I must applaud Georg for a clever invention. In addition to the girls’ name being registered as ‘D’Aplièse’, he quite rightly advised me that we should be cautious about my young daughters publicly stating that their father’s name is ‘Atlas’. My moniker is unique, and I have found over the years that it is one which easily sticks in the mind. The security of my family is my top priority, and even though Eszu is still holed up in his Athenian compound, I won’t hesitate to take any measure I can to strengthen our anonymity.

When Georg had suggested that I employ a different name for my daughters to use, I had played around with an anagram of ‘Atlas’, which somehow felt better than concocting a pseudonym once more. I love my daughters more than anything, and the idea of lying to them in any way was abhorrent. There was nothing particularly satisfactory that arose from my first name alone, and so I added ‘Pa’ (which is what the girls call me) to try and help. After a moment or two of playing with combinations and possibilities, I arrived at ‘Pa Salt’, and laughed out loud.

Shortly after young Ally had arrived in our lives, Maia had remarked as she sat on my knee that I ‘smelt of the sea’.

‘I’m not sure that’s a compliment, little Maia!’ I laughed. ‘Doesn’t the sea smell of fish and seaweed?’

‘No,’ she replied firmly. ‘It smells of . . . salt.’

I chuckled. ‘Well, that’s not too bad then, is it? Maybe it’s because I’m always travelling.’

How perfect. From thereon in, I was known to all at Atlantis as ‘Pa Salt’. I asked both Georg and Marina to use it whenever they addressed me around the children, in addition to the two new members of staff who have recently joined our odd little family here on the shores of Lake Geneva.

Claudia, Georg’s sister, has been employed as a full-time housekeeper and cook, responsible for feeding an ever-increasing number of mouths. After the arrival of baby number three, it became necessary for Marina to become a full-time nanny to the girls. Claudia did not arrive alone, either. She brought with her a young son – Christian – too. His father had left the picture not long after his birth, and I insisted that he was very welcome at Atlantis. Since his arrival, Claudia speaks German around the house, to remind her son of their heritage – a decision which I fully applaud. It is good for my children to hear as many languages as possible.

After a few days of half-heartedly tending the lawns and watering the flowers, I noted Christian staring longingly at the boat which was moored on the jetty.

‘Do you like the water?’ I had asked.

He nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘We’ve talked about this, there is no need to address me as “sir”. Pa Salt will do nicely, I promise you.’ He nodded. ‘Have you ever driven a boat?’ I asked.

‘Never.’

‘Well.’ I shrugged. ‘Would you like to?’ Christian’s eyes grew wide. ‘The lake is very quiet around here. Let’s go and have some fun.’

We spent the afternoon cruising about on the tender. I recognised the unparalleled joy the young man experienced out on the water, and I informed Claudia that I would like to employ her son to run and maintain the boats, and act as the official transport between Atlantis and mainland Geneva. It is not a decision I have regretted a day since. Christian is polite, hard-working, and an asset to my staff, just like his mother.

So far, Yindi’s prediction has been proved right – I have not heard anything from either Sarah or Francis about their granddaughter. As difficult as it is to write, I am at least a little thankful for this, because Asterope and Celaeno have formed an incredibly close bond. Perhaps it is because they are so close in age, but they appear to all around them as spiritual twins. The thought of breaking them apart now is anathema to me.

Ever since that day at the hospital in Broome, I have not been able to forget Yindi’s assertion that Celaeno was to be my fifth daughter, not my fourth. Although I have long abandoned the assumption that Angelina’s prophecy will come true, I have recently begun to wonder about my interpretation of her words. Perhaps she meant that my destiny was to adopt seven daughters . . . but, at the same time, the theory simply did not tally with her assurance that my first daughter was already alive in 1951.

Eventually, the questions that ran through my head in the night became too much, and I booked a flight to Granada. Of course, I had no way of knowing if Angelina was still in the area, and if she was, exactly how to find her. So, when I got off the plane, I did the only thing I could, and returned to the plaza where I had met her all those years before, in the hope that she was still giving readings. I knew I would recognise her. After all, her face was imprinted on my subconscious after she had appeared to me in my dreams.

Even though the cloak of autumn was beginning to fall in Sacromonte, the Spanish sunshine was still blazing. I treated myself to a fresh lemonade from a local vendor, sat on a bench in the half-shade, and resigned myself to watch. The plaza had not changed in my thirty-year absence, like so much of the modern world. The cathedral bell shimmered in the golden light, just as I remembered, and the fountain spluttered and spurted in much the same pattern too. I even wagered that some of the pesetas in the bottom had been present at my last visit.

Hours passed in the square, and I began to reflect on how stupid I had been to return with no plan. I asked several locals, but my poor Spanish and general description of a younger Angelina got me nowhere. So I remained on the bench, and afternoon turned into evening. Eventually, the sound of the trickling water and the pleasant warmth of the setting sun relaxed me into sleep.

I was woken by a hand on my shoulder. Startled, I cursed myself that I had been so careless. Angelina could have strolled past, and I would never have known. I looked up at the stranger who had woken me, and did a double take.

‘Hello again, Atlas.’ Angelina’s kind eyes met my own.

‘Angelina! Good Lord!’ I rubbed my eyes to confirm that I really was awake. After, Angelina was still present before me. It was most remarkable. Thirty years had passed, and although she was now the owner of one or two crow’s feet, she hardly seemed to have aged a day. I jumped up and put out my hand. She smiled, took it, then pulled me close and kissed me on both cheeks. ‘Angelina,’ I was lost for words. ‘You look almost exactly the same.’

‘You’re very kind, señor. I wish I could say the same for you. Look at that grey hair! It must be those bébés of yours, no?’

I still couldn’t grasp that she actually stood before me ‘I . . . just . . . Angelina, how did you know I would be here?’

She giggled, and sat down on the bench. ‘You were expected.’

I slowly lowered myself back down. ‘Expected?’ I gestured up to the sky, and Angelina nodded. We sat for a while, taking each other in. ‘It is very good to see you again.’

‘I feel the same.’ Angelina gave me a wide grin. ‘Last time I saw you, the world which you carry on your shoulders was very heavy. Now, it seems it is as light as it ever has been. Would I be right . . . Padre Sal?’

I let out an exasperated sigh, as once more, the power of Angelina’s insight was beyond my earthly comprehension. ‘You would be, of course. Not that you need me to confirm that.’

Angelina smirked. ‘You never know, Atlas. I am not able to interpret everything.’

I took a moment to compose myself. ‘Angelina,’ I began. ‘Thirty years ago, you told me that I would father seven daughters. As I think you are aware, I assumed that I would find my Elle and we would have the children together.’

She shifted a little uncomfortably on the bench. ‘I told you that you would be father to seven daughters. That was all I saw, nothing else. And now, you have five of them. My prediction is nearly complete, is it not?’

The assertion that Yindi had made in Broome was mirrored here. ‘I have four daughters. Not five.’

Angelina was taken aback. She gave a frown, then edged closer to me. ‘May I see your palm?’

‘Of course.’ I presented my right hand.

She studied it, then shook her head. ‘I am surprised. I . . .’ Angelina looked as if she was about to say something, but stopped herself. ‘Sometimes the messages from the upper world can be confused.’

‘How unfortunate,’ I replied, noticing that Angelina had suddenly become awkward. I pulled my hand away. ‘You told me thirty years ago that my first daughter was alive and already walked the earth, did you not?’ Angelina looked hesitant, but closed her eyes and nodded. ‘I know you cannot have possibly been referring to Maia, as she was not born until 1974. What exactly did you mean? I need to know, Angelina.’

Angelina inhaled deeply, and looked up to the cathedral bell as she formulated a response. ‘I understand your frustration. Can I, just once more . . .?’ she asked, gesturing to my hand. With a little hesitancy, I slowly returned it to her grasp, and she nodded in gratitude. After examining my palm more closely this time, she looked me dead in the eye. ‘I was not wrong when I told you that your first daughter lived.’

My heart rate increased. ‘You weren’t?’

‘No . . .’ Angelina looked uncomfortable. ‘I confess, it was my prediction that you would have found one another by now.’ She looked down at the floor.

‘So she is alive and . . . missing from my life?’

Angelina thought for a moment. ‘That is a good way of phrasing it. Yes. She is “the missing sister”.’

I put my head in my hands. ‘I came here today in the hope that you would tell me that you had misinterpreted things. That, actually, my first daughter had not been born all that time ago.’ I sniffed, as tears began to prick the back of my eyes. ‘I have searched for half my life, and I have failed to find her and her mother.’

‘But,’ replied Angelina tentatively, ‘you have found others along the way.’

‘My adopted girls?’ I asked. She nodded gently. I leant back on the bench and craned my neck to the sky. The clouds burnt orange in the setting sun. ‘Yes. I love them so much, Angelina. The universe brought us together through a remarkable set of circumstances.’

She contemplated my words. ‘You say remarkable, I say inevitable.’

‘Meaning?’

Angelina pursed her lips in thought. ‘Humans are bound to one another, long before they meet in the physical world.’

My mouth had become dry, and I reached for the remnants of my lemonade which had been marinating under the bench. I took a gulp of the hot, sticky liquid and winced. ‘Time is a cruel mistress, Angelina. Each day that passes the “missing sister” gets older, and my opportunity to be with her diminishes. I am becoming an old man. For God’s sake, she’ll be in her thirties by now.’

Angelina put a hand on my arm. ‘Atlas, I have just examined your palm. I assure you, with a lifeline like that, I can confidently say that you have many years left on this earth.’

A group of young girls appeared on the plaza in front of us, and began to draw on the tiled ground in chalk. It reminded me of my first day at the Apprentis d’Auteuil, when some of the children had played hopscotch. A few moments later, that little villain Jondrette had tried to smash my violin . . . but Elle had saved me.

‘I will never stop my search,’ I resolved. ‘Not until I find Elle and the missing sister.’

‘I know,’ Angelina replied quietly.

I was nervous about asking my next question. ‘Do you think I will find her, Angelina? Be careful in filling me with false hope, as you have done before.’

‘No hope is false, Atlas. Hope is a choice. Hope means hoping even when things seem hopeless. Choose to be hopeful, and amazing things can happen.’ She gave me an encouraging pat on my knee.

‘Then that is my choice.’ I looked into the fountain. ‘Perhaps I need to throw another peseta in.’ My eyes drifted over to the alleyway where I had purchased the ice creams three decades ago. ‘How is your little cousin, by the way? I’m so sorry, but I can’t remember her name.’

Angelina’s gaze momentarily lost its sparkle. ‘Isadora. She is with the spirits now.’

‘I’m so sorry, Angelina. Without her, we never would have met.’

Angelina ran her hands through her hair, which was as blonde and lustrous as ever. ‘Do not be sorry, señor. Isadora lived a life full of love and laughter. She married her childhood sweetheart, Andrés, who she met right here in the plaza.’

‘Were they happy together?’

‘I have never known two people who brought so much joy to one another, señor.’

‘Love is a beautiful thing.’

Angelina looked skyward, allowing the sun to warm her face for a moment. ‘It is. But the upper world often has strange plans. Not even I can understand it all.’

‘What do you mean?’

Angelina stood up and held her hand out to me. ‘Come. We will take a walk up to the Alhambra, and I will tell you their story.’

I got to my feet, and Angelina took my arm. Together, we walked across the plaza in the direction of the setting sun. ‘Andrés and Isadora tried for years to have a child, but could not conceive. Many times, they thought that they had succeeded, only for the baby to pass away in the womb after a few weeks.’

‘Oh Angelina. How awful for them.’ We left the plaza and made our way onto what used to be a very dusty road. In the intervening years, tarmac had been laid. It certainly would have made for a much more comfortable trip up from the station in 1951.

‘I tried to help by consulting with the spirits, of course . . . but never received a response.’ Angelina gave a sad shrug. ‘I simply thought that it was not meant to be. Then, one day, twenty years into their relationship, a miracle occurred. Isadora found herself with child.’

‘Wow.’ I turned to her. ‘That does sound miraculous.’

Angelina nodded, and her face brightened. ‘Señor, I have never seen such happiness in a human as the day my beloved Isadora came to tell me she was three months pregnant.’ She sighed wistfully. ‘Andrés was exactly the same. We held a party in the caves.’

‘Quite right, too.’ The impressive Alhambra was just coming into view, and it appeared as magnificent as ever.

‘After Andrés found out,’ Angelina continued, ‘he treated his wife like a precious china doll. He worked overtime, too, so that he could put away extra money for when the baby arrived. But then . . .’ Angelina stopped and closed her eyes. ‘Only a few months ago, Andrés perished after falling from his motorcycle. The roads were very slippery after a rainstorm, and his cargo was heavy.’ She bowed her head, and I felt moved to embrace her. ‘Isadora’s heart was broken, as was her spirit. After Andrés died, she could not even eat or drink. I told her she must, for her baby’s sake, but she began to slowly fade.’

‘I’m sorry, Angelina.’

She stoically continued. ‘The baby arrived a whole month early. I tried everything I could to save my cousin, but I could not stop the bleeding, and neither could the ambulancia when it eventually arrived in the hills.’ A tear ran down Angelina’s cheek. ‘She died last week, only one day after the baby was born.’

‘Angelina . . . I have no words. How awful.’

‘Isadora called her baby Erizo. It means, how do you say . . .’ She searched for the English translation. ‘Pig from the hedge.’

‘A hedgehog?’ I queried.

‘Sí, yes. Hedgehog. Her hair sticks up, you see!’ Despite everything, Angelina let out a laugh. ‘So now we look after the little erizo, Pepe and I.’

‘Pepe?’ I asked.

‘Our uncle . . . the brother of Lucía, whose statue you delivered to the Alhambra.’

I understood the connection. ‘Got you.’ We strolled for a little while longer, until we reached a fork in the road. One direction led straight up to the palace. From where we stood, about two hundred metres away, I could just make out the figure of Landowski’s statue in the centre of the square.

‘You know,’ Angelina said, ‘I think we will go this way.’ She began to pull me towards the other road, which wound up towards the caves.

‘Where are we going?’

‘The day is growing old. We must go and meet Erizo. She will be happy to meet her new pa . . .’

I stopped in my tracks. ‘What do you mean, Angelina?’

She gave me one of her winks. ‘I told you, you were expected.’

Having resigned myself to Angelina’s will, I followed her up into the hills of Sacromonte.

The caves which I had first glimpsed thirty years ago were most remarkable up close. I thought back to my time in the underground home in Coober Pedy, and there was no question – the Spanish equivalent was preferable by a long chalk. For one, they offered a breathtaking view of the world below. From the dusty road outside of Angelina’s cave, I observed rows of olive groves, intersected only by the steep, winding paths that wove between the dwellings. In the valley beneath, the River Darro ran through verdurous trees, which were just beginning to turn from green to gold in the mellow September sunshine.

‘Pepe?’ Angelina called into the cave. ‘He is here.’

I followed her inside, and saw a moustachioed man whose skin had been well baked and wrinkled by the Spanish heat over the years. He was bottle-feeding the baby, and humming a tune.

‘Hola, señor,’ he said, giving me an affirming nod.

‘Pepe prefers to speak Spanish, I apologise.’

‘No need, I am in his country with no knowledge of his language. I should be the one apologising. Please tell him that I’m so sorry for the losses he has endured in his life.’

Angelina did so. ‘Gracias por su simpatía, señor,’ he said, bowing his head to me.

‘Well, no time like the present, as they say. I will begin to pack Erizo’s blankets. She has one which her mother and grandmother used. It would be nice if that could travel with her—’

I grabbed Angelina before she could move a muscle. ‘Angelina, stop, please,’ I begged. ‘I know that you are able to communicate with the “upper world”. But I have no right or, more importantly, wish to take Erizo away from you. I simply came here for another reading from an old friend. That is ALL.’

Angelina sighed. ‘You may think that is all, but the upper world returned you here just at the moment you were needed.’

My blood pressure was beginning to rise. ‘That’s merely your interpretation of the situation. Do you not respect that I am reticent to take away a child from her own family?’

Angelina took my hand and led me out of the cave again, so that Pepe would be spared my angst. ‘Atlas,’ she replied, ‘your arrival here is not by chance. Pepe and I cannot give Erizo the life she deserves. You, however, can.’

I shook my head. ‘Angelina . . . this is a conversation I have had many times across the years. Families have practically begged me to take their descendants from them. And when they do, I find myself in the centre of the most hideous moral quandary.’ My head had begun to spin. ‘I . . .’ Before I could say another word, I involuntarily found myself sinking to the floor.

Angelina ran back inside. ‘Agua,’ she called to Pepe.

With my back against the rock, I stared across at the Alhambra Palace. The setting sun cast a rich orange glow on the towers that seemed to rise magically out of the dark green forest opposite the caves. Angelina returned with a mug of water, and I sipped it gratefully. She joined me on the rocky floor.

‘Angelina, I worry every day that people might interpret me adopting my daughters as somehow . . . wrong. Moreover, I myself panic that I have deprived them of a chance to grow up in their native lands.’ I put my water down beside me, and sank my head onto my knees.

Angelina squeezed my shoulder. ‘I understand, Atlas. You would not be the man I thought you were if you did not have such concerns. But the universe smiles on you for all you have done.’

I lifted up my head and met her eye. ‘With respect, Angelina, for my whole life I seem to have been governed by a power that I myself do not understand. You told me that my path was fixed.’

‘It is, my friend. But you could have chosen not to walk it. No one has forced you into adopting your daughters. You did it because of your desire to help others. Did you not?’

I ran my hands through my hair. ‘I suppose so.’

Angelina gave me a sympathetic smile. ‘You talk as if I was the first person to introduce you to the powers of the universe. But we both know I am not. As a little boy, you had eyes for the heavens. They kept you safe and guided you on your impossible journey.’

‘They did,’ I whispered.

We sat in silence for a long while, watching the Alhambra grow darker in the disappearing light. After a while, Angelina spoke again, softly this time. ‘You have spared your daughters lives filled with poverty and heartbreak.’

‘I know, Angelina. But I still wonder if it was right to take them away from their countries. I could have merely funded their lives from afar.’

‘I fear you sometimes forget that you are owed some happiness too, Atlas. With one hand, the universe has taken much from you, but has given you so much with the other. Your daughters bring you more joy than you ever thought possible, do they not?’

‘Of course.’ The evening was now punctuated by the sound of the swifts flitting over the trees. I closed my eyes to listen.

Angelina continued. ‘Since we first met, I have thought of you often, and consulted with the upper world. You are a good man, Atlas. Special, even. Perhaps there are not enough people to tell you this. So I am telling you. Okay? Believe me.’

I tried to withhold my tears. ‘Thank you.’

‘And . . .’ Angelina said tentatively. She took my hand. ‘Atlas, you will find the missing sister. This I swear to you.’

I sat bolt upright. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘You two will meet. But . . . you will need the help of all your other daughters. Without them, your paths will never cross.’ She looked at me with a stern face and I gawped back at her. ‘The six girls will lead you to the seventh.’

‘Angelina,’ I replied breathlessly, ‘how do I—’

She put a finger to her mouth. ‘Shh. I have nothing more to say. It is a message to you from the upper world, so I cannot answer the questions you may have.’ She squeezed my hand tightly and turned back to face the Alhambra.

My panic had been replaced by euphoria. I cast my eyes to the burning sky and ‘thanked’ the upper world. ‘So, Erizo is her name?’ I asked Angelina.

She chuckled. ‘No, it is not official. Just a silly name. After all, someone cannot really be called “hedgehog”! May I take it that after your assurance from the spirits, you will be leaving Sacromonte with your fifth daughter?’ I nodded, beaming from ear to ear. ‘Good! This is a happy day indeed.’ Angelina stood up and dusted herself down. ‘She will be the fifth star in your sky. So you will call her . . .’

‘Taygete, yes.’ Angelina offered me a hand, and I took it. She led me inside the cave once more.

‘Come and see her.’ I followed Angelina over to Pepe, who gave me the warmest of smiles.

‘Meet your papa, Erizo.’

Pepe held her up to me, and I took her in my arms. ‘Hello, baby,’ I said to her.

‘She is a special one, señor.’

‘I know.’

‘Actually, I think perhaps you do not. This little girl has the powers of the bruja.’

‘Like you?’ I asked.

Angelina nodded. ‘Precisely. She is the last in this family.’ Angelina gave me a steely look. ‘As this little one grows up, she will see the world differently, and you must pay reverence and respect to it.’

I bowed my head. ‘I promise I will.’

‘Good.’ She thought for a moment. ‘She will not understand the ways of the bruja herself . . .’ Angelina looked at the child. ‘One day, you must send her back to me. When you do, I will be able to help her unlock her spiritual lineage.’

I had my eyes on a wooden chair in the corner of the room and walked towards it. ‘May I?’ I asked. Angelina nodded, and I sat. ‘In truth, I have not considered the possibility of telling each of the girls about the circumstances of their birth, and how they came to be my daughters.’

Angelina looked a little surprised. ‘No?’

I looked down at the innocent young life. She had closed her eyes and begun to sleep. ‘Each of the girls, in one way or another, is directly linked to my flight from Kreeg Eszu. I worry that if I were to tell them about their pasts, it might somehow endanger them. I have deliberately tried to build as quiet a life as is possible.’

Angelina folded her arms and narrowed her eyes, deep in thought. ‘Yes . . . I understand. But irrespective of that decision, you must keep your promise. One day, when the time is right, send her back to me. Do you swear?’

I wriggled an arm free from underneath the baby and offered my hand to Angelina. ‘I do.’ She shook it.

‘Thank you, Atlas. Then she is yours.’ Angelina gently stroked her kin’s fluffy hair. Then she began to sing a lullaby in Spanish, and her sweet voice travelled out of the cave and into the valley below.