Autumn in Catalonia

by Jane MacKenzie

  The thought of Luc changed the mood, from raw memories and confrontation to sobering thought. Carla gripped her glass hard, as her guts churned in both hope and fear, and the baby kicked a reminder against her stomach wall that time was not on their side.

  ‘Next week!’ she said, with determination. ‘We have to get him free by next week. But how do we do it? How can we use those letters? Maybe it’s time I paid a visit to my supposed father in Girona to show him what we have against him.’

  It was Martin who answered, speaking to Joana. ‘You took them from his safe, Joana – won’t he know that? You were in the house in Girona only this morning, and if Carla turns up at his door tomorrow with this ammunition in her hands he’s bound to smell a rat!’

  ‘I don’t know that. He hardly registered me passing through, except to warn me not to hang around, because my presence was inconvenient! I told him I’d come down to buy a new coat, because it’s getting cold up here, and he was so keen to see the back of me that he gave me money to buy it with.’ She hesitated for a moment. ‘There’s just one other thing I have to tell you though, Mama. Toni found out from Sergi’s driver that they went to your apartment last night to look for Carla. They didn’t find her, of course, and Uncle Victor wasn’t there either.’

  Maria had frozen, but relaxed a little at the last words. Carla reached for her. ‘Victor will have gone out to the bar, since we’ve left him alone,’ she reassured her. ‘You know how he hates being in the apartment on his own!’ She shivered, ‘But thank God we left when we did or otherwise I’d be in Sergi’s hands right now! If I have my way, then after tomorrow he’ll leave us all alone for good!’

  ‘How did Sergi take the news that Carla had flown?’ Martin wanted to know.

  Joana rubbed her cheek, and Carla noticed a bluish tinge that hadn’t been obvious before. So Sergi had taken his frustration out on his wife.

  ‘He wasn’t a happy man last night,’ Joana admitted, ruefully. ‘That was when he told me in no uncertain terms to be gone by the time he got back from Barcelona tonight.’

  ‘He was going to Barcelona?’

  ‘Yes, Carla. In a very bad mood indeed.’ She drew a breath before continuing. ‘I have to say I wondered if he was going to see Josep, since he didn’t find you at Victor’s.’

  Maria’s face creased in worry. ‘He’s gone to Josep?’

  Carla’s hand was resting on Grandma’s, on the arm of her chair. She reached out to take her hand.

  ‘Don’t worry too much, Grandma. Uncle Josep is made of strong stuff.’ She sighed. ‘I just hope my father didn’t frighten the children. And who else does he know about among my friends that he might visit and bully? Where is it all going to end?’

  ‘With the letters?’ Martin suggested.

  ‘Yes, the letters! We can end it all with those letters, surely. But what do I tell him? Where did I get them from?’ Carla asked. ‘Just tell me what to say about where I got them from so I don’t implicate Mama, and then I’ll be down there to see him tomorrow. It’s Saturday, so I should find him at home.’

  Joana frowned. ‘He’s got some political rally to attend during the day, but he should be home by early evening. But what are you planning to do exactly, Carla?’

  ‘Why, confront him, of course, and make him release Luc. If he has been prepared to pay a blackmailer because he fears what these papers could do to him, then they must be serious enough to warrant him letting Luc go, especially if I promise him that afterwards we’ll disappear and not bother him anymore.’

  ‘You feel you can do it?’

  ‘Oh yes, I can do it! I have to!’

  Joana nodded. ‘Yes, you’re right, and it’s probably the only way, but take care. I don’t want my husband ruined – he saved me and gave me a life, and I will always owe him – but I don’t want you harmed either, carinyo, and I know how you two can inflame each other. He sees Luc as a dangerous leftie, I’m sure, and as for you, well I did foist you on him, didn’t I?’ She sighed. ‘Poor Sergi, in many ways. He so needs to be in control, and this whole regime has fostered that side of him. I don’t know where his need for power comes from, but it makes him dangerous, I admit, and you – well, you are a very personal thorn in his flesh.’

  Carla looked at her mother. ‘I’ll have the ammunition, though, won’t I, Mama? I’ve never had any ammunition before when dealing with him, and I can promise you I’ll be very careful how I use it, and not push him too far. The key person in danger will be you, like Martin says, if Sergi has any suspicion that these documents came from you.’

  ‘I need to come with you Carla,’ Martin spoke up suddenly. ‘You can’t go on your own. And if I’m there, couldn’t you just make out that I’m someone who knows his blackmailer, or who knew the dead driver or someone? You don’t have to say anything openly, just imply a connection, and refuse to answer questions. It’ll be a game of bluff, anyway, and if he thinks you’ve had contact with his blackmailer, then he won’t suspect Joana of having anything to do with giving you the letters.’

  Carla looked at Martin’s tense, eager face and knew she would accept his company on this visit. She didn’t want to go alone, and she needed support. A week ago she wouldn’t have believed it possible to have such powerful weaponry to fire at Sergi, but firing it would not be easy. It took every mental picture of Luc in his prison cell to give her the courage, and make it seem possible.

  ‘Come with me, then, cousin Martin,’ she said to him. ‘We’ve thrown enough at you already, and I need you too much to leave you behind this time. Come and help me stay strong and focused, and stop me from reminding him I’m not actually his daughter. He mustn’t know I’ve been told that, because only Mama could have told me. Between us we’ll manage not to implicate Mama, and I’ll be his hateful, errant daughter, just as I’ve been for years. But you know Mama, that’s the real toast this afternoon. It was the best news you’ve ever given me. Sergi Olivera may be a nasty murderer without compassion or morals, but he’s not my father! He’s not my father, and now, by God, he’s going to have to give me back my life!’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Carla and Martin stood in the shadow of a tree, a little down the road from the house in Girona, waiting in anxious silence for Sergi to come home. It was already nearly dusk, and lights had come on in some of the houses. Martin checked his watch again and again, but they’d been here for a long time, and they knew they hadn’t missed Sergi’s arrival. The only issue was whether he would come home at all, or whether the event would go on all evening. If so they would have to come back tomorrow.

  Maria had come down with them to Girona, and they had left her furiously cleaning up the apartment. There were lingering signs of the visit by Sergi’s men. Victor had clearly done his best to tidy up, but it looked as though the contents of all the drawers had been dumped on the floor, and ornaments swept off the sideboard, and poor Victor, as Maria had said, would never really know where to replace things. They helped her as much as they could to put things to rights, but she shooed them aside, because they were getting things wrong, so after a while they left her to it. Victor wouldn’t work a full day today, and by the time he came home from work she would no doubt have had everything just so, and fresh food prepared as well. Toni had gone back to the hill house after dropping them all at the apartment. All three of them, Maria, Carla and Martin, would stay in Girona this night.

  As they stood watching the street Carla thought how bizarre it was to be walking into Sergi’s house, when she had been fleeing him for days. This was the lion’s den, and her last memory of it was from just such an evening, pretty much a year ago exactly, when she had faced Sergi’s furious ultimatum, and walked out to try to complete her studies on her own.

  Would it be different today? It felt different to be arriving with Martin by her side, and the all-important documents in her hand, but the stakes had become so high. Her entire future, and that of her baby and Luc, depended on coming out of this encounter a victor.
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br />   She shivered, and Martin put a reassuring arm around her, and as he did so they saw the Mercedes glide by, and come to a halt outside the house. It didn’t take long for the gate to open, and for the car to disappear inside. Felip the general handyman must have been on the watch.

  They waited a very long ten minutes before they rang the bell on the gate. Carla’s head pounded behind overtired eyes, and she was sure Martin must feel the same, but he looked resolute and strong, and she hoped she looked the same.

  It helped to be properly dressed for the contest ahead. Joana had brought Carla some new clothes, which she’d bought for her in Girona, maternity dresses that fell in stylish folds around her bump, with matching jackets, and a woollen coat for the autumn evenings. And that morning Joana had trimmed her hair and given it a new style so that it hung in a sweep of curls around her neck. It had reminded Carla of years past, when her mother would style her little girl’s hair and dress it with ribbons, an immeasurably long time ago.

  It seemed like hours before they heard Felip’s plodding footsteps coming round from the back of the house, where he must have retired thinking his work was done. His morose, rather doltish face appeared on the other side of the bars, and he peered through the evening gloom to see who had appeared to disturb his peace.

  ‘Miss Carla?’ he gaped at her.

  You may well be astonished, she mused. You’re Sergi’s old retainer, and you may even have been one of those who went to Victor’s flat, looking for me. It must be just a little surprising to see me walking voluntarily into his lair!

  ‘Good evening, Felip! Is my father at home?’

  He was fumbling with the bolts on the gate, and as it swung inwards he nodded his head furiously. ‘Yes, miss. He came in just now. But he has ordered the car in half an hour, and I believe he has some formal dinner or something tonight.’

  Joana had been right telling them to lie in wait for him – if they’d come later they could easily have missed him! Well, hopefully he wouldn’t have much time to do them any harm in half an hour.

  ‘Right then, Felip, we’ll just go on up to the house, then,’ she declared, and with a smile at Martin she led the way up the drive. Felip would ring the house bell from the gate, she knew, so their arrival would be well advertised, and either Josefa or Mireia would be on the way to let them in. Indeed, by the time they reached the front door it was opening, and the maid bobbed a surprised curtsy at them as she stood back to let them in.

  ‘Good evening, Mireia.’ Carla swept into the house with determined aplomb. ‘We’ve come to see my father. Could you let him know we are here, please.’

  ‘Y-yes, Miss, but Señor Olivera is dressing for dinner at the moment. D-do you want me to disturb him, Miss?’ She sounded suitably scared at the prospect.

  ‘I’m afraid so, Mireia – our business is urgent, you see. I think when he knows I’m here he’ll want to see us right away, and he won’t scold you. Could you just knock at his dressing room and tell him I’m here with a young gentleman?’

  Mireia gulped, but nodded and scurried off towards the stairs, leaving them in the elaborate hallway. Carla waved Martin through to the sitting room, where they sat on two leather chairs, side by side, both doing their best to look perfectly nonchalant. Martin looked as short on sleep as she was, but he had a good face for this, she thought – unreadable and composed, apart from the tight look around his eyes. His role this evening was mainly to act as physical support, but she knew he would speak up if he felt the need. He looked across at her now and pulled his rather set mouth into a smile.

  ‘Nice way to spend a Saturday evening! Do you think he’ll invite us to his dinner party?’

  Carla grinned. Cool card, my cousin, for one so young! A little beat hammered in her chest, and her throat seemed not to want to let her breathe, but as her pulse raced it fed a kind of ebullience that empowered her.

  It was very few minutes before Sergi – she could no longer think of him as her father – came striding into the room, but long enough, she thought, for him to have secured the house and warned Felip to stand by. He appeared in his dress trousers and shirt but minus the tie and jacket, and he certainly looked formidable – a force of energy seemed to surround him, and his eyes burnt as they scanned the visitors, his gaze lingering on the line of swollen belly beneath Carla’s decorously cut coat, and on Martin, with the same steady focus he’d turned on him that day in the street – Tuesday, that had been on Tuesday, Carla reminded herself, and since then life had changed.

  ‘Well, my little Carla! You’ve come to visit your father after all this time! But what has been happening to you?’ His deep voice filled the room – a purring panther would have felt less dangerous.

  Carla took time to scan him in return before replying. They’d played this game before, not too long ago, but this time she was visiting on her terms, and she had taken him very much by surprise.

  ‘Good evening, Papa,’ she kept her voice carefully light. ‘May I introduce a friend of mine from France who has been visiting us this last while. We just wanted to drop by and offer you a small gift. You see my friend has some interesting connections here in Girona, and he happened to pick up some documents that we thought might be of interest to you. Would you like to see them?’

  She held out her hand as she spoke, and Sergi eyed the envelope curiously, but without apparent unease. He took it from her, though, and as he drew out the letters from inside she saw his eyes dilate in quick recognition. Slowly, infinitely slowly, he read through the three pages, although he must know them by heart. When he’d finished he looked up, and the expression in his eyes was stony and hard. But was there a hint of fear there as well?

  His voice, though, remained almost mellifluous. ‘How kind of you, Carla, to think that I might be interested in this correspondence. But I think your young friend must have mistaken whom they are addressed to, since he is a stranger in these parts. There are some bad people in Girona, as we all know, and he must have fallen upon some of them. It even makes you wonder who our dear French friends are frequenting with here! There is nothing and nobody I recognise in any of what I’m reading here. But you do well to bring these documents here, because they refer to a serious incident, if indeed there is any truth in them, and now I can deal with them as they should be dealt with. And meanwhile I can offer you both the hospitality of this house for a while. I think you have been in need of the right kind of sanctuary, have you not, my daughter?’

  The temptation to throw her real parentage in his face was almost overwhelming, but Carla restrained herself. Under no circumstances must she reveal what she knew, because the only person from whom she could have learnt it was Mama. He mustn’t know she’d seen Joana. Instead she straightened herself slightly in her chair, and gestured at the letters which Sergi still held in his hand.

  ‘By all means, Papa, do what you need to with these letters. There is no problem, because we have several copies, and we’ve left them in envelopes with various friends. Let’s not beat about the bush anymore! You would like to detain me here tonight, no doubt, but four different people in Girona have copies of these documents, and unless I contact them this evening they will take them to the authorities. Just as honest citizens, of course! And the same applies from here onwards – the documents remain with my friends, and they expect to see me every day, and if I think I am being followed when I go to see them, then I too will release the letters immediately.’

  For a moment she believed that Sergi was going to strike at her as so often before. He stood right in front of her chair, his fists not quite flexing, and his eyes bored into hers. Beside her she sensed rather than saw Martin holding himself ready. Long seconds passed. Sergi was not used to being bested, to facing a situation where he wasn’t in control. We may already be prisoners now, she thought, and he could call our bluff on this evidence. But how could he dare, when they were so damning that he’d been paying blackmail for them for months? She held his gaze and waited.

&nbs
p; ‘What do you want?’ his words came finally, crude and aggressive. ‘What is it you want, you little bitch?’

  ‘I want my life back! That’s all I want, but to get it back I need my fiancé back. You had him taken away back in June and you know where he is. I want Luc Serra Torrès released, and then I want to live in freedom. We’ll go away and never come back to Girona, and we won’t trouble your life, and we will never embarrass you with your friends, but the condition will be that you won’t have us followed, and you won’t try to control us in any way. As long as we are free the documents will never be used, but the moment we are threatened there are people who will know and who will use them straight away.’ She caught a calculating look from him and threw in immediately. ‘And it won’t be my grandmother or my uncle, you can rest assured of that! Martin has family here in Girona who are completely unknown to you, and even when Luc and I move away they’ll be expecting a telephone call once a week. If ever they can’t contact us they’ll release the letters.’

  Sergi shook his head at her in careful bewilderment, having pulled himself back under his canopy of control. ‘Carla, I don’t know what you are talking about. I know that pregnant women don’t always think straight, but in your case I think your condition has seriously disturbed your mind. We don’t see you for over a year, and your mother worries herself silly, and then you turn up here heavily pregnant and with these strange stories. You have a fiancé, you say? I hope so, indeed! As your father I am shocked to see you in this condition and unmarried! So where is this young man? You say he has disappeared? My God, too many young men desert their girlfriends when they find they are expecting. It’s a shame on our society! What is it that you want me to do, apart from looking after you, my daughter?’