The Snow Gypsy(33)
“I might, if I knew what it was.” Rose hoped the little girl wouldn’t see through her brittle smile. The thought of eating breakfast with Cristóbal made her stomach flip over. What if he was as embarrassed as she was? Acted as if nothing had happened? Worse still, what if he had bragged to Lola about last night?
“It’s eggs and onions and potato fried in butter,” Nieve said, “with other stuff thrown in, like mushrooms or snails. There might be sausage with it today—Mama says we’re rich now!”
“That sounds delicious.” Rose took the child’s outstretched hand. “Is . . . your uncle helping with the cooking?”
Nieve rolled her eyes. “He’s much too lazy for that! He never wakes up until the afternoon.”
Rose felt her apprehension evaporate. With a bit of luck, she could have a bite to eat and get away before Cristóbal surfaced.
Lola was breaking eggs into an enamel bowl when they reached the wagon. The sausages, already cooked, were keeping warm in a cloth-wrapped metal skillet.
“Can I do anything to help?” Rose asked as Lola spread out a blanket for her to sit on.
“No—you’re our guest,” Lola replied.
“I don’t mind, honestly. I feel guilty being waited on. You’re the one who should be taking it easy. Did you find it hard to get to sleep after all that excitement? I’m sure I would have.” Rose watched her face, looking for any sign that Lola might know what had taken place after she’d gone off to bed.
“It did take me a while.” Lola smiled as she took a head of garlic from a basket. Slipping her hand beneath the waistband of her skirt, she pulled out a wicked-looking knife. “I couldn’t help thinking about what I could do with all that money—well, my share of it. Cristóbal will have half, of course.” She dug the knife into the garlic and pulled out three cloves. Peeling off the skin, she sliced them into the bowl of eggs. “It means Nieve and I can move to Madrid.”
“Oh? Why the big city?”
“It’s where Espa?a Films is based. That’s what I’d really love to do. Be a dancer in the movies.”
“That sounds amazing! You’d be perfect, I’m sure.”
“It’s just a dream, really. I don’t know if I stand a chance.”
“I’d say that after last night, there’s nothing you can’t pull off.” Rose was watching Lola throw an assortment of torn herbs into the beaten eggs. She could smell parsley, mint, and basil. The mixture hissed as Lola poured it into a frying pan. Rose didn’t hear Gunesh come bounding up behind her. He put his paws on her shoulders, almost knocking her over. Nieve followed, out of breath as she hovered on the edge of the blanket.
“I’ve taught Gunesh to dance! Look!” Nieve clapped her hands twice, and the dog went to her side. She clicked her fingers, moving her hands from side to side in a swaying motion. Gunesh crossed his right paw over his left, then the left over the right.
Rose laughed.
“That’s not all,” Nieve said. “Watch this.” She spun around on the spot, first one way, then the other. Gunesh followed, making circles around her. As a finale, she gestured to the ground with the flat of her hand, and the dog dropped down, rolled onto his back, and waggled all four legs in time to her clapping.
“That’s fantastic! How did you teach him all that?”
“With sausage.” Nieve shot a sideways look at the covered pan perched on an upturned wooden apple crate. “I only took two.” She glanced at Lola, who gave an exasperated sigh.
“Those were supposed to be for us!”
“I know. But you said we were rich now—so I thought it wouldn’t matter.”
“I don’t mind not having any,” Rose said quickly. “The tortilla smells absolutely delicious.”
A few minutes later, they were eating. Lola had cut the remaining sausages into small chunks so that each of them had some. Rose had a hard job trying to stop Gunesh from snaffling hers.
“He’s going to want this for breakfast every day now.” She smiled as she pushed his muzzle away from her plate.
“Well, he could if you came with us, couldn’t he, Mama?” Nieve gave Lola a crafty look.
“Nieve! You mustn’t be a pest!” Lola shook her head. “She’s been going on at me all morning—she keeps asking if you can come with us, back to Granada. I told her you have your own plans—that you’re going by train—but she won’t listen.”
“Why can’t you come with us, Auntie Rose?” Nieve piped up. “It would be such fun—you could camp beside our wagon, and I could teach Gunesh more tricks!”
“She hasn’t got time for that, cari?o,” Lola said. She glanced at Rose with an apologetic smile. “I told her that you have an important job in England that you have to get back to—that you don’t have time to travel slowly like us.”
Rose looked at Nieve. The child was staring at her with imploring eyes. “Well, I’m not in a terrific hurry,” she said. “I’ve taken the whole summer off, so . . .” She hesitated, the possibilities whirling in her mind. The thought of ambling through Spain with a group of Gypsies was tantalizing. But what about Cristóbal? What would he say if he could hear this conversation? It occurred to her that he might already know about Nieve’s suggestion—that he had, perhaps, encouraged her to make it.