Winter in Madrid (32 page)

‘Barbara, how are you?’ He looked pale and tired.

‘Oh, not so bad.’

‘It’s cold.’

‘Yes, winter’s nearly here.’

The waiter took her coat and hat and laid menus in front of them.

‘Well, how are you?’ she asked brightly. ‘How’s the embassy?’

‘A bit boring. Interpreting at meetings with officials mostly.’ He seemed nervous, ill at ease.

‘How are your people? All right?’

‘My uncle and aunt are fine. Down in Surrey you’d hardly know there was a war on. My cousin’s family had it a bit rough in London though.’ He paused, looked at her seriously. ‘I hear Birmingham’s been hit.’

‘Yes. They sent me a telegram, they’re all OK.’

‘I thought about you when I heard. You must have been terribly worried.’

‘I was, and I expect there’ll be more raids.’ She sighed. ‘But you’ve had them much longer in London, haven’t you?’

‘There was one when I was there last month, with my cousin Will. But he’s safe in the country now, some secret work.’

‘That must be a relief.’

‘Yes.’

Barbara lit a cigarette. ‘I think my parents are just trying to carry on, same as everyone. What else can they do? Mum and Dad don’t say much in their letters.’

‘How’s Sandy’s father? The bishop?’

‘Do you know, I haven’t the faintest idea. They haven’t been in touch since Sandy came out here. He never talks about his father, or his brother. It’s sad.’ She studied Harry. He did look different, very tense. He had been quite good-looking when she met him three years ago, though not her type. Now he looked older, fleshier, with new lines around his eyes. She thought, a whole generation of men is ageing fast. She hesitated, then asked, ‘How are you these days? You look a bit tired.’

‘Oh, I’m OK. I had shell shock, you know,’ he added suddenly. ‘I used to get bad panic attacks.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘But I’m much better now, haven’t had one for a while.’

‘At least you’re doing something useful at the embassy.’

He smiled, a tense smile. ‘You look very different from the last time we met,’ he said.

Barbara blushed. ‘Yes, all those tatty jumpers. I didn’t care how I looked then, I was in such a state.’ She smiled at him warmly. ‘You helped me.’

He bit his lip, staring at her with his earnest blue eyes so that for a second she thought, oh God, he’s guessed something. Then he said, ‘What’s it like, living here? Madrid seems in a terrible state. The poverty and misery, all the beggars. It’s worse than during the Civil War.’

She sighed. ‘The Civil War wrecked Spain, especially Madrid. The harvest’s been bad again and now there’s our blockade, limiting the supplies they can bring in. According to the papers anyway. Though I don’t know.’ She smiled sadly. ‘I don’t really know what to believe.’

‘It’s the silence I can’t stand. Remember how noisy Madrid used to be? It’s as though all the energy and hope has been sucked out of people.’

‘That’s war.’

Harry looked at her seriously. ‘You know what frightens me? We stopped Hitler invading England this year, but if he tries again next year we might lose. We’d fight like hell, fight on the beaches and in the streets like Churchill said, but we could lose. I imagine Britain ending up like Spain, a wrecked, ruined country ruled by corrupt fascists. This could happen at home.’

‘Could it? I know discipline’s harsh, but there are people like Sebastian de Salas who really do want to rebuild the country.’ She stopped, passed a hand across her brow. ‘Oh God,’ she said. ‘I’m defending them. Everyone I know is on their side, you see.’ She bit her lip. She should have known if she met Harry all her confusion and fear would come to the surface. But perhaps it was good for her to face some things. So long as they kept off the subject of Bernie.

‘What does Sandy think of them?’ Harry asked.

‘He thinks Spain is better off than if the Reds had won.’

‘Do you agree?’

‘Oh, who the hell knows?’ she said with sudden emotion.

Harry smiled. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve been going on. Let’s change the subject.’

‘Shall we look at the menu?’

They made their choices and the waiter brought a bottle of wine. Harry tasted it and nodded.

‘Very nice.’

‘Most of the wine is awful, but they have a good cellar here.’

‘You can get it if you can afford it, eh?’

She glanced up at the bitterness in his voice.

‘I’m starting work at an orphanage soon,’ she said.

‘Back to nursing?’

‘Yes. I wanted to do something positive. Sandy suggested it actually.’

Harry nodded, hesitated again, then said, ‘He looks well. Very prosperous.’

‘He is. He’s so good at organization. He’s a good businessman.’

There was a pause as the waiter brought their soup, then Harry said, ‘Sandy always carved out his own path. Even at school. He certainly looks successful.’ He looked at her. ‘Working with the Ministry of Mines, didn’t he say the other night?’

Barbara shrugged. ‘Yes. I don’t know much about it. He says it’s confidential.’ She smiled sadly. ‘I’ve become the little housewife; I don’t concern myself with business matters.’

Harry nodded. The restaurant door opened. Three young men in Falange uniform appeared in the doorway. A door at the rear of the restaurant opened and a little plump man in a stained frockcoat appeared, smiling nervously at the blue-shirted visitors.

‘Buenas tardes, señor,’
one of them said cheerfully. He was about Harry’s age, tall and slim with the usual pencil moustache. ‘A table for three, please.’ The manager bowed them to an empty table.

‘I hope they don’t get too raucous,’ Barbara whispered.

The Falangist glanced round. Then he came over to their table, smiling broadly. He extended a hand. ‘Ah, foreign visitors?
Alemanes
?’

‘No.
Inglés
.’ Barbara smiled nervously. The Falangist dropped his hand, though the smile remained.

‘So.
Inglíses
.’ He nodded cheerfully. ‘Unfortunately you will have to leave soon; the Generalísimo is going to join the Führer’s crusade against England. Soon we shall have Gibraltar.’

Barbara glanced nervously at Harry. His face was coldly impassive. The leader gave a mock bow and went to rejoin his friends. They looked over at her and Harry and laughed mockingly. Harry was red with anger.

‘Keep quiet,’ she said. ‘Don’t antagonize them.’

‘I know,’ Harry muttered. ‘Bastards.’

The waiter bustled over with their main course. The man looked nervously between them and the Falangists, but they had turned to the menus.

‘Let’s finish quickly and get out,’ she said. ‘Before they start drinking.’

They hurried through the rest of the meal. Harry told her about the Maestres’ party, then turned the conversation back to Sandy. He seemed to want to talk about him.

‘He showed me a dinosaur claw he’s found.’

She smiled. ‘He gets very enthusiastic about his fossils. He’s like a little boy then, it’s sweet.’

‘He used to say at school, fossils were the key to the secrets of the earth.’

‘That sounds like Sandy.’ They had finished their meal, and she saw the Falangists had started on the wine – they were laughing noisily. ‘We should go.’

‘Of course.’ Harry signalled for the bill. The waiter brought it over at once, pleased to be rid of them, no doubt, in case the Falangists started some trouble. They paid and got their coats. Outside Harry said awkwardly, ‘I was wondering, would you mind if we took a look at the Royal Palace, it’s just over the road? I’ve never seen it close up.’

‘Yes, all right. Let’s do that. I’ve plenty of time.’

They walked across. There was a hazy sun but the afternoon was cold. Barbara buttoned up her coat. They halted before the gates. They were closed,
civiles
on guard outside. Harry studied the white walls with their ornate decorations.

‘No one’s painted “Arriba España” on the side,’ he said.

‘The Falange wouldn’t touch the palace. It’s a symbol for the Monarchists. They hope Franco will let King Alfonso back one day.’

She paused to light a cigarette. Harry walked to the end of the road. On the other side of high railings was a sheer drop to the palace gardens. Beyond that you could see the Casa de Campo, a jumble of brownish-green landscape. She joined him.

‘The battlefield,’ Harry said quietly.

‘Yes. The park’s still a dreadful mess, apparently. But people have started going for walks there again. There are still unexploded shells but they have safe paths marked.’

Harry looked over the park. ‘I’d like to go and see it. Would you mind?’

She hesitated; she didn’t want be reminded of war, of the Siege.

‘Rather not?’ he asked gently.

Barbara took a deep breath. ‘No, let’s go. Perhaps I ought to see.’

I
T WAS ONLY
a couple of stops on the tram. They got off and walked up a short avenue. There were other visitors walking in the same direction, a young soldier with his girlfriend and two middle-aged women in black. They rounded a little hill and suddenly they were facing a wasteland of broken ground, dotted here and there with burnt-out tanks and broken rusty artillery pieces. Nearby a brick wall, pitted with bullets, was all that was left of a building. Springy grass had grown back over most of the ground but shell craters filled with water dotted the landscape and long lines of trenches cut through the earth like open wounds. Paths led across the devastated landscape, little wooden notices every so often reminding people not to leave them because of unexploded shells. In the distance the palace stood out white and clear, like a mirage.

Barbara had imagined the sight would upset her but she felt only sadness. It reminded her of pictures of the Great War. Harry seemed more affected, his face was pale. She touched his arm gently.

‘Are you all right?’

He took a deep breath. ‘Yes. It brought Dunkirk back, for a moment. There was abandoned artillery everywhere there as well.’

‘Do you want to go back? Perhaps we shouldn’t have come.’

‘No. Let’s go on. Here’s a path.’

They walked in silence for a while. ‘They say it’s worse in the north,’ Barbara said. ‘Where the Ebro battles were. Miles of abandoned tanks. ’

Over to their left the two women in black followed another path, holding each other tightly. ‘So many widows.’ Barbara smiled sadly. ‘I was in the same boat as them, lost, till I met Sandy.’

‘How did that come about?’ Harry asked.

She stopped, lighting another cigarette. ‘The Red Cross sent me to Burgos, of course. It was so different from Madrid. Well behind the lines, for a start. It’s a gloomy city, full of big medieval buildings. The local Red Cross was full of retired generals and worthy Spanish matrons. They were kind actually, not as paranoid as the Republicans. But they could afford to be. They knew they were going to win even then.’

‘It must have been strange, working with Bernie’s enemies.’

It was the first time Harry had mentioned his name. She looked at him, then looked away.

‘I didn’t share his politics, you know that. I was a neutral. In the Red Cross that doesn’t mean something negative, wishy-washy, it’s
positive
, trying to be a force to ease suffering. People don’t understand that. Bernie didn’t.’ She turned and looked him in the eye. ‘Do
you
think I’ve done wrong?’ she asked suddenly. ‘Going with a man who supports the regime? I know Sandy and Bernie weren’t friends at school.’

Harry smiled. ‘No. No, I’m a neutral myself by nature.’

She felt a wave of relief at his answer, somehow she couldn’t have borne it if he disapproved. She looked at him, she wanted to shout,
he may be alive, he may be alive
! She bit her lip.

‘You remember the state I was in, Harry. I wasn’t bothering about the politics, it was a struggle just to get through my work. It was like I was surrounded by a grey fog. I had to keep quiet about Bernie, of course. You couldn’t expect people who were on the Nationalist side to be happy that I went out with someone they fought.’

‘No.’

They crossed a couple of wooden planks laid over a trench. There were old rotten boots in the bottom, and a pile of rusty sardine tins labelled in Russian. On the lip of the trench a notice board displayed
an arrow pointing in each direction.
‘Nosotros’
and
‘Ellos’
. Us and them. In the distance the two women walked slowly on, still clinging to each other.

‘And then you met Sandy?’ Harry interrupted her thoughts.

‘Yes.’ She looked at him seriously. ‘He rescued me, you know.’

‘He told me he was out there doing tours of the battlefields.’

‘Yes. I was very lonely in Burgos. Then I met him at a party and he sort of – took me up. Supported me through everything.’

‘Quite a coincidence, meeting another Rookwood man.’

‘Yes. Though all the English people in Nationalist Spain met at one time or another. There weren’t many of us.’ She smiled. ‘Sandy said it was fate.’

‘He used to believe in fate. He told me he didn’t any more.’

‘I think he does, though he doesn’t want to. He’s a complex man.’

‘Yes. He is.’ They had come to another trench. ‘Watch these duckboards. Give me your arm.’

He took her hand and guided her over. Again, the ‘us’ and ‘them’ signs pointing in different directions.

‘He’s been very good to me,’ Barbara said. ‘Sandy.’

‘Sorry.’ Harry turned to her. ‘I didn’t hear. I’m still a bit deaf on that side.’ His expression was momentarily lost, confused.

‘I said Sandy’s been good to me. He’s persuaded me to do this voluntary work, he knew I needed something new.’ She wondered bitterly, is it guilt that makes me defend him like this?

‘Good.’ Harry’s tone was careful, neutral. Barbara thought with sudden surprise, he doesn’t like Sandy. Then why had he made friends with him again?

‘He’s trying to help some of the Jews who fled from France.’

‘Yes. He mentioned that.’

‘When the Germans invaded a lot of them fled down here with nothing but what they could carry. They try to get to Portugal and then on to America. They’re terrified of the Nazis. There’s a committee that tries to help them and Sandy’s on it.’