Winter in Madrid

‘He’s not praying now. Tell him there’s a family emergency and you have to lock the cathedral up for a while.’

The priest rose and came over to them, black cloak swishing round his legs. Francisco stood up. The priest smiled gently at him.

‘Are you all right, viejo?’

‘I am afraid his wife has been taken ill,’ Harry said. He tried to make his accent sound more Spanish. ‘I am a doctor. It would be a great favour, sir, if he could close the cathedral and go home to her. I can fetch the other watchman.’

The priest gave him a keen look. Harry wondered how easy it would be to overpower him. He was young but flabby-looking.

‘Where are you from, doctor? I do not recognize your accent.’

‘Catalunya, señor. I fetched up here after the war.’

Francisco gestured at Harry. ‘Father, he has, he has—’ But he couldn’t continue. He bowed his head.

‘If you like I can stay while you fetch the other man,’ the priest said.

Francisco swallowed. ‘Please, señor, the rules say the cathedral must be closed if there is no watchman here.’

‘It is best if we close the cathedral,’ Harry said. ‘I will take Francisco home; the dean’s house is on the way and I can fetch the other man.’

The priest nodded. ‘Very well. I should be back at the convent anyway. What is your wife’s name?’

‘Maria, señor.’

‘Very well.’ He turned away. ‘I will pray to the Virgin for her recovery.’

‘Yes. Pray for us.’ The old man broke down then, dissolving into floods of tears and burying his face in his hands. Harry nodded to the priest.

‘I’ll take care of him, señor.’

‘Vaya con Dios, viejo.’

‘Vaya con Dios, señor.’ The watchman’s reply was a shamed mumble. The priest touched his shoulder. Then at last he walked away, down the nave and out of the church.

Francisco wiped his face but did not look at Harry. ‘You have shamed me. Cabrón rojo. You have shamed me in this holy place.’

BERNIE AND BARBARA held each other tightly. She felt the rough material of his coat, like sacking, smelt his sickly odour, but the warm body underneath was his, his. ‘Bernie, Bernie,’ she said.

He pulled away, looked at her. His face was thin, seamed with dirt, his beard unkempt.

‘My God,’ he said. ‘How did you do this?’

‘I had to, I had to find you.’ She took a deep breath. ‘But listen, we have to go.’ She looked up at the hill. ‘Sandy was here earlier.’

‘Forsyth? He knows?’

‘Yes.’ Quickly she explained what had happened. His eyes widened when she told him Harry was in the cathedral with his Spanish fiancée.

‘Harry and Sandy.’ He laughed incredulously, shook his head. ‘And Sandy’s out there somewhere.’ He looked up at the hill. ‘He sounds mad.’

‘He’s gone. He won’t come back while I’ve got a gun.’

‘You with a gun.’ He shook his head. ‘Oh, Barbara, what you’ve done for me.’ His voice broke with emotion. Barbara took a deep breath. She had to be practical now, practical. Sandy was gone but there were so many other dangers.

‘I’ve got some clothes here. You should change and shave off your beard. No, there’s not enough light for that, we’ll have to do that at the cathedral. But change.’

‘Yes.’ He took her hands. ‘God, you’ve thought of everything.’ He studied her in the gloom. ‘How different you look.’

‘So do you.’

‘The clothes. And you’re wearing perfume. You never used to do that. It smells so strange.’

She bent and started unpacking the rucksack. It was hard to see among the trees, she should have brought a torch. ‘I’ve got a warm coat in here.’

‘Did you come through the town?’

‘Yes. It was very quiet.’

‘The camp should have radioed to the civiles by now.’

‘We didn’t see any.’

‘Have you a car?’

‘Yes. One with diplomatic number plates. Harry’s car. It’s hidden outside the town, we’re going to drive you back to the embassy. They’ll have to take you in.’

‘Won’t Harry get into trouble?’

‘They won’t know he was involved. We’ll leave you outside and you can say you stole the clothes, broke into a house or something, then hitch-hiked.’

Bernie looked at her, then suddenly burst into tears. ‘Oh, Barbara, I thought I was finished, then I heard you were going to save me. And I abandoned you to go back to the war. Barbara, I’m so sorry—’

‘No. No. Look, darling, come on. Someone might come. You have to change.’

‘All right.’

Bernie began undressing, grunting painfully as he took off the shirt he had worn for days, stuck to his body with dirt. In the gloom Barbara caught glimpses of scars, of the physique she had loved reduced to skin and bone.

A few minutes later he stood before her dressed in Sandy’s suit, coat and trilby that she’d brought from home, crushed from the rucksack but making him look plausibly normal except for his dirty tramp’s face and beard. She pulled at a couple of creases. ‘There,’ she said softly. She had a sudden wild desire to laugh. ‘You’ll do.’

THE HALF HOUR after the priest left was the longest in Harry’s life. He and Sofia paced about uneasily, looking between the door and the old man. They had had a narrow escape with the priest. And they were on the verge of happiness, he and Sofia and perhaps Paco too. Let nothing else go wrong, he prayed to the God he didn’t believe in, nothing else.

At last the door opened again. Harry and Sofia tensed. The old man stared too, fearfully, as Bernie and Barbara came slowly in, Barbara supporting Bernie who was limping with exhaustion. At first Harry didn’t recognize the gaunt, bearded figure, then he ran over to them, Sofia following behind.

‘Bernie,’ he said quietly. ‘Christ, you look as if you’ve been through it.’

Bernie laughed incredulously. ‘Harry. It is you.’ He kept blinking rapidly, as though this new world where he found himself was too much to take in. ‘Jesus, I couldn’t bloody believe it.’

Harry felt his face working with emotion at the sight of the scarecrow face. ‘What the hell have you been up to? Look at the state of you. Rookwood would have something to say.’

Bernie bit his lip. Harry could see he was close to tears. ‘Been fighting a war, Harry.’ He leaned forward and hugged him in the Spanish way. Harry allowed himself to relax into the embrace and they held each other tightly for a moment before Harry pulled apart, embarrassed. Bernie swayed a little.

‘Are you all right?’ Sofia asked anxiously.

‘I’d better sit down.’ Bernie smiled at her. ‘You must be Sofia.’

‘Yes.’

‘Viva la República,’ he said softly.

‘Viva la República.’

‘Are you a Communist?’ he asked her.

‘No.’ She looked at him seriously. ‘I did not like the things the Communists did.’

‘We thought they were necessary.’ He sighed.

Barbara took his arm. ‘Come on, you have to shave. Go to the font. Go on.’ She handed Bernie a shaving bag and he limped down to the font. Harry went over to the old man. Francisco glared up at him, his face smeared from his tears. Harry handed him the roll of notes. ‘Your money, señor.’

Francisco crushed them in his fist in an angry gesture. Harry thought he was going to throw them to the floor but he slipped them in his pocket and slumped against the wall. Bernie reappeared, his face still a little stubbly, older and much thi

‘I must sit down,’ he said. ‘I’m bloody shattered.’

‘Yes, of course.’ Barbara turned to the others. ‘He’s very tired, but we have to get away as soon as possible.’

‘Did something happen?’ Sofia asked, the sharpness in her voice making Harry look up. Barbara told them about Sandy.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Harry said. ‘He’s gone over the edge. Mad.’

‘Half mad anyway, with anger.’

‘We should go as soon as we can,’ Sofia said. ‘I am worried about the priest telling them at the convent that the cathedral is closed, them sending someone to the old man’s house.’