Free The Frozen Heart by Almudena Grandes Page B

nothing to help my good intentions, ‘I was the first to meet her.’
    ‘I want to ask you a favour, Álvaro . . .’ That morning I had noticed a nervousness in my brother’s voice when he phoned. ‘You can’t say no, this is really important to me.’ This preamble, somewhat more serious that his usual ‘Listen, Álvaro, it’s Julio, and since we’re having dinner together, I need to talk to you about the business’, alerted me to the exceptional nature of the situation, but it did not prepare me for what came next. ‘You and Mai have to come round to dinner one of these days, I need to introduce you to my girlfriend.’ ‘Girlfriend?’ I said. ‘Well, it’s just that . . . I’m divorced.’ ‘Not yet, you’re not,’ I objected - it was barely two weeks since we had heard about his separation. ‘Well, I’m getting divorced, it’s the same thing, isn’t it?’ and he rattled off parrot fashion, ‘She’s a wonderful girl, really, she’s great, I really love her, I don’t think I’ve ever been in love before, and you two are the trendy liberals in the family, Álvaro, I thought you’d be on my side . . .’ He took a deep breath and then picked up again. ‘It’s just that Verónica - her name is Verónica - she doesn’t trust me.’ I’m not surprised, I thought, but I didn’t say anything. ‘I’m serious about her, I swear, but she doesn’t trust me because I told her that I was already divorced . . . so she’s suspicious, you know, and I need to introduce her to someone in the family, and you’re the only one I can ask, I thought you two wouldn’t mind - I mean, you didn’t even have a church wedding. For Christ’s sake Álvaro, don’t fuck around, you’re hardly going to tell me now that you think marriage is for life . . .’ Mai didn’t much like the urgency in my brother’s request, but she agreed that we couldn’t refuse, and in the end, despite her principles, she enjoyed the evening as much as I did.
    Julio had invited us to dinner at the most expensive and exclusive restaurant he knew, an extravagance that did nothing to favour his twenty-six-year-old girlfriend, who was undeniably pretty, though Mai didn’t think so. Verónica was passably educated, though you would not have thought it to look at her. She was wearing make-up that made her look ten years younger, her hair was carefully coiffed, her nails were painted with little purple moons, and she had squeezed herself into a miniskirt and jacket that were two sizes too small for her. From the denim embroidered with sequins, mirrors and coloured thread, Mai immediately recognised that the outfit was the work of a chic Italian designer, and more importantly, she told me, obscenely expensive.
    But at that moment, she just looked like every other twenty-something and countless thirtysomething girls having dinner with rich men old enough to be their father. In an ordinary restaurant, despite the twelve-year age gap between them, Verónica would have attracted attention only because of her magnificent cleavage - ‘It’s a push-up bra,’ Mai whispered to me - but this black basque and its effects were hardly sufficient to justify the ruin of the family, although they were disturbing. I didn’t say this to my wife, obviously. And if I sided with my brother, it was not because of his girlfriend’s breasts, but because of her intelligence, though she hid it well. She looked at Julio as though he were a god and, for his part, he looked at her like a benevolent, all-powerful deity in thrall to her formidable gravity-defying breasts. Six weeks later, in spite of my shrewd advice that he should take things slowly, Julio showed up with her unannounced at father’s birthday dinner. Papá was not taken in by her demure T-shirt.
    ‘She’s a cheap whore, Alvaro. Jesus Christ, you only have to look at her ! It doesn’t surprise me coming from your brother, Julio has always done his thinking with his dick, but come on! You’re