Read Online The Return by Victoria Hislop - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Victoria Hislop
Tags: Fiction, General, Psychological fiction, Historical, Family, British, War & Military, Spain, Families, British - Spain, Spain - History - Civil War; 1936-1939 - Social Aspects, Granada (Spain)
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National Theatre. Oddly enough she had gone with Maggie, because James had a last-minute business dinner, and she recalled her friend’s verdict: ‘dull and depressing’.
Sonia asked the man if he had ever met Lorca and the waiter told her that he remembered seeing him once or twice.
‘Many people here believe that part of this city died with him,’ he added.
The statement was both powerful and intriguing.
Sonia’s knowledge of the Spanish Civil War did not extend much further than a couple of dimly remembered books by Ernest Hemingway and Laurie Lee; she knew that they had been involved, but little more than that. Her curiosity was aroused, given the way in which the disappearance of Lorca seemed to have touched this old man personally.
‘What do you mean exactly?’ she asked, aware that she must respond.
‘When people realised what had happened to Lorca - that he had been shot in the back - it gave out the message to all liberal-minded people that it was not safe for anyone and that the war in Granada was as good as finished.’
‘Forgive me, but I don’t really know very much about what happened in your Civil War.’
‘That’s not surprising. Many people in this country don’t know very much about it either. Most of them have either forgotten or been brought up in a state of near ignorance.’
Sonia could tell that the old man disapproved of this state of affairs.
‘Why did it happen?’ she asked.
The waiter, who was small in stature like many Spaniards of his age, leaned forward and gripped the back of the spare chair at Sonia’s table. His dark eyes stared at the red tablecloth so intently it seemed as if he was examining its weft and warp. Several minutes went by and Sonia wondered if he had forgotten that she had posed a question.Though his hair was still predominantly dark, Sonia observed that the skin on his chiselled face and hands was as creased as an autumnal leaf, and she guessed he could be in his eighties. She noticed too that the fingers of his left hand were badly deformed, she assumed with arthritis. Her father’s mind often wandered like this so she was quite used to such a silence.
‘Do you know something?’ he answered finally. ‘I’m not sure I can tell you that.’
‘Don’t worry,’ she reassured him, noticing that his eyes were red and watery. ‘It was just idle curiosity.’
‘But I do worry,’ he said, mildly agitated, now looking directly at her.
She suddenly realised that she had misinterpreted his earlier remark.There was a clarity in his look that told her that this man was as lucid as he had ever been.
He continued:‘I worry that the whole terrible story will disappear, just like Lorca and so many other people.’
Sonia sat back.The man’s passion took her aback. He was referring to an event of nearly seventy years ago, and yet it was as though it had taken place yesterday.
‘I can’t give you one single reason why war broke out. The beginning of it all was so confused. People didn’t really know what was happening and they certainly had no idea at the time what it would lead to, or how long it would go on for.’
‘But what triggered it all off - and why was Lorca involved? He was a poet, not a politician, wasn’t he?’
‘I know your questions sound so simple and I would like to give you simple answers, but I can’t. The years leading up to the Civil War were not entirely peaceful. Our country was in turmoil some of the time and the politics were so complicated, most of us couldn’t begin to understand them. People were going hungry, the left-wing government didn’t seem to be doing enough and the army decided to take over. That’s the quick way to explain it.’
‘That sounds fairly black and white.’
‘I can assure you it wasn’t.’
Sonia sipped her coffee. Her interest was engaged and since he appeared to have no other customers, she
Sonia asked the man if he had ever met Lorca and the waiter told her that he remembered seeing him once or twice.
‘Many people here believe that part of this city died with him,’ he added.
The statement was both powerful and intriguing.
Sonia’s knowledge of the Spanish Civil War did not extend much further than a couple of dimly remembered books by Ernest Hemingway and Laurie Lee; she knew that they had been involved, but little more than that. Her curiosity was aroused, given the way in which the disappearance of Lorca seemed to have touched this old man personally.
‘What do you mean exactly?’ she asked, aware that she must respond.
‘When people realised what had happened to Lorca - that he had been shot in the back - it gave out the message to all liberal-minded people that it was not safe for anyone and that the war in Granada was as good as finished.’
‘Forgive me, but I don’t really know very much about what happened in your Civil War.’
‘That’s not surprising. Many people in this country don’t know very much about it either. Most of them have either forgotten or been brought up in a state of near ignorance.’
Sonia could tell that the old man disapproved of this state of affairs.
‘Why did it happen?’ she asked.
The waiter, who was small in stature like many Spaniards of his age, leaned forward and gripped the back of the spare chair at Sonia’s table. His dark eyes stared at the red tablecloth so intently it seemed as if he was examining its weft and warp. Several minutes went by and Sonia wondered if he had forgotten that she had posed a question.Though his hair was still predominantly dark, Sonia observed that the skin on his chiselled face and hands was as creased as an autumnal leaf, and she guessed he could be in his eighties. She noticed too that the fingers of his left hand were badly deformed, she assumed with arthritis. Her father’s mind often wandered like this so she was quite used to such a silence.
‘Do you know something?’ he answered finally. ‘I’m not sure I can tell you that.’
‘Don’t worry,’ she reassured him, noticing that his eyes were red and watery. ‘It was just idle curiosity.’
‘But I do worry,’ he said, mildly agitated, now looking directly at her.
She suddenly realised that she had misinterpreted his earlier remark.There was a clarity in his look that told her that this man was as lucid as he had ever been.
He continued:‘I worry that the whole terrible story will disappear, just like Lorca and so many other people.’
Sonia sat back.The man’s passion took her aback. He was referring to an event of nearly seventy years ago, and yet it was as though it had taken place yesterday.
‘I can’t give you one single reason why war broke out. The beginning of it all was so confused. People didn’t really know what was happening and they certainly had no idea at the time what it would lead to, or how long it would go on for.’
‘But what triggered it all off - and why was Lorca involved? He was a poet, not a politician, wasn’t he?’
‘I know your questions sound so simple and I would like to give you simple answers, but I can’t. The years leading up to the Civil War were not entirely peaceful. Our country was in turmoil some of the time and the politics were so complicated, most of us couldn’t begin to understand them. People were going hungry, the left-wing government didn’t seem to be doing enough and the army decided to take over. That’s the quick way to explain it.’
‘That sounds fairly black and white.’
‘I can assure you it wasn’t.’
Sonia sipped her coffee. Her interest was engaged and since he appeared to have no other customers, she
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