Doctor Who BBC858 - History 101 by History 101

Author:History 101
Language: eng
Format: epub

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He was living with his sisters now, in an apartment in Casa des Punxes. They had a corner flat, the wide windows looking down on to La Diagonal. When Durruti’s funeral procession had marched past, just about the same time as Juan was killed, they had closed all the shutters and blinds and sat with the lights on at midday waiting for the crowds to be gone.

Sugrañes lived in fear, every day and every night. He had stopped going to the Sagrada Família now. Without Juan he couldn’t raise the bravery to go back there at first and now he couldn’t risk his sisters coming under suspicion as well. He was sure the apartment block was watched. The turret apartment above them had been requisitioned a few weeks previously and a machine gun hauled up to it, the sharp metal stand gouging holes in the plaster of the stairwell. He daren’t speak out. If, when, there was trouble the gun would be able to fire at anything trying to cross the wide junction next to them.

At night, he would carefully pull up a boxload of recovered works from their hiding place beneath the floorboards of his room and spend hours cataloguing them, trying to recall what they were. Some of his colleagues, some of his sisters’ friends, were talking quietly of when the Nationalists would restore order. Perhaps even the monarchy. They seemed to expect liberation within weeks, but Doménec Sugrañes was used to thinking in longer terms than they. He had spent twenty years on a single project and he could see it would be another hundred, even more, before that was complete. Franco was working fast, but it would be another year, maybe even two, before Barcelona was restored.

By day, he took a walk around the Eixample. Every day the same locations, although often from different routes as he had to run errands for his sisters. They were both too afraid to leave the apartment. He would visit all the Master’s works, except the gardens in Parc Güell, and note any damage to them. The details that would need restoring, once this was over. There was no law against checking the architecture, he was sure. It also gave him ideas, chances to meditate how Antoni had envisaged the Sagrada Família in its final form.

It was dusk as he approached the last site before heading home. His younger sister had asked him to find some butter: it was Marisa’s birthday at the weekend and she wanted to bake their elder sister a cake. There was no guard on La Pedrera’s side door, so he let himself through the wrought‐iron gate. An old college friend lived on the top floor, so he made his way up in the lift, knowing he had an excuse, should anyone ask why he was here. Then up another flight of stairs into the roof space. There was a guard here, sat leaning against a wall with a good line of sight down the stairwell but he had timed his visit right and it was Rodrígues.

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