Amelia was firmly decided that she would leave Pierre, though she had no money of her own and was entirely dependent on him. This circumstance made her realize the importance of having her own source of income in order to take control of her own life. She had gone from the care of her family to that of her husband, and from that of her husband to that of Pierre. She had never been lacking for anything, but neither had she had anything that was specifically hers, and she understood that to follow Krisov’s advice to take control of her life there was nothing for her to do but to work. Pierre would not give her the money to buy a return ticket to Europe, and she did not feel capable of asking to borrow the money, so she decided to work.
The day after their conversation, Amelia went to Gloria Hertz’s gallery.
“I need to work. Can you help me?”
“What’s wrong? Is the bookshop not going well?”
“Quite the opposite, it’s going extremely well, better than Pierre had imagined, but this isn’t about the bookshop, it’s about me, I want to be independent and have my own money.”
It was not difficult for Gloria to realize that this request came as the result of a crisis between Amelia and Pierre.
“Have you quarreled with Pierre?” Gloria asked.
“I want to leave him and go back to Spain, and to do that I need to work,” she replied simply.
“I don’t want to get involved in something that is none of my business, but are you sure that this isn’t a passing quarrel? After all you’ve been through together...”
“I want to go back to my country. I can’t get the war out of my head, how my son is, what’s happened to my family.”
“Have you stopped loving Pierre?”
“Perhaps... In fact, when I look back I am surprised that I decided to run away with him, that I fell in love with him. But I can’t regret things that happened in the past, I have no control over them, but I am the mistress of my future.”
Gloria was impressed to hear Amelia talk this way; she suddenly seemed to have become a mature woman, not the sweet and friendly girl whom everyone wanted to spend time with.
“And what does Pierre say about all this?” insisted Gloria.
“He doesn’t want me to go, but it’s a decision that doesn’t depend on him but on me. And it’s a decision that has been made, I just need the money to go home.”
“And he... well... he doesn’t want to help you?”
“Pierre will not help me to return, so I have to rely on myself. I need a job. Can you help me find one?”
“It’s not easy... But perhaps we could lend you the money.”
“No, not that. I don’t want to be in anyone’s debt. I prefer to work.”
“Well, what can you do?”
“Whatever, I don’t mind, I only want to earn enough money to pay for my ticket.”
“I’ll speak to Martin, maybe he’ll be able to think of something... but... Are you sure? All couples fight at times, I’ve wanted to separate from Martin in the past, but what’s important is love, in the final analysis, if a couple loves each other, then nothing else matters.”
“You’re right, there has to be love, and I don’t feel enough love to be sure of wanting to continue with Pierre. I want to go back to Spain,” Amelia insisted.
She spent the rest of the morning walking through the city looking for anything that could be a job offer. When she was headed home, she came across a sign in the door of a cake shop that said help wanted, and she said a little prayer.
Amelia didn’t think twice and walked in. The cake shop was small, decorated simply but in good taste, and its owners were an old couple. They were both Spanish. They had emigrated from Lugo at the end of the nineteenth century and had worked hard to get their little shop, which made them proud because it was the fruit of their own efforts and sleepless nights. They had no children, and although Doña Sagrario had been sad about this for a while, in the end she accepted what she saw to be God’s will. As far as Don José was concerned, he truly missed having no children, but he never said this to his wife.
Don José was sick, he had suffered two heart attacks, and the last one had also affected his brain, leaving the left side of his body paralyzed. Doña Sagrario had no time to look after her husband and their business, so they had decided to employ someone to take charge of the cake shop.
The two women felt an immediate connection, and Doña Sagrario was pleased to discover that Amelia was a good cook and knew something about baking.
“You can help me to make the cakes and tarts as well as sell them,” the good old woman said.
The salary was not very high, but Amelia calculated that a few months would be enough for her to save up enough money for a passage on any boat going to France, and from there to make her way back to Spain. She didn’t mind the idea of traveling in third class, without luxuries or comforts.
Doña Sagrario suggested that she start immediately, and Amelia accepted with pleasure. She worked behind the counter, and when there were no clients she went into the kitchen that was just behind the shop to help Doña Sagrario with the cake batter. Don José looked at them silently, but Doña Sagrario assured Amelia that he was happy that they had hired her.
It was growing dark when Amelia returned home, where Pierre was waiting for her nervously.
“But where have you been! I’ve been worried about you! Gloria called me a while back to say that she might have found a job for you. What’s all this about working? You haven’t asked me, and let me tell you: Don’t even think about it.”
But Amelia was not the sweet young girl whom Pierre had once known, and she defended herself sharply, justifying her recently initiated journey toward independence.
“You do not own me. As far as I know, you don’t approve of private property, so there’s no way you are going to own a human being such as me. I have decided to work, to earn money and to buy a ticket on any boat that will take me back to France. I asked Gloria if she knew of any jobs, but I’ve been lucky and found one by myself, in fact I have already started working.”
Pierre listened to her in silence, and every word was like a blow to the stomach.
“Amelia, I have asked you to forgive me... I have explained to you why I couldn’t let you know, for your own safety... What else do you want? Isn’t it enough that I love you? You said that this was the only thing that was important to you, that I love you...”
“You have to realize that things have changed, that I have changed. You can’t expect to betray me as you have betrayed me and for nothing to happen. Do you really think so little of me, Pierre? Of course... you must have your own motives for thinking of me a fool. You have manipulated me like a puppet, I have followed you blindly, without thinking, but I am awake now, Pierre; your friend Krisov has brought me back to reality, and I blame myself as much as you for what happened. I hate myself for what I have done, so you must understand that I hate you for it as well.”
“And what about our dreams, our ideals? We were going to change the world.”
“They were your dreams and your ideals, never mine, not mine, Pierre; my only dream now is to go back to my country and to be with my people. I know that neither my father nor my uncle will have supported the rebels against the Republic, and I fear for them, just as I fear for Santiago and for my son.”
“Don’t leave me, Amelia,” Pierre begged.
“I’m sorry, but as soon as I can I will go.”
Gloria and Martin insisted on inviting them to dinner. They were worried about the couple and were convinced that their problems were only temporary. Amelia resisted but in the end gave in, and one night after her work at the cake shop was done she met with Pierre and the Hertzes.
Amelia liked talking to Martin because they always spoke in German. He insisted that they speak the language so they would not forget it.
“I’m surprised by how good an accent you have,” Martin said.
“That’s what my friend Yla said, but I’d forget it all if it weren’t for you.”
“I’ve got a letter from an uncle of mine who has managed to make it to New York. If you’d like I can tell him to look for Yla and her parents, but I’ll need some details to start the search.”
“I don’t know, Martin, I don’t know; my cousin Laura only told me that Herr Itzhak had yielded to the evidence of the danger that Hitler posed to the Jews, and that he was preparing for Yla to go to New York. I hope he managed it!”
They spoke about everything and about nothing, but in spite of the Hertzes’ efforts to animate the discussion, neither Pierre nor Amelia were in the mood to hide the huge chasm that there was between them.
Little by little, Pierre was growing accustomed to the new routine that Amelia had imposed upon them. They slept apart, he on the sofa and she in the room that they had shared until the night that Igor Krisov came around.
Amelia was up with the dawn, left Pierre’s lunch ready for him, and went to the cake shop, where Doña Sagrario was teaching her everything she knew about baking. There were occasions when Amelia had to take charge of the shop all by herself, either because Don José was not feeling well or even, as had happened on a couple of occasions, because they had had to take him to hospital.
When she got home she greeted Pierre but she made no effort to enter into conversation with him, she didn’t even ask him how his day had been. She was normally exhausted and only wanted to rest.
For his part, Pierre continued his affair with Natalia. He saw her more often now that he and Amelia slept apart.
He told Natalia that his relationship with Amelia was not going well, and Natalia took care to provide everything that Amelia was no longer offering. She also took ever greater risks removing documents from Government House, to show Pierre that she was willing to perform any act of madness for him.
Miguel López was still a source of privileged information, as he now dealt with the ciphers coming into Argentina from its embassies all over the world.
Pierre’s controller, the ambassador’s secretary, congratulated him from time to time, assuring him that Moscow was happy with his work, and although they had not suggested again that he go to Russia, Pierre could not help worrying that they would, as Krisov’s warnings had filled him with fear.
It was not until Christmas 1937 that major new changes arose in Pierre and Amelia’s life.
Amelia exchanged letters with Carla Alessandrini, and kept these letters as though they were precious jewels. The diva spoke about her successes or else complained about the inconvenience caused by her busy schedule, but especially she gave her opinion of the civil war in Spain, a country where Carla had many friends.
Amelia had asked in her last letter for her to try to get in touch with her cousin Laura Garayoa in order to find out about her family.
Pierre, without Amelia’s knowledge, read these letters when Amelia went out to work. He was afraid of losing complete control over her, and justified his behavior to himself by saying that if he read Carla’s letters it was to protect Amelia, to stop her from telling the diva something she should not.
He always waited for Amelia to read them before hunting them out from the chest of drawers where she kept them.
Gloria and Martin invited them to dinner on December 24 to celebrate Christmas. Although Martin was Jewish, he had also incorporated Catholic festivities into his daily life, and joked with his wife to the effect that they had more parties than other people.
Although Amelia had no desire to celebrate Christmas, she did not want to disappoint her friends and agreed to dine with them and Pierre.
The Hertzes had invited a dozen friends, including Doctor Max von Schumann, a childhood friend of Martin’s and a doctor as well.
“Amelia, I would like you to meet Max, my best friend,” Martin said, introducing Amelia in German.
She replied in the same language and the three of them sparked up a conversation that seemed to annoy Pierre, who could not understand a word.
“Who is your friend?” the Frenchman asked Gloria.
“Our dear Max... Baron von Schumann. Martin has known him since they were children, and they studied medicine together; Max is a surgeon, and the best there is, according to Martin.”
“So he’s an aristocrat...”
“Yes, he’s a baron and an army doctor by family tradition. But most importantly he’s a wonderful person.”
“And his wife?”
“He hasn’t yet married, but it’s only a matter of time. He’s engaged to the daughter of some friends of his parents, the Countess Ludovica von Waldheim.”
“And what’s he doing in Buenos Aires?”
“Visiting Martin. Max did everything he could to help him leave Germany, and has helped his family, and his many Jewish friends, as much as he could. They are like brothers, and it is a great joy for us that he has come to visit.”
Pierre did not let Amelia out of his sight. She seemed charmed by Baron von Schumann, and Pierre was annoyed when Gloria, offering the excuse that the two of them could speak in the Baron’s language, sat Amelia next to the German during the meal.
The Baron was impressed by Amelia. Her fragility and the sadness that seemed to come from her moved him deeply.
They spent the whole dinner talking, and Gloria was pleased to see her friend so lively, and above all to see her laugh, but she felt that it was her obligation to warn Amelia.
“I haven’t seen you this happy for a long time,” she said in a low voice when Martin called Max away for a moment.
“You know, I didn’t feel very much like coming, but now I’m glad I did,” Amelia said.
“Do you like Max?” Gloria asked, smiling to see how her friend blushed.
“What things you say! He’s very nice and friendly, and... Well, he makes me feel good.”
“I’m so happy. But... well... I should remind you that he’s about to get married to Countess Ludovica von Waldheim. Martin says she’s a beautiful young woman and that they make a very handsome couple.”
Gloria did not want Amelia to feel attracted to Max and to be disappointed again, so she preferred to set things straight from the start.
“Thank you, Gloria,” Amelia said, a little annoyed by her friend’s warning.
“Just something for you to bear in mind... well... It looks like you and Max have formed a connection.”
“You sat me next to him because I spoke German, I tried to be nice.”
“I don’t want you to suffer!”
“I don’t see why I’m going to suffer because I sit next to a friend of yours,” Amelia said sharply.
“Max belongs to an old Prussian family and has a very strong sense of duty.”
“Yes, I got that from the conversation we had over dinner.”
Max and Martin approached the two women and immediately began a new conversation about the difficult situation in Germany.
“It’s Christmas, and we should talk about happier things!” Gloria said.
“So many of our friends have disappeared! From what Max says, the country is getting dragged further and further into Hitler’s madness... ,” Martin lamented.
“The worst is that Chamberlain is following a policy of appeasement with regard to Hitler and Mussolini, and this makes the Führer feel ever more secure.”
“But the English can’t support the Nazis,” Amelia said.
“The problem is that Chamberlain doesn’t want problems, and this lets Hitler’s dreams grow ever bigger,” Max said.
“How can you serve in Hitler’s army?” Amelia asked, not bothering to hide a certain annoyance in her voice.
“I do not serve in Hitler’s army, I serve in the German army, like my father, and my grandfather, and my great-grandfather... Mine is a family of soldiers, and it is our duty to continue the tradition.”
“But you told me you hated Hitler!” Amelia said in a complaining tone.
“I do. I feel nothing but contempt for this Austrian corporal whose delusions of grandeur may lead who knows where, and I am scared for my country.”
“So leave the army!” Amelia insisted.
“I have been educated to serve my country above all things. I can’t leave just because I don’t like Hitler.”
“You yourself told me about the persecution of the Jews...”
The conversation made Max uncomfortable and Martin decided to change the subject.
“Amelia, sometimes we are obliged to do things we do not like but we are nonetheless unable to escape, we can’t do anything else no matter how much we might want to. Everybody’s life is filled with patches of light and patches of shade... Let my friend Max enjoy Christmas, or else he might never again want to spend it with me.”
“I’m sorry, but I just hate Hitler so much,” Amelia said.
“The weather’s lovely, and I thought that we could go for a trip out of the city; if you and Pierre want to join us tomorrow we’d be extremely pleased,” Gloria interrupted.
Amelia and Pierre did not go on the excursion that Gloria had planned because when they returned home at dawn they found a note under their door. Pierre’s controller required Pierre to get in contact with him immediately.
At nine in the morning Pierre left home to go to the Kavanagh Building, a thirty-story skyscraper built in 1935 that the citizens of Buenos Aires were especially proud of.
Behind the building, a little passage opened up onto the Calle San Martín, where the Church of the Holy Sacrament was to be found; here it was that Pierre was to meet his controller.
The Russian was seated in the last row of pews and seemed to be reading a breviary, given that Mass was at that moment being celebrated by a young priest in front of about thirty communicants, whose faces all showed the excesses of the night before.
Pierre sat next to his controller and waited to hear what he would say.
“You have to go to Moscow,” the Russian announced.
“When?” Pierre’s response displayed a little fear.
“Soon, the Ministry of Culture is organizing a congress of European and North American intellectuals in order to introduce them to the glories of the Soviet Union. You will be a part of the organizing committee. This is a very important event, you know that there are Fascist groups dedicated to attacking the honor of the revolution. Our best allies are the European intellectuals.”
“And what can I do?”
“You know lots of French intellectuals, Spanish, British, even a few Germans... You have always been a part of those circles. We need personal information about them... Everyone has a weak spot...”
“A weak spot? I don’t understand...”
“They’ll tell you in Moscow. Get ready for the journey.”
“And what will I say to the people here?”
“Your agents will pass their information directly to me, and as for your friends... you’ll think of something, and anyway, you’ve always traveled looking for special editions.”
“And Amelia?”
“She will go with you.”
“But maybe she won’t want to... She’s been very worried lately about the war in Spain. She suffers for her family...”
“A Communist doesn’t think about his or her personal desires, but rather about what is best for the revolution, for our cause. I thought that she was a good Communist...”
“She is! No doubt about it!”
“So there should be no problem with Comrade Garayoa. She will go with you. It will be an honor for her to get to know Moscow.”
When Pierre arrived home, Amelia was sitting with a cup of coffee, waiting for him. Before he even said anything she could read the panic in his expression, the tension in the smile he gave her.
“What did they say?” she asked, without waiting for Pierre to sit down.
“They’ve ordered me to go to Moscow. I have to go in two or three weeks.”
“Krisov said...”
“I know what that traitor said!” Pierre’s voice displayed his worry and fear.
“Why do they want you to go?”
“They’re preparing a congress of artists, intellectuals, they’re going to invite people from all over the world. Intellectuals are the best propagandists for the revolution. They have moral authority in their home countries. They want me to go to Moscow to be on the organizing committee.”
“Right. They’re going to take you out of Buenos Aires, where you have set up a spy network, and they want you to go to Moscow to be on a committee... Pierre, don’t go.”
“I can’t not go.”
“Yes you can, just tell them you’re not going and... Stop all this, get your life back.”
“My life? Which life do you mean?”
“Tell them you don’t want to be an agent anymore, that you’re tired, that you’ve done enough...”
“Do you think it’s so easy? No, Amelia, you don’t just go in and out of this when you want. Once you’re in you have to go all the way to the end.”
“You have the right to live another life.”
Pierre looked at her tiredly, he felt old, weighed-down.
“I’ve dedicated my life to Communism. I’ve never had any other ambition than to serve the revolution. Amelia, I don’t know how to do anything else.”
“Krisov warned you about what might happen if you went to Moscow.”
He shrugged. He didn’t feel capable of doing anything other than face up to the destiny that he himself had chosen.
“They want you to come with me,” he muttered.
“Yes, I suppose they would. They don’t want to leave any loose ends.”
“But don’t come. I’ve been thinking about this, I’ll make them think that you’re coming, but you’ll get ill the day we’re meant to travel, appendicitis or something, and I’ll get you admitted to the hospital. I’ll tell them that you’ll meet me later. I’ll give you money so that you can go back to Spain or wherever you want; perhaps you’ll be safer with your friend Carla, at least for a while. My Moscow bosses will be upset that you’re not coming and...”
“And they might decide to eliminate me, right?”
“I don’t know what might happen to you in Spain, you know that there’s a Soviet force there helping the Republic.”
“Krisov gave me a piece of advice which I’ve followed devotedly since the day he came to this house. From now on it’s me who has control of my own life.”
“I don’t want anything to happen to you, I love you, Amelia. I know you don’t believe me, that you don’t want to forgive me, but at least allow me to help you.”
“I will decide, Pierre. I will make my own decisions.”
Over the next few days Pierre decided to meet with Natalia and Miguel to tell them of his voyage to Moscow and about how they should get in touch with the Soviet controller.
Natalia had a nervous attack when Pierre told her that he had to go to Moscow and that he might be gone for months.
“You can’t leave me!” she said. “I want to go with you!”
“I wish you could, but it’s impossible. You have to understand this. I won’t be gone for more than five or six months...”
“And what am I going to do?”
“The same as you do now. You won’t have any problems passing the information you gather to the controller.”
“I don’t trust anyone, only you. What if they follow me? They might suspect me if they see me with a Russian...”
“I’ve told you how to avoid being followed, and I’ve also told you that there’s no need for you to see each other except in extraordinary circumstances. When you have something useful to pass on, you put this pot of geraniums in the left side of the window. Leave it there for three days. On the third day put your report between the pages of a newspaper and go have lunch in the zoological gardens. Sit down on a bench near the birdcages, watch the birds and leave the paper behind when you go.”
“And if someone takes it who shouldn’t?”
“That won’t happen.”
It was not easy for Pierre to convince Natalia to keep on working with the Soviets. Her interest in the revolution was directly proportional to the proximity of her lover.
He spent more time than ever with Natalia, and Amelia carried on working, and spent her few moments of free time with the Hertzes.
Gloria and Martin could see the attraction that Amelia and Max felt for each other, and they were worried that they might be encouraging a relationship that they could see was impossible. Amelia was married; in Spain, yes, but it was still a binding marriage, and she also lived with her lover. And Max von Schumann was the kind of man who would prefer to die rather than to leave a promise unkept or to stain what he termed his “family honor.” However much he was in love with Amelia, he would never break his engagement with the Countess Ludovica von Waldheim, so his relationship with the young Spaniard had no future. Pierre reached the same conclusion, after having initially been worried by the obvious attraction that the German doctor and Amelia were incapable of hiding.
However, Pierre did try to go with Amelia when she dined with the Hertzes, even though she did not always tell him about these meetings.
On one evening when Pierre had to go to have supper with Natalia, because she had rung him in a flurry of tears, Amelia took the opportunity to accept Max’s invitation.
“I am going to leave in a few days, and I would like us to eat alone together at least once; I don’t know if this is correct or if it will cause problems with... with Pierre, but if you could... ,” Max had asked her.
When her day’s work in the cake shop was done, Amelia said goodbye to Doña Sagrario more hastily than was her normal habit. The older woman realized that Amelia’s eyes shone more than was usual.
“I can see you’re happy. Is it a special celebration with Pierre?”
Amelia smiled but made no reply. She did not want to lie to the good old woman, who had been so understanding when she realized that Pierre was not her legal husband, but neither did she wish to tell her that she was meeting another man, as she worried what Doña Sagrario might think.
Max was waiting for her in the Café Tortoni, and from there they went to dine in a restaurant.
If Amelia was nervous, Max was not much less so. Both of them knew that this meal meant that they were crossing a line that neither of them could step back over.
“I am happy that you agreed to dine with me. I am leaving in a week, I cannot spend any more time in Buenos Aires.”
“I know, Gloria told me that you need to join your unit.”
“I’m a privileged man, Amelia, to have had this long holiday with my best friends, but my family’s influence does not allow me to stretch my time here any further,” Max said, laughing.
“Why did you come to Buenos Aires? Just to see Martin?
“Is that odd?”
“A little, yes...”
“You wouldn’t go to New York if you knew where to find Yla? You told me that she and your cousin Laura were the closest friends of your childhood.”
“Of course I would go!”
“Well, that’s what I did, come to see my best friend, who has had to leave our country on account of some madmen. I needed to know that he was well, that here... Well, I wanted to see that he was happy. It isn’t easy to leave your homeland, your house, your friends, to stop breathing the air you have always breathed... You can understand this; you left your country as well.”
Amelia grew sad. In the last few months, every time she had thought about Spain she had felt an empty sensation in her stomach that gave way to pain.
“But let us not be sad! I don’t want the only chance we will have to be alone together to turn into a wake.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t be sad.”
They went to have dinner and made an effort to lead the conversation along uncontroversial lines, but by dessert Amelia could not resist asking Max about his future with the army.
“Tell me, how can you accept obeying the orders of someone who thinks that there are different categories of human beings, who persecutes the Jews and takes everything they have?”
“We’ve talked about this already...”
“Yes, but... I just can’t imagine you under orders from Hitler.”
“He is chancellor now, but he won’t be chancellor forever, and Germany will always be Germany. I don’t serve Hitler, I serve my country.”
“But Hitler controls Germany!”
“Yes, and that’s a terrible shame and embarrassment, but what would you have me do? He won the elections.”
“Even so...”
“I’m a soldier, Amelia, not a politician. And now I want to talk about something else, I know I shouldn’t, but I am going to anyway.”
“Please, I’d prefer you not to...”
“Yes, it would be the right thing to say nothing, but I have to. I have fallen in love with you and I swear that I have made every effort not to let that happen. I didn’t want to leave without telling you.”
“I think the same thing has happened to me. But I’m not sure... I’m very confused...”
“I think that we are in love, and that’s the worst thing we could have done, because we have no future together.”
“I know,” whispered Amelia.
“I cannot break off my engagement with Ludovica, and... well, the wedding is arranged for when I return. And you have sacrificed a great deal to be with Pierre... and I don’t want to lie to you, even if I broke off my engagement with Ludovica, my family would never accept you; you would always be a married woman to them.”
Amelia felt her face burning. She felt ashamed, as she had never felt when she abandoned her family to be with Pierre.
“I didn’t want to upset you... I am sorry... I want to be honest with you, even if I have to be blunt,” Max apologized.
“It’s better to be clear about things,” Amelia replied, and smoothed her skirt with an automatic hand, as if this gesture would lessen the shame that she felt at Max’s words.
“I need you to understand me, for you to tell me what you think, and if you think that there’s any other way out.”
“No, Max, no, there isn’t. The truth hurts, but I prefer truth to lies. I wouldn’t have been able to bear it if you had given me hope and then... I know who I am: a married woman who has abandoned her husband and her son, her family, to run away with another man. In the eyes of the rest of the world this turns me into a disreputable woman, and I understand that your parents would never be able to accept me. I don’t ask for you to break your engagement with Ludovica, I know that your sense of honor would suffer so badly that you would never be able to forgive me for breaking your word, even if you never made mention of this to me again. Let’s leave it at this. We have shared some very special days together, but I have always known that you were going to have to leave and that I would play no role at all in your future. It is just... Well, you have given me back my desire to live. I wanted to leave work so that I could meet you and the Hertzes, I waited for the telephone to ring and for Gloria to invite me to spend some time in the country. I will always be grateful to you for these days, because, don’t you see, I thought I was dead.”
He took her home. They walked next to one another without touching, in silence.
“We will see each other again before I leave,” Max said.
“Of course, I know that Gloria is preparing a farewell party for you.”
To the relief of Martin and Gloria, Max and Amelia did not see each other alone again. Amelia did not come to Max’s farewell party, but sent a note to wish him luck.
This brief and barren relationship with Baron von Schumann left a deep mark, one more deep mark, on Amelia. She lost the happiness that she seemed to have found at Max’s side, and her friends found her ever more taciturn and pensive.
February 5 was the day planned for Pierre to begin his journey to Moscow. As the date approached, he grew ever more nervous. Krisov’s warning had taken root so strongly in his mind that he was almost unable to sleep, seeing himself in dreams being interrogated and tortured by his comrades. Some nights he woke up screaming, and Amelia would come to calm him down and offer him a glass of water. He held her hand like a desperate child.
Pierre’s fears awakened Amelia’s protective instinct. She began to worry about him as if he were indeed a child. When she finished her day’s work at the cake shop she would hurry home to be with Pierre. They did not share a bed, but she looked after him affectionately. Amelia was so caring that their friends thought that they had reconciled. He, the sophisticated man of the world, allowed himself to be controlled by her and looked at her gratefully; he also got nervous when she was not at his side. A special bond grew between them during these days.
Although Pierre had told Amelia that she would not travel with him, and insisted on his plan of having her fall ill on the day of their departure, they had both announced to all their friends that they were going to travel in Europe, and would most likely pass through Moscow. Nobody was surprised that Pierre wanted to visit his parents in Paris and to go hunting for those special editions that he later sold for so much.
The day before his departure, Pierre looked at the care Amelia was taking with the luggage.
“I’ll miss you,” he said in a low voice, thinking that she wouldn’t hear him.
“I don’t think so,” Amelia said, and looked him straight in the face.
“Yes, I will miss you, you’re a part of me, the best thing I’ve ever had in my life even though I haven’t seen it until it was too late,” Pierre said with regret.
“You’re not going to miss me because I’m coming with you.”
“What are you saying! You can’t, it’s impossible.”
“Yes, I can. I don’t think you’ll be able to face up to what you are going to have to deal with.”
“What do you mean?”
“That you’re scared, and with good reason. And when you scream at night even I get scared. You don’t know what you’re going to have to deal with in Moscow, and you need someone by your side.”
“Yes, I am afraid of what might happen. They say terrible things about Comrade Yezhov.”
“They said the same things about Comrade Yagoda.”
“You don’t have to take any risk for me, you’ve sacrificed enough. It’s your chance to go back to Spain, to be free.”
“You’re right, it is my chance, but I’m not going to leave you alone. I’ll accompany you, we’ll see what happens in Moscow, and if Igor Krisov told us the truth, then at least I’ll be by your side; if he was wrong, then I’ll go back to Spain as soon as possible.”
“Amelia, I can’t ask you to do this.”
“You’re not asking me, I’ve decided for myself. I’m just postponing my plans for a month or so. I have loved you a lot, Pierre, in spite of the pain you’ve caused me, and I cannot bear to see you in this state. I will go with you tomorrow and I hope to God that Krisov was mistaken and that we will both be able to return...”
Professor Muiños fell silent, lost in his thoughts. His silence brought me back to the present.
“My great-grandmother! Who’d have thought it?” I said in surprise, realizing as I did so that the phrase was becoming a bit of a cliché.
I had spent three days going backwards and forwards all over the city with Professor Muiños; he had shown me all the places my great-grandmother had visited. He hadn’t given me any time to breathe, even.
“Well, we’ve reached the end of this part of the story, you need to go to Moscow,” the professor said absentmindedly.
“To Moscow?”
“Yes, my dear boy, to Moscow. I’ve told you everything I know about Amelia Garayoa’s time in Buenos Aires, but if you want to know more then you’ll have to carry on with your investigations, and that means Moscow.”
“I thought that you might be able to tell me the whole story.”
The professor laughed unfeignedly, as if I had just said something funny.
“I see that not even my good friend Professor Soler has all that much information about Amelia Garayoa. Young man, you have only just started to find out what happened to her. I’m telling you that this woman’s life was passionate and difficult, difficult above all else. I’m afraid that if you want to find out more then you will have to go to Moscow.”
“To Moscow?”
“Yes, I told you that your great-grandmother followed Pierre Comte to Moscow. Don’t pull faces. I have arranged for you to meet with Professor Tania Kruvkoski. She’s an important person and an independent historian, an expert on everything to do with the Cheka, the GPU, the OGPU, the NKVD, and the KGB. Professor Kruvkoski is the right person for you to see if you need to know about Amelia’s stay in Moscow. She’s one of the very few people who has been allowed to see some of the KGB archives, although with restrictions and only after having promised not to speak about certain topics. She has been allowed to look at material from the thirties and forties, all the way up to the end of the Second World War. The KGB was the skeleton on which the new state was built, so they haven’t let her see anything from any later period, anything after 1945. I called her this morning, and although she does not want to meet you she has agreed to do so because of her friendship with Professor Soler and me. I suggest that you are careful in your dealings with her; Tania Kruvkoski has a devilish temper and if you don’t win her respect than she’ll send you packing.”
I went back to my hotel thinking about what to do. It was obvious that Professor Muiños thought that his conversations with me were done, and what’s more he had arranged for me a meeting in Moscow in two days’ time.
I decided to call my mother, the newspaper, and Aunt Marta, in that order, to know whether I could take the flight to Moscow.
I was tired. In less than a week I had passed through Barcelona, Rome, and Buenos Aires, but if Aunt Marta gave me the go-ahead I’d find myself on my way to Moscow.
As I had expected, my mother scolded me. I hadn’t called her for four days and she said that she had been so worried that she got a stomachache, and that it was my fault.
The conversation with Pepe, the editor of the newspaper, was equally unflattering.
“Guillermo, where the hell are you? One thing is getting an interview with Professor Soler, another is thinking that you’re going to get the Nobel Prize. I’ve sent you three books for urgent review and you haven’t shown any signs of life at all.”
“Look, Pepe, don’t get upset with me. The review can wait, because I’ve got something better for the newspaper. I told you I had to go to Buenos Aires, and it’s the Book Fair here now, the one that’s the most important in Latin America alongside the one in Guadalajara in Mexico.”
“Look at you! So you’re in Buenos Aires.”
“Yes, and I’ll send you some articles about the Book Fair, and a few interviews with authors, and I won’t charge you expenses, but I’d like you to pay more than you do for the reviews, alright?”
Pepe grumbled for a bit but accepted in principle, but only if I got him the first article within the hour.
I didn’t promise anything, and called Aunt Marta, who greeted me with her habitual ill-humor.
“Are you living it up over there?” she asked ironically.
“Yes, yes I am. Buenos Aires takes your breath away, you really should come here for your vacation one year.”
“Stop talking nonsense and tell me what you’re doing!”
I summarized my investigation without going into much detail, which made her even more annoyed, so much so that when I said I was going to Moscow her response was abrupt: She hung up on me.
I decided to take a break and think about what to do, and also to go to the Book Fair in order to send the reports I had promised. The difficult part would be getting an author to give me an interview. I had no accreditation and nobody was scheduled to see me.
I must have a guardian angel, because when I got to the convention center where the Book Fair was being held I met a couple of young Spanish authors, who had been invited to participate in a round-table discussion on current literary developments organized by the fair. I stuck to them like a limpet, attended the discussion, and asked each of them a dozen or so questions, which was how I got my interviews done; then I ran the risk of having them think me a sponger by not leaving them alone, so I ended up meeting four Argentinian writers, an editor, a couple of literary critics, and a few journalists like me.
When I got back to the hotel I had a “harvest” that was large enough to keep me on good terms with the newspaper and to win me some time, if indeed I eventually went to Moscow.
I called my aunt again.
“Do you know what time it is here?” she shouted at me.
“No, what’s the time?”
She didn’t tell me, she merely hung the phone up. So I decided to wake up my mother and ask her for a loan to go to Moscow myself, but she wasn’t keen to help me either, because she still blamed me for her stomachache.
End of the road, I said to myself. I was quite upset, because the story of Amelia Garayoa was starting to become an obsession with me, not just because she was my great-grandmother, I couldn’t care less about that, but because she was turning out to be a great story.
I let a few hours go by so as not to wake up anyone in Spain, then I called Doña Laura.
The housekeeper made me wait for almost ten minutes and I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard the old woman’s voice on the other end of the line.
“Tell me, Guillermo, where are you?”
“In Buenos Aires, but I need to give you some bad news: I can’t carry on with the investigation.”
“What? What’s happened? Professor Soler told me that you were being given the steps you need to follow and that you had a meeting arranged in Moscow.”
“That’s the problem. My Aunt Marta doesn’t want to pay for my research anymore, so I won’t be able to go to Moscow. I’m sorry, I just wanted to tell you. Tomorrow or the day after I’ll go back to Spain, and if you don’t mind I’ll come around in the next few days to thank you for all the help you have given me. The truth is that I wouldn’t have been able to do anything without it.”
Doña Laura seemed not to have heard me. She was silent, even though I thought I could hear her excited breathing over the phone line.
“Doña Laura, can you hear me?”
“Yes, of course. Look, Guillermo, we’d like you to continue your investigation.”
“Yes, I’d like so too, but I don’t have any funds, so...”
“I’ll pay for your trip.”
“You?”
“Well, both of us. At the beginning you were... Well, you didn’t make that much of a positive impression on us, but someone has to do what you are doing, and now we think that you’re the right man for the job. You have to continue. Give me the number of your bank account and we’ll transfer the money you need. But from now on you are working for us; that is, the story you write will not be for your Aunt Marta nor will it be read by her or any other member of your family.”
“But... well, I don’t know what to say... I don’t think it’s right that you should pay for this investigation. No, I wouldn’t feel comfortable.”
“Don’t be silly!”
“No, Doña Laura, I can’t accept, I’m very sorry but I just can’t.”
“Guillermo, it was you who came to our house asking us for help to write about Amelia. It was difficult for us to make the decision, but once we made up our minds to trust you we haven’t stopped helping you, in fact... Well, as you said, you wouldn’t have found out anything without us. What you don’t know is that you have started a process that cannot now be stopped. So you should accept working for us, writing what you find out about the life of Amelia Garayoa, and then forget about her forever.”
“But why are you so interested that I should investigate your cousin’s life? You should already know what happened...”
“Don’t ask me questions. Answer me: Will you work for us or not?”
I hesitated. The truth was that I did not want to give up on the investigation, but neither did I want to have to accept money from the Garayoas.
“I don’t know, let me think.”
“I want an answer now,” Doña Laura insisted.
“Alright, I accept.”
I wrote an e-mail to Aunt Marta telling her that I was going to continue the investigation with another “patron,” and, as might have been imagined, she rang me up a few minutes later in a fury.
“Are you mad? You’ve flipped! Do you think that I’m going to let some unknown person pay you for investigating my grandmother’s life story? Guillermo, let’s put an end to this. I had an idea that turns out to be more complicated than I had imagined; come back to Madrid, tell me what you’ve found out, and I’ll think about what to do, but I can’t pay your world tour, you have to see that.”
“I’m sorry, but I’ve promised some other people that I’m going to carry on with the investigation, and I’ll give them whatever I find out.”
“But who are these people? I’m not going to let the family’s dirty linen be aired in front of devil knows who.”
“I agree with you, but Amelia Garayoa, as well as being your grandmother, had relatives who are just as interested as you are to find out what became of her, so it won’t go out of the family.”
My mother rang me to tell me that I was ruining her life. She had just argued with her sister about me. But I had also made a decision and had come around to thinking that working for Doña Laura and Doña Melita was the best thing, as I wouldn’t have taken a single step forward if it hadn’t been for them. Anyway, I was fed up with having to beg for every euro I needed from Aunt Marta.