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Authors: David Roberts
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complained.
‘Edward, I can’t breathe!’ she laughed, and clung on to him as they bumped over some grass towards the airport gates. Clearly, the Alfonso’s suspension was not what it
had once been. In a few moments they were bouncing merrily across bare, rust-brown earth. The mesa or plain across which they journeyed was something of a dream landscape, red rough scrub
for the most part, and Edward thought fancifully that it was as if he had landed on Mars. The roar of the engine and the whistle of the wind, which seemed to sing through every crack and crevice of
the car, made conversation difficult. Verity, who had a cat’s ability to doze whenever she had an opportunity, fell into a half-sleep, comforted by Edward’s arm around her. He hoped the
drive would be a long one. He watched the landscape gradually change from barren countryside enlivened by clumps of straggly umbrella pines encircling little country houses to a richer, more
fertile country. Hester asked for a cigarette and with difficulty he managed to extract one without waking Verity.
‘Be a honey and light it for me, would you,’ Hester said and it was true the road was rough enough and the car’s steering awkward enough to make it desirable she keep both
hands on the wheel. With difficulty he dug out his lighter and then faced having to light the cigarette. In the end he had to put it in his own mouth before he could flick his lighter. When it was
glowing he stretched across the sleeping girl and put it between Hester’s lips. Nothing was said but an erotic charge – like an electric current – passed between them and he
immediately felt guilty of some small betrayal.
At last, they found themselves driving past substantial estates – red-tiled houses set in large uncultivated gardens which in turn gave way, on the outskirts of the city, to groups of
houses and then streets.
‘We’re on the Gran Vía and over there is the Plaza Mayor,’ said Hester, gesturing to the left. It was dark now and the car’s great gas headlamps probed the city,
illuminating the occasional tram. There were very few automobiles, whether because of the hour or because they were rich men’s toys Edward did not know. Verity and Hester shared an apartment
near the university and, instead of booking Edward into one of the smart hotels on the Gran Vía, they had found him a room in a small hotel, confusingly called The Palace, just around the
corner from them.
‘Hester thought you would want to hole up somewhere swanky but I said that, though you were often insufferable, you didn’t like showing off in that particular way. Was I
right?’
‘In every degree,’ said Edward, pleased that Verity had regained some of the combativeness which had made life so interesting a few months back but which seemed to have been lost in
her gnawing fear that her lover would end up in front of a firing squad. In the foyer of the little hotel Edward was consigned into the care of the manager, a Napoleonic figure: rotund,
black-garbed, with magnificent moustaches, he seemed to be rather in awe of Hester and half in love with Verity. ‘Felipe,’ said Verity, ‘look after our friend. He is a genuine
English milord and don’t pretend you’ve met one before. But he’s quite decent, really.’
‘ Si, señorita, welcome to my hotel, milor,’ the manager said, proudly displaying his grasp of English. ‘Thees is a very good place and I look after you
well.’
‘Thank you,’ Edward said, nodding his head in response to Felipe’s bowing and scraping, ‘I’m sure I will be very happy here.’
Hester looked unconvinced but managed a wintry smile. ‘We’ll come and collect you in an hour, if that’s all right. We’re going to meet some people at Chicote’s on
the Gran Vía.’
‘Chicote’s?’ queried Edward, who did not feel in the least like going out. ‘I thought of going straight to bed.’
‘Oh pooh!’ said Verity. ‘Just because you had to get up
‘Edward, I can’t breathe!’ she laughed, and clung on to him as they bumped over some grass towards the airport gates. Clearly, the Alfonso’s suspension was not what it
had once been. In a few moments they were bouncing merrily across bare, rust-brown earth. The mesa or plain across which they journeyed was something of a dream landscape, red rough scrub
for the most part, and Edward thought fancifully that it was as if he had landed on Mars. The roar of the engine and the whistle of the wind, which seemed to sing through every crack and crevice of
the car, made conversation difficult. Verity, who had a cat’s ability to doze whenever she had an opportunity, fell into a half-sleep, comforted by Edward’s arm around her. He hoped the
drive would be a long one. He watched the landscape gradually change from barren countryside enlivened by clumps of straggly umbrella pines encircling little country houses to a richer, more
fertile country. Hester asked for a cigarette and with difficulty he managed to extract one without waking Verity.
‘Be a honey and light it for me, would you,’ Hester said and it was true the road was rough enough and the car’s steering awkward enough to make it desirable she keep both
hands on the wheel. With difficulty he dug out his lighter and then faced having to light the cigarette. In the end he had to put it in his own mouth before he could flick his lighter. When it was
glowing he stretched across the sleeping girl and put it between Hester’s lips. Nothing was said but an erotic charge – like an electric current – passed between them and he
immediately felt guilty of some small betrayal.
At last, they found themselves driving past substantial estates – red-tiled houses set in large uncultivated gardens which in turn gave way, on the outskirts of the city, to groups of
houses and then streets.
‘We’re on the Gran Vía and over there is the Plaza Mayor,’ said Hester, gesturing to the left. It was dark now and the car’s great gas headlamps probed the city,
illuminating the occasional tram. There were very few automobiles, whether because of the hour or because they were rich men’s toys Edward did not know. Verity and Hester shared an apartment
near the university and, instead of booking Edward into one of the smart hotels on the Gran Vía, they had found him a room in a small hotel, confusingly called The Palace, just around the
corner from them.
‘Hester thought you would want to hole up somewhere swanky but I said that, though you were often insufferable, you didn’t like showing off in that particular way. Was I
right?’
‘In every degree,’ said Edward, pleased that Verity had regained some of the combativeness which had made life so interesting a few months back but which seemed to have been lost in
her gnawing fear that her lover would end up in front of a firing squad. In the foyer of the little hotel Edward was consigned into the care of the manager, a Napoleonic figure: rotund,
black-garbed, with magnificent moustaches, he seemed to be rather in awe of Hester and half in love with Verity. ‘Felipe,’ said Verity, ‘look after our friend. He is a genuine
English milord and don’t pretend you’ve met one before. But he’s quite decent, really.’
‘ Si, señorita, welcome to my hotel, milor,’ the manager said, proudly displaying his grasp of English. ‘Thees is a very good place and I look after you
well.’
‘Thank you,’ Edward said, nodding his head in response to Felipe’s bowing and scraping, ‘I’m sure I will be very happy here.’
Hester looked unconvinced but managed a wintry smile. ‘We’ll come and collect you in an hour, if that’s all right. We’re going to meet some people at Chicote’s on
the Gran Vía.’
‘Chicote’s?’ queried Edward, who did not feel in the least like going out. ‘I thought of going straight to bed.’
‘Oh pooh!’ said Verity. ‘Just because you had to get up
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