The Phoenix of Montjuic

by Jeremy D. Rowe

  “No,” said Manel. “We can’t let men like him stop us from doing what we want to do. If we want to stroll along the Ramblas, we shall do it, and no-one shall stop us.”

  Eduard was sorry to say goodbye to the municipal band so soon after joining, but he had had one good summer season and was now committed to the much more fulfilling and interesting job of playing for the opera. An unexpected bonus was the variety of interesting conductors who arrived to lead the orchestra through the complexities of the different scores, as well as to prepare full-scale orchestral concerts. The restrictive repertoire of the army band, or indeed the local city band, was left far behind as Eduard found himself sight-reading Mozart, Puccini, Wagner and Verdi. The four composers were responsible for the bulk of the Liceu repertoire, with Verdi’s contributions outnumbering the others. Eduard’s first encounter with Wagner was the epic opera Lohengrin, and as the massive music drama unfolded, Eduard became more and more aware of the power of this eccentric German composer, whose work he knew so little of.

  Eduard had chosen his tiny apartment in the Born to be close to the work of the city band, and he discovered it was now a long walk, or tedious tram ride, to get to the Liceu. With the money he had saved from the army, he went to find Carlos.

  “You’ll have to take a driving test,” said Carlos. “I can sell you a moped with a very small engine, but you’d be very frustrated by that. You can have a scooter with a bigger engine to learn on, and then take the test for a licence. And don’t forget you must have insurance as well.”

  “I’d like to get a licence,” said Eduard, “but I’ve never even ridden a bicycle. Is it hard to balance on two wheels?”

  Carlos laughed. “I can ride a scooter with only one leg,” he said, “and everyone who comes into the shop drives away quite happily. I don’t see it would be different for you. You can take one out now if you want.”

  “Right now,” gasped Eduard. “I didn’t think you’d say that.”

  “There’s not much traffic, just don’t fall off! And don’t go the wrong way down a one-way street.”

  Carlos wheeled a second-hand scooter out to the pavement. Eduard had not noticed before how adroit Carlos had become at moving his stock around. Once on the pavement, Carlos told Eduard to sit on the scooter, with his feet on the ground, one each side.

  “Now, I’ll start it for you,” said Carlos. “Just sit and get the feel of it, then when you’re ready, twist the throttle very gently, and you’ll move forward.”

  Eduard sat, experiencing a nervousness he’d not felt for a long time. He turned the throttle, and the scooter leapt forward. Eduard let go of the throttle, the scooter stopped abruptly, and Carlos hopped forward laughing. “My brave soldier friend, you have no idea how funny it is to see you so scared of a simple scooter. Take your time, just do as I say. Oh, and by the way, that lever by your left hand is the brake. You might need to use that in a minute!”

  Just as Eduard had plucked up the courage to twist and go again, a bus thundered down Balmes, causing him to panic, and stop again. Carlos laughed again. “Eduard, you carry my crutches, and I’ll take the scooter round to the Rambla de Catalunya. It’s usually very quiet there during the day, and you can go up and down without the dangers of buses. I’ll leave you to it and come back here, and you bring the scooter back once you’ve learned to ride it.”

  Carlos jumped onto the scooter and sped away, and Eduard pursued him as fast as he could. Carlos rode the scooter into the centre of the leafy rambla, and once Eduard had given him his crutches, he left a very nervous Eduard to work out how to master this simple-looking machine.

  Within a few days, Eduard was careering around the city with all thoughts of nervousness forgotten. He quickly grew to love using the scooter. Meanwhile, Manel also had a new toy to play with, as he had a telephone installed in his office at the store. At first he used it very little, and received few calls, but gradually the new-fangled technology proved its worth.

  Manel was very excited when the message finally arrived announcing the end of rationing. It seemed incredible to him that the regime had imposed the measures for over twelve years since the end of the war, and he had a private feeling that rationing could have ended far sooner if the officials running the scheme had not had their thieving hands in the supplies. Remembering those distant days when they first opened the store, Manel set to work once more and wrote big banners to announce the end of ration books. Salvador Ribera, the grocery manager, who had carried the bulk of the work checking the coupons, was equally delighted, and stayed late to help nail the banners on the shop front.

  Eduard came on his scooter on the first day without coupons, and came in to the store. Having seen Senor Ribera, he headed up the stairs to his father. Halfway up, however, Ambros stopped him.

  “It’s providential you should come today,” he said. “Are you working this evening, or would you like to come to supper at our apartment?”

  “I’m free. I’d like to come,” said Eduard. “Is it a special occasion?”

  “It might be,” said Ambros sheepishly, “but I’m not allowed to tell you.”

  Clara appeared at the door to the library. “I heard your voice,” she said to Eduard. Looking at Ambros, she asked, “Can he come?”

  “Yes,” said Ambros, “and your mother and father have said yes also.”

  “I know,” said Clara. “I’ve arranged to leave early to organise the supper.” She leaned forward, grinned, and kissed Eduard, before spinning round to go back to her department.

  “How mysterious,” said Eduard.

  When he got upstairs, he asked his father what was happening in the evening, but Manel’s reply was enigmatic. “I’ve no idea what’s going on,” he confessed, “but your mother seems to know something. I’ll see you tonight, lad. Looking forward to it – oh, and Clara says, put your best shirt on!”

  That evening, the family gathered at Senor Sanchez’s apartment. Although coming from a very humble background, Ambros’s father had done very well as a builder, and achieved a spacious apartment. He had used his skills and with much enthusiastic direction and support from Clara, had renovated it to the latest fashionable style. The entrance hall was also the dining room, and the table had been laid elaborately, with candles lit, wine glasses polished, and good damask linen napkins folded neatly at each place.

  “What’s going on?” whispered Eduard to his mother, but Anna only smiled and gave no reply.

  Clara appeared with a tray of cava saucers, followed by Ambros with an opened bottle of cava. The family stood expectantly, holding their glasses, still unsure what was the cause of this celebration. At last Ambros could wait no longer, and turning to his wife, said, “Shall I tell them, or will you?”

  Clara laughed and blurted out, “I’m going to have a baby!” Ambros stood next to her, grinning.

  “I knew that’s what you were going to say,” said Anna, smiling. “I just had a feeling.”

  “Let’s drink to the baby,” said Eduard.

  Once they were all seated, Ambros’s father cleared his throat, and spoke. “You all know that life was hard after Ambros’s mother and brother were killed. Life in this apartment was very quiet and somehow grey. Since joining your department store, my son has turned into the lively young man his mother and I always wanted him to be. Bringing his lovely bride into our home has been wonderful for me, and I know my wife would have delighted in her daughter-in-law. The sun has come into the apartment once more. With today’s news, my pleasure has increased again. I am so happy to have you here, and so pleased to be sharing this lovely meal, which is all Clara’s work, with the friends I now think of as family.”

  Eduard looked directly at the older man. “Well said, Senor Sanchez.” He looked around the room. “Look at us: a dinner party at home, with the family all together. We’ve come so far since the war, and it seems the dark days of hunger are finally behind us. What’s more, the store is doing well and father is now a successful businessman here
in Barcelona; not only that, but not long ago, mother and father were at the opera, dressed in their finery. You know, I think we can now consider ourselves to be thoroughly middle class. I can look my friend Digger in the face, as we are now equal to his grand family.”

  Clara looked around the table, basking in the glow of her family; and then she picked up a little bell, and to everyone’s surprise, rang it. The kitchen door opened, and Catarina appeared. She smiled nervously, hoping that she would not slip with the large tray of dishes. Clara jumped up, and placed a plate in front of each guest.

  “Canelones!” exclaimed Manel.

  “Catarina and I made them ourselves last night,” said Clara, “and she made this delicious sauce this afternoon whilst I was still at the shop.”

  The meal proceeded: the meaty canelones were followed by delicate fillets of fish; the main course was pork, cooked and served in a rich sauce; and finally Catarina produced little dishes of crema catalana. As he put down his spoon, Senor Sanchez said, “We must congratulate the cooks, Clara and Catarina. This has been a sensational meal. Ambros, bring another bottle of cava, and please make sure Catarina has a glass.”

  Later that night, after Eduard had wobbled drunkenly home on his scooter, and Clara had refused all offers from her mother to help clear up, Manel and Anna walked home through another balmy Barcelona evening. “We’ve come a long way,” said Manel.

  “Barcelona has come a long way,” said Anna. “Eduard and Clara were born into a very unhappy world, and their childhood was dominated by the civil war. We’ve still got Franco, and not all is right in the world, but our city is recovering. Out of all that fear and suffering, we are having some good times. Clara’s baby will be born into a much happier world.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Maria Anna Sanchez was born at home in 1953. A year later, she was followed by a sister, Marta Jacinta Sanchez, and a year after that, a brother, Jose Carlos Sanchez.

  Although Clara had not embraced going to the church with any enthusiasm, she decided that the children should be baptised into the Catholic faith. With her mother at home with baby Maria, Clara nervously went to see Father Matias.

  The priest was as abrupt as usual, but received Clara and was prepared to spend some time with her. He was pleased that she would bring her baby to be baptised, and was adamant that Clara must attend mass regularly, and do all she could to bring Ambros. The priest’s severe demeanour cracked for a moment remembering the uplifting music at Clara’s wedding, but he soon resumed his serious manner when he came to discussing godparents.

  “You must have two godparents,” he told Clara, “one man and one woman. They are to sponsor your baby into the Catholic faith, and must themselves be good Catholics. That means they must attend Holy Mass regularly.”

  Many dispiriting thoughts flashed through Clara’s mind. The priest’s words had eliminated Eduard, who never went to mass, and Carlos who was equally cynical of the church. Perhaps Eduard’s friend Diego could be Maria’s godfather; perhaps his sister Emma could be godmother. Seeing the cloud coming over Clara’s face, Father Matias became more astringent.

  “You frown, my girl. Have you been thinking of godparents who are not god-fearing? You must think again before we can consider the baptism of your daughter. Speak to your mother, but don’t come back and waste my time until you have discovered suitable witnesses for the sacred sacrament of baptism.”

  Clara could feel the tears pricking in her eyes as she left the priest’s office. Hurrying through the church with her face down, the tears started to flow, and she did not see the nun step in front of her.

  “Clara, my child, whatever is the matter?” It was Sister Maria Montserrat. “I hear you have a little baby, surely this is not a time for tears. Sit with me and tell me the trouble.”

  Smiling through her tears, Clara explained that she had called her baby Maria, after the kind sister, and that she wanted her to be baptised into the Catholic church. “After all,” she said, “I may not be a good Catholic myself, but I want the best for my baby, and I want her to be baptised.” She went on to explain that she did not know anyone who could be godparents. “Eduard would be good, and look out for Maria, but he’s not been to mass for many years. Carlos is a good friend, but he never comes to church. As for a woman, I cannot think of anyone except my flower girl Emma, and she lives in Guadalajara. Oh sister, what shall I do?”

  Handing her a handkerchief, Sister Maria Monserrrat said, smiling, “I have always believed that God moves in mysterious ways and that includes this very moment. I would not usually be in the church at this time, but the Lord has brought me here to be with you. What’s more, I have a very special favour to ask of you.”

  Clara stopped crying and looked into the nun’s eyes. “Would you consider me as a godparent to your baby?” said Maria Monserrat. “It’s unusual, but not impossible.”

  “Oh, sister, how wonderful! Of course I would be delighted.”

  “You should think carefully, Clara,” said Maria Monserrat.

  “I don’t need to think,” said Clara. “I will be delighted.”

  Just as the nun was turning to leave, Clara spoke again. “There’s something else, sister. I’ve been thinking about this for some time. You know my precious little bible, the one you gave me? I will bring it to the baptism, and I will give it to my daughter, and write her name in it. I’d like it to be a little extra part of the ceremony. Do you think that would be alright?”

  “I think it’s a lovely idea,” said the sister. “God will be delighted, and smile upon you.”

  A few days later, Digger arrived to be Maria’s Godfather. His family were loyal members of their Catholic community, and linked to his father’s strong Fascist beliefs, Digger had no trouble in obtaining a letter from their parish priest that he was a suitable godfather for Maria. When Father Matias took the tiny baby, he had his usual look of distain, as if he expected the baby to cry loudly, which indeed she did; but Maria was silent when Digger took her, and obviously peaceful in the arms of Sister Maria Monserrat.

  Father Matias intoned the prayers with great solemnity. “Father you gave us grace through sacramental signs which tell us of the wonders of your unseen power. At the very dawn of creation, your spirit breathed upon the waters, making them the wellspring of all holiness.”

  Three times, the priest made the sign of the cross on the baby’s forehead, for the Father, for the Son and for the Holy Spirit. This was followed by the godparents making their solemn vows to ensure the child was brought up in the holy faith of the Catholic Church.

  Finally Clara produced the little bible, and showed the godparents that she had written ‘Maria Anna Sanchez, 2nd March 1953’ and tucked it into the folds of the baby’s baptismal gown. Sister Maria Montserrat smiled and nodded.

  Eduard was surprised when Anna announced that they would be returning to the department store after the baptism. She invited the whole group, including Father Matias and Sister Maria Monserrat to join them in the store’s new tea room. Eduard, walking up Balmes with his arm linked to his mother, spoke quietly to her.

  “You kept this a secret,” he said. “A tea room! That sounds awfully British.”

  “It is,” said Anna. “I got the idea from a magazine describing a department store in London. Apparently they’ve had tea rooms for many, many years. Grand hotels in London also have tea rooms. We’ve only been open a few days, but it’s a big success. You know my maid Catarina? Manel thought I should have a maid, but there wasn’t a lot for her to do. She’s been more useful for you and for Clara. When I read about the idea of a tea room, I talked about it with her, and she said she’d love to have a tea room; so I said, ‘why not?’, and now we’ve opened it.”

  Climbing to the top floor at the store, Catarina was waiting for the baptismal party. Eduard smiled at her: the shy young girl, who had helped him set up his apartment, seemed to have grown. In a smart black dress, designed of course by Clara, and a tiny white frilly apron, she greeted t
he guests, who were soon seated around the little tables.

  The room was light and airy, and decorated with flowers. Two younger versions of Catarina were soon bringing china tea pots to the tables. The men, including Father Matias, were hesitant, but the women, taking their cue from Anna, were soon wielding sliver strainers, and pouring the fragrant tea into the delicate cups.

  “You’ve got tea cups like these at home, haven’t you?” said Eduard to Clara.

  “That’s where we got the idea from,” said Clara. “It’s been hard finding all the things we needed to create a proper English tea room, and some of the things like these tea strainers came from London.”

  “I think you have a lovely idea, although it’s very middle class,” said Eduard, “but why have you not been advertising it? If I had no idea, you can be sure no-one else will know.”

  “First, we wanted to make sure it all works; and now we know it does, we will advertise,” said Anna.

  Ambros leaned over. “Look at Father Matias,” he said. “For once he seems to be happy.”

  The priest was chattering to Carlos and his mother, and Ambros was right: the priest was smiling, even though he must have known that neither Senora Pinto nor her son had ever set foot in the church. Carlos was telling him tales of a one-legged man flying around the area on a scooter, and strangely the priest thought this was very funny.

  Manel sat basking in the tranquillity of this little tea room his wife had created. Once more, he remembered his humble beginnings. Perhaps the thing he was most proud of, was giving employment to so many who would otherwise be without work or wages. The city was still struggling with poverty, and yet he and Anna had created an oasis. He smiled to himself.

  Small cakes were served with the tea, and an hour passed quickly and easily. At last, the gentle atmosphere was shattered by the piercing cries of baby Maria.

  “She’s been very good,” said Clara, “but she’s hungry. I’ll say goodbye to you all, and take her into father’s office to feed her.”