“Yes, you’ve told me he’s a Communist. And what does he want from you?”
“To help him, to travel to visit comrades in other countries. Learn about their difficulties, their needs, prepare information for the Communist International, work to bring the revolution everywhere we can...”
“And you need to leave your husband and your son for that?”
“Don’t put it like that! I can’t bear it for you too to reproach me, not to understand me. I am in love, so much I cannot say. I count the minutes until I am with Pierre.”
“Amelia, you cannot abandon your son!”
Every time Javier was mentioned, Amelia burst into tears. But that afternoon I had heard enough to realize that despite her tears Amelia had already decided to leave her house, and Santiago and her son, to be with Pierre. The same fever that appeared never to have left her had nothing to do with an actual illness, but rather the passion she felt for this man. Her fate was decided, and so was mine.
Although Laura asked her to think again, she swore to her cousin that whatever happened Amelia could trust her. Amelia calmed down once she realized that her cousin would never abandon her.
“Is he married?” Laura wanted to know.
Amelia was shocked. She had never considered the possibility that Pierre might be married. She had never asked him and he had never said anything about it.
“I don’t know,” Amelia said, barely in a whisper.
“You must ask him, although I hope for your sake he isn’t. You know what? I have always been afraid that you would fall in love with Josep and that this would destroy your friendship with Lola.”
Amelia looked down, ashamed. Laura knew her well and had realized that there had indeed been a moment when Amelia had felt attracted to Josep.
“I admire Josep, but I have never fallen in love with him.”
“I think that you have a special attraction toward Communists. I don’t know what they say to you, but you can’t fool me, they really fascinate you.”
“I will never be able to fool you, and yes, you’re right, I am attracted to them, They are so strong, so secure, so certain about what it is they need to do, ready to make any sacrifice... I don’t know how you don’t feel the same...”
“I’ve never met one who really made an impression on me, the ones I’ve known... well... The truth is I can’t imagine marrying the mechanic who fixes Papa’s car. What do I have in common with him?”
“You think that you are better than the workers?” Amelia asked.
“Not better or worse, just that we don’t have anything in common. I’m not fooling myself, Amelia, I want the world to be a fairer place, but that does not mean that I need to marry the car mechanic. Of course I want him to live well, not to lack for anything, but...”
“But he goes his way and you go yours, right?”
“Yes, more or less.”
“One day social classes will disappear, we will all be equal, nobody will earn more just because of having gone to university, of coming from a bourgeois family, we will make the bourgeoisie disappear, make all our differences disappear.”
“You’re as bourgeois as I am.”
“But I have realized that the existence of social classes is a perversion, and I want to renounce all my privileges, I don’t think it’s fair that there are people with more opportunities than others, I think it’s unfair that we are not all equal.”
“I am sorry, Amelia, but I cannot accept your ideas. Of course I think that we should all have the same opportunities, but you know what? All men will never be equal.”
“That is how things have been up until now. Stalin has shown that it is possible to have a society in which everyone is equal.”
“Well, well, let’s not talk about politics. Take me to Javier’s room, I want to give him a kiss before I leave.”
That night Amelia went to Lola’s house, or at least that is what she said, because she would not let me go with her. She assured me that Pierre would meet her on the street corner and that she would not have to walk through the streets alone. She did not come back until dawn was already breaking. I don’t know what happened that night, but when she came back she was no longer the same.
She spent the whole morning in a very agitated state, and she got very cross when her mother rang to tell her that she and Antonietta were going to come to lunch to see Javier.
She seemed absent over lunch, and at five o’clock she asked her mother and sister to leave, claiming that she had to go and pay a call. I was surprised when suddenly she hugged them both tightly and could barely fight back her tears.
When Doña Teresa and Antonietta had left, Amelia locked herself in her room for half an hour. Then she left and went to Javier’s room. The child was asleep, with Águeda next to him, crocheting.
Amelia took the child in her arms and woke him up, and he started to cry while she whispered, “My child, my dear child, forgive me, my son, forgive me.”
Águeda and I observed her without speaking, both of us feeling rather disconcerted.
“Look after Javier, he is my dearest treasure,” Amelia said to Águeda.
“Yes, Madam, you know that I love him like my own son.”
“Look after him, treat him well.”
She left the room and I followed her, knowing that something was going to happen. Amelia went into her room and came out with a suitcase, which she could barely carry.
“Where are you going?” I asked her, trembling, although I knew what the answer would be.
“I am leaving with Pierre.”
“Amelia, don’t do it!” I started to cry as I begged her.
“Shh! Be quiet, or the whole house will find out. You are a Communist like I am and you can understand the step I am about to take. I’m going where they need me.”
“Let me come with you!”
“No, Pierre doesn’t want you to come, I have to go alone.”
“And what will become of me?”
“My husband is a good man and will let you stay. Come, here’s some money which I have set aside for you.”
Amelia pushed a bundle of notes into my hand, as I tried not to take it.
“Edurne, don’t worry, nothing will happen to you. Santiago will look after you. And you will always be able to rely on my cousin Laura. Come, I want you to take her this letter. I’ve told her where I am going and what I am going to do and I’m asking her to take care of you, but don’t give it to anyone who isn’t her, promise me this.”
“And what will I say when you don’t come back? They’ll ask me...”
“Tell them that I went out to pay a call and that I told you I would be back late.”
“But your husband will want to know the truth...”
“Santiago is still on his journey and when he comes back tell him to talk to my cousin Laura, she will explain it all. I’ve put in the letter that I want Laura to tell the whole family that I have gone forever.”
We hugged each other, crying, until Amelia pulled away and, without giving me a chance to say anything, opened the door and left, shutting it quietly behind her.
It would be a long, long time before I saw her again.
Edurne sighed. She was tired. She had spoken without pause for three long hours. I had stayed motionless, caught up in a story that interested me more the more I heard of it.
I was surprised, lots of the things I had heard seemed unbelievable to me. But then again, here was this old woman, her gaze lost in the place where her memories lived, a grimace of sadness over her features.
Yes, Edurne felt sad to remember these days that changed her life, even though she had not told me how her life had changed afterwards.
I realized that I could not force her to speak much more, she was too tired, both physically and emotionally, for me to insist that she clear up some points about her story.
“Would you like me to take you somewhere?” I said, just for the sake of saying something.
“No, there’s no need
.”
“I’d like to help you...”
She locked her tired eyes on me as she shook her head. She wanted me to leave her alone, not to force her to carry on squeezing information out of that part of her memory where the ghosts of her youth lived.
“I will go and tell them that we have finished. You cannot know how grateful I am for everything you have told me. You have been a great help for me. Now I know much more about Amelia, my great-grandmother.”
“Really?”
Edurne’s question surprised me, but I did not reply, I only managed to smile. She was very old, I realized that she had that bluish pallor that can come before one’s final journey, and I began to feel scared.
“I will go and tell the ladies.”
“I will come with you.”
I helped her get to her feet and waited for her to support herself against the stick that she held in her right hand. I couldn’t imagine what Edurne must have been like in the past, but now she was an extremely thin and fragile old woman.
Amelia María Garayoa was with her aunts. She appeared worried, and when we came in she leaped up from the sofa.
“About time, haven’t you realized that Edurne is very old? If it had been up to me you wouldn’t have been allowed to keep her so long.”
“I know, I know...”
“Was the conversation useful?” Doña Laura wanted to know.
“Yes, I am really surprised. I need to think, I need to get everything that Edurne told me in order... I couldn’t have imagined that my great-grandmother was a Communist.”
They were silent and made me feel awkward, something that had become a habit of theirs.
Amelia María helped Edurne to sit down while Doña Laura looked at me expectantly, and the other old woman, Doña Melita, seemed caught up in her thoughts. Sometimes she seemed not to understand what was going on around her, as if she weren’t interested in what she was living through.
I was also tired, but I knew that I should talk with them in order to continue my investigations.
“Well, you said that you would guide my steps. What is the next step to take? Although of course, Doña Laura, I need to talk with you so that you can explain what happened when...”
“No, not now,” the old woman said, “it’s late. Call me tomorrow and I will tell you how to carry on.”
I didn’t argue, I knew that it would have been useless, especially since Amelia María was telling me with her look that if I did argue then she would throw me out of the house without any ceremony.
When I got home I wondered if I should call my mother to tell her everything I had found out about my great-grandmother, or if I should not say anything at all until I had the whole story. In the end I decided to go to sleep and leave the decision for the next day. I felt confused; my great-grandmother’s story was proving more complicated than I had expected, and I did not know if it would end up as a romance novel or if there were still more surprises to come.
I fell asleep thinking about Amelia Garayoa, and how this mysterious relative of mine had been a temperamental romantic, a woman desperate for experiences who was restricted by the social conventions of her time; she was incautious and obviously had a clear fascination with the abyss.
The next morning I called my mother over my first coffee of the day.
“Great-grandmother’s story’s a real soap opera!” I said as a greeting.
“So you’ve already found out what happened...”
“Not everything, no, but a part of it, yes, and she was a very strange woman for those times. She had no respect for anything.”
“Tell me...”
“No, I’m not going to tell you anything, I’d rather finish the research and write it up, like Aunt Marta told me to.”
“I think it’s good that you’re not telling anything to Aunt Marta, but I am your mother, and let me remind you that it was me who gave you your first clue, telling you to talk to Father Antonio.”
“I know that you’re my mother, and I know you so well that I am sure you won’t be able to resist the temptation to tell your brothers and sisters everything, so I’m not going to tell you anything.”
“So you don’t trust me!”
“Of course I trust you, you’re the only person I trust, but only for important things; this is not important, so I prefer not to say anything, at least not now, but I promise you will be the first to know the whole story.”
We argued a little, but she didn’t have any other option than to accept my decision. Then I called Aunt Marta, more than anything so as to tell her that I wasn’t spending her money without doing any work.
“I want you to come to the office and tell me how things are going.”
“I’m not going to tell you anything until I give you the written document you asked me for. I’ve told you that I’ve found traces of my great-grandmother, your grandmother, and that the family will find out what happened, but I need to work according to my own rhythm, with no pressure.”
“I’m not pressuring you, I’m paying you to research this story and to tell me how you are spending my money.”
“I assure you that I haven’t wasted any of your money, and I’ll even give you the receipts for the taxis I’ve taken; but for the time being, however you react, I am not going to tell you anything. I’m starting my research and all I wanted to do was to tell you that it has already had some results; I am on the trail of Amelia Garayoa. I don’t think it will take too long to finish things up, and then I will write the story and give it to you.”
I did not tell my aunt that I had met her grandmother’s cousins, and that I had come to an arrangement with them: their help in exchange for reading my manuscript and approving of it before I handed it over to my family. I would deal with this problem when I came to it.
I had also promised that my mother would be the first to know the whole story of our relative, so when the time came I would have to decide who would be the first to find out; until then, what I needed was to be left in peace.
Aunt Marta accepted reluctantly. Then I called my mother again, because I was sure that my aunt would call her with a list of complaints about me.
PIERRE
1
Over the next few days I tried to get everything that Edurne had told me down on paper in a orderly fashion. I was waiting for the old Garayoa women to call me, because I couldn’t really continue my research without their help.
It occurred to me that I should try to find Lola, but she would be dead by now; as for Pierre, he was a figure who really intrigued me. “He’s a sly dog!” I thought. “You’ve got to be pretty sneaky to steal someone’s wife in the name of the revolution.”
It was unlikely that Pierre was still alive, unless he was more than a hundred years old, something that was pretty near impossible. Edurne had told me that when he first met Amelia he was several years older than her. She was eighteen and he was over thirty; so the chances of Pierre being alive were practically zero.
When Amelia María Garayoa called me I breathed a sigh of relief; the truth was that I had started to worry if the old women hadn’t regretted their offer and had decided to block any continuation of my research.
“My aunt wants to see you,” she blurted out as a greeting.
“Which aunt?”
“My Aunt Laura.”
“And your Aunt Melita?”
“She’s got a bad cold and doesn’t feel well.”
“Just one question: Are Doña Amelia and Doña Laura sisters? It’s just that I read in my grandmother’s diary, and Edurne told me as well, that Amelia’s best friend was her cousin Laura. I’m just a little confused,” I said, trying to be friendly.
“Maybe all this is too much for you,” she replied, emphasizing once again what little confidence she had in me.
“I think that the existence of so many Amelias would surprise anyone,” I said in my defense.
“Not really. One of my aunts’ great-grandmothers was called Amelia, she was a woma
n who was very beautiful and who was loved by the whole family; they loved her so much that her grandchildren decided to call their daughters Amelia if they had any. And that’s what Juan and Armando Garayoa did, call their firstborn daughters Amelia.”
“You see, it is confusing!”
“Maybe for you, but in our families things are pretty clear.”
“As far as I am aware I also have something to do with your family...”
“That’s a may be.”
“But I showed you my grandfather Javier’s baptismal certificate!”
“Look, I have my doubts about you; and anyway, even if you are Amelia Garayoa’s son’s grandson, why would you suddenly show up with this stupid story about having to write a book about your great-grandmother?”
“I didn’t say I’m going to write a book, just that I’m writing an account, which my Aunt Marta will wrap up and give to my family as a Christmas present.”
“How moving,” Amelia Garayoa said in an ironic tone that I found very annoying.
“Listen, I understand that you’re reluctant, but I have been open with you right from the start and in any case, we’re family.”
“No. You’re wrong there. You and I have nothing in common, for all that you try to look for connections. You don’t think that suddenly the Garayoas and the Carranzas are going to get back together as if this were a trashy romantic novel?”
“No, you’re right, my great-grandmother’s story does have a bit of a whiff of the romantic novel about it... But no, I’m not going to suggest that we spend Christmas together.”
“Don’t even think about getting the two families together.”
“I have no intention of doing that, I’ve got enough to cope with with my own family, without adding another one that’s got you in it.”