Golden Earrings (27 page)

‘What is it?’ I cried. I glanced at Margarida. Did she know something about Conchita that I didn’t?

‘This will not go beyond the two of you and your brother,’ Mama whispered. ‘I’m not even going to tell Pare or the de Figueroa family, do you understand?’ Tears came to her eyes and she shook her head. ‘And we of all families, such devoted Catholics!’

‘I could organise a nurse to watch over her,’ said the doctor. ‘Her lacerations are not too serious.’

Mama shook her head. ‘No, the four of us will do it,’ she replied. ‘We are her family now and we will take care of her.’

The following morning, I rose early to take over from Xavier in watching Conchita. ‘Don’t forget to come at ten o’clock,’ I
reminded Margarida as I dressed. ‘I have a class with Olga this morning.’

‘You can fuss over Conchita if you want,’ said Margarida, ‘but I’m not participating in this ridiculous charade.’

‘You have to help,’ I told her. ‘Conchita’s your sister-in-law!’

‘She’s a black hole, that’s what she is,’ replied Margarida. ‘She’s destroying Xavier! He sleeps on the sofa because Conchita doesn’t want any more babies. She doesn’t want to go out, but she complains when they stay in. She’s made his life miserable.’

‘She can’t help it,’ I said. ‘Can’t you see she’s sick?’

Margarida sat up and glared at me. ‘Sick or manipulative, Evelina? If you think she’s sick, then you look after her. I say she’s a drama queen who wants attention and expects us to be responsible for her. The sooner everyone stops pandering to her, the better.’

‘But Margarida,’ I pleaded, ‘my ballet lesson —’

‘It’s your decision to give that up for Conchita and her antics,’ Margarida replied, rolling over and pulling the covers up around her ears. ‘Don’t try to put that one on me!’

Conchita was quiet when I sat with her. She ate her breakfast roll thoughtfully, tearing it into small pieces and dipping it into her milky coffee. I watched her and tried to understand what made her so unhappy. In many ways, I related to Conchita. In the de Figueroa family, she was not only the eldest but by far the most beautiful of the sisters, which meant the pressure for a spectacular marriage had been placed firmly on her. Xavier was a devoted husband and father, but that didn’t seem to be enough for Conchita. Maybe it was that, like me, she felt she’d never had any choice in her life. I thought about Gaspar and wondered if Conchita had loved someone else but had been pressured by her family to marry Xavier. Apart from their good looks and their wealthy backgrounds, Conchita and Xavier were different. She loved the prestige of being a Montella and
Xavier hated it. If they had been free to chose, I doubted they would have chosen each other.

Conchita lifted her eyes to me. ‘Evelina,’ she said, ‘go and open up my wardrobe.’

I thought that she may be feeling well enough to dress for the day, so I did as she asked.

‘You see that dress under the organza cover? Take it out.’

When I lifted the cover, my breath was taken away by a shell-pink beaded dress with bell sleeves and intricate lacework around the cuffs.

‘I want you to have it,’ Conchita said.

‘But no!’ I protested. ‘You’ve never even worn it!’

She shook her head. ‘You’ll have to take it in a bit, but it will look beautiful on you. Try it on.’

I did as she said and admired my reflection in the mirror. The sinuous skirt swirled around my legs when I moved, and the slightly tapered waist was more flattering than the previous year’s straight styles. Conchita directed me to add a matching mesh hat with white flowers on the side and evening shoes from her wardrobe, then told me to go to her dresser and dab on some Chanel No 5. I had never felt so glamorous. I paraded up and down the room for her and she smiled with genuine delight.

‘You should dress up like that every day,’ she said. ‘It’s your turn to be a society princess. Once you get married and become a mother, people don’t observe you the same way. You no longer bring expressions of enchantment to their faces when you walk into a room. All the enthralling possibilities you once represented are gone. There is only one predetermined fate for you.’

She pushed her dark hair back from her face. Even though she wasn’t well, she was still beautiful. She didn’t possess one feature that was less than perfect, from her straight nose to her slim feet. She’s too beautiful, I thought. And it’s become a curse for her.

I changed back into my ordinary dress and read the social section of the newspaper to Conchita until she fell asleep. I glanced at the clock. It was a quarter to ten. I would have to send someone to tell Olga I wouldn’t be having my lesson today.

The bedroom door opened and I turned to see Xavier standing behind me.

‘Has she been all right?’ he asked.

His clothes seemed to be hanging off him and his shoulders were hunched. He looked as though someone had sucked all the life out of him. I thought about what Margarida had said that morning about how Conchita was ruining him.

‘What are you doing here?’ I asked. ‘You are supposed to be sleeping. You were up all night with Conchita.’

Xavier slumped into the chair on the other side of Conchita’s bed. ‘Don’t you have a ballet lesson at ten o’clock? I don’t want you to miss it.’

‘But you need my help,’ I said.

Xavier rubbed his eyes. ‘I don’t expect you to suffer because of me. Conchita is my responsibility. I want you to go and enjoy your lesson.’

I moved to his side of the bed and sat on the armrest of the chair. ‘What happened, Xavier? Why did she do it?’

A look of anguish came into his eyes. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘No matter what I do for her, she is never satisfied. She seemed fine when we said goodnight. Then early yesterday morning I heard a cry come from the bedroom and I rushed in to find her arms covered in blood.’

Xavier and I sat with our cheeks pressed together for a few moments before he nudged me. ‘You’d better get going.’

I embraced him. ‘Thank you,’ I said. I knew in that moment that I loved my brother dearly and that I would do anything to see him happy again.

By early summer, Conchita had recovered enough to be left on her own, and also to accompany Xavier to social functions or to join me and Mama for strolls along the passeig de Gràcia.

One morning, to my surprise, I walked into the drawing room to find Gaspar Olivero sitting there, talking with Xavier and Margarida.

‘Evelina! Good morning!’ he said, rising to his feet.

Something about him had changed. He had never been shy or awkward and he’d always been a gentleman. But as he stood before me in his pinstriped suit, every hair on his head combed into place, he exuded the kind of polish that must have come from rubbing elbows with some of the most talented people in the world.

‘How are your ballet classes progressing?’ he asked me.

The mere fact that he’d remembered I was learning ballet made my heart jump with joy.

‘Very well,’ I told him. ‘My teacher is pleased with me.’

‘And that prima donna doesn’t give praise easily,’ added Margarida, glancing from me to Gaspar.

‘I dropped by to invite you all to come to the Samovar Club tonight,’ Gaspar said. ‘I have a table booked for us. The flamenco dancer la Rusa has returned from her world tour and will be giving her first performance in Barcelona in nine years.’

I had no idea who la Rusa was, but I would have gone to see a circus of fleas if it meant I could be with Gaspar again.

He turned to Xavier. ‘You must bring Evelina tonight. La Rusa is a stupendous dancer. Her performances are wonderful, really wonderful.’

Xavier invited me to sit down with them, and a maid brought us some coffee and cakes. The conversation moved to Gaspar and his travels, but I didn’t hear one word about the clubs in Cuba and Venezuela. All I could think about was what I was going to wear that night. Surely Xavier and Margarida would have to let
me go with them to the Samovar Club if Gaspar had invited me? Neither had voiced any objection, which was a good sign.

When Gaspar left, I turned to my brother and sister.

‘Can I really go with you this evening?’ I asked Xavier.

‘Mama would never hear of it!’ said Margarida. ‘The Samovar Club? They play jazz and people dance the Charleston there. It’s too scandalous!’ she said in a mocking tone.

I considered trying to make Margarida feel guilty that the reason I was so obsessively guarded was because of her. But I knew Margarida was impervious to guilt. I looked at Xavier, who seemed to be less decided on the matter.

‘Please,’ I begged him.

‘Who is going to chaperone you?’ Xavier asked.

‘You and Margarida,’ I told him.

Margarida laughed. ‘As if Mama and Pare would trust me.’

‘Then what about Conchita?’

Xavier shook his head. ‘She won’t want to come, Evelina. It’s not her kind of place.’

‘Well, that’s it,’ said Margarida. ‘You can’t come, Evelina.’

I was crestfallen. To go to the Samovar Club was the only thing I had wanted as much as ballet lessons. But I knew not to be so childish as to cry. I turned and walked out of the room. As I was shutting the door behind me, I heard Xavier say to Margarida, ‘I don’t see why Evelina can’t join us. Mama and Pare don’t have to know. We can sneak her out of the house. God knows, you did it yourself often enough!’

‘She’s not like me,’ Margarida replied. ‘She’ll be seen.’ Lowering her voice so that I could only just hear her, she added, ‘I’d love her to join us, but it could damage her marriage prospects if the Cerdà family finds out she’s been going out at night. It’s one thing for me to go to places like that, but people expect differently of her.’

‘Come on, Margarida!’ said Xavier. ‘How often have we seen Penélope Cerdà there? Or Soledad Manzano and the other
society girls? They won’t tell on each other. Francesc can’t say anything if Evelina is there with you and me. He hasn’t even formally proposed.’

‘It’s not Francesc I’m worried about,’ Margarida replied.

‘Who then?’ Xavier asked.

Margarida said something I didn’t hear.

‘Well, forget Francesc Cerdà!’ Xavier said. ‘If he’s so interested in Evelina, what’s he doing in England this summer?’

Margarida sighed. ‘You might have chosen differently if you had known about Conchita,’ she said. ‘But Evelina has no choice. I wouldn’t wish on her what I’ve been through to walk a different path. Be careful with her. Gaspar might be able to flit here and there, but for a woman, one break with society and that’s it.’

‘The Samovar Club.’ I rolled the words over my tongue as I lay on my bed that night. It conjured up exotic images of smoky-eyed women and Tyumen carpets.

I thought about Conchita, convinced that all her possibilities in life were gone. I wasn’t a great beauty like she was, but I was in the bloom of youth. I didn’t want to end up feeling the way she did. I wanted to believe that life would always be full of possibilities, no matter what my age.

I stood up and walked to the wardrobe, fingering the shell-pink dress Conchita had given me. ‘It’s your turn to be a society princess,’ she had said. Not much chance of that, I thought. I am going straight from maiden to married woman, thanks to Margarida!

I thought about Gaspar Olivero. He had made a special point of asking Xavier and Margarida if I could go that night. What would they tell him? That I wasn’t interested? What would he think then?

The house was still and silent. The servants had gone to bed. I slipped off my nightdress and stepped into the dress, admiring
my transformed reflection.
A society princess
: it would only take a little powder and a dab of Chanel No 5. I smiled at my reflection and my reflection smiled back at me.

There was a taxi cruising down the passeig de Gràcia. It never occurred to me when I hailed it that it might be dangerous to travel about on my own without a male escort. The only danger I had ever been warned about was the moral kind. I did my best to affect a sophisticated air when I gave the driver my destination. Fortunately for me, the only thing dangerous about the driver was his daredevil nature. But careering through the streets of Barcelona at breakneck speed only added to the thrill of the evening. For once in her life, Evelina Montella was doing something she was not supposed to do!

When I arrived at the Samovar Club, the house band was playing and the dance floor was filled with glamorous men and women dancing the foxtrot. Everything seemed to sparkle and glimmer. The air was tinged with the scent of brandy, expensive tobacco and Bulgarian rose. The atmosphere was much more exciting than the staid luncheons and afternoon tea parties I usually attended. I told the hostess I was a guest of Xavier and Margarida Montella, and she led me to a private lounge with mirrored walls where I found my brother and sister drinking cocktails. Their eyes popped out of their heads when they saw me.

‘No, no, no,’ said Margarida, rising from her seat.

Xavier looked like he was trying not to laugh.

Margarida grabbed my arm. ‘You are going straight home,’ she said. ‘I will not be responsible for leading you astray!’

She was surprised when I resisted her, and we found ourselves in a wrestling fight when Gaspar walked into the lounge. Margarida let go of me for appearance’s sake. Gaspar was wearing a dinner suit with sateen lapels, and spats. He seemed to me more dashing than ever and it took all of my willpower not to ogle him.