Breaking Lorca by Giles Blunt

Author:Giles Blunt
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780307357007
Publisher: Vintage Canada
Published: 2008-12-31T05:00:00+00:00

SIXTEEN

“DARLING! COME MEET OUR VISITOR! I have someone here who knows Lorca from El Salvador!”

Viera had driven him across town and through a tunnel to Queens and his home. Assessing the neighbourhood as they drove in, Victor had thought it displayed neither the power of a big city nor the quiet of a small town. The rows of houses had no cheer to them, the strip of ugly storefronts no charm. It was not a place anyone would choose to live.

A small blonde woman came out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a dishtowel. Helen Viera’s face had once been pretty—perhaps not so long ago—but plumpness and unhappiness were rapidly claiming that territory. The eyes were cold as chips of Wedgwood, the corners of the mouth turned down in a near grimace. Victor had been expecting Mrs. Viera to be a Salvadoran, but she was American, though not from New York by her accent.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, neither friendly nor hostile. “You’re early,” she said to her husband.

“My last appointment cancelled.”

“Uh-huh. Was Alicia off sick again?”

“Yes. She sounded bad, though. I don’t think she is faking.”

“That girl’s stealing your money, Michael. She’s robbing you blind.” The pale, puffy features broadcast unhappiness. It occurred to Victor that Helen was not just Viera’s wife, she was Viera’s green card, and years of dismay had been entailed in their transaction of marriage.

The lawyer’s apparent cheerfulness increased in proportion to his wife’s misery. “Helen, you remember we were saying how nice it would be if Lorca could meet someone who understands her difficulties? Mr. Perez knew her in El Salvador.”

“Really? I’m not sure anyone can understand that sister of yours.”

“But Mr. Perez was in the same jail,” Viera said. “He was in the little school. I thought perhaps the connection—”

“You look a lot better than Lorca, that’s for sure.” Mrs. Viera was the second person to say so in as many hours. Would Lorca notice it too? “Dinner’s ready in fifteen minutes,” she added. “Will you be staying, Mr. Perez?”

“You are welcome to stay,” Viera said. “I should have asked you before.”

“Oh, no, no. I wouldn’t want to be any trouble. Thank you, though. A thousand thanks.” Victor’s voice quavered, and he wondered if they heard. She was blindfolded, he told himself. She saw nothing. She cannot recognize me or my voice. I didn’t utter more than half a dozen words in her presence.

“Darling, is Lorca upstairs?”

“Of course she’s upstairs. Where else does she go?” Mrs. Viera retreated to the kitchen.

The house was a small semi-detached in Queens. The rooms were badly proportioned, the windows small. It was three times the size of the house Victor had grown up in, but far uglier.

“Lorca!” Viera called up a short flight of stairs that led straight off the living room. Victor followed him up the steps. “Come down, Lorca! You have a visitor!”

Sweat broke out on Victor’s forehead; he had a sudden need for a bathroom. She was blindfolded, he re minded himself. She saw nothing.

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