Winter in Madrid by Sansom C. J

Author:Sansom, C. J. [Sansom, C. J.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780330411981
Publisher: Pan Macmillan
Published: 2006-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

THE FOLLOWING MONDAY was a busy day at the embassy. Harry had arranged to meet Milagros Maestre at the Prado at four but a press release from the embassy about British victories in North Africa needed translating into Spanish and he was a quarter of an hour late.

He had rung her at the weekend. He hadn’t wanted to but he couldn’t just leave it, it would be rude; Tolhurst had said it might annoy Maestre and they couldn’t afford that. Milagros sounded delighted and immediately accepted his invitation.

He had visited the Prado before, with Bernie one afternoon in 1931. It had been bustling with activity then but now the huge building was quiet. He bought his ticket and passed through into the main hall. There were hardly any visitors, fewer than the attendants who paced slowly round, keys clinking at their belts and footsteps echoing hollowly. The light was poor and in the dull winter afternoon the building had a gloomy, abandoned feel.

He half ran down the steps to the cafe where he had arranged to meet Milagros. She was sitting at the only occupied table, at the far end of the cafe. He was surprised to see a man sitting opposite her. The man turned and Harry recognized Maestre’s companion from the ball, Lieutenant Gomez. There was a frown on his hard square face. Milagros smiled, looking relieved.

‘Ah, Señor Brett,’ Gomez said reprovingly. ‘We were beginning to wonder if you were coming.’

‘I’m so sorry, I was held up at the embassy.’ He turned to Milagros. ‘Please forgive me.’

‘It is nothing,’ she said. ‘Please, Alfonso, it is nothing.’ She was wearing an expensive fur coat and her brown hair was freshly set in a permanent wave. She was dressed as a grown woman but Harry thought again how child-like her plump face was.

Gomez grunted. He stubbed out a cigarette and rose. ‘I will leave you. Milagros, I will see you in the entrance at half past five. Good afternoon, Señor Brett.’ His look was cold as he shook hands. Harry remembered the basket of roses Maestre was supposed to have presented to the nuns, with the Moroccan heads in the middle. He wondered if Gomez had been there.

He sat opposite Milagros. ‘I’m afraid I’ve offended him.’

She shook her head. ‘Don Alfonso is too protective. He takes me everywhere, he is my chaperone. Do girls still have chaperones in England?’

‘No. Not really.’

She pulled a packet of cigarettes from her pocket. Good cigarettes, Lucky Strike, not the poisonous things Sofia had been smoking. He had found himself thinking of Sofia all over the weekend.

‘Would you like one, Señor Brett?’

He smiled. ‘No thanks. And call me Harry.’

Milagros blew out a long draught of smoke. ‘Ah, that is better. They don’t like me smoking, they think I am too young.’ She blushed. ‘They think it is a sign of bad morals.’

‘All the women I know smoke.’

‘Would you like a coffee?’

‘Not just now, thanks, maybe after we’ve seen the pictures?’

‘That would be nice. I will finish this then.

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