Under the Spanish Stars

by Alli Sinclair

  Despite her internal hesitation, Katarina’s pulse raced, her adrenaline building. When it was her moment to take control again, she commenced the escobilla and used her body and footwork to create clockwise circles and diagonal patterns, travelling across the stage. Sweat poured off Hernán as he worked the guitar and Salvador’s strong and hypnotic tone spurred her on. Making the llamada, she closed the sequence by signalling her salida, her exit, as she slowly made her way across the stage, then threw her arms high, arched her back and held a steady pose. Her body zapped with electricity as she fed off the audience erupting, shouts of ‘¡olé!’ and ‘¡eso es!’ filling her ears. Katarina relaxed her pose and smiled her thanks, slightly overwhelmed by the enthusiasm, even though she’d witnessed this scene many times over since she’d started dancing in public. Word had got out quickly that her pairing with Salvador and Hernán held a special magic and the crowds grew larger with each performance, sometimes to the point that people spilled out onto the street, jostling to get a glance through large, plate-glass windows.

  Katarina, Salvador and Hernán held hands, bowed and exited the stage, the heat from their bodies bouncing against each other as they dashed to the private back room where they could regroup.

  ‘Yet another marvellous evening.’ Salvador pulled out a chair for Katarina, who sat, trying to catch her breath.

  ‘Yes, great performance again.’ Hernán scratched the back of his neck, opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. ‘I have to be somewhere.’

  Hernán disappeared out the door and Katarina said, ‘He’s been acting so strange, lately.’

  ‘You have no idea, do you?’ Salvador raised an eyebrow.

  ‘About what?’ Katarina fanned her face with her hands. Beads of sweat lined her cleavage and lower spine and she shifted on her seat, trying to dislodge the uncomfortable pools of moisture. ‘What do you know that I don’t?’

  ‘Have you not noticed how his girlfriend Laura doesn’t attend our performances any more?’

  ‘Yes, I had. Oh no, did they break up?’

  Salvador shook his head, a small smile on his lips. ‘The opposite, in fact. He’s marrying her this weekend because … well … because they must.’

  ‘She’s pregnant?’

  ‘Yes, and to make things more difficult, Laura’s father has demanded Hernán work full-time in the family business. No more playing in bars.’

  ‘But we’re a trio!’ Katarina’s shoulders fell. ‘There has to be a way around it.’

  ‘The decision has been made for him and he’s an honourable man. What do you think Franco’s men would do if they found out about an unwed mother? Besides, we can’t expect him to do as we wish because it suits us. He’s doing the right thing.’

  ‘I know.’ She rubbed the ache in her lower back. ‘How come you knew this and I didn’t?’

  ‘Because I talk to people, Katarina. They open up to me.’ He gave a lopsided smile.

  ‘But I talk with Hernán all the time.’

  Sighing, Salvador said, ‘You do but you don’t talk in depth. Only discussing the latest step or palo is not how you get to know a person.’

  ‘But I know details about you and Claudia and the baby.’

  ‘Only because we’re like family. You open up so beautifully when you dance, why can’t you do the same in real life?’

  Katarina sucked in her stomach as if she’d just been punched. She twisted her lips, refusing to answer.

  ‘Katarina?’ Salvador raised his eyebrows in a caring, big brother way. ‘You can talk to me. Why is it so hard?’

  ‘It … just is, all right?’

  ‘Is it because you’ve spent most of your life hiding who you really are?’

  She nodded, annoyed but also relieved he’d tapped into her innermost thoughts. At least this way she didn’t have to say it out loud.

  ‘You don’t have to hide any more, dear Katarina. You are a free spirit. Embrace it.’ Salvador patted her knee. Had it been anyone else she would have thought it a patronising gesture, but she knew Salvador’s heart and he did this out of kindness and concern.

  ‘I know you’re right but you’re asking the impossible. Anyway, no one is truly free these days.’ She didn’t need to say any more, because Salvador knew her thoughts about Franco. Salvador was the only person she could ever trust to keep his mouth shut. Picking up a glass and filling it with water, she said, ‘I felt a little off tonight.’

  ‘I had an inkling that was the case. Is something bothering you?’

  ‘It’s April twenty-six.’ Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  Salvador’s eye widened. ‘I’m so sorry. I forgot.’

  ‘Don’t be. You have enough on your mind.’ Preferring to change the topic, she asked, ‘How is Paulito?’

  Salvador’s grin spread quickly. ‘He is doing wonderfully. It’s hard to believe he’s already two weeks old and every day I fall a little more in love with my wife and son. How is that possible?’

  ‘I imagine it’s easy to do. I’m so very happy for you all.’ She finished her water and before she had a chance to ask for more, Salvador presented the jug and poured in the cool liquid. ‘You’re so fortunate to have found your personal duende, Salvador.’

  ‘I don’t know if duende can be used to describe one’s own happiness, but if it can be, then yes, I have found it.’

  ‘You’re a lucky man.’

  ‘It would be nice if you could find yours.’ He ran his fingers through his hair, a habit he’d never broken.

  ‘It would. But I’ve yet to find duende when I dance so how could I ever find it in love?’

  ‘Don’t you have Julieta in your ear, reminding you the only way to get duende is to make a commitment to experience every aspect of life—including love? Even heartache?’

  ‘I’ve experienced the heartache of losing my father.’ Her lips pursed together, then she added, ‘And of losing the only chance I’ve had at romantic love.’

  ‘You told me you had deep affection for him but it wasn’t love.’

  ‘It was love,’ her eyes didn’t meet his, ‘I just didn’t realise it at the time because I didn’t know how to let go enough for it to happen. I still find it next to impossible but I’m working on it.’

  ‘Good.’

  A knock at the door halted further conversation.

  ‘Enter!’ Salvador boomed, as if he’d been expecting a visitor.

  A tall, lean man in an ill-fitting but beautifully-pressed shirt and suit strode in, his presence filling the room. Like Salvador, he had a natural air of confidence.

  ‘Ah! Federico! So nice to see you!’ Salvador slapped his friend on the back. ‘Sit! Sit!’

  ‘Not before I introduce myself to this beautiful specimen. Señorita Sanchez, it is an honour to meet you.’ He held her hand gently and placed his warm lips on her clammy skin. ‘To watch you dance is to witness a miracle.’

  Katarina forced a smile, wondering how a man this smooth could be genuine. ‘Thank you, Señor …?’

  ‘Señor Basa Trujillo. Please, call me Federico.’

  His name sounded familiar but his face wasn’t … Oh! Federico Basa Trujillo had managed the most successful café cantante in Seville, then he’d gone off the radar a few years ago. Rumours had run rife about whether he’d joined the army, deserted, or fled to greener pastures in the Spanish Protectorate in Morocco, but no one knew for sure. Yet here he was now, waiting for a response from her. ‘You may call me Katarina.’

  ‘Katarina, I hope you do not mind me getting straight to the point. I am the manager of a new opera flamenca and I would like you and Salvador to be the main drawcard. I would also ask Hernán, your guitarist, but I am informed he is leaving to pursue other endeavours. Is this correct?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, glancing at Salvador who lowered his gaze. She was not happy about this surprise visit at all.

  She’d heard about businessmen starting up opera flamencas as a way to avoid Franco’s hefty taxes by making her
beloved flamenco a theatrical event. The large theatres killed the essence of flamenco and the watered-down performances pandered to Franco’s ideals.

  Katarina said, ‘We have so many of these in Granada already, why would you start a new one?’

  ‘Please, you must excuse Katarina, sometimes she lacks social etiquette.’ Salvador furrowed his brows at her.

  Federico gave a small laugh. ‘I like direct people. I’d heard you were sharp, Katarina. My goal is to create the most magnificent dance company in all of Spain. This is the chance of a lifetime not only for me, but for an elite collection of dancers, musicians, and singers. Together we will revolutionise opera flamenca.’

  If he wasn’t a dance company director he could easily work as a door-to-door salesman. Narrowing her eyes, she asked, ‘So why us? We’re not popular like Carmen Amaya or Antonio Gades. Why don’t you enlist more seasoned performers?’

  ‘Because they don’t have what you and Salvador possess. It’s … magic.’

  ‘It’s not duende.’

  ‘Some would argue that witnessing you perform is duende.’ Señor Basa Trujillo adjusted his tie. ‘Don’t you want to make money? Surely you earn a pittance in a place like this.’

  ‘It’s not about the money. I refuse to dance in front of a bunch of people who don’t value the flamenco I love—stories of love and loss—not those meaningless librettos about powerful people looking down on the lower class.’ A subject very close to her heart.

  ‘What if I promised you could dance your flamenco your way? This is what will make my company different. Obviously there are limits, but I’ve seen your dancing. You get close to that line, but you don’t cross it enough to warrant interest from certain factions.’ He arched an eyebrow as if to say ‘like Franco’. His words came out way too smoothly.

  ‘It is a kind offer, Señor Basa Trujillo, but I am afraid I am unable to accept. Salvador, however, may choose to perform with your company, but I cannot.’ The last thing she wanted was to split from Salvador, but the trio had already suffered a blow and Salvador hadn’t been himself lately. She’d put it down to the new baby, but now that this Basa Trujillo character had appeared, she wondered if Salvador had instigated this meeting because he wanted to move on—with or without her. It hurt, but she understood. At the moment they were lucky if they earned enough money for a meal a day.

  ‘Is there a way I can change your mind? I have watched many dancers in this town, but none capture the essence of flamenco like you. Please, won’t you reconsider?’

  She shook her head and sipped water out of the stained glass.

  ‘I will pay handsomely,’ Federico said.

  ‘Sorry, but my answer remains no.’

  ‘I am afraid your answer disappoints me.’ He adjusted the sleeves on his jacket, then handed a business card to Salvador. Federico leant in and whispered to her friend and both men glanced in her direction. Straightening his spine, Federico moved towards the door. ‘It was a pleasure meeting you, Katarina. I wish a good evening to you both.’

  The door clicked behind him and she placed the glass heavily on the table beside her. ‘What’s the big secret?’

  ‘He doesn’t want anyone but you, Katarina. What he’s willing to pay us for one night is the equivalent of what we’d earn in a month slogging it out in these bars. I don’t know about you, but I, for one, could do with the money.’ He eyed her dance shoes, with tiny holes worn in their soles. ‘I think you could, too.’

  ‘I could but I do not want to dance in a large theatre with Spain’s well-to-do looking at us like we’re performing monkeys.’

  ‘We’re performing monkeys in the café cantantes and we get peanuts. Why can’t we get peanut plantations? Besides, Federico said you could continue dancing your way.’ Salvador ran his fingers through his hair, then stopped and scratched his head. ‘Ah … I understand now.’

  Katarina stared at her clasped hands, her chest hollow.

  ‘Dear Katarina, the people in those wealthy circles have left the country. Or if they’ve stayed, they’re not paying attention to flamenco dancers who once shared fancy meals with them. Don’t let fears from the past dictate your future.’

  ‘It’s just …’ She paused for a moment and let logic take over. Staring at the holes in her soles, she admitted, ‘The money would be nice.’

  ‘It would indeed,’ he said.

  ‘You wouldn’t have to scrimp and could support your family.’

  ‘That I could.’ Salvador did a terrible job of hiding his smile.

  ‘And you took me in when no one else would.’

  ‘That I did.’

  ‘I owe you a lot.’ She placed her hand in his. ‘You saved me.’

  ‘It was the best thing I ever did. Well, apart from marrying my wife and becoming a father.’

  Katarina puffed out her cheeks. ‘I won’t compromise who I am.’

  ‘You won’t. I won’t.’ His eyes widened. ‘Is that a yes?’

  ‘I’ll think about it.’

  ‘So that’s yes.’

  Laughing, Katarina said, ‘It’s yes, but just make sure I don’t regret it.’

  CHAPTER

  4

  1944—Katarina

  Katarina tucked the large bag under her arm as she pulled open the heavy wooden door of Teatro del Arte. She hovered in the foyer, uncertainty washing over her about this latest decision. Salvador had done such a brilliant job of convincing her that this was the right move, she temporarily forgot the self-doubt about her decision-making abilities that had plagued her these last few months. The most sensible thing to do was grab this opportunity with both hands and hang on for dear life. Katarina prayed that clutching the offer didn’t mean she’d lose balance and fall face first.

  Standing in the middle of the expanse, she took a moment to familiarise herself with her new theatrical home. Faded red carpet with rips and gaping holes clung sadly to the sweeping staircase, while the balustrade gave the impression someone had used it as target practice. A musty odour mixed with wax itched her nose and she rubbed it with the back of her hand. Layers of dust covered the floor and she used the toe of her shoe to scrape away the muck to reveal a large design of pockmarked marble parquetry. Although the war had officially ended in 1939 when Franco came to power, the destruction and destitution of the Spanish people remained apparent. Many landmarks were destroyed or were in disrepair. She hadn’t expected this theatre to be immaculate; then again, she hadn’t envisioned it being so … rundown.

  ‘Katarina.’

  She recognised his velvety voice as it echoed in the vast foyer. The bag she’d tucked under her arm slipped to the floor with a thud, small clouds of dust swirling around her feet.

  It couldn’t be …

  Scared she could be wrong, but at the same time fearful she was right, Katarina slowly turned. Her eyes took in his tall frame, now broader; his jaw now squarer, his dark eyes still as captivating as they were eight years ago although they held something more … maturity? Experience?

  Barely able to breathe, she managed only one word: ‘Raul.’

  They both stepped forward then hesitated. What do you do when someone your heart hasn’t forgotten comes back into your life?

  ‘Did you know I would be here?’ she asked, her mouth dry.

  ‘I would be lying if I said no.’ A faint red crept across his face.

  ‘How did you … but … Federico …’ Why couldn’t her mind stop spinning enough for her mouth to connect?

  Raul gave an understanding smile and saved her the embarrassment of sounding like a fool. ‘Federico managed a café cantante I worked in when I first went to Seville. We became good friends, but after a few years we parted ways to pursue other endeavours. We ran into each other a couple of months ago in Seville and he convinced me to join him again.’

  ‘Were you the one behind him trying to recruit me?’ she asked, hopeful.

  He shook his head and disappointment washed over Katarina. Her gaze fell on his lips. Th
ose same lips she once kissed with intense passion during their clandestine meetings a lifetime ago. Now they remained motionless as an uncomfortable silence enveloped them.

  ‘Do you like the theatre?’ he finally asked.

  Cautiously, she said, ‘It needs some work.’

  ‘Spit and polish is all. Once the sleeves are rolled up we will change the fate of this magnificent piece of architecture.’ His light tone sounded forced. ‘Others wanted to tear it down but Federico saw its beauty and convinced the Lobo Brothers that—’

  ‘The Lobo Brothers?’

  ‘They own this building. They’re bankrolling the company.’

  Katarina clenched her fist, annoyed with Federico as the way he’d spoken sounded like the company belonged to him. Had she suspected the Lobo Brothers were involved, she might have thought twice about making the commitment. Being entangled with anything vaguely related to the Lobos made her nervous as they were known Franco sympathisers and had amassed a fortune shrouded in many questions.

  Shifting from foot to foot, she stared at the dust rising from the floor. The Lobos were one challenge, but the biggest one stood right in front of her.

  ‘Katarina—’ Raul traced his fingers along the marble column.

  ‘Yes?’ Her pulse raced and she closed her eyes, her fingers itching to reach for him, to gently stroke his face, to experience how much his body had changed. Emotions welled up inside and she desperately tried to keep them contained but it was impossible. And, for the first time in a long while, she set them free. ‘I tried so hard not to miss you, but I think about you all the time.’

  ‘It’s been eight years, Katarina. We’re different people.’ A wall shot up around Raul and she instantly regretted expressing her innermost thoughts. What a fool she was.