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“It’s not easy to find a good match, Aisha.”
“At my age, you mean?”
She lowered her head. “I didn’t mean…”
Aisha didn’t want to be harsh with her sister. Conchita meant well, but she couldn’t let her lie about something they both know was true. Deception was divisive and destructive, and it would only weaken the already fragile bond between them. “Yes, you did mean at my age. Everyone talks about it. I’m used to the comments. What you must understand, Conchita, is that I’m not like you.”
Conchita stared up at her, her eyes watering.
Aisha smiled. “It’s good. You found your true love. I haven’t. Maybe someday I will. Maybe I won’t. But I can’t marry someone I don’t love with all my heart. Now that you have found García, you understand what that feels like.” Aisha took her hand, and Conchita nodded. “Please don’t think about me. You’ll have a family of your own soon. I am happy.”
Conchita sniffed. “I hate to think that you are not happy.”
Conchita was blinded by the laws within which their culture thrived. Happiness was not a priority when it was derived from something so unspeakable as the love of another person of the same gender. Conform to the customs of generations or be condemned to live life outside of the community. Aisha would be banished for such a crime. She would disgrace her family, and she couldn’t do that. “I’m lucky. I love to dance. That makes me happy.”
“Then dance with me. Let us join the others and be happy together.”
Aisha drew her sister to her and kissed the top of her head. She was still a child, and yet she was soon to be married. She would be considered an adult who would fashion her own life with her husband and have children. Aisha could think of nothing worse.
“Have you set a date for the wedding?” Aisha asked as they ambled towards the others.
“September 27th to the 30th. I love the autumn colours.”
“It will be perfect.”
Conchita continued to talk about the plans for her first dress fitting and her ideas for the flower arrangements. Aisha would hear it all again and again until she was tired of hearing about it. Did anyone care about her happiness? She doubted it very much. She would excuse herself after this dance and go to her bedroom, and she would settle for a while, alone with her dreams. And, for a short time, she would find some pleasure.
6.
NO ONE AT THE hotel reception had seen Nana.
Granada might be reputed to be one of the safest cities in the country, but that didn’t mean anything. It was getting dark, it had been a long day, and Nana was old and not the most stable on her feet. Gabi had a vision of her lying in the gutter down a dark and narrow, cobbled side street because she’d fallen over and passed out from the pain of a broken hip. Gabi shook off the image and another one replaced it. This time, Nana stared at the name plate of a road attached to the wall of a house, frowning, and trembling, and trying to steady her cane. Gabi felt her confusion and anxiety, and more disturbing visions of Nana’s fate haunted her. Nana might think she knew the place like the back of her hand, but that was now an arthritic one that had probably changed as much as the city had in the last sixty years.
“Can you call the hospital and check to see if she’s there?” Gabi said to the man behind the desk. He smiled but made no move to pick up the phone, despite her pointing repeatedly at it.
“Please try not to worry, Miss Sánchez. I’m sure she will be safe.”
You don’t know that. Arsehole. Her blood was close to boiling point, and she wanted to throttle the fucker. “Can you tell me the number? Please.” Nana wouldn’t forgive her if she forgot her manners. She couldn’t wait. “I’ll call the hospital.” There was no way her Spanish was going to hold up to trying to explain the situation but right now, that was the least of her problems.
“Please, Miss Sánchez, we can help you. Please, take a seat.”
I don’t want a fucking seat. I want Nana. The ticking bomb inside her was about to explode, and this little fucker was going to get the full blast of it if he didn’t pull his finger out. “I have to find Nana, now.” She squeezed the words out before she choked on them. The air was being sucked from her chest faster than a burst balloon, and the pressure inside her head was increasing at the same speed. Where would she start looking? She could be searching all night and their paths still might not cross. The man smiled at her again, and she wanted to slap the charm from his face. She rammed her clenched hands into her pockets and bit her tongue. She hadn’t realised how much she hated this feeling. Calm down. Calm down. Trying to breathe and calm her thoughts was impossible, like swimming against a tsunami.
“Maybe she took a stroll somewhere,” he said.
“She’s a seventy-five-year-old woman who walks with a cane.”
“I understand, Miss Sánchez.”
No, you clearly fucking don’t do you, or you’d have phoned the hospital already. He started to do something on the computer, probably checking Gabi wasn’t lying about Nana’s age, or maybe checking that Nana existed and Gabi wasn’t some fruit loop. Gabi launched herself towards the counter. She stopped short of thumping her fists on the surface and screaming at him or worse still, reaching across the counter and shaking him into action. “Please.” Her voice sounded weak.
He picked up the phone and made several calls.
Nana hadn’t been taken to hospital, although this fact didn’t lessen the tension in Gabi’s head or reduce her irritation with the man relaying the information. He broadened his smile, and her tension rose another level.
“I’m sure Mrs Sánchez will be back very soon.”
Not if she’s lying in a dark alley and no one has seen her, she wouldn’t. Fucker. “Can you call the police, please?”
