The Snow Gypsy(68)

“And now she’s facing a murder charge?”

“I’ve written letters to the authorities,” Rose said. “I can’t think what else to do. I can’t go back to Granada.” She hesitated, drawing in a breath to keep her voice steady. “I mean, there’s no reason for me to stay here now—but it would be too dangerous for Nieve.”

“I can believe that,” Zoltan replied. “I have a radio in the cottage—I’ve heard reports of children being taken from their parents and put into monasteries and convents. They call it trasplante—transplantation—as if they were vegetables being uprooted from poor soil.”

“I haven’t known Nieve for long,” Rose went on, “but she’s very precious to me.” She checked herself, aware now that she had already let out far more than she had intended. But she felt compelled to tell him what had been on her mind even before the night in the tavern when the swift had landed in her lap. “I know it sounds fanciful,” she said, “but I’d almost allowed myself to believe that she might be Nathan’s child.”

Zoltan pursed his lips. “It’s not impossible, is it? You know she was born near here, at around the same time that your brother died. What if the woman Lola found dying was his fiancée?”

“I thought of that before, but . . .” It was painful to spell out exactly what was going through her mind. “I don’t think Lola’s mother and brother were killed at the same time as my brother. Lola described exactly what she saw that day. She said her brother was the only male victim. All the others were women. So Nieve couldn’t be Nathan’s child, could she? If she was, he would have been there, too.”

“I don’t want to give you false hope,” Zoltan said, “but there’s a chance your brother was killed before the others. Maria said he died trying to protect his fiancée. She didn’t say where he died. Forgive me for being so blunt, but if he was shot in the street, his body wouldn’t have been with the others, would it?”

“How can I ever know that?” Fresh tears stung the back of Rose’s eyes.

“Someone in Pampaneira must know. And Maria knows who knows.”

“But she wouldn’t even tell me about Nathan,” Rose whispered.

“I know,” Zoltan replied. “She might come across as a tough old crow, but actually she’s very sensitive. She just couldn’t bear the thought of hurting you.”

“So you think we should go back there?” Rose gripped the rough edges of the millstone. She wasn’t sure she could face it.

“Another day maybe.” Zoltan put his hand on hers. “But we will find out what happened—I promise you that.”





Chapter 25

Rose hadn’t intended to stay the night at Zoltan’s cottage. She barely remembered the walk back there from the ruined mill. She had nodded off in an armchair, and he had left her while he went to collect Nieve from school, waking her only when the evening meal was ready. And then—the minute they’d finished eating—Nieve had curled up with Gunesh on the wolf-skin rug and fallen fast asleep.

“There’s no point disturbing her,” Zoltan had said when Rose went to rouse her. “Why don’t you stay? We can be up in plenty of time to get her to school.” He had offered to give up his bed for them, but Rose had been happy to settle down under a blanket next to Nieve and the dog.

She had lain awake for a while, listening to the night sounds of the mountain. In her bed in the village, the only thing she could hear was the rush of water and the clucking of the chickens. But up here there were wild animals. She’d heard the haunting cry of a fox and the hoot of a hunting eagle owl. There was the snuffling, grunting sound of a wild boar and the distant howl of a wolf. And somewhere close to the cottage there were toads, whose croaking songs had lulled her into unconsciousness even though she hadn’t felt particularly tired.

Rose woke at first light. For a while she lay where she was on the rug, gazing at Nieve’s sleeping face, searching for traces of the woman whose image had lain hidden in a box in this house for all the years that Nieve had been growing up. Could she be Adelita’s child? Were those long dark eyelashes and that perfect little mouth inherited from her or someone else? The longer she looked, the more convinced she became of a resemblance. But as a scientist, Rose knew that it was all too easy to get the answer that you wanted from a few unsubstantiated facts. She was letting her heart rule her head. There was no more evidence that Nieve’s looks came from Adelita than that her love of animals came from Nathan.

Rolling silently off the rug, Rose stood up and stretched her aching limbs. Holding a corner of the curtain, she peered through the window to see the mist rolling back from the mountain, like a dancer slowly raising the hem of her skirt. There was a deep-red glow in the eastern horizon. As the sun began to climb, it turned a shoal of high clouds into charcoal embers, red beneath and dark gray on top. Within minutes the great ball of the sun had changed from scarlet to pale yellow, and the clouds skimming the hillside were bleached white.

She let Gunesh out for a walk and watched him run up the side of the mountain, chasing half a dozen wild ibex. But they were too quick for him. When he came back, his coat smelled of the aromatic plants growing on the hillside—mint, fennel, rosemary, and thyme.