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4.
NANA ASKED THE TAXIdriver in fluent Spanish to take a particular route to the hotel, and they stopped outside the gates of a three-storey house. An external staircase, wide enough for three people, started at the street and rose in a sweeping arc to the left and up to a double-sized front door. A brick patterned arch defined an elegant entrance. The cream exterior looked clean and fresh, and everything about it said filthy rich. Gabi counted the windows and imagined eight ensuite bedrooms, probably more, and one of those high-tech kitchens with a central island and a fuck-off huge espresso coffee machine. It stood out against the terraced whitewashed houses with terracotta slatted roofs that they’d passed on the way here. Judging by the height of the well-trimmed hedges that spanned either side of the stately looking property, an equally well-manicured and extensive garden lay beyond them. Gabi bet the owners paid a gardener and probably employed maids too.
Nana pulled out the handkerchief she’d given her for her birthday and wiped her eyes. This had been her parents’ house, the place she’d spent the first nineteen years of her life, and Gabi’s heart ached as it dawned on her what Nana had left behind.
Now at their hotel, Gabi continued to watch Nana, studying the map she’d picked up from the table in her hotel room. “Would you like to visit the cemetery tomorrow?” Gabi asked.
How much had Granada altered in nearly sixty years? Gabi couldn’t think of anything that had changed close to her home except for the Exeter city centre bypass that had recently been extended. But a lot would have changed after the Second World War, including the fact that they could easily travel across Europe now. Their trip to southern Spain would have taken days or even weeks back then. Thank God for progress.
“I’m in no hurry,” Nana said.
Gabi was fascinated by the idea of being related to people she’d never had the chance to meet, although she didn’t feel anything towards them. Given how Nana had reacted seeing her old house again, she was more concerned about how Nana was going to respond to seeing her parents’ graves for the first time. “Is it far?”
“No. It’s close by.”
Nana pointed to a place on the map, but the tremor in her hand caught Gabi’s eye. Nana looked up as she patted the map as if consoling a close friend and smiled. There was still a hint of sadness in her expression that hadn’t lifted since seeing her old home earlier, and she’d been quieter than her normal self.
“We must visit Alhambra at some time. It’s quite spectacular,” Nana said.
“It’s a fortress, isn’t it?” Gabi had flicked through some of the tourist leaflets briefly while they’d waited in the hotel reception for their keys. There were a lot of historical sites and attractions that would keep them busy for a while.
“There are several palaces. They’re Moorish.”
Gabi’s stomach rumbled. It had been a long time since the plastic sandwich on the train and the limp pastry she’d picked up at the airport because they’d been running late after a delay on the London Underground that had caused Nana to panic. “I’d like to see the markets too.”
Nana touched the butterfly brooch attached to her blouse and sighed. She stood and straightened her skirt. “Vamos. Let’s go and get dinner.”
Gabi looked at her watch. “The hotel restaurant is open.”
“No, Gabriela, no. I would like to walk into the city.” She picked up her handbag and walking cane.
Gabi dashed though the door that joined their two rooms and grabbed some cash. By the time she’d returned, Nana was already heading down the corridor with a spring in her step, and Gabi had to run to catch her up. She had no idea where they were going, and Nana negotiated the cobbled streets with her cane like she was skiing a black run. The siesta had clearly given her a new burst of energy, and Gabi wished she had taken a late nap instead of wandering the streets.
The air was comfortably warm in a way that it rarely was back home, and the smell of dry earth quickly faded as they passed by gardens with roses and orange blossom trees. Spicy aromas spilled from a bar as they walked past, and clouds of tobacco lingered in the air. The occasional bad smell wafted from the drains. There was loud music, guitars, and clapping, and a crowd huddled around a group of flamenco dancers in the street. The audience’s tapping feet sounded like castanets, and the strumming was fast, and furious, and electric. Gabi couldn’t see what exactly was going on, but her heart raced, and an elated feeling stayed with her as they moved on.
Nana stopped outside a taverna within earshot of the music. A yellow and green striped awning shielded tables dressed in matching cotton cloth with red paper serviettes. It resembled the colours of the city’s flag, intentionally no doubt.
“This one?” Nana asked.
The place looked nice enough, but then so had the other six they’d ignored, and it wasn’t as if Gabi knew them like she did the bars back home. She couldn’t tell what was a good one and what to avoid. Frankly, she was on the edge of a sugar-low induced rage, and she was about to pass out with hunger or murder some unsuspecting tourist. “Great.”
Nana spoke to the waiter who, even though most of the tables had a reserved sign on them, seated them in a prime position overlooking the bustling street. Gabi didn’t know whether it was Nana charming the men in their native tongue that seemed to have them eating out of her hand, or maybe they were just more attentive to a woman of Nana’s age. She didn’t back herself to get the same results if she’d done the asking.
“Some tapas are free,” Nana said, “like olives and bread, and sometimes pan con tomate. If it has a pincho in it, then it costs. The longer the pincho, the more expensive. Hot tapas cost. You need to know this.”
“Okay.” The best they’d offered at her old bar was free crisps and peanuts, but with more attention being given to people with allergies now, the nuts had gone a couple of years back. The crisps went shortly after.
Gabi picked up the menu and squinted at it. The waiter placed two dishes of tapas on their table. Neither dish had cocktail sticks in the morsels of food. Gabi started on the tapas and felt the tension release as the food registered in her stomach. It wasn’t only the sunshine that encouraged her to breathe more easily. There was something intoxicating about the place. Grubby, sometimes tatty, buildings leaned against majestic structures, and yet neither looked out of place. They appeared part of a grander, richer scene. The place had a unique feel and so different from England. Waiters with an unhurried, easy-going manner stood outside their restaurants smoking, encouraging passers-by with their effortless charm and bright smiles. Even when their offer was rejected, they laughed and chatted as if talking to a good friend. They appeared to have all the time in the world and all the world in their time. It was captivating. She was drawn to just sitting, and observing, and revelling in the aromas and the relaxed ambience. Besides, she hadn’t spotted a women’s bar yet; she hadn’t been looking. That might be of interest later, but it wasn’t like they were on a short holiday. She was in no rush. “I’m enjoying your company,” she said.
Nana peered over the top of her menu. It was one of her gently quizzical looks that would normally have Gabi flushing with guilt. Only it didn’t this time because what she’d said was true. Having dinner with Nana and watching the world go by, with the clicking and chanting from the street performers seducing her mind was calming.
Nana had talked about bullfighting when Gabi was younger. The dance between bull and matador, the art Nana had said—not the killing—was what drew people into the arena to watch. Gabi hadn’t had a clue what she’d meant and no matter what, she didn’t like the idea of an animal being treated that way. They’d watched the operaCarmentogether on the television, the passionate plea of lovers forced apart by circumstances. Both were a cliché of course, but both summed up the feeling in the air, and the passion in the music coming from the streets. Granada was electric by Devon’s standards, which didn’t take much to be fair, and now they’d arrived, she was excited to explore.
She’d never seen Nana eat as much, let alone drink two glasses of wine. All right, they were small glasses, but she wondered how Nana was going to negotiate the cobbled streets safely back to the hotel. Nana had been quiet as they’d eaten. “Has it changed much?” Gabi asked.
“Has what changed, cariño?”
“Granada.”
