Michael Pearce - A dead man of Barcelona

‘But that school wasn’t the only thing. There were other things, too. The Catalonians, for example, and the Arabs. He had time, too much time, for them all. And for any other cracked group of misfits. So I was not surprised when Tragic Week came along and he got mixed up in it. You could say I had seen it coming — here, on Las Ramblas. It was in the wind, in the air.’

The Chief gave a great sniff. ‘You could say it was my job. To sniff the air and see when trouble’s coming. And here on Las Ramblas is a good place to sniff it.’

He looked down into the bottom of his glass. It was empty.

‘Another one?’

‘Well…’

When they resumed, the Chief said, ‘So when I sit here, with a glass in my hand, like this, I am not wasting my time. Despite what Constanza thinks. I am working. I am noticing things. And adding them up. I have watched Senor Lockhart from here many times. Watched what he does, who he talks to.

‘And I think, Senor, that I have seen a process. It begins with a walk along Las Ramblas. Sampling the air, enjoying the fun. Talking to acquaintances, old friends. Acquaintances become old friends on Las Ramblas. And I have watched Senor Lockhart’s friendships grow. They begin with a stop to watch, continue with a laugh, and then another laugh, develop into an exchange, into a conversation, and soon there is something more. There is a relationship.

‘And that relationship leads on. One relationship leads to another. And in the end it led, in Senor Lockhart’s case, to what happened during Tragic Week. That is what I think, Senor Seymour. It is like pitch. You touch it and it sticks to your fingers. But you also stick to it; and it draws you in. That is what I think happened to Senor Lockhart.

‘And why I am telling you this is that I see in this also a risk for you. For you, too, Senor Seymour, have been touching pitch. I have watched you, too, and seen you talking to the cabezudos. And the beginning, perhaps, of a conversation?’

Afterwards, as he was walking back to the hotel, he wondered what the Chief of Police had been trying to tell him. Warning him, certainly; but about what? Not about talking to the cabezudos, surely. But who else was the ‘pitch’? Again, surely not Nina. He had warned Nina, too. And there seemed to have been some grounds for that warning. Was that, what she had perhaps been mixed up in, the pitch?

While Seymour had been talking to the Chief, Chantale had gone for a walk of her own along Las Ramblas. On her way she had a strange encounter. She had noticed a man looking at her intently. Well, she was used to that and here, in Barcelona, she didn’t mind it. In Tangier she would have felt uneasy and possibly a little apprehensive. Here, however, in some odd way, it added to the sense of freedom.

The man wavered and then suddenly came purposefully across to her.

‘Senora,’ he said apologetically, ‘I would not ordinarily have approached you in such a way, in the absence of your husband. But I am in some difficulty and when I saw you, I thought, ah, yes, perhaps with her special knowledge she can help me.’

He spoke as if he had recognized her. And then, after a moment, she realized that she recognized him. It was Abou, Leila Lockhart’s brother.

‘Yes?’ she said uncertainly.

“The fact is, I am in Barcelona for a special purpose.’

‘Yes?’ Still slightly uncertainly. If this was a sexual approach, it was a rather unusual one.

‘I do not know the customs here,’ he said.

‘Well, I am not exactly an expert,’ said Chantale, ‘but if I can help-’

‘I am going back to Algeria,’ he said. ‘Soon. Perhaps next week.’

‘Yes?’ she said, encouragingly.

But he seemed unable to say anything more. And then it come out with a rush.

‘I want to arrange my marriage before I go.’

‘Marriage?’ said Chantale.

‘Yes,’ he said, and stopped again.

‘Really?’ said Chantale encouragingly. ‘Marriage?’

‘It is not easy here. In Algeria I would know what to do. I would make it known to my family and, if they approved, they would see to it. They would approach her family and between them they would settle it — the portion, and so on. But here I have no family.’

‘What about your sister?’

‘Leila?’ He frowned. ‘Leila is angry with me. Very angry. I do not want to ask her. And I don’t think she would be very willing to help me, not in this.’

‘Well, I’m not sure that I-’

‘It is advice that I need, Senora, only advice. And I thought that you, as a woman, would know about these things. How it is done here.’

‘Well…’ She paused. ‘I am not sure that I do. I am from Morocco.’

‘But that is precisely why you would understand. You have taken the step yourself.’

‘Step?’

‘Of marrying a foreigner.’

Chantale felt uncomfortable. ‘Well, actually…’ And then enlightenment dawned. ‘Ah! So you are intending to marry someone — not from Algeria?’

‘That is it! Precisely it. She is Spanish. She is the daughter of a business acquaintance of mine. I have seen her when visiting his house. And I have decided to make her my wife.’

‘I–I am not sure it is as straightforward as that, Abou — it is Abou, isn’t it?’

He nodded. ‘Abou, yes.’

‘It is not quite the same as it would be in Algeria. Or Morocco.’

‘Ah, good! That is what I wanted to know.’

‘Have you any idea as to how she feels about it?’

‘How she feels about it?’

‘Yes. That is important here, you know.’

‘Well, I haven’t had a chance to ask her — I did not wish to speak to her until I had spoken to her father first.’

‘Well, you see, he will want to know how she feels.’

‘Surely she will be guided by him?’

‘Well…’

‘He knows me. He knows that I am a man of honour. And can provide for her.’

‘Ye-es, but it is not quite the same thing. You see, Abou, one thing I have learned is that here in Spain much depends on how the woman feels.’

‘She will surely be pleased-’

‘Inclination comes into it much more than it does with us. A woman may see that a man is a man of honour and can provide for her but still not wish to marry him.’

‘But that would be foolish of her!’

‘It probably would. But that’s the way it tends to be here. A woman follows her heart. It is not just honour and position. Her heart has to go with it.’

‘Well, that is quite right. Her heart should go with it. But will that not follow afterwards?’

‘It may do. But here a woman has to be inclined first.’

Abou thought for a moment.

‘It worries me,’ he said. ‘I think people here are too ready to follow their inclination. There is no restraint. It has shocked me sometimes. I have thought it, well, promiscuous. The way some women behave! And men, too. It cannot make for a good marriage. A woman should enter marriage spotless-’

‘There is much to be said for your point of view,’ said Chantale cautiously.

‘But the one I have in mind is spotless. She is pure and innocent and truly modest. She casts down her eyes before men-’

‘Abou, how old is she?’

‘Old? I do not know. Thirteen, fourteen.’

‘In Spain that would seem too young to get married.’

‘I could wait, I suppose.’

‘That might be a good idea.’

‘For a year. If we were contracted.’

“That would give you an opportunity to get to know her and for her to get to know you.’

‘But I go back to Algeria in a week!’

‘These things take time,’ said Chantale neutrally.

Abou seemed cast down.

‘I had hoped…’ he said. Then he squared his shoulders. ‘Perhaps I will speak to her father all the same,’ he said.