The angel's game by Carlos Ruiz Zafón

Author:Carlos Ruiz Zafón
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fiction - General, Antiquarian booksellers - Spain - Barcelona, Journalists, Barcelona (Spain), Spanish (Language) Contemporary Fiction, Spanish, Barcelona, General, Literary, Suspense, Authors, Authors - Spain - Barcelona, Fiction, Journalists - Spain - Barcelona, Spain, Antiquarian booksellers
ISBN: 9780385528702
Publisher: Doubleday
Published: 2009-06-16T07:00:00+00:00

21

When I returned to the tower house, I looked with different eyes at the building that had been my home and my prison for too many years. I went through the front door feeling as if I was entering the jaws of a being made of stone and shadow, and ascended the wide staircase, penetrating the bowels of this creature; when I opened the door of the main floor, the long corridor that faded into darkness seemed, for the first time, like the antechamber of a poisoned and distrustful mind. At the far end, outlined against the scarlet twilight that filtered through from the gallery, was the silhouette of Isabella advancing towards me. I closed the door and turned on the light.

Isabella had dressed as a refined young lady, with her hair up and a few touches of make-up that made her look ten years older.

‘You’re looking very attractive and elegant,’ I said coldly.

‘Like a girl your age, don’t you think? Do you like the dress?’

‘Where did you find it?’

‘It was in one of the trunks in the room at the end. I think it belonged to Irene Sabino. What do you think? Doesn’t it fit me well?’

‘I told you to get someone to take everything away.’

‘And I did. This morning I went to the parish church but they told me they couldn’t collect, and we’d have to take it to them ourselves.’

I looked at her but didn’t say anything.

‘It’s the truth,’ she added.

‘Take that off and put it back where you found it. And wash your face. You look like—’

‘A tart?’ Isabella completed.

I shook my head and sighed.

‘No. You could never look like a tart, Isabella.’

‘Of course. That’s why you don’t fancy me,’ she muttered, turning round and heading for her room.

‘Isabella,’ I called.

She ignored me.

‘Isabella,’ I repeated, raising my voice.

She threw me a hostile glance before slamming the bedroom door shut. I heard her beginning to move things about. I walked over to the door and rapped with my knuckles. There was no reply. I rapped again. Not a word. I opened the door and found her gathering the few things she’d brought with her and putting them in her bag.

‘What are you doing?’ I asked.

‘I’m leaving, that’s what I’m doing. I’m going and I’m leaving you in peace. Or in war, because with you one never knows.’

‘May I ask where you’re going?’

‘What do you care? Is that a rhetorical or an ironic question? It’s obvious that you don’t give a damn about anything, but as I’m such an idiot I can’t tell the difference.’

‘Isabella, wait a moment . . .’

‘Don’t worry about the dress, I’m taking it off right now. And you can return the nibs, because I haven’t used them and I don’t like them. They’re kitsch and childish.’

I moved closer and put a hand on her shoulder. She jumped away as if a snake had brushed against her.

‘Don’t touch me.’

I withdrew to the doorway in silence. Isabella’s hands and lips were shaking.

‘Isabella, forgive me. Please. I didn’t mean to offend you.

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