Under the Spanish Stars by Alli Sinclair Read Free Book Online

brought so much angst but she feared it would set off another strange reaction. Was dancing flamenco really worth the trouble it would cause?
    As much as she wanted to blame her silly friend Valery Blanco Alves for Katarina’s obsession with flamenco, she couldn’t. Valery came from one of the most influential families in Granada—even more than Katarina’s—and Valery had the ability to charm anyone into doing anything, including daring Katarina to take a flamenco lesson in Sacromonte, a neighbourhood their families had banned them from visiting. Not one to back down from a challenge, Katarina had gone to the lesson as a lark, priding herself on undertaking something as off limits as flamenco. What she hadn’t counted on was the way flamenco ignited an insatiable desire within. After the first lesson she’d fought the urge to return but her dreams were only of flamenco. She wanted … needed … to feel the lyrics wrap around her, to move her body as the music took hold, to stretch, to arch, to pound her feet against the floorboards …
    Flamenco connected her to a lifeline she hadn’t realised she needed until now.
    â€˜You’re asking the impossible, Julieta,’ Katarina said.
    Julieta shrugged. ‘The impossible can be possible. Look at young Raul, for example. He never thought he’d be travelling to Seville to play for one of our country’s greatest flamenco dancers, but he is.’
    â€˜He’s what?’ Katarina’s heart skipped a beat.
    â€˜I leave for Seville this evening.’ Raul concentrated on packing away his guitar.
    â€˜That’s …’ Katarina swallowed the lump in her throat.‘Congratulations.’
    â€˜Thank you.’ Raul looked in her direction, but his eyes didn’t connect with hers. Was he consumed, like Katarina, by the horrible, sinking feeling of having let something precious slip away?
    Julieta butted the cigarette, lit another, then tapped the stick on the floor. ‘Time for you to go, Katarina.’
    Julieta’s refusal to continue teaching cut deep. There was no point in fighting her mentor because once her mind was made up it was impossible to change. Plus, Julieta was right. To have only one toe in flamenco waters did not honour the sanctity of flamenco—it was offensive to Julieta and others whose passion was deep and abiding.
    Katarina shifted from foot to foot, biting her lip and holding back tears that threatened to come out in great, gulping bursts. She’d already lost her chance with Raul because she chose to honour her role within her family. Yet here she was, having to make another decision that hinged on loyalty to the family or loyalty to herself. Either way she turned, disappointment would crash in on her.
    * * *
    1944—Eight years later
    Katarina leant closer to the mirror, trying to get a better view under the one dingy light hanging from the ceiling. The room didn’t allow much space to manoeuvre, but she didn’t mind. Club Alegría still held a rustic charm as it desperately clung to the days when café cantantes were still popular and opera flamenca never existed.
    Using feather-like strokes, she guided the red liner across her lips, trying to keep the tears at bay. The anniversary of her father’s death didn’t get any easier, in fact, this year seemed harder than others. Perhaps it was because memories of her father had started to fray around the edges and if it was like this after seven years, what would happen in another five, ten, fifteen?
    She glanced at the painting and her heart sank. The fiery colours had once inspired her and the woman leaping over the flames had reminded Katarina she was capable of great things if she let herself soar. But that had been when her father was alive. Without any knowledge of her foray into flamenco, he’d given her the painting in secret not long after she’d chosento stop dancing. She’d