Under the Spanish Stars Read Online Free PDF Page A

what she was telepathically saying to Mateo, but she figured it wasn’t ‘I’m so glad you’re talking with that Australian woman.’
    â€˜Cristina? Do not worry about her. She is jealous of all women.’
    â€˜So she’s your girlfriend?’ What was with this Cristina’s weird behaviour?
    â€˜Ha!’ He slapped his thigh. ‘We perform together and that is all. She just does not like the women because she cannot trust them.’
    â€˜She doesn’t trust her own gender? And not trust them about what?’
    â€˜Let us not talk about her. I want to understand more about why you came to see me.’
    Charlotte tried to stifle yet another yawn, but it slipped out unwittingly.
    â€˜Am I boring you?’
    â€˜No! I’m sorry. I’m not used to these late nights.’ She checked her watch. ‘Mornings.’
    â€˜Ah, but if you are to remain here you must understand we do not dine until very late and our entertainment finishes very, very late. Or early, depending on the way you look at it, yes?’
    â€˜I guess, but my stay in Granada will be short, I’m afraid. Probably not even long enough for me to get over this jetlag.’
    â€˜You must return to the work? It is an English accent, yes?’ Mateo sipped water from a glass.
    â€˜Yes to the first but no to the second.’ Just like every other Aussie traveller, Charlotte had to deal with most people outside her home country thinking she was English. She pitied the poor Englishmen who had the thick Aussie accent lumped in with theirs. Charlotte suspected many Spanish speakers suffered the same fate as Australians, New Zealanders, Canadians, South Africans and the like because Argentine Spanish was completely different to Colombian, Ecuadorian or Peruvian et al. On top of that were the regional accents throughout Spain with lisps and places like Barcelona sounding like Barthelona …
    â€˜Australian? You English speakers all sound alike.’ His wink encouraged her to join in the fun.
    â€˜Yes, just like all Spanish speakers sound the same, eh?’
    â€˜Touché.’ He punctuated this with a nod. ‘So what do you do for this work, Señorita Charlotte? Ah … let me guess.’ He eyed her over the glass rim. ‘Something arty, no? You have an air about you, like you see great beauty in things.’
    How did he …? No, that wasn’t her any more. ‘Sorry, but you’re way off the mark. My family owns a large insurance brokerage firm and most of my job is assessing risk.’
    â€˜I do not see you as this type of person. Tell me, do you like artists? Painters? Singers? Dancers? Writers? Poets? Musicians?’ He smiled at the last question.
    â€˜Are you always this flirty?’
    He gave a small shrug and tapped his fingers against an empty glass.
    She couldn’t help but warm to this charming Spaniard.
    â€˜I like all artists,’ she said. ‘In fact, my abuela was once a professional dancer.’ Of course, this statement would lead to a conversation about Abuela’s life, or what Charlotte knew of it, but it had to be done to get Mateo on side.
    â€˜Which dance?’
    Charlotte stared at the half-full carafe. ‘Flamenco.’
    â€˜Your grandmother danced flamenco? Here? In Spain?’
    â€˜Yes, but that’s all I know. She’s not one for talking about that part of her life, I’m afraid.’
    â€˜During the era of General Franco, no?’
    â€˜I imagine so.’ Why, oh why had Abuela remained so secretive about herlife? Did she feel the family would think less of her, or had something happened that was so bad she needed to wipe it from memory?
    â€˜They were turbulent times for many, including flamenco. What do you know of Franco’s rule?’
    â€˜I’ve read books and watched documentaries but I’m not convinced the history was presented in a totally unbiased manner so I’m