The Sands of Time

Chapter Seven

Lucia Carmine felt wonderful as she walked down the street with Megan and Teresa. It was marvellous to wear feminine clothes again and hear the whisper of silk against her skin. She glanced at the others. They were walking nervously, unaccustomed to their new clothes, looking self-conscious and embarrassed in their skirts and stockings. They look as though they’ve been dropped from another planet. They certainly don’t belong on this one, Lucia thought. They might as well be wearing signs that say: ‘Catch Me.’

Sister Teresa was the most uncomfortable of the women. Thirty years in the convent had deeply ingrained a sense of modesty in her, and it was being violated by the events that had been thrust upon her. This world to which she had once belonged now seemed unreal. It was the convent that was real, and she longed to hurry back to the sanctuary of its protective walls.

Megan was aware that men were eyeing her as she walked down the street, and she blushed. She had lived in a world of women for so long that she had forgotten what it was like to see a man, let alone have one smile at her. It was embarrassing, indecent … exciting. The men aroused feelings in Megan that had been long since buried. For the first time in years, she was conscious of her femaleness.

They were passing the bar they had gone by before and the music was blaring out into the street. What had Friar Carrillo called it? Rock and roll. Very popular with the young. Something bothered her. And suddenly Megan realized what it was. When they had passed the cinema, the friar had said:

It’s disgraceful what the cinema is permitted to show these days. That film is pure pornography. The most personal and private acts are there for everyone to see.

Megan’s heart began to beat faster. If Friar Carrillo had been locked up in a monastery for the past twenty years, how could he possibly have known about rock music or what was in the film? Something was terribly wrong.

She turned to Lucia and Teresa and said urgently, ‘We’ve got to return to the shop.’

They watched as Megan turned and ran back, and they quickly began to follow her.

Graciela was on the floor, desperately fighting to get free, scratching and clawing at Carrillo.

‘God damn you! Hold still!’ He was getting winded.

He heard a sound and glanced up. He saw the heel of a shoe swinging towards his head, and that was the last thing he remembered.

Megan picked up the trembling Graciela and held her in her arms. ‘Shh. It’s all right. He won’t bother you any more.’

It was several minutes before Graciela could speak. ‘He – he – it wasn’t my fault this time,’ she said pleadingly.

Lucia and Teresa had come into the shop. Lucia sized up the situation at a glance.

‘The bastard!’

She looked down at the unconscious, half-naked figure on the floor. As the others watched, Lucia grabbed some belts from a counter and tied Miguel Carrillo’s hands tightly behind his back. ‘Tie his feet,’ she told Megan.

Megan went to work.

Finally, Lucia stood up, satisfied. ‘There. When they open up the shop this afternoon, he can explain to them what he was doing here.’ She looked at Graciela closely. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I – I – yes.’ She tried to smile.

‘We’d better get out of here,’ Megan said. ‘Get dressed. Quickly.’

When they were ready to leave, Lucia said, ‘Wait a minute.”

She went over to the cash register and pressed a key. There were a few hundred peseta notes inside. She scooped them up, picked up a purse from a counter and put the money inside. She saw the disapproving expression on Teresa’s face.

Lucia said, ‘Look at it this way, Sister. If God didn’t want us to have this money, He wouldn’t have put it there for us.’

They were seated in the cafe, having a conference. Sister Teresa was speaking. ‘We must get the cross to the convent at Mendavia as quickly as possible. There will be safety there for all of us.’

Not for me, Lucia thought. My safety is that Swiss bank. But first things first. I’ve got to get hold of that cross.

‘The convent at Mendavia is north of here, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘The men will be looking for us in every town. So we’ll sleep in the hills tonight.’

Nobody will hear her even if she does scream.

A waitress brought menus to the table and handed them out. The sisters examined them, their expressions confused. Suddenly Lucia understood. It had been so many years since they had been given choices of any kind. At the convent they had automatically eaten the simple food placed before them. Now they were confronted with a cornucopia of unfamiliar delicacies.

Sister Teresa was the first to speak. ‘I – I will have some coffee and bread, please.’

Sister Graciela said, ‘I, too.’

Megan said, ‘We have a long, hard journey ahead of us. I suggest that we order something more nourishing, like eggs.’

Lucia looked at her with new eyes. She’s the one to keep an eye on, Lucia thought. Aloud she said, ‘Sister Megan is right. Let me order for you, Sisters.’

She ordered sliced oranges, tortillas de patatas, bacon, hot rolls, jam and coffee.

‘We’re in a hurry,’ she told the waitress.

Siesta ended at 4.30, and the town would be waking up. She wanted to be out of there before that happened, before they discovered Miguel Carrillo in the dress shop.

When the food arrived, the sisters sat there staring at it.

‘Help yourselves,’ Lucia urged them.

They began to eat, hesitatingly at first, and then with gusto, overcoming their feelings of guilt.

Sister Teresa was the only one having a problem. She took one bite of food and said, ‘I – I can’t. It’s – it’s surrendering.’

Megan said, ‘Sister, you want to get to the convent, don’t you? Then you must eat to keep up your strength.’

Sister Teresa said primly, ‘Very well. I’ll eat. But I promise you, I won’t enjoy it.’

It was all Lucia could do to keep a straight face. ‘Good, Sister. Eat.’

When they had finished, Lucia paid the bill with some of the money she had taken from the cash register and they walked out into the hot sunshine. The streets were beginning to come alive, and the shops were starting to open. By now they have probably caught Miguel Carrillo, Lucia thought.

Lucia and Teresa were impatient to get out of town, but Graciela and Megan were walking slowly, fascinated by the sights and sounds and the smells of the town.

Not until they had reached the outskirts and headed towards the mountains did Lucia begin to relax. They moved steadily north, climbing upwards, making slow progress in the hilly terrain. Lucia was tempted to ask Sister Teresa if she would like her to carry the package, but she did not want to say anything that might make the older woman suspicious.

When they reached a small glade in the highland, surrounded by trees, Lucia said, ‘We can spend the night here. In the morning we’ll head for the convent at Mendavia.’

The others nodded, believing her.

The sun moved slowly across the blue sky, and the glade was silent, except for the soothing sounds of summer. Finally, night fell.

One by one the women stretched out on the green grass.

Lucia lay there, breathing lightly, listening for a deeper silence, waiting for them to fall asleep so that she could make her move.

Sister Teresa was finding it difficult to sleep. It was a strange experience sleeping out under the stars, surrounded by her sisters. They had names now, and faces and voices, and she was afraid that God was going to punish her for this forbidden knowledge. She felt terribly lost.

Sister Megan, too, was having difficulty getting to sleep. She was filled with the excitement of the day’s events. How did I know that the friar was a fraud? she wondered. And where did I get the courage to save Sister Graciela? She smiled, unable to keep from being a tiny bit pleased with herself, even though she knew such a feeling was a sin.

Graciela was asleep, emotionally drained by what she had gone through. She tossed and turned in her sleep, haunted by dreams of being chased down dark, long, endless corridors.

Lucia Carmine lay still, waiting. She lay there for almost two hours and then quietly sat up and moved through the darkness towards Sister Teresa. She would take the package and disappear.

As she neared Sister Teresa, Lucia saw that the nun was awake on her knees, praying. Damn! Lucia hurriedly retreated.

Lucia lay down again, forcing herself to be patient. Sister Teresa could not pray all night. She had to get some sleep.

Lucia planned. The money taken from the cash register would be enough for her to take a bus or a train to Madrid. Once there, it would be simple to find a pawnbroker. She saw herself walking in and handing him the golden cross. The pawnbroker would suspect that it was stolen, but that would not matter. He would have plenty of customers eager to buy it.

I will give you one hundred thousand pesetas for it.

She would pick it up from the counter. I would rather sell my body first.

One hundred and fifty thousand pesetas.

I would prefer to melt it down and let the gold run in the gutter.

Two hundred thousand pesetas. That is my last offer.

You are robbing me blind, but I will accept it.

The pawnbroker would eagerly reach for it.

On one condition.

A condition?

Yes. I misplaced my passport. Do you know someone who can arrange a passport for me? Her hands would still be on the golden cross.

He would hesitate, then say, I happen to have a friend who does things like that.

And the deal would be done. She would be on her way to Switzerland and freedom. She remembered her father’s words: There is more money there than you could spend in ten lifetimes.

Her eyes began to close. It had been a long day.

In her half-sleep, Lucia heard the sound of a church bell from the distant village. It sent memories flooding through her, of another place, another time …