2004 - Dandelion Soup (37 page)

The girl, her daughter, then a teenager, had had a penchant for ballet. Madame Mireille told how she had bought the buttons from a traveller from Chartres, then sewed them on herself by hand. She’d sewn them on to seven or eight cardigans and blouses for the young lady. They were very good customers.

“The girl was a bit of a devil. She gave them the run-around, that’s for sure. A precocious madam, and an eye for the men even at that young age! Not a bit like her elder sister; chalk and cheese they were. She was a lovely girl the elder one. She’d been at school in England; I used to send over clothes several times a year. There was no shortage of money with Señora Martinez, that was for sure.”

Madame Mireille insisted that she make coffee, and the three of them sat for a long time as the elderly dressmaker relived some of her past.

Finally, Solly bid her an affectionate farewell, and when he and Dancey left the shop there was a spring in his step. He was a little closer anyway, at least he had a name, and perhaps if he could trace this Señora Martinez it might just shed some light on where Dancey had come from and who had sent her to him.

Solly and Dancey headed back towards the hotel and found Michael Leary and Donahue still sitting outside in the early morning sunshine.

“Any luck?” Michael Leary asked, and was astonished when Solly nodded and sat down to recount all that Madame Mireille had told him.

“That’s strange,” Donahue said, wiping croissant crumbs from his chest. “Do you remember, Michael, when Dr Hanlon was talking about a girl who was at school with his wife?”

“Sure I do. A Spanish girl who had her clothes sent over from Paris. She and Hetty wrote to each other for years, then suddenly she lost contact.”

“Is that a coincidence or what? I wonder if it’s the same person.”

“Well, there’s a way of finding out,” Donahue said, grinning from ear to ear.

“How?”Solly asked.

“Two ways in fact. Telephone Mrs Hanlon and ask her the name or else contact Siobhan and get her to ask at the school. She’d love that, ferreting about for information.”

Solly was excited by the headway they were making, but he was troubled, too. He’d grown very fond of this silent little child, and he had to face facts, no one had come looking for her, had they? Whoever had sent her to him didn’t seem to want her back.

Siobhan Hanlon was sitting alone in the schoolyard when Sister Mary Michael called her inside to take a telephone call.

She followed the nun along the darkened corridor, past the gimlet-eyed statues, and stepped nervously inside the small wooden telephone cubicle outside Sister Helen’s study.

Siobhan was surprised to be summoned to take a telephone call, because parents were requested not to telephone unless there was an absolute emergency. Sister Mary Michael had told her that this was an exception because it was her old schoolteacher on the telephone asking how she was doing with her schoolwork.

“Hello,” Siobhan said nervously.

“Siobhan, is that you?”

“Yes it is. Is that you, Mr Leary?”

It was great to hear a familiar voice. She’d been so homesick since she’d been at the school.

“Siobhan, listen, I want to see if you can find out something for me. Would you mind helping out?”

“Not at all!” she said with enthusiasm.

“Are there any old school photographs up on the walls at St Martha’s?”

“Yes, sure. They go back about as far as the Black Death I think.”

At the other end of the line Leary smiled.

“Can you find the one your mother was in?”

“Course, but why?”

“Well, your mother had a friend when she was at school, a Spanish girl, and we want to find out anything we can about her. We think that her second name was Martinez.”

“There’s three girls with that name in my year alone. Couldn’t you just ask Mammy?”

“No, I rang your parents at home but the maid said they’ve gone off to Dublin for a few days. Anyway, I thought you’d like to do a bit of detective work.”

“Great. I’ll have a scout round tonight. There’s one nun here who comes from up near Rossmacconnarty way who’s been here for yonks, I might try asking her. She seems as lonely as I am and the only friendly one here,” Siobhan whispered. “Are you in Ballygurry, Mr Leary?”

“No, I’m in Paris. Me, Donahue, Solly Benjamin and the little girl.”

“Wow! What are you doing there?”

“Siobhan, we’ve run away.”

“You never have! Why?”

“Remember the little girl that you saw in Solly’s?”

“Yep.”

“We’ve come to look for her family. Tomorrow we’re driving down towards Spain.”

“Wow and double wow! Mr Leary, will you see Padraig in Spain?”

“I hadn’t thought of that. I doubt it.”

“If you do will you tell him something from me?”

“Sure.”

“Tell him to write me else I’ll flatten him.”

“Siobhan, you’ll have to speak up, I can hardly hear you…”

Siobhan’s voice came faintly down the line. Leary couldn’t make head nor tail of what she said.

“Siobhan, you’re a grand girl, do you know that?” he yelled down the phone.

Siobhan had a lump in her throat the size of a plum, and a tear made its way down her hot cheek.

“Siobhan, what did you say? Speak up!”

And then the line went dead.

Señora Hipola, coming into the house from the courtyard, stopped in her tracks and stared in disbelief at the four people standing in her lobby.

There were two men that she had never set eyes on before. One was a slim dark-haired fellow, the other a barrel-chested, florid-faced man with a grin like a slash in a paper bag. The third was Señor Leary, who had stayed here in her house a few years back. And most surprisingly of all, there amongst them, looking absolutely petrified, was the little Amati girl.

The girl looked up at Señora Hipola uneasily, keeping a tight hold on the dark-haired fellow’s hand.

Señora Hipola looked from the girl to Sefior Leary questioningly.

“Señora Hipola, I wonder if it would be possible for you to give us rooms for a few nights.”

Señora Hipola pursed her lips.

“Do you have that one’s mother with you?” she said, narrowing her eyes and pointing at a cowering Dancey.

“No. Why, do you know this girl?” Leary asked excitedly.

“Of course I do! Dancey Amati, she’s called. And you can tell her mother from me that she’ll feel the rough side of my tongue if she turns up here again. She upped and left here in the middle of the night, still owing a month’s rent.”

Leary spoke rapidly to Solly and Donahue, relaying all that he’d just heard.

Solly was astonished.

“Tell her I’ll pay the money that she owed, but ask her does she know the mother’s name?”

Leary duly transalated.

“Sure I do. Pepita Amati.”

“Does she know where she is now?”

But Señora Hipola was as much in the dark as the rest of them.

“One minute Pepita Amati is here, swanning about the place in her high heels and dancing for hours alone up in her room, clomping about enough to bring the ceiling down. Pah! The next thing she is gone. Mind, if you ask me the child is better off without her.”

“Pepita Amati,” mused Leary. “Well, at least we know her name now.”

“This gets curiouser and curiouser,” said Solly.

Sefiora Hipola showed them up to their rooms and Solly settled an exhausted Dancey down for a nap, kissing her gently on the forehead as he did so. He sat and looked down at the child as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

The closer they were getting to solving this mystery the more uneasy he was beginning to feel. It was clear that the mother wasn’t up to much, and if they did find her, and she took Dancey back, what would happen to the girl then?

He waited until Dancey was asleep, then he got up, closed the door to the room quietly and went downstairs to find Leary and Donahue, who were sitting out in the courtyard drinking wine and talking.

“Have a glass of wine, Solly, damp down your worries for awhile.”

Solly sat down with a sigh, accepted a glass of wine, drank deeply and soon felt his spirits a little restored.

“Let’s have a recap on what we know so far,” Leary said, lighting a foul-smelling cigarette.

“Well I only know that the child was sent to me by someone who knew my name and address but obviously I don’t know them.”

“You’re sure that you don’t know any floozies like her mother?” Donahue said with a giggle. “No skeletons in your closet?”

“None whatsoever. I am positive about that, Donahue.”.

“We have one lead. If we can trace the Martinez family we may get somewhere, except that there are millions of people called Martinez in Spain. And if we do find them they may know nothing about her,” Leary added, blowing smoke rings into the air.

“All we know is that the mother was called Pepita and that she trotted about in high heels, danced alone in her room while the kid worked, and left suddenly owing money.”

“Now why would she do that?” Solly mused.

“Trot about in high heels?” asked Donahue.

“No! Leave suddenly like that?”

“To escape from someone? To meet someone?”

“But why send the child to me?”

“God only knows.”

“So where do we go from here?”

“Well, we can wait to see what Siobhan comes up with. But we also know that this girl is called Amati, so links with this Isabella Martinez could be tenuous. This Pepita Amati might have found the cardigan, stolen it even…”

“Does Sefiora Hipola know anything else about them?”

“No. She said they arrived one day looking for rooms. The mother was very secretive, kept to herself except for where the men were concerned. She didn’t work, apart from the occasional shift in the brothel, but she put the child to work down in the cannery, poor little mite.”

“Where’s the cannery, Leary?”

“Down in town. I worked there for a while. A bloody awful place to work, all stinking fish guts and blood. It was terrible working there in the heat!”

“That solves something,” Solly said.

“Whafs that?” Donahue asked.

“Her dislike of fish.”

“Whose?”

“Dancey’s. She always ate whatever I put down for her except fish, the look on her face when I opened a tin of sardines once was a picture.”

“Ah well, if you’d spent hours every day down in the cannery it would be enough to put anyone off.”

“Do you think we’ve much chance of finding the mother?”

“I don’t know, Donahue, and the trouble is will she want the child returned to her? And if we do return her, will she dump her again at the first opportunity?”

“Well, what’s our next move then?” Leary asked.

“I’m damned if I know,” Solly said, shaking his head sadly.

“Was there anything else in the suitcase that could give us any clues?”

“No, there was just an old rosary and a scallop shell with a painting on it.”

“A painting of the Madonna?”

“That’s right, how did you know that?”

“A lot of the monasteries on the route to Santiago used to make them, they were a sort of souvenir with a trademark painting. Have you got it with you?”

“Sure, I’ll just go and get it.”

While he was gone Donahue said, “Do you know, although we’ve come all this way I think Solly’s actually terrified that we might find the mother. After all, it doesn’t sound as if she was very good to the child, now, does it?”

Just then Solly returned with the scallop shell. Leary studied it for a moment, sat up and declared triumphantly, “Bingo! It’s from Santa Eulalia. Look, there’s a mark on the back there. This one has been done by a chap called Brother Anselm.”

“Where is this place, Santa Eulalia?”

“Not that far from here. A day’s ride up into the mountains. Ifs an old monastery where I stayed a few times. Ifs right off the beaten track. Father Daley and the others have been staying there but they’ll have moved on by now to Santiago de Compostela. Look, there’s a slim chance that the monks might know who she is. Do you reckon that ifs worth a try?”

Solly nodded slowly.

“Shall we drive up tomorrow?”

“Thank God, Donahue, that ifs impossible to get a car up there. The thought of you driving on narrow roads in the mountains gives me the heeby jeebies.”

“Well, that’s bloody gratitude for you.”

“Donahue, how much driving had you done before you shut the car away when your, er…”

“When Eileen buggered off and left me for another man, do you mean?”

Leary and Solly nodded in embarrassed silence.

“I hadn’t driven in my life before this trip,” said Donahue.

“What do you mean you hadn’t driven?”

“This trip is the first time in my life that I’ve ever sat behind a wheel. I’ve been damned good, too, haven’t I just?”

Solly and Leary made no reply but raised their glasses and downed the contents in one. Then Leary said, “Well, anyway, you’ll only get the car as far as Los Olivares, then I’m afraid it’s a mule track all the way.”

“May I suggest dinner down on the quay tonight. Then a good nighfs sleep and then off to Santa Eulalia in the morning,” Solly proposed.

“Grand,” said Donahue. “As long as we don’t have to eat muck.”

Dancey had only pretended to fall asleep. As soon as Solly had gone she got off the bed and walked nervously across to the window and looked down into Pig Lane. It was just as it had been when she’d lived here with Mama. She shivered and looked back towards the door, imagining that at any moment Mama might walk in. She felt the old familiar feeling of sickness rise up inside her. At least the Old Pilgrim and Solly had looked after her well. She’d had plenty of food in her belly and hadn’t been left on her own in the dark at night at all. She didn’t like being back in Señora Hipola’s. What if they found Mama and gave her back and then she did the same thing again…

She remembered that last day quite clearly…

She was standing in a field. The sun was hot, the breeze laced with the smell of herbs and flowers. Cow-bells clanked.

She began to count aloud, slowly and carefully.

Uno
.

Dos
.