

  “Good. Will you pay off the new mortgage over Rebelión?”

  “Yes, and it’s the last time I will, I promise. Then Mamá and Papá can move out there, with Mamí and Papí of course.”

  “Then why don’t we move to La Moraleja? You said there is a school that can take the boys. The best school in the country.”

  “You threw that idea back in my face.”

  “That was old Luna. This is new Luna, who is broken enough to change her mind.”

  “You said no.”

  “I can handle moving into your families’ mansion, Caya. I can handle driving through those towering gates, when I can drive again, and I will bask in the glory of having my own giant yard and swimming pool. All those bedrooms, giant kitchen, privacy, peace and quiet… it won’t be hell. We could try it for a year and see how it goes.”

  “No, we can’t make changes like that when you’re ill.”

  “I’m certain there is a hospital in La Moraleja. You rich celebrity types wouldn’t want to trek into Madrid for healthcare now, would you?”

  “Oh, very funny. I appreciate the sacrifice, but we could live in Valencia.”

  “Valencia has been here for 2000 years. It will still be here while you work to get Rebelión on its feet, and continue fighting in the ring. What I need right now is to rest and get well again. You need a whole range of things. I can convalesce anywhere, but you need to be in Madrid.”