Tell Me Who I Am

by Julia Navarro

  I was keen to see my mother. Lola was a strong and determined woman, so I was sure that nothing could happen to me if I were with her. I wanted to stay in Spain, not to return to France where my father and I, despite everything, or rather with Amelia’s help, had managed to survive with our dignity intact.

  We walked to Lola’s house, but once we got there no one could tell us anything. She had not returned there since the beginning of the war when we went to Barcelona, so Amelia suggested that we go to the address Josep had given us in the Plaza de la Paja, where my grandmother, Lola’s mother lived. I started to shudder, I dared not say anything, but I preferred to live with Amelia rather than my grandmother. Dolores, which was my grandmother’s name as well as my mother’s, did not get on well with my mother and I remember that they always had political arguments whenever we went to visit her.

  It wasn’t hard to find my grandmother’s house. We rang the bell but no one answered and it was the neighbor who eventually gave us news.

  “They’ve taken Dolores to the hospital. She suffers from asthma and she had such a bad attack that she nearly choked. She’s very ill, and so poor...”

  Amelia asked if she knew anything about Lola, but the neighbor insisted that she hadn’t seen her since before the war.

  “Lola never cared very much about her mother, she cared more for the revolution, and all we know about Dolores’s nephew, Pepe, is that he was killed by the Communists for being in the POUM,” she said, looking from side to side in case someone was listening.

  We went to the hospital, where a nun took us to the room where Dolores was staying. I hardly remembered her, and I was affected to see that this vague, white-haired old lady was my grandmother.

  The poor woman didn’t recognize me and she burst into tears when Amelia told her who I was.

  “You’re my Lola’s young lady friend! And this is my grandson? How tall he is! Where’s your mother? I haven’t heard from her in months, I hope they haven’t shot her; the Nationalists are shooting everybody. Of course, the revolutionaries are keeping their end up too. I said to Lola: I can’t forgive them for killing my only nephew, Pepe, just for being in the POUM. And what’s all this about, revolutionaries killing revolutionaries, who ever heard of such a thing? Lola hated the POUM, said they were traitors.”

  The dear old lady promised to look after me as soon as she left the hospital.

  “I’m old and sick, but I’ll do what I have to for my grandson.”

  Doña Elena seemed to be resigned to my staying with them until my grandmother left the hospital, especially when Albert James told her that he would pay for my upkeep while I was in their house.

  The next morning, Albert James went with Doña Elena, Laura, Amelia, and Jesús to the prison to see Don Armando.

  James wanted to see a Spanish prison up close, and hoped that the authorities wouldn’t object too much.

  He had to bribe a couple of officers to let all of us go into the long corridor where family members and prisoners were allowed to see each other for a few minutes at a time, separated by bars. Don Armando grew very emotional when he saw Amelia. Uncle and niece could not hold back their tears as they thought of the deaths of Amelia’s father, Don Juan, and her mother, Doña Teresa.

  “Oh, Uncle, it’s so horrible! Father, mother, grandmother Margot, Aunt Lily... and so many family members we’ve lost. I don’t know how I am going to bear it,” Amelia said through her tears.

  “We will come through, your father was strong right up until the last moment, and when they took him away he told me to kiss you all from him and to tell you all how much he loved Antonietta and you.”

  “Do you think he forgave me?”

  “Of course he did, your father loved you a great deal and although he never understood why you acted as you did, he forgave you. He was saddest of all that you had left your child, this was always something that hurt him. He was so sad not to be able to see his only grandson...”

  Don Armando told them about the confusion and uncertainty that all the prisoners felt.

  “They take people away to shoot them every day... And sometimes you lose hope that your pardon will come. How many letters have you written asking for clemency?”

  “Papa, we will never surrender,” Laura replied.

  “No, we will never surrender even when we are dead,” Don Armando sighed.

  “We will go see the Herreras tomorrow. Pedro Herrera is your friend, you were his lawyer and you won an important case for him, don’t you remember? Now he’s an influential man, close to Franco, he has a nephew who is colonel in the army and a brother-in-law who is high up in the Falange. And things are going well for him, too, he’s already doing business with the new government. I went to his house and spoke to his wife, Marita, and she promised to talk to her husband. She has fulfilled her promise, because she has been in touch to tell me that we can go round to see them after eight o’clock tomorrow evening, which is when her husband comes home from work. We will get something out of this,” Doña Elena said.

  Upset when she left the prison, Amelia went with Albert James to the interviews he had arranged for his reports. They did not come back to Doña Elena’s house until the evening. Edurne had granted me the protection I usually required from Amelia. Edurne cheered me up by telling me that my mother was a brave woman whom I should never forget. I also got on well with Jesús, we were more or less the same age, and although he was shy and tried not to be noticed, I soon found out that he had a good sense of humor.

  Two days after moving into Doña Elena’s house, Edurne came home very flustered.

  “Águeda has told me that we should go to the main entrance to the Retiro at about five o’clock this afternoon, and that she will be walking there with Javier. She has also told me that they are going to release Santiago, that it’s only a matter of days. She heard someone telling Don Manuel, who it seems has friends in high places, close to Franco.”

  Amelia cried to know that she was going to see her son. Doña Elena decided that Laura, Antonietta, Edurne, Jesús, and I should go with her. She was afraid of what Amelia would do when she saw the child.

  At five o’clock on the dot we were at the Retiro. We waited impatiently until we saw Águeda coming along, holding Javier by the hand, about half an hour later.

  Laura tried to hold Amelia back, but she broke free and ran to the child and burst into tears, hugging him and kissing him so much that he too started to cry.

  “Please leave him!” Águeda begged, worried that someone she knew would see the scene, and especially worried that Javier would tell his grandparents about being kissed and hugged by a strange woman who made him cry.

  But Amelia would not listen, she hugged Javier tight and covered him with kisses.

  “My child! My child! How beautiful you are! Do you remember your mother? No, poor thing, how could you remember... But I love you so, my son...”

  With Antonietta’s help, Laura took Javier out of Amelia’s arms and gave him back to Águeda.

  “Ah, what will happen if Don Manuel and Doña Blanca find out!” Águeda fretted.

  “But I’m his mother! They can’t deny me my son,” Amelia replied through her tears.

  Javier was scared and wouldn’t stop crying.

  “It’s best if you go. You’ll see him another day, but now I need to take him for a walk to calm him down,” Águeda added, frankly scared by now.

  Laura and Antonietta managed between them to get Amelia away from Águeda and from the child, who set off running up the street in fear.

  Amelia would not stop crying and did not listen to what her sister and her cousin had to say to her. Edurne, Jesús, and I said nothing, unsure about what we could do or say.

  When we got back to Doña Elena’s house, Antonietta made her sister take a strong cup of tilleul, but this didn’t calm her down, she was in such a state. Albert James was the only one who could make her react. He treated her with a certain amount of distance, telling her that they were i
n Madrid to work and could not allow themselves to be affected by circumstances. I thought at the time that he was a hard and heartless man, but I realize now that his apparent rudeness awoke in Amelia the fear of ending up unemployed, and this was something she could not let happen, not for herself, nor for Antonietta, nor for the rest of her family.

  One example of Albert James’s businesslike treatment of Amelia was his insistence on attending the parade that Franco had organized for May 19, in spite of Amelia’s protests.

  “I am here to work, and so are you,” he reminded her.

  Amelia said nothing, aware of the importance that the money she earned as the journalist’s secretary and interpreter had, for her and for us all.

  We all went to the parade on May 19. Doña Elena decided that this would be the case, fearful that otherwise a neighbor might denounce her for not showing sufficient respect to the Caudillo, as Franco was by then called. We went, but grudgingly; even though I was only an adolescent I hated Franco with all my might for leaving me alone in the world, and so I protested, as did Amelia and Laura and Edurne, until Doña Elena, with Albert James’s support, told us to shut up.

  The Paseo de Recoletos, where the parade was due to pass, was not far from our house, so we were there early enough to get a space.

  We could see Franco at a distance and Amelia muttered that he was a “dwarf,” which made Doña Elena pinch her arm to get her to be quiet.

  On that day Franco was presented with the Laureate Cross of San Fernando, the highest military honor, and the only one he had not yet received.

  Albert James watched everything with interest and asked Amelia to translate the comments of the people around us. James was surprised by the enthusiasm of the spectators. Later he asked us how it was possible for there to be so much support for Franco from a city that had been one of the last to fall to his troops. Doña Elena explained.

  “They’re scared, of course they’re scared, what do you want them to do? The war has been lost, although I don’t really know if it’s been lost or won. Nobody knows what it means, just imagine who might try to criticize Franco now. I don’t know if they’ve explained all this to you, but the Law of Political Responsibilities is designed to punish everyone who has had anything to do with the reds, and you can imagine that there are lots of people whose families fall across the divide.”

  Amelia was deeply affected. She had been so moved to see her son that she didn’t stop pestering Doña Elena until she got her to send Edurne to fix up another meeting with Águeda. Doña Elena agreed reluctantly, but sent Edurne out at the time that she knew Águeda would be going out to go shopping.

  Edurne came back with good news. She had not had to wait long for Edurne to leave the house and had followed her at a discreet distance until they were far enough away to have little risk of being seen by anyone they knew. Águeda said that Santiago had been set free the day before and that he was thinner and had aged, but was safe and free. Javier would not leave his father, and had slept in his bed that night.

  Santiago had decided to leave his parents’ house and to go back to his own place. This was the good news, the bad news was that Águeda didn’t dare organize another meeting with Amelia for fear that Javier would tell his father. It was not that Javier would be able to explain who this woman was who had seized and embraced him, but Santiago would be able to guess and Águeda was scared of his reaction. The most that she offered was that Amelia should see them from a distance, promising not to come too close.

  These conditions seemed humiliating to Amelia, and she made a decision that scared us all.

  “I will go see Santiago. I will ask for his forgiveness, even though I know that he’ll never be able to forgive me, and I will ask if he will let me see my son.”

  Doña Elena tried to dissuade her: She was afraid of what Santiago’s reaction might be. Albert James also advised her to think a little before acting, but Amelia had her mind made up and she agreed only to have someone accompany her to Santiago’s house, although previously she had said she would go alone.

  3

  I think Amelia went to Santiago’s house on the evening of May 22 or 23. Águeda trembled when she opened the door and saw the three Garayoa women.

  “I would like to see Don Santiago,” Amelia said in a faint little voice.

  Águeda left them in the hall and ran off to find the master. Javier came in and stayed looking at the three women in surprise. Amelia tried to pick him up but he ran away, she followed after him and ran straight into Santiago.

  “What are you doing here?” he said in a rage.

  “I have come to see you, I need to talk with you... ,” Amelia babbled.

  “Out of my house! You and I have nothing to say to one another. How dare you come here? Is there nothing you respect? Get out and never come back!”

  Amelia was shaking. She tried to keep back her tears, aware that Javier was watching her.

  “I beg you to listen to me. I know that I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but at least let me see my son.”

  “Your son? You have no son. Get out.”

  “Please, Santiago! I’m begging you! Let me see my child!”

  Santiago took her arm and pushed her toward the hall, where Antonietta and Laura were waiting very nervously, having heard this conversation.

  “Aha! So, you’ve brought company! Well, I don’t care, you are not welcome in this house.”

  “Don’t take my child away from me!” Amelia begged through her tears.

  “Did you think about your son when you ran off to France with your lover? No, I don’t suppose you did. So I don’t know which son you are talking about. Get out!”

  He threw them out of the house without showing the slightest compassion for Amelia. Santiago had loved her with all his heart and soul; his pain was as strong as his love had been and it stopped him from being able to forgive her.

  After this traumatic reencounter, Amelia had a fit and spent three days in bed without eating anything. She showed a reaction only when Doña Elena came weeping into her room to tell her that the Herreras had not been able to find any way of getting a pardon for Don Armando. There was only one way out, they had been told as if it were a great secret, which was to go to a man who had very close links to the new regime and was known to provide certain pardons for a fee; he was not always successful, and he never returned the money.

  Albert James, as the man of the house, agreed to speak to the authorities and to try to use his position as a foreign journalist as much as he could, but Doña Elena and Laura thought that they should go find this man and ask him to take charge of the situation.

  Doña Elena, with her daughter and her niece, managed to get a meeting with Agapito Gutiérrez, which was the name of the dealer in favors.

  He had fought on the Nationalist side, and had family members in good positions in the highest levels of the regime and in the Falange. He had been a panhandler with no job and no prospects before the war, but he was clever and unscrupulous and was prepared to do whatever it took to survive, so it was no problem for him to enter the army and go into administration, and do favors on the side for people during those years of poverty and scarcity.

  Agapito Gutiérrez did not seem to lack anything. He had set himself up in an office on the Calle Velázquez, in an old nobleman’s house. We would call it an “influence bureau” today, if it’s true business had not been the lives of those who were in prison.

  In a dress cut daringly low for those days, a dark-haired woman who said she was the secretary (although she looked more like a chorus girl) let us through into a waiting room where other impatient petitioners were waiting, most of them women.

  They were there for more than three hours before it was their turn to see Agapito Gutiérrez.

  He was a short, tubby man, dressed in a striped suit and a tie with a tiepin, in patent leather shoes and wearing a large gold ring on his right hand.

  Agapito took a look at the group and his glance stopped
at Amelia. Although she was thin she had an ethereal and brilliant beauty, of the kind that would be impossible for a man such as him to dream of in other circumstances.

  He listened to us, bored, his eyes never leaving Amelia, until he seemed to be eating her with his gaze in such a way that upset both Doña Elena and Laura, as well as Amelia herself.

  “Well, I’ll see what I can do, although as far as I can tell this red husband of yours is in a bad way and miracles don’t come round that often. My activities are expensive, so you’ll need to tell me if you can pay or not.”

  “We’ll pay whatever it takes,” Laura said at once.

  “It’s fifty thousand pesetas, whatever the outcome. Everyone who comes to see me asks about people who are delinquents and have done a great deal of damage to our nation, and if I didn’t have such a soft heart...”

  Doña Elena went pale. She didn’t have fifty thousand pesetas and she didn’t know how to get it, but she said nothing.

  “If you agree, then bring me the fifty thousand pesetas and come back three days later and I’ll tell you what I can. It’s better if you don’t all come, there’s no need, I’ll wait for you, Señorita Garayoa,” he said, looking at Amelia.

  “For me?” she said in surprise.

  “Yes, for you, you’re the niece and you’re not so directly implicated in this business, it’s not the first time that people have made scenes in my office, and that’s not good for my reputation.”

  Amelia blushed, and Doña Elena was just about to say that there was no way she would let her niece come by herself, but she held her tongue. Her husband’s life was in danger.

  Albert James was upset when they described this scene to him. He said he should go and show that scoundrel a thing or two, but the three women begged him not to. They couldn’t waste their only chance. What Doña Elena did do, red with shame, was to ask James if he would help her to get the fifty thousand pesetas.