asked.
âIâll tell you if no one else is listening.â
âYouâre full of hopeless optimism for a man who wonât see fifty again.â
âIâm still in my early thirties.â
âAnd you believe in fairies.â
âIâm here to have a word with Marta.â
âYouâre wasting your time. Sheâs at home.â
âIs she still depressed?â
âNaturally.â
âIs the señora here?â
âSheâs away.â
âThen at least sheâs better. So youâre on your own.â
âAnd going to remain so.â
âWhat are you preparing for supper?â
â
Escaldums de vigilà ncia
.â
Chickpeas â even Dolores has some difficulty in making them into a dish to enjoy. âNo doubt theyâll be delicious.â
âYouâll never know.â
âWhere does Marta live?â
âWith her parents.â
âAnd they live where?â
âYou think she wants you around when sheâs at the bottom of everything?â
âProbably not, but I have to have a word with her.â
âWhy?â
âTo confirm or deny what Iâve been told. Iâll be as brief as I possibly can.â
âI donât remember the address.â
âItâll be written down somewhere in case someone wants to get in touch with her.â
âCould be, I suppose,â she said reluctantly.
âHave a search for it.â
âThen you stay right here.â
âWhy are you so suspicious?â
âYour eyes are more truthful than your tongue.â
âYou must feel very flattered.â
âI was eleven when I learned a manâs flattery has only one target. Do you stay where you are or do I forget where to look for the address?â
âYouâre a hard woman.â
âFar less trouble than a man whoâs hard.â
He watched her walk across the hall to a small table under which were telephone directories and a notebook of personal addresses and phone numbers.
She returned, handed him a small square of paper on which she had written an address and number. âThatâs everything, so thereâs no need to stay.â
He returned to his car. Women were suffering from hedonism when they thought men were always lusting after them.
Caân Porta was a casita which had been enlarged in weathered stone to provide the amenities of modern life as opposed to the basic necessities of the past. A number of roof tiles had not yet been degraded to a dull, blotched colour by the weather and showed that the enlargement had been fairly recent. The door was opened by Eva Amengual who epitomised the traditional older Mallorquin woman. She honoured the past, was a little overweight but not obese, her features expressed determination leavened by a touch of humour, her manner was direct, sometimes overbearing. She spoke Castilian with occasional difficulty because her youth had been spent during the suppression of Mallorquin which had banished the language to the home or conversations with fellow, trusted Mallorquins.
âI should like to talk to Marta â¦â he began.
âShe cannot speak to you,â she replied sharply.
âI know sheâs very unhappy.â
âAnd yet you think to disturb her further?â
âI fear I have to.â
âYou consider yourself of greater authority than her mother?â
âBecause, unfortunately, Señor Picare diedââ
âDeath was never more deserved. Marta was betrayed by the Englishman, as Spaniards always have been.â
âShe is young â¦â
âI need to be told how old she is when I bore her in great pain?â
âIâm trying to say that time will slowly lessen her sorrow.â
âYou speak as a man who cares nothing for the troubles of others.â
âI understand them because I have known great sorrow.â
âYet you work for the cuerpo