Golden Earrings (50 page)

The opening night of
Swan Lake
was special to me in another way too: I was making my mark as a unique dancer. Mademoiselle Louvet had told Arielle Marineau about my flamenco studies. Having transformed from my detractor into my champion, Mademoiselle Marineau had in turn spoken to Raymond Franchetti, who recommended that I rehearse for the part of the Spanish dancer in the ballroom scene. My mother had been younger than me when she was accepted into the
corps de ballet
, but this was a ‘first’ all of my own. The part usually went to a more senior dancer; in being cast for it, I was being showcased as a possible future
étoile
with the company. I may have only been half-Spanish, but I used every ounce of Andalusian blood in my veins to bring the ballet-flamenco dance to life. I performed my swooping backbends and soft
zapateados
while imagining that la Rusa was out there in the audience, watching me with the same pride she had once felt for Mama.

After the performance, I ran to the foyer to meet my family and friends. Mamie was there with Micheline. Jaime rushed towards me, grinning proudly from ear to ear. Carmen and the rest of the family were there too, along with Gaby and Marcel. But it was when I saw Papa, Audrey and Pierre that I felt most elated. Papa and I had enjoyed ourselves in Vienna together. Along with Mamie, I felt like I had a family again.

‘Thank you for coming,’ I told my father. ‘It means a lot to me.’

Papa smiled. ‘I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.’

I should have been exhausted by physical exertion and overexcitement after the opening night of
Swan Lake
. Instead,
I lay in bed wide awake for most of the night. About four o’clock in the morning, I was struck by an urgent desire to dance. I climbed out of bed and slipped on my leotard and leg warmers. When I opened my dresser drawer for my hairpins and headband, I noticed the Russian box in the corner. I lifted it out and examined the golden earrings again. I ran my finger around their smooth loops: I still didn’t fully understand their significance. I took them with me to the studio.

For most of my life I had risen early to practise, but dancing this long before dawn was a record even for me. I turned on the lights of the studio and placed the earrings on a window ledge. As I began my warm-up stretches, I contemplated how much my life had changed. I used to be so alone. Now I had a wonderful boyfriend, who had also brought into the picture his lively Spanish family. I was reconciled with my father, and had gathered along the way a stepmother and stepbrother as well as a couple more pets. Although it was difficult for me to adjust to the knowledge that Mamie wasn’t my true grandmother, hearing her history and understanding her faults and strengths had made me love her more deeply. I was now a member of one of the best ballet companies in the world, and I was becoming an accomplished flamenco dancer. I smiled when I thought about how far I’d progressed from being a perfectionist loner to someone described as ‘charismatic’!

That day when I had first encountered la Rusa, I’d had no idea who she was. Now I understood the vital role she had played in my heritage. Ramón had said that the possessor of the golden earrings who dared to take them to the Otherworld could return to a loved one three times. La Rusa, my grandmother, had come to steer me in the direction of a bigger and happier life.

I wondered why she had given the golden earrings to me instead of my mother. Perhaps she had thought my mother
was strong like her, and that I needed her more. As this thought went through my mind, I perceived a change in the atmosphere. Something like the tingle of an electric current passed over my skin. I knew that when I turned around, la Rusa would be there.

This time, when I contemplated her dignified face, I didn’t feel afraid. I thought of what had happened to her: the injustices and tragedies she had suffered. The very idea of them made my heart heavy.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I told her. ‘I’m sorry for everything you suffered. You deserved better.’

La Rusa tilted her head slightly and stared at me.

She can’t hear me now, I thought. In whatever dimension she exists in, she can’t hear my voice. I decided I would communicate with her in a way I knew she would understand.

I began with
palmas
, clapping out a rhythm for a
soleá
, the dance of loneliness, solitude and estrangement. I had felt all those things after Mama’s death, but how much more had la Rusa experienced them! With the marking of my feet, the rhythmic movement of my arms and my melancholy turns, I tried to express to her my sorrow and sympathy. She had known the extremes of life: abject poverty and vast wealth; great love and great loss. She had been gravely misunderstood and falsely accused by those she had loved and for whom she had made so many sacrifices. I used my
escobilla,
my rhythmic footwork, to show her how much my heart ached for her. She was my blood grandmother and I had never known her.

I performed a slow turn, but when I came face to face with la Rusa again she sent me a mocking smile. I was confused when she performed a
llamada
of her own, lifting her leg, turning and then throwing down her arm proudly before clapping out another rhythm. She was making a call to commence an entirely different flamenco rhythm. I recognised it immediately: an
alegrías
— the dance of joy.

My puzzlement turned to amazement when I witnessed the fire and passion that burst from la Rusa’s slight frame. She was elegant and proud with a defiant spark in her eyes. Then I understood: la Rusa was not going to allow anyone to feel sorry for her. She was telling me that she had made her choices and she stood by them.

My pity was replaced by admiration. La Rusa was every bit the extraordinary dancer that Mamie had described. She was precise, wild, intense and flirtatious all at the same time. She danced playfully and touched her arms to her chest before extending them to me, inviting me to join her. I matched the rhythm of her
zapateados
and was soon lost in our dance of celebration. Waves of happiness rushed between us, and I felt the power of her celebrated energy.

She brought the dance to a sudden stop, before gracefully placing her hands on her hips and lifting her chin proudly. It was then I noticed she was wearing the golden earrings.

‘
Olé!
’ she said, and vanished.

I stood where I was for a few minutes, catching my breath and realising that I had experienced what was most likely my last encounter with la Rusa’s ghost. She didn’t want me to think of her with sorrow but with joy. I remembered the inscription she had requested for her tombstone:
All honourable causes eventually succeed even if at first they fail
. Ramón had told me that la Rusa had wanted to honour Xavier, who had taught her that the spirits of good people, even if they die in defeat, return in future generations to continue moving the human race forwards to higher and better things. I thought of la Rusa and Xavier, Avi, Margarida and my great-grandparents — how all of their spirits lived on in me.

Perhaps that was the message of the golden earrings: out of darkness and suffering can come hope, joy and progress.

I went to the window ledge and saw that the earrings had gone. The circle was now complete.

I placed my hand where the earrings had been. ‘Thank you,’ I said, looking around me. A gentle warmth brushed my skin. I sensed that while la Rusa and the earrings had disappeared, her love would always remain.

‘Thank you,’ I said again.

The studio was still and silent, but I knew that my gratitude had been heard.

T
he causes and effects of the Spanish Civil War are complex.
Golden Earrings
, as a work of fiction, does not attempt to explain all aspects of the war from all perspectives. Readers who would like to know more about the Spanish Civil War might enjoy starting with Helen Graham’s
The Spanish Civil War: A Very Short Introduction
and proceed to further reading from there.

The Paris Opera Ballet is considered one of the finest companies in the world. In the examination scene I use the names of the real-life director of the ballet school in 1976, Claude Bessy, and the director of dance, Raymond Franchetti, to create a sense of time and place. However, Arielle Marineau is a fictional character created for dramatic purposes and is not based on any actual person associated with the ballet or its school at any time.

Likewise, while Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Helena Petrovna Blavatsky are historical figures who wrote about the supernatural, the ‘contemporary French psychic’ mentioned in this tory, Mireille Fourest, is fictional.

Golden Earrings
is set partly in Barcelona which is situated in the region of Catalonia. The area has its own language and character. Catalans largely think of their region as separate to the rest of Spain and to discourage this tendency to separatism the use of the Catalan language in public life, as well as other cultural markers, have been banned by dominating powers at
various times in history. The two instances mentioned in this book are the period of Miguel Primo de Rivera’s dictatorship (1923–1930) and during the rule of Francisco Franco (1939–1975). I have used both Catalan and Spanish phrases and terms in the novel, depending on the background of the character who is speaking, to give the novel a sense of place and a certain atmosphere true to the country overall as well as this unique region. In order not to confuse readers unfamiliar with Spanish or Catalan, I’ve taken some liberties with the use of punctuation; for example,
Hola!
instead of
¡Hola!
I’ve also used capitals for words such as Pare, Mama and Avi when they are used as character’s names.

A brief guide to the Spanish and Catalan honorifics is given below:

I
would
like to take this opportunity at the end of my fifth novel to say a special
thank you to my readers. It is thinking of you all and your enjoyment of a good
story that keeps me at my desk, day after day, determined to give the very best
of myself to each book.

Thank you so much for the letters and cards
that you send me. I keep every one, and when I find myself stuck, exhausted or
discouraged in some way, I often take a letter or two out and re-read them to
get me moving again.

The relationship between author and reader
is a special one. While I use my words to create characters and plots, my
readers use their own imaginations and life experiences to recreate my original
intentions in their own unique ways. This means there are as many versions of
Golden Earrings
as there are readers. I truly
enjoy this sense of collaboration.

It is always a pleasure to hear from you,
so please feel free to write to me if you wish:

With love and gratitude,

Belinda Alexandra

A
lthough it is my name — ‘Belinda Alexandra’ — on the cover of my books, I sometimes think that should read ‘Belinda Alexandra & Company’ because there are so many wonderful people behind the scenes who work very hard to make each book the best it can be.

I would like to start by thanking my energetic and passionate literary agent, Selwa Anthony, who championed
Golden Earrings
from the beginning and gave me invaluable feedback during the writing process.

I would also like to thank the team at HarperCollins Publishers Australia for their enthusiasm for
Golden Earrings
and all they do to support me. In particular I would like to thank my wonderful publishers, Anna Valdinger and Sue Brockhoff, along with Amanda O’Connell, Jane Finemore, and the dynamic sales and marketing team.

I was privileged again to have Nicola O’Shea as the editor for this book. Her sympathetic and insightful style always makes working with her a great pleasure. Thank you also to my proofreaders, Kate O’Donnell and Chrysoula Georgopoulos.

I’d also like to extend my gratitude to the experts and scholars who kindly gave me their time and shared their specialist knowledge to help me with the research for the novel: Marina Vidal, who checked the use of Spanish and Catalan and gave me advice on culture issues; Doctor Francisco J. Romero Salvadó of the University of Bristol and Professor Sebastian Balfour of the London School of Economics and Political Science for helping
me with historical details regarding the Spanish Civil War; Nathalie Meier who kindly wrote correspondence for me in French and helped with cultural questions; and Kari Hanet who shared some wonderful anecdotes and other details about life in Paris in the 1970s.

I was touched by the enthusiastic help I received from the dance world while researching this book. In particular I would like to thank: Laurie Lubeck-Yeames and her mother, Nicole Alderguer, for the invaluable feedback they gave me on the ballet scenarios; Elizabeth Platel, the director of the School of the Paris Opera Ballet for her information on how the school and examinations were run in the 1970s; Lisa Howell and Catherine Jenneke for putting me in contact with various ballet specialists; and to Kate Sirvins for helping me with ballet terms. I would also like to thank Lucy Vernon for her feedback on the flamenco dance scenes.

Special thanks also goes to Paulina O’Kane of Ku-ring-gai library for the help she gave in organising my interlibrary loans (of which there were nearly 50 for this book) and her cheerful willingness to track down even the most obscure titles.

Finally, but not least I would like to thank my friends, family and animals for keeping me sane and grounded. Thank you in particular to my treasured husband, Mauro, for his patience with the long hours it took to write a book set in two countries with three different languages, two time periods and three main characters. I’d also like to thank my wonderful father, Stan, for the practical help he gave me in collecting and returning library books on my behalf so I wouldn’t have to leave my desk!

The energy and good will of all the above mentioned people made writing
Golden Earrings
a pleasure I will always remember.