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  GRANDMOTHER. ‘There were never two brothers who loved each other more. (Are you listening, Andrea?) There were never two brothers like Román and Juanito … I’ve had six children. The other four were always up to something, the girls quarrelled among themselves, but those two little boys were like two angels … Juan was blond and Román very dark, and I always dressed them alike. On Sundays they went to Mass with me and your grandfather … At school, if some boy fought with one of them, the other was always there to defend him. Román was more mischievous … but how they loved each other! All her children should be the same to a mother, but I cared for those two more than the others … since they were the youngest … since they were the unluckiest … Especially Juan.’

  GLORIA. ‘Did you know that Juan wanted to be in the military, and when he failed the entrance exam for the Academy he went off to Africa, in the Foreign Legion, and was there for years?’

  GRANDMOTHER. ‘When he came back he had a lot of pictures … Your grandfather got angry when he said he wanted to be a painter, but I defended him and so did Román, because back then, my child, Román was a good man … I always defended my children, tried to hide their mischief and their pranks. Your grandfather would get angry with me, but I couldn’t stand it when he scolded them … I’d think: “You catch more flies with a spoonful of honey” … I knew they went out carousing at night, that they didn’t study … I’d wait for them, shaking with fear that your grandfather would find out … They’d tell me about their pranks and nothing surprised me, my dear … I had faith that gradually they’d find the good, urged on by their own hearts.’

  GLORIA. ‘Well, Román doesn’t love you, Mamá; he says the way you acted ruined all of them.’

  GRANDMOTHER. ‘Román? … Ha, ha! Of course he loves me, I know he loves me … but he’s more spiteful than Juan and he’s jealous of you, Gloria; he says I love you more …’

  GLORIA. ‘Román says that?’

  GRANDMOTHER. ‘Yes; the other night, when I was looking for my scissors … it was very late and all of you were sleeping, the door opened very slowly and there was Román. He was coming to give me a kiss. I told him: “What you’re doing with your brother’s wife is wicked; it’s a sin God won’t be able to forgive …” And then he left … I told him: “It’s your fault the girl is miserable, and your brother’s suffering too because of you. How can I love you the same as I did before?” …’

  GLORIA. ‘Román used to love me a lot. And this is a huge secret, Andrea, but he was in love with me.’

  GRANDMOTHER. ‘Child, child. How could Román be in love with a married woman? He loved you like a sister, that was all …’

  GLORIA. ‘He brought me to this house … He did, and now he won’t talk to me, he brought me here in the middle of the war … It scared you the first time you came in here, didn’t it, Andrea? Well it was much worse for me … Nobody loved me …’

  GRANDMOTHER. ‘I loved you, we all loved you, why are you so ungrateful when you talk?’

  GLORIA. ‘Everybody hungry, as dirty as it is now, and a man hiding because they were hunting him down to kill him: Angustias’ boss, Don Jerónimo; didn’t anybody tell you about him? Angustias gave him her bed and she slept where you are now … They put down a mattress for me in Granny’s room. Nobody trusted me. Don Jerónimo didn’t want to talk to me because he said I was Juan’s mistress and he found my presence intolerable …’

  GRANDMOTHER. ‘Don Jerónimo was a strange man; imagine, he wanted to kill the cat … You see, the poor animal is very old and it vomited in the corners, and he said he couldn’t stand it. But naturally I defended it against everybody, the way I always do when somebody’s persecuted and sad …’

  GLORIA. ‘I was just like that cat and Mamá protected me. Once I hit that maid, Antonia, who’s still in the house …’

  GRANDMOTHER. ‘Hitting a servant is incomprehensible … When I was young it wouldn’t have occurred to anybody … When I was young we had a big garden that went all the way down to the ocean … Your grandfather once gave me a kiss … I didn’t forgive him for many years. I …’

  GLORIA. ‘When we came here I was very scared. Román would say to me: “Don’t be afraid.” But he changed too.’

  GRANDMOTHER. ‘He changed in the months he was in prison; they tortured him there; when he came back we almost didn’t recognise him. But Juan was even unluckier, that’s why I understand Juan better. Juan needs me more. And this girl needs me too. If it wasn’t for me, what would have happened to her reputation?’

  GLORIA. ‘Román changed earlier than that. At the moment we drove into Barcelona in that official car. Do you know that Román had an important job with the Reds? But he was a spy, a low, vicious person who sold out the people who helped him. No matter why you do it, spying is for cowards …’

  GRANDMOTHER. ‘Cowards? Girl, in my house there are no cowards … Román is good and brave and he risked his life for me, because I didn’t want him to be with those people. When he was little …’

  GLORIA. ‘I’m going to tell you a story, my story, Andrea, so you can see that it’s like a real novel … You know I was in a town in Tarragona, I had been evacuated … Then, during the war, we were always out of our houses. We’d grab the mattresseses, some pots and pans, and run. Some people cried. I thought it was so much fun! … It was in January or February when I met Juan, you already know that. Juan fell in love with me right away and we got married in two days … I followed him everywhere he went … It was a marvellous life, Andrea. Juan was completely happy with me, I swear, and he was handsome then, not like now, now he looks like a crazy man … There were lots of girls who followed their husbands and boyfriends everywhere. We always had nice friends … I was never afraid of the bombs or the bullets … But we didn’t get too close to the dangerous places. I don’t really know what Juan’s job was, but it was important. I tell you I was happy. Spring was coming and we passed through some very pretty places. One day Juan told me: “I’m going to introduce you to my brother.” Just like that, Andrea. At first I thought Román was nice … Do you think he’s handsomer than Juan? We spent some time with him, in that town. A town on the sea. Every night Juan and Román closed the door and talked in a room that was next to the one where I was sleeping. I wanted to know what they were saying. Wouldn’t the same thing have happened to you? There was a door between the two rooms. I thought they were talking about me. I was sure they were talking about me. One night I began to listen. I looked through the keyhole: They were both leaning over a map and Román was saying:

  “I still have to go back to Barcelona. But you can pass over. It’s very simple …” Slowly I began to understand that Román was urging Juan to pass over to the Nationalists … Imagine, Andrea, that was when I began to feel that I was pregnant. I told Juan. He was thoughtful … That night when I told him, you can imagine how much I wanted to listen again at the door to Román’s room. I was in my nightgown, barefoot, I still think I can feel that torment. Juan was saying: “I’ve made up my mind. Nothing can stop me now.” I couldn’t believe it. If I had, that was the moment I would have despised Juan …’

  GRANDMOTHER. ‘Juan did the right thing. He sent you here, with me …’

  GLORIA. ‘That night they didn’t say anything about me, nothing. When Juan came to bed he found me crying. I told him I’d had bad dreams. That I thought he was leaving me alone with the baby. Then he caressed me and fell asleep without saying anything. I stayed awake, watching him sleep, I wanted to see what he was dreaming …’

  GRANDMOTHER. ‘It’s nice to watch people you love sleeping. Each child sleeps in a different way …’

  GLORIA. ‘The next day, Juan asked Román, in front of me, to bring me to this house when he went to Barcelona. Román was surprised and said: “I don’t know if I can,” looking at Juan very seriously. That night they argued a lot. Juan said: “It’s the least I can do; as far as I know, she has no family.” Then Román said: “And Paquita?” I’d never heard that name
before and I was very interested. But Juan said it again: “Take her home.” And that night they didn’t talk about it any more. But they did something interesting: Juan gave Román a lot of money and some other things that he refused to give back. You know all about it, Mamá.’

  GRANDMOTHER. ‘Girl, you shouldn’t listen through keyholes. My mother wouldn’t have let me do it, but you’re an orphan … that’s why …

  GLORIA. ‘Since you could hear the sea, I couldn’t make out a lot of what they said. I couldn’t find out who Paquita was, or anything else interesting. The next day I said goodbye to Juan and I was very sad, but I consoled myself thinking I’d be going to his house. Román drove the car and I sat beside him. Román began joking with me … Román’s very nice when he wants to be, but at heart he’s bad. We stopped a lot of times along the way. And in one village we stayed for four days in the castle … A wonderful castle; inside it had been restored and had all the modern conveniences … But some rooms were in ruins. The soldiers stayed on the ground floor. We were on the upper floors with the officers … Román was very different with me then, kid. Very lovable. He tuned a piano and played things, like he does now for you. And he asked me to let him paint me nude, like Juan does now … You know, I have a very nice body.

  GRANDMOTHER. ‘Child! What are you saying? This naughty girl invents a lot of things … Don’t pay attention to her …’

  GLORIA. ‘It’s true. And I didn’t want to, Mamá, because you know very well that even though Román has said so many things about me, I’m a very decent girl …’

  GRANDMOTHER. ‘Of course, my dear, of course … Your husband is wrong to paint you that way; if poor Juan had money for models he wouldn’t do it … I know, my child, that you make the sacrifice for him; that’s why I love you so much …’

  GLORIA. ‘There were all these purple lilies on the castle grounds. Román wanted to paint me with purple lilies in my hair … What do you think of that?’

  GRANDMOTHER. ‘Purple lilies … they’re so pretty! It’s been so long since I’ve had any flowers for my Virgin!’

  GLORIA. ‘Then we came to this house. You can imagine how unhappy I felt. I thought everybody here was crazy. Don Jerónimo and Angustias said my marriage was no good and that Juan wouldn’t marry me when he got back, and that I was common, ignorant … One day Don Jerónimo’s wife came by, she visited some times, in secret, to see her husband and bring him nice things. When she found out that what she called some whore was in the house, she had a fit. Mamá sprinkled water in her face … I asked Román to give me back the money Juan had given him because I wanted to leave here. That money was good, it was silver, from before the war. When Román found out I’d been listening to his conversations with Juan in that village, he became furious. He treated me worse than a dog. Worse than a rabid dog …’

  GRANDMOTHER. ‘But are you going to cry now, you silly thing? Román may have been a little angry. Men are like that, a little short-tempered. And listening behind doors isn’t nice, I’ve always told you that. Once …’

  GLORIA. ‘This was when they came for Román and took him to prison; they wanted him to talk and that’s why they didn’t shoot him. Antonia, the maid, who’s in love with him, was like a wild animal. She testified in his favour. She said I was shameless, a bad woman, and when Juan came he’d throw me out of the window. That I was the one who denounced Román. She said she’d slit my belly open with a knife; that was when I hit her …’

  GRANDMOTHER. ‘That woman’s an animal. But thanks to her they didn’t shoot Román. That’s why we put up with her … And she never sleeps; some nights, when I come out to look for my sewing basket, or the scissors, I’m always mislaying them, she comes to the door of her room and shouts at me: “Why don’t you go to bed, Señora? What are you doing up?” The other night she gave me such a start that I fell …’

  GLORIA. ‘I was hungry. Mamá, poor thing, saved some of her food for me. Angustias and Don Jerónimo had lots of things put away, but they were the only ones who tasted them. I watched their room. Every once in a while they’d give something to the maid, out of fear …’

  GRANDMOTHER. ‘Don Jerónimo was a coward. I don’t like cowards, I don’t … They’re much worse. When a militiaman came to search the house, I was very calm and showed him all my saints. “But do you believe in all that God nonsense?” he said to me. “Of course I do; don’t you?” I answered. “No, and I don’t let anybody else believe it.” “Then I’m more of a Republican than you are, because I don’t care what other people think; I believe in freedom of ideas.” Then he scratched his head and said I was right. The next day he brought me a rosary as a present, one of the ones they’d confiscated. And I’ll tell you, on that same day the upstairs neighbours, who only had a St Anthony over the bed, had their saint thrown out of the window …’

  GLORIA. ‘I don’t want to tell you how much I suffered during those months. And it was worse at the end. My son was born when the Nationalists marched in. Angustias took me to a clinic and left me there … It was a night of terrible bombing; the nurses left me alone. Then I had an infection. A very high fever for more than a month. I didn’t know anybody. I don’t know how the baby survived. When the war ended I was still in bed and spent my days in a stupor, without the strength to think or move. One morning the door opened and Juan came in. I didn’t recognise him at first. He seemed very tall, very thin. He sat on the bed and put his arms around me. I leaned my head on his shoulder and began to cry, then he said: “Forgive me, forgive me,” like that, very quiet. I began to touch his cheeks because I almost couldn’t believe it was really Juan, and we stayed that way for a long time.’

  GRANDMOTHER. ‘Juan brought a lot of good things to eat, condensed milk and coffee and sugar … I was happy for Gloria; I thought: “I’ll fix Gloria the kind of dessert we ate back home” … but Antonia, that wicked woman, doesn’t let me in the kitchen …’

  GLORIA. ‘We had our arms around each other for such a long time! How could I imagine what came afterwards? It was like the end of a novel. Like the end of all sadness. How could I guess that the worst was yet to come? Román got out of prison and it was like another dead man had come back to life. He hurt me as much as he could with Juan. He didn’t want him to marry me under any circumstances. He wanted him to kick me and the baby out … I had to defend myself and say some things that were true. That’s why Román can’t stand me.’

  GRANDMOTHER. ‘Girl, secrets have to be kept and you should never say things to make men enemies. When I was very young, once … an afternoon in August, very blue, I remember that so well, and very hot, I saw something …’

  GLORIA. ‘But I can’t forget when I sat like this, with my arms around Juan, and how his heart was beating under the hard bones of his chest … I remembered that Don Jerónimo and Angustias kept saying he had a fiancée who was beautiful and rich and that he’d marry her. I told him about it and he shook his head to tell me he wouldn’t. And kissed my hair … The awful thing was that then we had to live here again because we didn’t have any money. Otherwise we’d have been a very happy couple and Juan wouldn’t be so crazy … That moment was like the end of a film.’

  GRANDMOTHER. ‘I was the baby’s godmother … Andrea, are you asleep?’

  GLORIA. ‘Are you asleep, Andrea?’

  I wasn’t asleep. And I believe I remember these stories clearly. But my rising fever stupefied me. I had the shivers and Angustias made me lie down. My bed was damp, the furniture in the greyish light was sadder, more monstrous, blacker. I closed my eyes and saw a reddish darkness behind my eyelids. Then, the image of Gloria in the clinic, leaning, very white, against the shoulder of a Juan who was different, tender, without those grey shadows on his cheeks …

  I had a fever for several days. Once I remember that Antonia came to see me with her peculiar odour of black clothes and her face became part of my dreams, sharpening a long knife. I also saw Granny, young, dressed in blue, on an August afternoon by the sea. But especiall
y Gloria, crying against Juan’s shoulder, and his big hands caressing her hair. And Juan’s eyes, which I knew as wild and restless, softened by an unknown light.

  On the last afternoon that I was ill, Román came to see me. He had the parrot on his shoulder and the dog came in too, impetuously, ready to lick my face.

  ‘Why don’t you play the piano for me? They say you play the piano very well …’

  ‘Yes, only as a hobby.’

  ‘And you’ve never composed anything for the piano?’

  ‘Yes I have, sometimes, why do you ask?’

  ‘I think you should have devoted yourself exclusively to music, Román. Play something that you composed for the piano.’

  ‘When you’re ill you speak as if everything you say has a double meaning, I don’t know why.’

  He ran his fingers over the keys for a while and then he said:

  ‘This is really out of tune, but I’ll play you Xochipilli’s song … Do you remember the little clay idol I have upstairs? … Don’t think it’s authentic. I made it myself. But it represents Xochipilli, the Aztec god of games and flowers. In his heyday this god received offerings of human hearts … Many centuries later, in a fit of enthusiasm for him, I composed a little music. Poor Xochipilli is in decline, as you’ll see …’

  He sat at the piano and played something happy, which was unusual for him. He played something that resembled the resurgence of life in the spring, with husky, piercing notes like an aroma that spreads and intoxicates.

  ‘You’re a great musician, Román,’ I said, and I really believed it.

  ‘No. You don’t know a thing about music, that’s why you think so. But I’m flattered.’

  ‘Ah,’ he said when he was at the door, ‘you can believe I made a small sacrifice in your honour when I played that. Xochipilli always brings me bad luck.’