42: Cemetery

They arrived in time to find the people they were looking for. They didn't know anyone — or almost anyone.
"Aren't those two your shareholders?"
Mario followed Marta's gaze — and sure enough, there were ADAN's two female shareholders, Ana and Eva.
He looked at what they were wearing.
"Those necklines aren't exactly mourning wear — they're inappropriate." His expression was one of distaste.
"Let's hope it's not the same funeral, honestly." She exhaled.
They went to the funeral home reception desk, where a woman with sad eyes and a pitying smile told them that the burial they were looking for had just set off.
"It is the same farewell." Mario put his arm around her shoulders and held her, kissing her temple. "Are you sure you want to come with me?"
"I don't want to leave you alone."
"But we're going to be found out." He was starting to worry.
Marta gave a smile that was far too calm.
"There's something I haven't actually told you. Did you not notice something on Thursday?"
He was intrigued, but didn't let go of her.
"What haven't I noticed?"
"Julián prepared the merger contract — converting both companies into a joint company, GODANE S.L."
Now he did pull back.
"A limited company?" He pressed his forehead to Marta's temple. "I've been holding myself back for two nights for nothing."
She turned her head — her face was half a centimetre from his.
"You didn't hold back last night, handsome." She said, smiling drily.
"True — up until yesterday I'd spent five nights holding back from feeling you completely." He bit his lip. "Would you prefer I say that?" He turned it back on her.
She answered by closing his mouth with a kiss.
"We should go over to your shareholders — at least we know them." She shrugged.
They approached the two seductive twins, who began to move erratically at the sight of them coming — like two molecules in a test tube.
"Don Mario, Doña Marta!" Eva, the slightly shorter one, feigned surprise.
"Did you know Irene?" Ana asked with curious irony.
"She was my mother's sister." Mario answered calmly.
The two women were genuinely taken aback, until Ana broke the silence.
"They had the same colour eyes — and the same expression when they looked at us."
"Bruno is at the front, with the coffin and the widower. His girlfriend won't let us anywhere near." Eva dabbed at a crocodile tear.
"I'm going to offer my condolences to my cousin — we'll see each other at the offices." Mario gave each of them a small pat on the shoulder and they moved away.
When they felt they were far enough, Marta stopped holding his hand formally and laced her fingers through Mario's.
"Did you notice they were more uncomfortable than we were?"
"That's what I thought too." He glanced back at the sisters, trailing behind the procession. "How many people loved my Aunt Irene!"
"Do you think you'll be able to recognise Bruno?" Marta leaned in to whisper. "Because until yesterday you didn't even know his mother existed, Mario."
They made their way through the people in the procession, until about three bodies ahead, the crowd came to a gradual halt.
A young man with dark hair and bronzed skin was more visibly stricken than those around him. Beside him stood a short, slight but commanding-looking young woman holding his arm. And next to her was a broad-browed man — simultaneously gentle and rough in appearance, with a clear shortage of hair — who showed the grief of someone whose spirit has been taken from them.
"That must be them." Mario felt certain. "He looks a little like Grandad Ernesto."
"Let's go."
Mario and Marta approached the three of them slowly.
"My deepest condolences — I'm Mario, Marcela's son." He extended his hand to the young man.
"Who is Marcela?" The young man didn't follow.
The older man exhaled and stepped forward, taking the hand.
"Thank you, Mario — forgive Bruno for that." His eyes were already reddening again. "I'm Jon — Irene's widower."
No more words were needed, and after a few heartfelt words from the girl standing between Bruno and Jon, everyone gradually dispersed and drifted away.
Beyond a couple of silver birches, Mario could make out Lope — with Mauro and a woman who was younger and more energetic than Margarita. He smiled, gave a nod, and moved away with Marta towards his car.
"Let's go home, please." He said, just low enough for only Marta to hear.
"Gladly." She kissed him, and they walked together to the dark gold Mercedes.
"I recognised the woman with Lope and it gave me a déjà vu from almost eighteen years ago."
Marta froze.
"How old were you?"
Mario, however, opened the car and got in, still talking.
"I was eight, and Lope was eleven. Lili was our nanny, and our parents arrived arguing. She put herself between us and the adults — my parents took me and I never saw my cousin again after that."
She followed his lead and even buckled her seatbelt.
"That's something — standing up to the people paying your wages." She reached out and stroked his cheek with warmth. "But are you all right?"
"I'm fine — it was Lope who stayed in that house." He frowned, engine still off. "The one I don't understand is her — after defending us and then still working for them. It doesn't add up."
He started the engine and set course for La Cabrera, with the woman he loved sitting beside him.
Marta kept him entertained, changing stations whenever the adverts started.
"This one!" She turned up the volume at the sound of Luz Casal.
The chords of electric guitars and bass filled the car.
Mario's face began to shape a smile that grew slowly, his whole body easing.
"I'm a teenager, I can't hide it..." Marta sang along with the artist. "What you do to me is supernatural."
"Hitting me with rock music was a low blow—" he glanced at her from the corner of his eye "—you've managed to make me fall even more in love with you than I already was."