“And this is the time we should all be going,” said Sister Maria Monserrat. “It’s been a very special afternoon. Thank you so much.”
“I must hurry, as well,” said Eduard. “We’ve got this famous composer conducting us tonight, although none of us has ever heard of him.”
“Who is it?” said Ambros.
“Some Italian called Menotti,” said Eduard. “The opera’s called ‘The Consul’ and it’s quite tuneful. Whether they’ll ever do it again, remains to be seen.”
“When Maria is a bit bigger and we can leave her with Catarina, I’m going to take Clara to the opera. We’ve never been, and we are very curious,” said Ambros. “Your parents certainly enjoyed it.”
It was several years before Ambros took Clara to the opera, as no sooner had Maria been weaned, than Marta Jacinta arrived; and in the next year, Jose Carlos joined the family. Senor Sanchez sat in the middle of his apartment, surrounded by the family, and decided that being a grandfather was preferable to being a parent. He could enjoy the babies and toddlers, and hand them back to their mother as soon as they cried!
Manel and Anna continued to rent the tiny apartment on Rossello. Both Eduard and Clara urged them to move to a grander house, and buy it for themselves, but they were adamant that they were happy, and that their lives revolved around the department store and their family.
The failure of the harvest in 1954 brought another wave of hardship to the city, and Manel worked with Salvador Ribera, who had become a very close friend and confidant, to provide low-cost basic foodstuffs in the grocery hall.
“I remember the time during the war, when I had my own kind of rationing,” said Manel. “We had some very hard times then.”
“All of us,” agreed Ribera. “Boiling grass to try and find something to fill your stomach, even knowing it would make you sick. We must never forget how lucky we are today.”
“And how far we have come,” said Manel.
Throughout those years, Eduard remained faithful to Emma. The teenage girl had grown into a beautiful young woman. When he could, Eduard had gone to stay with Emma’s family in Guadalajara, and now and again, Emma had come with Digger to visit them in Barcelona. Digger left the army, and followed his father into the family bank, where he described the work as extremely tedious, but very well-paid. Emma’s parents would not allow her to travel unaccompanied, so they were dependent upon Digger finding a way to escape for a rare long weekend to bring Emma to Eduard. When Emma reached eighteen, Eduard proposed to her, and the Lopez family agreed to a grand wedding in Guadalajara in 1955.
At first Anna was worried by the prospect of a wedding in Guadalajara cathedral, but Eduard reassured her it was not a particularly grand building. “After all,” he said, “it’s not really a cathedral, even though Guadalajara is the main city of Castille. There’s another cathedral in another town which is the grand one.” This seemed very confusing to Anna, but she hoped Eduard knew what he was talking about.
The Lopez family were very busy with the arrangements for their only daughter’s wedding. Senor Lopez, in keeping with his position as a senior banker in Guadalajara, expected the wedding to be very grand, and invited many members of his extended family. On one of her rare visits to Barcelona, Emma told them that she would wear her mother’s black silk wedding dress. She remembered Clara’s wedding and was excited that her own would be similar, and her excitement increased when Anna offered to let her wear her mantilla, which Clara had worn for her wedding. With a little twinge of regret, Emma told Eduard that as the groom, he wouldn’t be able to play his trumpet.
However, one huge shadow hung over all the arrangements. Eduard knew his bride was not a loyal Fascist, but he was worried how Senor Lopez would behave, and expect others to behave, during the wedding. Would there be portraits of Franco hanging at the wedding breakfast? Would the Bonets be expected to make Fascist salutes every time Senor Lopez raised his arm?
Eduard talked the issue through with his parents. Manel was clear in his response. “You love Emma, and we have grown to love her too. It is right and good that you will be marrying her. Once she is your wife, you will be living here in Barcelona, a long way from her father and any other of her family who are Fascists. You’ve told us she doesn’t agree with her father’s politics, and we know you would not have become fond of her if she did. We’ll remember our private mantra, ‘Bastard, bastard, bastard,’ and do nothing to spoil your day.”
Carlos once more agreed to be the ring bearer, and Manel matched his gift of gold coins to Ambros, with a similar gift to his son. After the flurry of activity surrounding Clara’s wedding, Anna found she had little to do in preparation for Eduard’s. It was agreed that the family would travel to Madrid on the day before the wedding, and stay in a hotel near the station. They would go by train from Madrid to Gudalajara on the morning of the wedding and have lunch together before the early evening ceremony.
Once more Carlos succumbed to his mother’s scrubbing, although he was insistent that they would all get dirty from the steam engine which would take them to Madrid. With Catarina and Senora Pinto, and all of Clara’s children, the family filled an entire compartment of the train as it chugged out of Franca Station. Eduard had made the journey many times, but for the rest of the family, it was a great novelty. In Madrid they were impressed by the pink stone of Atocha Station, which seemed just as grand as their own Franca Station in Barcelona. They walked together across the wide boulevard to the Hotel Mediodia, where Eduard had reserved several rooms.
Despite their relative wealth as successful business people in Barcelona, Manel and Anna were still unused to the kind of life that they could afford. Anna hesitated at the door of the hotel, and Manel refused to let the bell boy take his suitcase. The whole group found their way up the grand staircase, admiring the stained glass as they went. Once installed in their huge bedroom overlooking the station, Anna sat on the edge of the bed. “This room’s bigger than our whole apartment,” she said. “Can Eduard afford such grandeur?”
“He saved a lot of money when he was in the army,” said Manel, “and he has a good wage in the orchestra. I think he’s done very well, and we must remember how lucky we are to live the way we do.”
“Look,” exclaimed Anna, “from here, we can see the time on the station clock.”
There was a knock at the door, and Manel opened it hesitantly. Eduard bounced into the room. “Everything good?” he asked.
“Better than good,” said his mother, embracing him. “It’s wonderful. Thank you.”
“We will have supper downstairs,” said Eduard, “and then an early night, ready for tomorrow.”
“And tomorrow will be a lovely day,” said Manel.
Arriving next day at Guadalajara Station, dressed in their finest wedding clothes, the group took three taxis to the cathedral.
“It’s just a big country church,” said Anna, “not a grand cathedral at all. I like it. From outside it’s somehow friendly-looking.”
The group found a modest pavement cafe overlooking the cathedral square and tried to relax over lunch. Anna reminded the men: “Mind you don’t spill gazpacho on your lovely silk ties!” Clara went into the shadowy interior of the restaurant to feed baby Jose, whilst Ambros tried to keep Maria and Marta from rushing about and spoiling the new dresses that Clara had made for the occasion.
They watched as some of Senor Lopez’s guests started to arrive, and then took their places in the church. The Lopez family arrived with much smiling and handshaking, and to Manel’s relief, none of the family made the Fascist salute to him. The organ began to play, Eduard and Carlos took their places at the altar rail, and Emma arrived on her father’s arm. Emma and her father came slowly down the narrow aisle. Eduard looked around. His bride was beaming, but Eduard frowned as he could see no sign of Digger, his best friend and the bride’s brother.
As Emma reached Eduard, he whispered, “You look wonderful, but where’s Digger?”
Emma smiled an
d whispered back, “Don’t worry; he’s not far away.”
The priest frowned at the pair whispering before the ceremony, and loudly cleared his throat. The bride and groom looked expectantly up at the enormous altar painting, and smiled at the frowning cleric. Later, Eduard would tell his father that the priest had been just as austere as Father Matias: “Are all Catholic priests like that?”
“They’re all Fascists,” replied Manel, “so yes, I think they are all like that.”
There was a short silence at the end of the ceremony. Just as the newly-weds prepared to walk down the aisle, Digger stepped out of the shadows in the western end of the church, and on either side appeared several musicians from Eduard’s old company. In full dress uniform, they raised their trumpets and began an ear-splitting fanfare. Digger, no longer able to wear the uniform, but delighted to be with his friends again, beat hard and long on his drum, as the group played the brilliant Trumpet Voluntary. Eduard and Emma stood still for a moment, unexpected tears beginning to trickle down their cheeks. The priest hissed behind them to walk forward, and they did so very slowly, savouring every note and beat of the music.
Once out into the sunshine, though the Arabic West Door, they stood between the pillars of the wide porch. The music continued as the guests shuffled from the shadows of the church, blinking into the brightness of the setting sun. As the music stopped, the soldiers joined everyone else, their bright uniforms adding to the colourful scene.
Later, during the wedding breakfast at the Lopez mansion, Eduard took Digger to one side. “That was a wonderful surprise,” he said. “What a very clever idea, and you kept it secret. It was so good to see old faces again, and of all the music to choose, they’d learned the Jeremiah Clarke.” He hugged his old friend.
“Father is like the cat that got the cream,” said Digger, “although it was all my doing, he’s enjoying the glory. No wedding has ever had such music. In fact, he’s so excited he’s forgotten to give his usual Fascist salute.”
“It’s just a pity that we’re having this meal with Franco looking down upon us,” said Eduard.
“The bastard!” whispered Digger.
“You know about that?” said Eduard.
“The whole regiment knows about that,” said Digger. “That’s partly why some of them agreed to come and play. For some, you’re a great hero, standing up to the Sergeant Major. Of course some hate you for it, the loyal Fascists in the band, so they didn’t come today.”
By the time it got to speeches, Senor Lopez had regained his solemnity, and began by standing and saluting the portrait of Franco. The group all stood and saluted with him, Eduard catching his father’s eye and nodding to him in the knowledge that they were having identical thoughts.
Almost everyone went to the station. The platoon of musicians formed up on the platform and played a hilarious version of When the Saints Go Saints Marching In. Everyone waved goodbye to Eduard and Emma as they left on the train to Lisbon for their honeymoon. Anna and Manel and the Barcelona contingent, together with all the bandsmen, climbed aboard the Madrid train. “I hope they’re not going to play all the way back to Madrid,” said Anna. “We won’t be very popular with the other passengers.” But as the train gathered speed, the bandsmen, their courage bolstered by the copious glasses of wine provided by Digger, launched into every tune they could remember from their marching repertoire. There was little chance of any conversation, or sleep on the journey, except for Clara’s three, who seemed to be able to sleep through anything, even a brass band in the adjoining compartment.
It was close to midnight when the group staggered back to the Hotel Mediodia. “Late night drink in the bar?” said Manel.
“You’re joking,” said Anna and Senora Pinto in chorus, but Ambros and Carlos were keen for a nightcap before going to bed. The next day, it was hard to tell which of them had the worst hang-over, and neither of them would tell what time they had finally climbed into bed.
After the long journey back to Barcelona, everyone was ready to go straight home, but Manel wanted to check the store. The rest stayed on the tram to their home stops, but Manel jumped off outside the store. There were a few lights on, but the door was locked. Letting himself in, Manel called, “Anyone there?”
“You made me jump,” laughed Salvador Ribera. “How was the wedding?”
“Very successful,” said Manel, “and how is the shop?”
“No problems,” replied Ribera. “I want to thank you for trusting me with your store whilst you were in Guadalajara. Everything went very smoothly except for a few who were upset that the library was closed. Ambros will be very busy tomorrow.”
“If he’s recovered from his hang-over,” laughed Manel. “He’s groaned all the way back from Madrid. So has Carlos: these youngsters!”
Eduard and Emma returned from their honeymoon, and moved into Eduard’s little apartment near the Arc de Triomf. They knew they would soon need a bigger home, but at first they were more than pleased to be together at last.
It was only a few days after their return, that Ambros called on them with exciting news. “You’ll never guess who’s coming to the Windsor Palace,” he said. “It’s that famous American trumpeter, Louis Armstrong.”
“We must go,” said Eduard.
“I’ve never heard of him,” said Emma.
“He’s brilliant,” said Ambros. “He’s the best black musician in the world. Everyone calls him Satchmo.”
“Black?” said Emma. “No wonder I’ve never heard of him. Father would never have allowed talk of such a man in our house.”
“Then you will have a wonderful surprise,” said Eduard.
“Take your trumpet,” said Ambros.
“What for?” said Eduard.
“Just in case you get a chance to play with the great man,” said Ambros. “You never know.”
“We’ll go, just as long as there’s no opera that night,” said Eduard. “But I’m not sure about taking my trumpet.”
The cinema was transformed into a huge concert hall for the event. Many people were surprised that there was a large stage behind the cinema screen, and a capacity crowd had come to hear their hero. Eduard, with Emma, Ambros and Carlos, were very close to the back. “Not much to chance to play with him,” said Eduard. “This far back, we can hardly see him.”
After two or three numbers, Satchmo started to play one of his famous jazz marching tunes. Eduard picked up his trumpet, and gently blew a kind of echo of the great man’s line. As he gained confidence, he raised his trumpet higher and played louder. From the stage, Satchmo continue to play, but searched around the audience for the rogue trumpeter. Spotting Eduard, he beckoned him towards the stage with his free hand. The crowd turned, and Eduard struggled through to the stage. Without speaking, Satchmo played a line directly at Eduard, and Eduard matched it back. Soon they were jamming together in a never-ending set. The crowd was already wild, but seemed to get even wilder.
At last, Satchmo turned to his microphone, and started to sing in his distinct gravelly voice. Eduard gave a little bow to the master, and climbed down from the stage. Making his way to the back of the audience, many of them patted him on the back as he went past.
There were times when the Bonet family almost forgot that they lived under a Fascist regime, but for many others, less fortunate, in the city, the deprivations and hardships caused by Franco and his repressive policies were never far away. The Bonets were shocked each time there was a report of a garrotting of a political prisoner, executed for opposing the regime. Supposed ‘terrorists’, whose beliefs they agreed with, were always nearby, and one day in 1955 there was uproar in the city when one of the ‘terrorists’ hired a taxi, and from it used an improvised mortar to fire great bundles of anti-Franco leaflets into the crowds. The Bonets, and especially Eduard with his particular experiences in the army, were steadfast to their ideals, but kept well clear of such terrorist activities.
Such was the impact of Louis Armstrong upon Eduard, tha
t his first child, born just a year after his marriage, was called Louis, with the American spelling, not the Catalan version. Emma surprised him by wanting the baby’s second name to be Manel, after Eduard’s father, as she said, “He’s been so kind to us; and shown such warmth that I never get from my own father.” Born less than a year after his cousin Jose, the two boys would go to school together, whilst Maria and Marta would remain at home with Clara.
Barcelona was a city of rapid change, and the Bonet department store reflected this change. Gradually more and more of the population was becoming more affluent; and the abject poverty which everyone had endured during and after the war, seemed to have transferred to the rapidly growing immigrant population. The city gained a reputation for offering good employment opportunities, and many Spaniards travelled there from impoverished parts of Spain, although not all found jobs. Manel tried hard to employ people who were desperate for work, although after the bad experience with Ferran Perella, he was always nervous when bring new staff into the store.
Catalan, banned in public by the Franco regime, was rarely heard; but other languages, particularly Galician and Basque, became familiar in the narrow streets of the slums and working-class barrios. The middle classes of the Exiample, maintained Castilian as their main language, although Manel ensured that his family retained Catalan at home, and encouraged Clara and Eduard to talk in Catalan to their children. Ambros, of course, spoke perfect Catalan, but Emma knew not a word, having grown up in an exclusively Castilian household.
The demand for ready-made clothes had a significant impact upon the department store. Anna’s and Clara’s skills at made-to-measure couture for ladies were in decline, although Anna maintained the fabric and haberdashery departments, and sales of sewing machines continued.
Clara was happy that she could remain at home: her little girls were excellent learners, and she devoted her time to teaching them. Ambros’s library expanded, and to support Clara, he started to stock school books for sale. To his surprise, many aspiring middle-class mothers were keen to buy school books, as, like Clara, they were teaching their daughters at home.
The Phoenix of Montjuic Page 23
