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“I don’t know. It’s impossible to imagine what’s out there, beyond Granada and Spain. Berlin, Paris, Los Angeles, London. They’re places we’ve heard about, where the tourists come from, places I think might be like ours but different.” She didn’t know what she was trying to say.
His frown deepened. “You think I lack ambition because I am happy here?” he asked.
“No, I don’t. I didn’t mean that.”
He was blinded by his desire and the fire that he wanted to give to her. His want would never be fulfilled. She didn’t share his dream of them making a life together, though her life would be a lot easier if she did.
“If you wanted to go to America or Mexico, you could dance there. But you would leave behind your family and friends to make your way in that world that you don’t know? And what will you do if you find you are still not happy?”
“I don’t know.” Though she might dream of a different life, she couldn’t imagine leaving her family. The longing that drove her insane wasn’t about her working in another part of the world. It was about her being able to love who she wanted to love and to express that love with her family’s blessings. Was she wrong to want that? Husbands and wives had it.
“Can you not see how good life is? We are lucky to have each other, all of us. Ours is a strong and healthy community. Maybe one day you’ll see. I just hope it won’t be too late for you.”
“To find a husband?” She was sick of the prospect of having to be a wife to a man one day and the feeling that that day was going to be forced upon her before she was ready. She would never belong to a man. Never.
“Of course. You are twenty-four already. It’s odd that you’re not married. People say it is because you’re passionate about your work, but with every year that passes, you are giving them cause to ask new questions. I worry for you.”
Aisha worried for herself too. She worried that she would have to settle down with a man and have a family. She worried for her sanity when she would eventually be forced to marry. It wasn’t fair because there were no options. She couldn’t entertain that thought right now. She would rather die than live a lie. But Nicolás was right. She didn’t want to be considered an outcast or a freak. She wasn’t. She was just not like the other women in their village.
She was done with the conversation. It could never go anywhere, and she wouldn’t dance well if she wasn’t feeling passionate. She lifted her skirt at the front and started to stride down the road, feeling her pulse rise with the promise of the music. They had to get to the pick-up point where Julio, Francisco, and Manuel would be waiting for them, and she needed to feel good. “No more talk of dreams. We will make the city dance tonight.”
4.
NANA ASKED THE TAXI driver in fluent Spanish to take a particular route to the hotel, and they stopped outside the gates of a three-storey house. An external staircase, wide enough for three people, started at the street and rose in a sweeping arc to the left and up to a double-sized front door. A brick patterned arch defined an elegant entrance. The cream exterior looked clean and fresh, and everything about it said filthy rich. Gabi counted the windows and imagined eight ensuite bedrooms, probably more, and one of those high-tech kitchens with a central island and a fuck-off huge espresso coffee machine. It stood out against the terraced whitewashed houses with terracotta slatted roofs that they’d passed on the way here. Judging by the height of the well-trimmed hedges that spanned either side of the stately looking property, an equally well-manicured and extensive garden lay beyond them. Gabi bet the owners paid a gardener and probably employed maids too.
Nana pulled out the handkerchief she’d given her for her birthday and wiped her eyes. This had been her parents’ house, the place she’d spent the first nineteen years of her life, and Gabi’s heart ached as it dawned on her what Nana had left behind.
Now at their hotel, Gabi continued to watch Nana, studying the map she’d picked up from the table in her hotel room. “Would you like to visit the cemetery tomorrow?” Gabi asked.
How much had Granada altered in nearly sixty years? Gabi couldn’t think of anything that had changed close to her home except for the Exeter city centre bypass that had recently been extended. But a lot would have changed after the Second World War, including the fact that they could easily travel across Europe now. Their trip to southern Spain would have taken days or even weeks back then. Thank God for progress.
“I’m in no hurry,” Nana said.
Gabi was fascinated by the idea of being related to people she’d never had the chance to meet, although she didn’t feel anything towards them. Given how Nana had reacted seeing her old house again, she was more concerned about how Nana was going to respond to seeing her parents’ graves for the first time. “Is it far?”
“No. It’s close by.”
Nana pointed to a place on the map, but the tremor in her hand caught Gabi’s eye. Nana looked up as she patted the map as if consoling a close friend and smiled. There was still a hint of sadness in her expression that hadn’t lifted since seeing her old home earlier, and she’d been quieter than her normal self.
“We must visit Alhambra at some time. It’s quite spectacular,” Nana said.
“It’s a fortress, isn’t it?” Gabi had flicked through some of the tourist leaflets briefly while they’d waited in the hotel reception for their keys. There were a lot of historical sites and attractions that would keep them busy for a while.
“There are several palaces. They’re Moorish.”
Gabi’s stomach rumbled. It had been a long time since the plastic sandwich on the train and the limp pastry she’d picked up at the airport because they’d been running late after a delay on the London Underground that had caused Nana to panic. “I’d like to see the markets too.”
Nana touched the butterfly brooch attached to her blouse and sighed. She stood and straightened her skirt. “Vamos. Let’s go and get dinner.”
Gabi looked at her watch. “The hotel restaurant is open.”
“No, Gabriela, no. I would like to walk into the city.” She picked up her handbag and walking cane.
Gabi dashed though the door that joined their two rooms and grabbed some cash. By the time she’d returned, Nana was already heading down the corridor with a spring in her step, and Gabi had to run to catch her up. She had no idea where they were going, and Nana negotiated the cobbled streets with her cane like she was skiing a black run. The siesta had clearly given her a new burst of energy, and Gabi wished she had taken a late nap instead of wandering the streets.
The air was comfortably warm in a way that it rarely was back home, and the smell of dry earth quickly faded as they passed by gardens with roses and orange blossom trees. Spicy aromas spilled from a bar as they walked past, and clouds of tobacco lingered in the air. The occasional bad smell wafted from the drains. There was loud music, guitars, and clapping, and a crowd huddled around a group of flamenco dancers in the street. The audience’s tapping feet sounded like castanets, and the strumming was fast, and furious, and electric. Gabi couldn’t see what exactly was going on, but her heart raced, and an elated feeling stayed with her as they moved on.
Nana stopped outside a taverna within earshot of the music. A yellow and green striped awning shielded tables dressed in matching cotton cloth with red paper serviettes. It resembled the colours of the city’s flag, intentionally no doubt.
