His eyes strayed to La Gaviota. Light was streaming through the ground-floor window. She was still awake. High above, the golden stars were shimmering against a navy blue canopy. Determinedly, he tried to make out their patterns.
It was no use. His mind slipped back to her.
What did she wear in bed? He could just imagine her beautiful blonde hair scattered around her face like a pale mantle on her pillow. His body tightened; he felt its growing anticipation.
Damn the woman and damn the cat!
He wrenched his clothes off and ran down to the sea, embracing its iciness with relief.
* * *
That night the dream revisited her, more vivid and frightening than usual. He was in the room, she could tell. It was dark, with shadows falling across her bed from the open window. A hot night. Too hot.
The sound of her door was a slow creak, closing shut with a click. She couldn’t move. Why couldn’t she move? It was as though she were paralyzed from the neck down.
She tried to speak but no sound came out.
Panic gripped her throat as she tried to shout. She could hear him moving around the room, getting closer. Was she in Cádiz or at home in California? All she knew was that he was coming for her.
Her head thrashed from side to side as the footsteps moved softly towards her.
‘Sshhhh, Luna.’
No. No. No.
Luna woke, gasping from the nightmare. She sat bolt upright, her chest heaving, then slumped forward, head in her hands. After a few moments, she reached for the water by her bed and gulped it down until it was all gone. She ran her fingers through her damp hair.
Although this was no new experience for her, she couldn’t sleep for hours after the nightmare, terrified it would haunt her again. She was not surprised that it had finally caught up with her. Perhaps it was to be expected after the roller coaster of emotions she had been through.
Turning off the house alarm upstairs, she padded downstairs to the kitchen where she made herself another hot drink. Finally, as dawn stretched its flaming fingers through the sky, she went off to sleep, exhausted, wondering how she was going to have enough energy for the ball, but grateful that it would at least be masked.
Chapter 5
The sun was already lowering in the sky, casting long shadows in Plaza del Arenal when Luna arrived in Jerez late that afternoon to search for the costume shop.
An uninterrupted sleep well past lunchtime had revived her, though she wished there was more of the day left. That way there would have been more time to explore this impressive square, she thought, walking along the wide boulevard lined with tall jacaranda trees, and taking in the colourful food shops, street vendors and craftsmen.
Her gaze picked out an odd-looking place.
Ah, this must be it.
Luna stood for a few seconds outside the glass-fronted shop and lifted her gaze to the tatty gold-painted sign above the window. Mascaradas: she was definitely there.
Mascaradas was by no means a smart shop, especially compared with the luxurious boutiques with which it was competing for attention along the long stretch of pavement. Yet the faded panelled wood of the façade spoke of a bygone elegance that was both endearing and fascinating, like a glamorous old lady imparting secrets from her youth.
Luna pushed the red door and let it clang behind her. The shop reeked of turpentine combined with the heady scent of jasmine, attesting to the fact that, inside at least, the whole place had recently been painted. From floor to ceiling the interior was coloured burgundy. It was lit with bright neon lights, and a kaleidoscope of costumes hung higgledy-piggledy on long black rails and spilled out of large, yawning leather trunks. Mannequin heads that had seen better days stared out from shelves, some with garish-looking hats, others held false beards and wigs. Everything seemed gaudy; Luna was not impressed.
A young woman in faded jeans and a white lacy blouse emerged from a curtained-off room at the back of the shop, behind the counter. She smiled her greeting. ‘Bienvenida, señorita? Puedo ayudarle? Can I help you?’
Luna had no doubt the woman was a gypsy. Her fierce, ravenblack eyes and the swathes of wonderful jet-hued hair that undulated down her back like waves of dark water were evidence of her blood. Long golden filigree earrings hung from her ears and dozens of bracelets clanked on her wrists.
‘Buenas tardes, señorita. I’ve been invited to a masked ball tonight at rather short notice and I’m looking for a costume,’ Luna explained.
‘The ball at El Pavón, ey?’
Luna’s eyebrows went up. ‘Yes, that’s right. How did you know that?’
‘What other ball could it be?’ The gypsy woman scooped up some feather boas that had escaped their boxes on the cluttered shelves behind the counter and carefully put them away. ‘The masked ball at El Pavón has been going on for generations. It’s a well known tradition and very exclusive.’ She turned back and winked. ‘You’re a lucky one to have an invite.’
Nerves skittered in Luna’s stomach again, reminding her of the glamorous event she would be attending in just a few hours – and the man whose guest she would be. She smiled faintly. ‘Yes, I suppose I am.’
‘Then again I’m not surprised,’ the other woman added cryptically. She noticed Luna’s momentary look of confusion and gave an enigmatic smile. ‘So, what do you have in mind?’ The gitana was friendly and laughter lit her strong features.
Luna relaxed. ‘I’m not sure. Something simple, I think. Nothing too flashy.’
The Romany woman peered at her curiously. ‘You’re not Spanish. Inglés? Americana?’
‘I’m half Spanish and half American.’
‘Ah! That’s why you speak our language so fluently. You look foreign but, of course, you could have come from Castilla. The people there are as fair as you are.’
Luna smiled politely. She didn’t want to seem rude; still, she ignored the gitana’s speculations and tried to bring back the conversation to the task in hand. ‘You seem to have a large choice of costumes,’ she ventured, her eyes travelling round the shop.
The gitana tossed her head proudly and pulled back the long green-and-gold curtain behind her. ‘Don’t bother with the fancy dress things in the front of the shop. They’re for ordinary parties, just a bit of fun. You’ll want our VIP selection, the vintage costumes. The disguises are divided into four categories: history, tales and legends, costumes of the world, and miscellaneous. I can help you.’ She beckoned with her hand to invite Luna behind the counter. ‘Come. Sí, ven, ven!’
The shop was more organized than Luna had thought at first. As she followed the woman through the thick curtain, she could see that the space back here was tidier. It was a large square room with dark-green walls and ornate gold cheval mirrors at one end. Neat rails of clothes lined three sides, interspersed with mahogany chests of drawers, on top of which stood black mannequin heads displaying a fantastic array of masks. A few faded velvet chairs and stools occupied the centre of the atmospheric room.
‘This is quite an Aladdin’s cave you have here,’ Luna remarked, walking up to one of the chests and picking up a gold-and-silver feathered mask. ‘How long have you had the shop?’
‘Oh, Mascaradas doesn’t belong to me. I just stand in for my friend, the owner, when she goes on holiday,’ the woman explained, rearranging some clothes on the hangers. ‘It was her uncle, old Jaime, who used to own it before her. He took years building up the collection. I like it here, though. These four walls have buenas vibraciones, a good spirit. The people who come here always have a story or two to tell as well.’ At this she smiled warmly at Luna, who wondered if this was a fishing remark. She carefully replaced the mask back on its mannequin.
With the gitana’s encouragement, Luna began to rifle through the rails. Some of the costumes were fabulous but, even though she was spoilt for choice, she found most outfits too bright. Red, orange, green and violet alternated with electric blue, fuchsia pink and other colours of the rainbow; and while they
were all beautiful, none took her fancy.
Luna was beginning to lose heart when she pulled out a dress of such fine and silky fabric that it appeared almost unreal. The light muslin panels that made up the skirt were woven with a silver yarn that shimmered each time it caught the light, as though minuscule diamonds were encrusted in the material. It was a daring dress that, if worn, would reveal the greater part of her thighs and legs when she walked. Not only that, the fabric was virtually transparent. She would have to wear a flesh-coloured bodice underneath it.
‘You like this one?’ the gypsy asked.
‘Yes, I think so. Though I’m wondering whether it’s not a little provocative.’
The shopkeeper nodded. ‘It’s an exquisite and unusual piece. It wouldn’t suit everybody, that’s why it has never been worn.’ She gave Luna a frank stare and then glanced at the pale green vintage dress that clung to her slender frame. ‘God has given you a rare beauty, señorita, and a delicate figure to match. You must not be ashamed to show it off. I think it’s the perfect choice for your colouring and physique.’
Luna smiled shyly at the woman’s compliment. The gitana had an intense way of speaking, warm and direct, and a look in her eye that seemed wise beyond her years.
‘That’s very kind.’ Luna held the costume up again, thoughtfully. ‘What does it represent?’
‘It can be turned into all sorts of different disguises depending on the accessories you choose to go with it. We have ones for the Snow Queen, various nymphs and fairies of the rivers and seas – and of course for Luna, the Queen of the Night. The items which complement that costume are not for hire, only for sale, because they’re expensive and very fragile, too.’
Luna was suddenly beside herself with excitement. Ruy had called her ‘Queen of the Night’ and now here was a costume that represented just that.
‘Can I try it on?’
The woman nodded with a knowing smile. ‘Si, por supesto, yes, of course. Would you like me to bring down some accessories?’ ‘Yes, please. The Luna ones.’
The gypsy returned carrying a diamanté tiara topped with the carving of a crescent moon at its centre, a shawl made of fine silver threads, a pair of dainty sandals, a round, sparkling clutch bag and silver dust to sprinkle over Luna’s hair. She gasped admiringly as Luna, who had slipped on the dress, came into the fitting room and then stared transfixed while she stood in front of the mirror.
‘This costume was made for you, señorita. Such otherworldly loveliness. It has been waiting for you.’
Luna regarded her own reflection with a combination of surprised pleasure and wariness. Normally, she dressed in an understated but feminine way for parties from the habit of carefully measuring the attention she would attract. However, this was a masked ball and no ordinary party – and she was not her usual self these days. A kernel of impetuosity in her nature was growing shoots that were pushing their way determinedly to the surface.
‘I think it does suit me. Can I buy it?’
‘We don’t usually sell our costumes, but this one is meant for you. I can see that now.’ The gitana gazed at her. ‘What is your name, señorita?’
‘Luna.’
The Romany woman’s eyes widened. ‘Ah, Luna … But of course! El Destino te ha traido aqui hoy, destiny has brought you here today, Luna. Though I can tell by looking at you that you do not believe in such things.’
Luna glanced sideways at her. ‘No, not really.’
The other woman chuckled. ‘Do you think El Destino is bothered by what we think? Its wheel carries on turning, no matter what we believe.’ Her bracelets jangled on her arm as she gestured towards the diaphanous dress moulding itself to Luna like a second skin. ‘You think it was pure chance that you found this costume today? Or perhaps I should say that the costume found you.’
‘You really believe all that, even in this day and age? I mean, in a force beyond our control?’
The gitana tutted and shook her head. ‘We gitanos know from our own history that however long your legs, there is no running from El Destino. For good or ill. May the sky fall upon me but it’s true.’
Luna’s curiosity gave another kick. ‘Being from a gypsy family, I’ve come to realize there are more things in heaven and earth, as they say.’ Ruy’s words came back to her from their conversation on the plane. She wanted to ask the woman what else gypsies knew about, but didn’t know how to begin such a conversation.
As if reading her thoughts, the gitana smiled and raised her chin slightly. ‘My name is Morena. I am the granddaughter of Paquita, the great Romany fortune teller, whose words never failed. Like her, I have the gift. Give me your left hand, y té dire tuo destino, and I will tell your fate.’ She broke into a broad smile, revealing perfectly white teeth in her gold-hued face.
As little as a month ago, Luna would have found a polite excuse to decline such an offer. Her logical disposition didn’t lend itself to this kind of superstitious indulgence. After everything that had happened since her arrival in Spain, she found, to her slight irritation, that she was curious, though. Besides, she secretly found it quite romantic to have her palm read by a gypsy. This new, irrational aspect of herself was clearly to blame. She held out her hand to the other woman.
As she touched Luna, Morena flinched and her magnificent dark eyes blazed like those of a tiger. ‘You have been endowed with la gracia de mano.’
‘La gracia de mano, what does that mean?’ Luna peered down at her own hand, as if trying to discern what Morena had seen in it. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘It’s a healing power. God in his kindness blesses one woman in a thousand with it. Like I have been given the gift of reading the future, you have received the power to cure.’ Morena nodded, deep in thought. ‘Most of all, when you are with a man your touch will be unforgettable. It will bewitch the one who falls in love with you.’
Luna’s former scepticism reared its head against the gitana’s words. Wasn’t this what every woman wanted to hear? Still, she kept her thoughts to herself.
Morena took Luna’s left hand in her own and smoothed its palm flat with her thumb. ‘You have a sensual hand,’ she noted. ‘Yes, the pleasures you can give a man are infinite and, with the right partner, you yourself will reach the highest levels of fulfilment.’ Then her keen sable eyes concentrated on the lines of the palm and she began telling Luna of the past. Her remarks were largely generalized – a separation from her parents, loneliness, great academic achievement, a need to prove herself … Overall what she said was remarkably true, however.
‘Now for the future, señorita hermosa, whose heart is wrapped in night, a night so deep and so dark that it’s making you blind. Monsters and demons inhabit it. It’s full of fears that make you timid, like a paloma, a dove.’
At this the gypsy looked up. In her dusky face, her eyes, dark and mysterious, met Luna’s. They revealed nothing of what she was thinking. She lowered them again. ‘There are stars of hope in your sky, though. One in particular shines strong and bright. Still, its beauty dazzles you, and you turn your eyes away, afraid of its brilliance. Reach out for it. You are Luna, Queen of the Night. You are not made for dusk, half-measures and compromise. Let yourself be healed and do not settle for less than you are worth. You inspire great passions. You are made to love and be loved.’
Again she lifted her head. Luna tried to read her face, staring into the gypsy’s great charcoal eyes, reluctantly drawn in by her words, but Morena would not relax her fixed expression.
The gypsy’s voice was deeper and richer, almost cavernous, when she took up her reading once more. Suddenly, her eyes closed. She was like a statue of copper towering over Luna’s delicate, pale hand, her perspiring face glistening as if heated by fire. Suddenly she seemed ageless, her face an inscrutable mask.
‘Beware,’ she rasped, her speech seeming to cause her much effort, ‘beware; fate is a two-sided coin, and this opposite side to your destiny can endanger all the good and allow evil to prevail … Beware
of shadows, and of murky waters. Your heart is kind and pure, pure as the pearly light that shines through your skin, so trust your judgement and only your judgement. Your conscience too.’
Luna watched, mesmerized, as Morena seemed to plunge deeper into her strange trance. Nothing about it looked affected. She had never seen anything like this before.
‘Someone close to you is dangerous, and you keep running, but run towards the dazzling light. The one you need must find his own forgiveness too before you can stand still.’ Her words were an incantation that she chanted again and again – a kind of low, hoarse melody that fascinated Luna. As the trance ended, the gitana looked up at Luna’s troubled face.
‘What does all this mean?’ Luna said after she had finally let out the breath she’d been holding. ‘I don’t understand the significance of any of it.’
For a moment the gitana fell silent before saying, ‘Listen to your heart, beautiful señorita, and it will guide you.’
‘Are we talking about the near or the distant future?’
Morena considered Luna, her gaze suddenly alert and penetrating. ‘The wheel of fate is already spinning fast.’ Her expression relaxed and the youthfulness of her face returned. ‘Come, I will wrap the dress for you. You don’t have long before the ball at El Pavón starts. I don’t want to be the one to make you late.’
It was clear that the gitana was going to remain cryptic. As she disappeared behind the curtain into the main shop, Luna quickly changed and carried the dress out to the counter. She paid for the costume and the accessories.
‘How much do I owe you for the palm reading?’
Morena shook her riotous ebony curls and a strange light flashed in her dark eagle eyes as she fixed them on Luna’s face.
‘Your payment, señorita, will be lifelong, and to all my brothers and sisters under heaven.’
Luna’s eyebrows crinkled in a frown. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Soon, very soon, it will be clear to you. As black ink on a virgin page of white paper.’
Legacy Page 14
