need to break the serious tone of the conversation, Ramón looked up at Alexandra and grinned. He picked an orange from the fruit bowl onthe table, rolling it up his forearm to flick it high into the air, catching it with the other hand. ‘After all, who can blame her? You must have heard the shameful truth about my origins, Cousin.’
‘And what would that be?’ Alexandra mouth twitched in amusement. She was warming to him more and more.
Ramón stared at her in mock horror as he plucked another orange and began juggling them in one hand. ‘I’m half de Falla and half Circus.’
Alexandra giggled. ‘I’m shocked, of course.’
‘So you should be, a nice girl like you. But as you’re half-English and therefore technically an outcast too, I forgive your unkindness. The irony is that the circus would have suited me better than El Pavón, I think.’ He arched an eyebrow playfully and brought the spinning oranges to a stop. His fingers, which she did not doubt were strong, looked as delicate as those of a girl.
‘You mean clowns and that sort of thing?’
He fixed her with a mock-offended look again. ‘I prefer the term “bohemian”,
mi primita
. Anyhow, I’m certainly much more like my mother than I am my uptight, aristocratic father’s family.’
‘And what became of your mother?’
‘She remarried and has a good life back in Granada. I see her from time to time.’
‘So you must have grown up with our other cousins, Luis María’s children?’ She gazed at him quizzically, recalling what she had heard both from her father and the gossiping woman on the train, particularly about Salvador. Ramón suddenly looked restless.
‘It’s getting late. I think I’ll pay Pépé’s slate and tell you more on the way back.’
After protracted goodbyes to the ebullient
Señor
Pedro, they were on their way in Ramón’s old Fiat, leaving the town behind as the roads twisted uphill through the starry night. There was so much that Alexandra wanted to know that they hadn’t yet touched upon, particularly about her sister, Mercedes, the intriguing Salvador and her other cousin, Esmeralda, but perhaps she had asked Ramón toomany questions already. There were some things she would simply have to discover for herself. For now, as they drove past dark clumps of trees studding the hillsides and the warm earthy fragrances of Andalucía surrounded her, she contented herself with listening to him continue his account of the family’s history.
What was left of Ramón’s tale was not much different from what he had already told her, and the bits and pieces she remembered her father recounting. Once more, tragedy had struck the de Falla family and sent fate on a new course. Luis María and his young wife Cecilia had died in a dreadful typhoid epidemic, leaving behind the adopted children, Esmeralda and Salvador, then aged five and eleven. After Luis María was gone and Alonso was widowed, the de Fallas were reunited at El Pavón. The
Duquesa
then reigned over the family with an iron fist.
‘Only one person has been able to weasel himself into the old dragon’s affections, and is safe from her demands and fits of rage: Salvador. And
qué broma!
what a joke, he doesn’t even have a drop of de Falla blood. In her eyes, her beloved heir can do no wrong, though that is as far from the truth as chickens are from angels, I can tell you. But that’s another story where, for now perhaps,
la mejor palabra siempre es la que queda por decir
, the best word is the one left unsaid.’
‘Our cousin sounds … complicated.’
Ramón glanced at her before continuing: ‘To say the least. Salvador is a mixture of the coldness and intransigence he learned from the
Duquesa
, the recklessness and impulsiveness of his adopted father, and the sensitivity and pride of his mother. A peculiar combination that inevitably brings tragedy in its wake.’
‘Wasn’t Salvador to be married?’ Alexandra had no idea why the question had
‘And what would that be?’ Alexandra mouth twitched in amusement. She was warming to him more and more.
Ramón stared at her in mock horror as he plucked another orange and began juggling them in one hand. ‘I’m half de Falla and half Circus.’
Alexandra giggled. ‘I’m shocked, of course.’
‘So you should be, a nice girl like you. But as you’re half-English and therefore technically an outcast too, I forgive your unkindness. The irony is that the circus would have suited me better than El Pavón, I think.’ He arched an eyebrow playfully and brought the spinning oranges to a stop. His fingers, which she did not doubt were strong, looked as delicate as those of a girl.
‘You mean clowns and that sort of thing?’
He fixed her with a mock-offended look again. ‘I prefer the term “bohemian”,
mi primita
. Anyhow, I’m certainly much more like my mother than I am my uptight, aristocratic father’s family.’
‘And what became of your mother?’
‘She remarried and has a good life back in Granada. I see her from time to time.’
‘So you must have grown up with our other cousins, Luis María’s children?’ She gazed at him quizzically, recalling what she had heard both from her father and the gossiping woman on the train, particularly about Salvador. Ramón suddenly looked restless.
‘It’s getting late. I think I’ll pay Pépé’s slate and tell you more on the way back.’
After protracted goodbyes to the ebullient
Señor
Pedro, they were on their way in Ramón’s old Fiat, leaving the town behind as the roads twisted uphill through the starry night. There was so much that Alexandra wanted to know that they hadn’t yet touched upon, particularly about her sister, Mercedes, the intriguing Salvador and her other cousin, Esmeralda, but perhaps she had asked Ramón toomany questions already. There were some things she would simply have to discover for herself. For now, as they drove past dark clumps of trees studding the hillsides and the warm earthy fragrances of Andalucía surrounded her, she contented herself with listening to him continue his account of the family’s history.
What was left of Ramón’s tale was not much different from what he had already told her, and the bits and pieces she remembered her father recounting. Once more, tragedy had struck the de Falla family and sent fate on a new course. Luis María and his young wife Cecilia had died in a dreadful typhoid epidemic, leaving behind the adopted children, Esmeralda and Salvador, then aged five and eleven. After Luis María was gone and Alonso was widowed, the de Fallas were reunited at El Pavón. The
Duquesa
then reigned over the family with an iron fist.
‘Only one person has been able to weasel himself into the old dragon’s affections, and is safe from her demands and fits of rage: Salvador. And
qué broma!
what a joke, he doesn’t even have a drop of de Falla blood. In her eyes, her beloved heir can do no wrong, though that is as far from the truth as chickens are from angels, I can tell you. But that’s another story where, for now perhaps,
la mejor palabra siempre es la que queda por decir
, the best word is the one left unsaid.’
‘Our cousin sounds … complicated.’
Ramón glanced at her before continuing: ‘To say the least. Salvador is a mixture of the coldness and intransigence he learned from the
Duquesa
, the recklessness and impulsiveness of his adopted father, and the sensitivity and pride of his mother. A peculiar combination that inevitably brings tragedy in its wake.’
‘Wasn’t Salvador to be married?’ Alexandra had no idea why the question had