nodded my head.
‘Once she’d finished getting ready, Tere put her comb, eyeliner and lipstick back in her bag and said: Let’s go. When we got out of the car she took me by the hand and we started walking up the badly paved slope. The housing development seemed deserted; the only noise we could hear was the sound of the sea. When we saw the first house appear among the pine trees, Tere instructed me. Let me do the talking, she said. Nobody’s going to say anything to you, but, if someone speaks in Catalan, you talk. If not, keep quiet. Do what I do. Most of all, whatever happens, stay with me. And one more thing: is what Guille said true? My heart was beating through my ribs like a caged bird; I’d started to sweat, and Tere’s hand was slipping in my soaking wet hand; I managed to say: Yes. Tere laughed; I laughed too, and that simultaneous laughter filled me with courage.
‘We got to the first house, walked through the garden and Tere rang the doorbell. The door opened and a woman who looked like she’d just got out of bed questioned us in silence, with her eyes half-closed against the strong sun; Tere answered the questioning look with a question: she asked if Pablo was home. Unexpectedly friendly, the woman answered that no one called Pablo lived in that house, and Tere apologized. We left the garden and walked down the street. How’s it going?, asked Tere. How’s what going?, I asked. How’s everything going?, she clarified. I don’t know, I said, truthfully. Does that mean you’re not nervous any more?, she asked. More or less, I answered. Then stop squeezing my hand, would you, she said. You’re going to break it. I let go of her hand and dried mine on my trousers, but she was soon holding it again. We didn’t call at the house next door or the next one, but at the one after that we tried again. This door opened too, this time an old man in a T-shirt with whom Tere exchanged a series of questions and answers similar to the exchange she’d had with the first woman, only longer; in fact, at one point it seemed to me that the old man, who couldn’t take his eyes off Tere’s legs, was undressing her in his mind and that, instead of trying to cut short the dialogue, he was trying to lengthen it.
‘The third house we tried was the one. Nobody answered when we rang the bell and, as soon as we made sure the villa was empty, that the villa next door was empty and that on the other side of the villa next door there was nothing but a brick wall behind which was a vacant lot full of shrubs, we walked back to the entrance of the development, where Zarco and Guille were waiting for us in the 124. Go up to the end of the street, Tere said to Zarco, who started up the car as soon as we got in. It’s the last house on the right. As we drove into the development in slow motion, Tere answered questions from Zarco and Guille and, after a Citroën with a woman and two children in it passed us on its way out, we arrived at the brick wall at the end, and parked in front of the door with the car facing back the way we came.
‘That’s where the real danger began. As Zarco and Guille walked into the garden and around the house – a two-storey house with a flat roof, a big willow tree shading the entrance – Tere put her bag behind her back, leaned against the hood of the 124, pulled me towards her, wrapped her arms around my neck and wedged her bare knee in between my legs. Now we’re going to do like they do in the movies, Gafitas, she told me. If nobody comes along, we stay here nice and quiet until Zarco and Guille call us. But, if someone decides to come by here, I’m going to snog you to within an inch of your life. So you can start praying that someone comes by. This last bit she said with half a smile; I was so scared I just nodded. Anyway, nobody came past, and I don’t know how long the two of us were leaning against the car, joined in that fake embrace, but shortly after seeing Zarco and Guille disappear
‘Once she’d finished getting ready, Tere put her comb, eyeliner and lipstick back in her bag and said: Let’s go. When we got out of the car she took me by the hand and we started walking up the badly paved slope. The housing development seemed deserted; the only noise we could hear was the sound of the sea. When we saw the first house appear among the pine trees, Tere instructed me. Let me do the talking, she said. Nobody’s going to say anything to you, but, if someone speaks in Catalan, you talk. If not, keep quiet. Do what I do. Most of all, whatever happens, stay with me. And one more thing: is what Guille said true? My heart was beating through my ribs like a caged bird; I’d started to sweat, and Tere’s hand was slipping in my soaking wet hand; I managed to say: Yes. Tere laughed; I laughed too, and that simultaneous laughter filled me with courage.
‘We got to the first house, walked through the garden and Tere rang the doorbell. The door opened and a woman who looked like she’d just got out of bed questioned us in silence, with her eyes half-closed against the strong sun; Tere answered the questioning look with a question: she asked if Pablo was home. Unexpectedly friendly, the woman answered that no one called Pablo lived in that house, and Tere apologized. We left the garden and walked down the street. How’s it going?, asked Tere. How’s what going?, I asked. How’s everything going?, she clarified. I don’t know, I said, truthfully. Does that mean you’re not nervous any more?, she asked. More or less, I answered. Then stop squeezing my hand, would you, she said. You’re going to break it. I let go of her hand and dried mine on my trousers, but she was soon holding it again. We didn’t call at the house next door or the next one, but at the one after that we tried again. This door opened too, this time an old man in a T-shirt with whom Tere exchanged a series of questions and answers similar to the exchange she’d had with the first woman, only longer; in fact, at one point it seemed to me that the old man, who couldn’t take his eyes off Tere’s legs, was undressing her in his mind and that, instead of trying to cut short the dialogue, he was trying to lengthen it.
‘The third house we tried was the one. Nobody answered when we rang the bell and, as soon as we made sure the villa was empty, that the villa next door was empty and that on the other side of the villa next door there was nothing but a brick wall behind which was a vacant lot full of shrubs, we walked back to the entrance of the development, where Zarco and Guille were waiting for us in the 124. Go up to the end of the street, Tere said to Zarco, who started up the car as soon as we got in. It’s the last house on the right. As we drove into the development in slow motion, Tere answered questions from Zarco and Guille and, after a Citroën with a woman and two children in it passed us on its way out, we arrived at the brick wall at the end, and parked in front of the door with the car facing back the way we came.
‘That’s where the real danger began. As Zarco and Guille walked into the garden and around the house – a two-storey house with a flat roof, a big willow tree shading the entrance – Tere put her bag behind her back, leaned against the hood of the 124, pulled me towards her, wrapped her arms around my neck and wedged her bare knee in between my legs. Now we’re going to do like they do in the movies, Gafitas, she told me. If nobody comes along, we stay here nice and quiet until Zarco and Guille call us. But, if someone decides to come by here, I’m going to snog you to within an inch of your life. So you can start praying that someone comes by. This last bit she said with half a smile; I was so scared I just nodded. Anyway, nobody came past, and I don’t know how long the two of us were leaning against the car, joined in that fake embrace, but shortly after seeing Zarco and Guille disappear
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