The Legacy of the Bones. Dolores Redondo

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СКАЧАТЬ she said.

      ‘The best.’

      ‘What about you, aren’t you tired?’

      ‘No, you know me. I’m fine with a few hours’ sleep.’

      Engrasi seemed to reflect, her face clouding for an instant, but then she smiled once more and gestured towards the cot.

      ‘He’s beautiful, Amaia, the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen, and I’m not just saying that because he’s ours; there’s something special about Ibai.’

      ‘You can say that again!’ declared Amaia. ‘The baby boy who was supposed to be a girl but changed his mind at the last minute.’

      Engrasi pulled a serious face. ‘That’s exactly what I think happened.’

      Amaia looked puzzled.

      ‘I did a reading when you first became pregnant – just to make sure everything was all right – and it was obvious then that the baby was a girl. Over the following months, I consulted the cards several times, but never looked into the question of the baby’s sex again because it was something I already knew. Towards the end, when you were acting strangely, saying you felt unable to choose a name for the baby or to buy her clothes, I came up with a plausible psychological explanation,’ she said with a smile, ‘but I also consulted the cards. I must confess that, for a while, I feared the worst; that this uncertainty you felt, this paralysis, was a sign that your child would never be born. Mothers sometimes have premonitions like that, and they always reflect something real. But on that occasion, no matter how many times I consulted the cards about the baby’s sex, they wouldn’t tell me – and you know what I always say about the things the cards won’t tell us: if the cards won’t tell, then we’re not meant to know. Some things will never be revealed to us, because their nature is to remain mysterious; other things will be revealed when the time is right. When James called me early that morning, the cards couldn’t have been clearer. A boy.’

      ‘Are you saying you think I was going to have a girl but in the last month she turned into a boy? That’s physically impossible.’

      ‘Yes, I think you were going to have a daughter, I think you probably will have her one day, but I also believe this wasn’t the right time for her, that someone left the decision until the last moment and then decided you’d have Ibai.’

      ‘And who do you think took that decision?’

      ‘Perhaps the same one who gave him to you.’

      Amaia stood up, exasperated.

      ‘I’m going to make some coffee. Do you want a cup?’

      Aunt Engrasi ignored the question. ‘You’re wrong to deny it was a miracle.’

      ‘I’m not denying it, Auntie,’ she protested, ‘it’s just that …’

      ‘Don’t believe in them, don’t deny their existence,’ said Engrasi, invoking the old incantation against witches that had been popular as recently as a century earlier.

      ‘Least of all me,’ whispered Amaia, recalling those amber eyes, the fleeting, high-pitched whistle that had guided her through the forest in the middle of the night as she struggled with the feeling of being in a dream while at the same time experiencing something real.

      She remained silent until her aunt spoke again.

      ‘When are you going back to work?’

      ‘Next Monday.’

      ‘How do you feel about it?’

      ‘Well, Auntie, you know I like my job, but I have to admit that going back has never felt this hard, not after the holidays, or after our honeymoon. Everything’s different now, now there’s Ibai,’ she said, glancing at his cot. ‘It feels too soon to be leaving him.’

      Engrasi nodded, smiling.

      ‘Did you know that in the past in Baztán women had to stay at home for a month after they gave birth? That was the period the Church deemed sufficient to ensure the baby’s health and survival. Only then was the mother allowed out to take the baby to the church to be baptised. But every law has its loophole. The women of Baztán were known for getting things done. A month was a long time, considering most of them were obliged to work, they had other children, livestock and crops to tend, cows to milk. So whenever they had to leave the house, they would send their husbands up to the roof to fetch a tile. Then they tied it tightly on their head with a scarf. That way the women were able to carry out their chores, while continuing to observe the custom, because as you know, in Baztán your roof is your home.’

      Amaia grinned. ‘I can’t quite see myself with a tile on my head, but I’d happily wear one if that meant I could take my house with me.’

      ‘How did your mother-in-law react when you told her about Ibai?’

      ‘Much as you’d imagine: she began by railing against the doctors and their prenatal screening methods, insisting such things never happen in the States. She was fine with the baby, although clearly a little disappointed, probably because she wasn’t able to smother him in ribbons and lace. Overnight she lost all desire to go shopping, changed the nursery from pink to white, and swapped the baby outfits for vouchers, which will enable me to clothe Ibai until he’s four.’

      ‘What a woman!’ chuckled Engrasi.

      ‘Thomas, on the other hand, was thrilled with Ibai. He cradled him in his arms all day, covered him in kisses and took countless photos of him. He’s even opened a college trust fund for him! Clarice grew bored once she stopped shopping. She began to talk about going home, about her many commitments there – she’s president of a couple of clubs for society ladies, how she missed playing golf, and she started to pester us about getting Ibai baptised. James stood up to her, because he always wanted our baby to be baptised at the San Fermín Chapel, but you know how long the waiting list is – a year, at least. So, Clarice showed up at the chapel, spoke to the chaplain, made a generous donation, and managed to get a date next week,’ Amaia said, laughing.

      ‘Money talks,’ said Engrasi.

      ‘It’s a shame you won’t be coming, Auntie.’

      Engrasi clicked her tongue. ‘You know, Amaia …’

      ‘I know, you never leave the valley.’

      ‘I’m happy here,’ said Engrasi, her words embracing a whole philosophy of life.

      ‘We’re all happy here,’ said Amaia, dreamily. ‘When I was small, I only ever felt relaxed in this house,’ she added all of a sudden. Amaia was gazing into the fire, mesmerised, her voice, at once soft and shrill, was that of a little girl.

      ‘I scarcely slept at home – because I had to keep watch, and when I could no longer stay awake, when sleep came, it was never deep or restful, it was the sleep of those condemned to death, waiting for their executioner’s face to loom over them because their time has come.’

      ‘Amaia …’ Engrasi said softly.

      ‘If you stay awake she won’t get you, you can cry out, wake the others and she won’t be able to—’

      ‘Amaia СКАЧАТЬ