The Snow Gypsy(34)
“We’d love to have you with us,” Lola said. “And we can take you to all the good places in Granada when we get there—it’s very beautiful.”
“Please come, Auntie Rose.” Nieve reached out for Gunesh, who laid his head contentedly in the child’s lap.
“When are you leaving?” Rose asked Lola.
“As soon as we’ve finished this.” Lola glanced at her half-empty plate. “We’ve packed most of our stuff already—we’ve just got to get Rubio from the paddock.”
Rose turned to Nieve. “Want to come and help me take my tent down?”
The little girl nodded eagerly. “Are you really going to come? Do you promise?”
“On one condition.” Rose smiled. “I want you to teach me how to dance. But no sausages—otherwise I won’t fit into any of my clothes by the time we get to Granada!”
It took less than half an hour to pack up the tent and cram everything into the rucksack. Then Rose and Nieve went to lead the horse out of the enclosure. His straw-colored mane tossed as he snorted a protest at leaving all his new friends behind.
“It’s all right, boy.” Rose patted his gleaming chestnut flank. He reminded her of an animal she’d treated in London—a cart horse who had injured its leg pulling milk wagons. Its owner was going to have it shot, but she had managed to heal the torn tendons with a cold pack of vinegar-soaked seaweed and a diet of sloe flowers mixed with bran and molasses.
They wound their way through the camp, past people busy gathering up pans and blankets and throwing buckets of sand onto smoking fires. As they neared Nieve’s wagon, Rose’s stomach fluttered at the thought of seeing Cristóbal. She wondered how he had reacted when he heard the news that she was going to be traveling with them. Would he have told his cousin what had happened after the wedding? And if he had, would Lola change her mind about wanting Rose around?
When they got there, Lola was all ready to go. She took the lead rein from Rose and coaxed Rubio into position. She slipped the bridle and collar over his head before fastening the traces to the shafts of the wagon. Then she gestured to Rose and Nieve to climb aboard before jumping up herself.
“Can I take Gunesh inside with me?” Nieve asked.
“Yes,” Rose said. “He’ll probably be happier in there than out here.”
“Ready?” Lola took hold of the reins with one hand, reaching back with the other to grab a long whip that protruded from the canvas flap.
“What about your cousin?” Rose scoured the bare patches of ground in between the few vardos that remained. Perhaps he was lingering too long over his goodbyes and Lola had grown tired of waiting.
“Still asleep!” Lola cocked her head backward as the wagon lurched forward. “We’d be here all day if we waited for him to surface.”
“So he doesn’t know I’m . . .” Rose glanced behind her, trying to see into the gloomy interior of the wagon.
“Don’t worry,” Lola said. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to have an extra pair of hands to help with the chores. He has many talents, my cousin, but he gets away with a lot. His wife spoils him too much.”
Rose’s mouth went bone dry. “His wife?” Her voice came out high pitched and rasping, like the sound of the wind in the marsh grass.
Chapter 12
It wasn’t until they had set up camp for the night that Rose got a chance to speak to Cristóbal alone. After leaving Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer, the convoy of Spanish Gypsies had traveled west and then south, skirting the city of Montpellier before coming to a stop in a wooded area on the side of a hill. Cristóbal had emerged from the wagon two hours into the journey, rubbing his eyes as he stuck his stubbled chin out into the fresh air. Seeing Rose, he had muttered something she couldn’t make out and disappeared again.
She had felt like grabbing her rucksack and jumping off the wagon when Lola dropped the bombshell that he had a wife. But how could she break the promise she’d made to Nieve without a word of explanation?
The long hours on the road had been pure torture, knowing what she knew now. How could she have been so stupid? Why had she not thought to ask him if he was married? He had told her he had a dog back in Granada, but there had been no mention of a wife. He had fooled her into believing he was single by mentioning small details of his home life but leaving out the glaring fact that he was a husband and father.
Lola had unwittingly compounded Rose’s misery by chatting about Cristóbal’s children as a way of passing the time on the journey. Rose learned that he had a son, Juan, aged twelve, and a ten-year-old daughter called Belén. And Lola had revealed something that made Rose even more wretched: Juanita, Cristóbal’s wife, was due to give birth to a third child any day now.
If Lola hadn’t been driving the wagon, Rose wouldn’t have been able to hide the turmoil she felt inside. The fact that she had slept with another woman’s husband was bad enough. But there was something else gnawing away at her as the convoy of Gypsies rolled toward the border with Spain. What if she was pregnant?
When they stopped for the night, she busied herself erecting her tent, choosing a pitch some distance away from the circle of vardos. She told Lola that she was tired and needed an early night. Gunesh was with Nieve, so she didn’t even have the comfort of his warm body as she crawled inside the tent.