In the end, they had decided on a small attic apartment in Levallois-Perret. Bringing the groceries up here would be exhausting, even though there was a small, very tight lift that they could only use together if they were pressed very, very close together. Not that Marta or Fina minded, but with shopping bags it was almost impossible without something breaking. They had already tested that. Although, admittedly, the broken eggs were perhaps also a result of the fact that they couldn't stand still when pressed so close together.
On the other hand, their little balcony was not only hidden from view, but they could even see the Eiffel Tower in the far distance.
And Hervé had not only helped them with the apartment, he had also been able to get them some initial furniture. How he had managed to get the big bed up here was still a mystery to them, though. They had been asked not to be at home that morning so that it would be a surprise. And so they had taken their first really long walk along the Seine – hand in hand. Together, they had first stood in amazement in front of Notre Dame and later sat on the riverbank, shoulder to shoulder, pushing madeleines into each other's mouths while they watched, marvelled, talked, made plans and laughed. Laughed again and again.
When they came home, the perfect bed made of dark wood was standing in their bedroom. It hadn't been left unused for long. Nevertheless, the apartment was far from finished.
When Fina entered the apartment this afternoon after work, armed with shopping, she found a large flat package in the hallway. She heard music coming from the back room, which was to become something like an office and reading room at the same time.
'What's that?' she called out towards the open door, where the feet of a ladder could be seen. At the same time, she put down her bags.
'A present!' she heard Marta's voice. 'Shall we open it together?'
'Of course!'
Marta appeared in the doorway, under the ladder. And Fina laughed.
She had almost – but only almost – got used to the sight of Marta in dungarees. But today her tied-back curls were particularly heavily sprinkled with paint. And not just her hair. White, green and dark red spots and dots could be seen all over her face and arms, almost as if Marta had suddenly developed summer freckles.
'Hey! I've been doing hard labour here for hours and I'm being laughed at for it.'
'No, no, no, my dear. I'm laughing with you, not at you.
Fina wanted to give her a gentle kiss, but was pulled towards her with a swing by Marta. She squealed briefly, apparently trying to resist, but then laughed all the more. Marta's stained hands clasped her cheeks and they gave each other a long kiss.
'I missed you, querida!'
'I missed you too, very much. Have you finished?
'Almost.'
'Then you should go and take a shower.'
'You too.' It was still amazing how quickly Marta's voice could turn into that deep purr in a fraction of a second.
And it never failed to have its effect, not once. Nevertheless, sometimes it was part of the game to offer a little resistance.
'I don't think I'm as dirty as you.'
'That can be changed very quickly.' Again, Marta reached for her cheeks. But instead of giving her a kiss on the lips this time, she moved her mouth and hands down her neck.
'No, no, no...stop...it's okay. You win. But can we open the package first? I'm curious.'
Marta nodded. 'It's from Andrés.'
'From Andrés? Really?' Fina was surprised.
'Mm,' Marta nodded again. 'There's a note inside. Do you want to read it?'
'If I'm allowed. It's probably for you, isn't it?
'I don't think he'll mind if you read it too.'
Marta pulled a piece of paper out of the breast pocket of her dungarees and gave it to Fina.
Marta, my dear sister,
I'm glad to hear that you've arrived in Paris and found somewhere to stay. It sounds like you're happy. Which makes me happy.
Father is still seething with rage. And if glances could kill, your husband would probably have gone to prison many times for murdering me. It doesn't bother me. On the contrary, when I'm alone in the office, I laugh a lot. I laugh so hard that I cry. And when I'm standing at my easel later, I laugh even more. At some point I won't be able to hold back any longer and I'll laugh in their faces.
Marta, thank you. Your running away is a liberation for all of us – in a way. And it has set so much in motion, which I will tell you about another time.
I'm sending you and Señora Valero a painting for your new apartment that you might like. Then you won't forget your little brother so quickly. At least until I come to Paris sometime.
Love, Andrés
'Oh, Marta, that's so...' Fina began.
'I know, I know...' Marta interrupted her with a smile. 'Unpack?'
'Of course!'
Marta carefully tore open the brown paper. After removing a few layers, both women stared at the painting.
'I didn't expect that,' Fina said almost in a whisper.
'Neither did I.'
'But it's really beautiful.'
'Yes, it's really beautiful.'
It showed two naked women intertwined, not unlike themselves. The nude painting was intimate, but by no means tasteless or even pornographic. It radiated familiarity. The couple in the painting were fused together and seemed to shield each other almost from prying eyes.
They looked at the picture in silence for a while. Marta thought of her brother. She didn't miss Toledo for a second. Why should she? Nothing in life would ever be better than the little perfect home they had started together here.
Fina was happy with her work and, thanks to Marta, Esther and Hervé's help, her French was improving at a record pace. Their apartment was slowly becoming a perfect little nest that, despite their still limited financial means, was stylish and at the same time cosy and warm. She would be happy here, Marta knew. As long as Fina lived here with her, she would be happy and grateful. Probably for the rest of her life.
Still, it would be nice to see her brother again one day. But they would probably manage that too, even if it took a while.
'I love that smile on your face. You're so beautiful, querida,' Fina whispered in her ear.
Fina's own smile now widened, almost to a grin. 'Will you finally take us to the bathroom? We don't want the paint to dry.' A kiss landed on Marta's neck. 'Or do you?
Marta shook her head and laughed. Then she stared into Fina's eyes.
'I'll make sure nothing dries on you.'
That goddamn, goddamn purring again. It would be a hard life with that woman at her side, Fina thought. But I'm ready for the challenge, she added in her mind and pulled Marta by the hand towards the bathroom.
'Hervé, you're just in time. Marta has baked!'
He thought it was sweet how proudly Fina praised Marta's baking skills. He was really very curious. Esther had already been able to taste the first attempts and had effusively praised Marta's talent. Hervé therefore entered the kitchen full of expectation.
Marta greeted him with a strange, embarrassed look. Her curls seemed a little wild and he could still see traces of flour on her face. At the same time, she had the glow of a happy and contented woman on her face.
He had liked the two Spanish women from the moment he met them six months ago at Esther's. They were warm, laughed a lot and were respectful in their dealings with others and with themselves. And they were obviously head over heels in love with each other. Hervé hoped that one day he would meet a woman who would look at him the way Marta looked at Fina, and vice versa. Without them even being aware of it, as he had quickly realised.
He had heard that they had had to be very careful in Spain so that nobody found out about their relationship. How other people could have missed these looks was a little bit of a mystery to him. But maybe they had been more reserved under the circumstances there. However, he couldn't imagine that. The two women radiated love from every pore of their bodies.
Apart from that, they were always ready to listen to others and open to their needs. Hervé felt at ease when he came to visit, and that happened more and more often. Because usually there was a lot of laughter, a lot of talking and sometimes a lot of Spanish red wine was drunk.
Hervé's gaze fell on the kitchen table.
'It really does taste excellent, don't let the appearance put you off.' Fina's voice was almost a flute.
The cake, which was standing in front of him on the rectangular kitchen table, was barely recognisable as such. It had obvious dents, almost bumps, and the decoration looked somehow unfinished and a little crooked. And were those fingerprints on the right side? Hervé didn't dare to look more closely, but decided to try the left half just to be on the safe side.
'Sit down, sit down.'
Hervé pulled up a chair. Just as he was about to sit down, something crunched under his foot. He bent down and picked up an earring. He held it up questioningly.
'Oh, that's mine, thank you. I've been looking for it for ages.' Marta gratefully took it.
'I hope the second one isn't in the cake.'
'You're getting strange ideas. Of course not.' Marta's voice would have sounded more convincing if it hadn't been accompanied by that strange nervous laugh. Presumably Hervé's expression was therefore not very convinced.
'Here, you can see the other one is still there. ' Marta tamed her curls over her ear for a moment. The second earring was indeed there, which reassured Hervé a little. But was that cream on Marta's ear? Or just flour?
Hervé confirmed the cream in his mind when Marta turned her back to him and his gaze fell on her hair at her shoulders. Definitely cream.
He sat down on the chair. And then realised that the table he was about to lean over to reach the coffee pot, was dangerously wobbly.
It had been perfectly stable when he had manoeuvred it up here a few weeks ago.
'What's wrong with your table?' he asked.
'Oh, the leg broke off earlier. We'll fix it with glue later, it's no problem. It's not the first time.'
'Just broken off like that?'
'Yes, yes...just like that.' Fina nodded.
'Maybe the cake was too heavy,' Marta added with a serious face.
Fina moved to the chair opposite. Only now did Hervé notice the slight limp. He frowned. And took a closer look at Marta and Fina, who, strangely enough, had hardly looked each other in the eye since he had arrived.
'Have you been arguing?'
'What?' The two women looked at him in unison with a surprised look.
'You're acting strangely. The cake is a battlefield. Fina is limping. I don't want to interfere, ladies, but if you need an impartial third party to mediate – I'm here.'
This time, Fina and Marta looked at each other. A slight pink flush appeared on their cheeks. Then Marta cleared her throat.
'We weren't arguing.'
'If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. But if...'
Hervé opened his eyes wide. 'Oh... ooh!... Oh oh oh!' The pink glow now appeared on his cheeks too. Marta and Fina looked down sheepishly, but couldn't quite suppress a grin.
'Okay, ladies, okay. Just tell me one thing: can I still eat this cake without any concerns?'
While Fina eagerly nodded, Hervé caught a glimpse of Marta shaking her head slightly.
'Coffee will do. Thanks.'
