‘I’ve been thinking about that too. If somehow you could adopt Paco—’

She shook her head wearily. ‘I can’t. The Church is in charge of those things now and they would never allow it.’

‘No, not in Spain, in England. If we say you’ve been looking after him since his parents died and we could get him to England, then we could adopt him. I think there are ways. This job, you see, there’s this last little thing I need to do and if I succeed I’ll be in their good graces, the people at the embassy. They might help us.’

She looked at him steadily. ‘Is what you are doing dangerous?’

‘No, no.’ He laughed. ‘Honestly it isn’t, I swear. It’s just trying to get information out of businessmen. There’s no danger. Forget about that. Sofia, what do you say?’

‘How would Paco find England? A strange language, the bombs. I have to think of Paco.’

He couldn’t help feeling hurt that the boy seemed to be more important than him. ‘We could go to Cambridge,’ he said. ‘There aren’t any bombs there. We could have a good life; you can still get most things in England if you have money. I’ve enough. And Paco would be safe, no more knocks at the door. I’d try and get Enrique out too later but that might be more difficult.’

‘Yes, Paco would have a better chance in England. Unless the Germans come, but they may come here too. They say this is the worst time but Spain will take years, decades, to recover from what Franco has done to it. If it ever can.’ She looked at him with wonder. ‘You would take on Paco, take that responsibility?’

‘Yes. I don’t want to leave him either. I’m sure if he got some proper medical attention that could help him.’

She nodded. ‘There must be many doctors in Cambridge.’

‘Loads. Sofia, if we can bring Paco out, will you – will you marry me? You – you haven’t said what you feel about that. If – if you don’t want to…’

She studied him. ‘You would settle for a life with me and Paco? Knowing how Paco is?’

‘Yes, yes. It’s the only responsibility I want now. Sofia, will you marry me?’

She got up from her seat and came over to him. She knelt down and kissed him, then lifted her mouth from his and smiled.

‘Yes. Yes, I will. Though I wonder if you are mad.’

He laughed aloud with relief and joy.

‘Perhaps I am, a little, but I want to be. I’ve been thinking what to do all day, ever since they told me I’d be going back—’

She leaned over and put a finger to his lips. ‘You will sort something out. I know. Yes, Harry, I will marry you.’

‘I know we’ve only known each other a few weeks. But in these times you have to seize the good things while you can.’

‘The best few weeks of my life.’ She knelt beside him on the floor and he bent over and held her.

‘I had to think of Paco,’ she said. ‘I could not abandon him, you see that.’ Her voice sunk to a whisper. ‘He has been the only thing I have been able to rescue, from all the hopes we once had.’

‘I understand. Sofia, perhaps in England you could study again, be a doctor.’

‘I must learn English first. That will be hard. But anything, if it is with you. And to think we wouldn’t have met but for Enrique.’ She shook her head. ‘Such a strange fragile chance.’

THE PROSTITUTE Harry had once mistaken for a spy was in the Café Rocinante when he arrived next afternoon. Sandy wasn’t there yet. The woman sat at her table at the back of the room; a fat middle-aged businessman was with her, talking Spanish with a strong German accent. He was boasting about how much money he had made since he came to Spain, the deals he had done. The woman smiled and nodded but there was a distant look on her face. She sat at an angle to the table, displaying shapely legs for her age. She had a line painted down the back of them, Harry saw; she was pretending to be wearing the new nylon stockings but you could see from the way the light reflected from her legs that they were bare. She must be frozen, walking through the snow like that.

The German saw Harry staring and raised shaggy eyebrows. Harry took a seat as far away from them as possible. There was a breath of cold air as the door opened and Sandy came in. He wore a heavy black coat and Homburg hat, the hat and his shoulders covered with a dusting of snow for it had started up again. Waiting there, knowing what Sandy had done, Harry had wondered if he might feel fear when he saw him now, but there was only disgust and anger.

Sandy made his way to Harry’s table, pausing to exchange remarks about the weather with an acquaintance. Harry raised an arm to attract the elderly waiter who was standing in a corner, talking to the shoeshine boy. The boy was new; perhaps the last one had gone away or died of cold in a doorway somewhere.

‘Hello, Harry.’ Sandy extended a hand. His fingers were icy.

‘Hello. Coffee?’

‘Chocolate, I think, on a day like today.’ Sandy looked up at the waiter who had hurried over. ‘Un café con leche y un chocolate, Alfredo.’

Harry studied Sandy’s face. He was smiling his broad smile but he had a tired, strained look. He lit a cigarette.

‘How are things?’ Harry asked.

‘They’ve been better. What’s this urgent business? I’m intrigued.’

Harry took a deep breath. ‘Sandy, I mentioned at the embassy that I had an English friend who’s been having some business problems. There are a couple of people there who’d like to talk to you. You might be able to do some work with them.’

Sandy looked at him, a long hard look. You could almost hear the cogs turning. He took out his cigarette case and lit up. ‘That sounds like intelligence work,’ he said crisply.

God, he was quick. Harry didn’t reply. Sandy’s eyes narrowed.

‘Are they spies?’ He stopped and gave a little gasp of surprise. ‘Are you a spy, Harry?’ he asked softly. He hesitated a moment. ‘By God. You are, aren’t you? Translating’s a good cover, I suppose. Have you been rifling through Franco’s wastebaskets?’ He laughed incredulously, looked at Harry, then laughed again.

‘I can’t say any more now, Sandy, I’m sorry. It’s just – I’ve seen things haven’t been going well for you, I’d like to help.’ How easily the lies were coming. ‘Just an exploratory meeting with a couple of people at the embassy, no strings.’

‘I suppose they want to recruit me?’ Sandy went on in the same quiet tone. The waiter reappeared and Sandy took the tray from him. ‘Ah. Alfredo, muy bien. Sugar, Harry?’ He made a fuss of organizing the drinks; giving himself time to think. He leaned back and blew out a cloud of smoke, then kicked Harry’s shin playfully. ‘Sure you can’t tell me any more, old chap?’

‘I’m sorry.’

A spasm, a stricken look, suddenly crossed Sandy’s face. He looked at Harry with wide eyes. ‘Jesus, this wouldn’t have anything to do with the gold, would it?’

For the first time Harry did feel a twitch of fear. ‘I can’t say any more.’

Sandy leaned back in his chair. He made his face expressionless but he still had the stricken look in his eyes.

‘They say the British Embassy’s full of spies,’ he said. ‘More spies there than any other embassy except the Germans. Not that I’ve been to the German embassy, though I know people who have. I hear Hoare’s furious because Franco keeps saying he’s too busy to see him while von Stohrer’s in and out of El Pardo.’

Harry didn’t reply. Sandy took a long deep breath.

‘Oh well, it seems to be a time of change. My brother’s dead, you know.’

Harry looked up. ‘Is he? I’m sorry.’

‘Had a letter a week ago. He was in Egypt, an Italian shell hit his tent.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Probably aiming for Wavell – it’d be like the wops to get the padre by mistake.’

‘I’m sorry, Sandy. That’s bad news.’

He shrugged again. ‘I hadn’t seen him for years. Never got on with Peter, you know that.’

‘Did your father write?’

‘No, an old acquaintance in London saw it in the paper and sent me a letter. The dear old pater wouldn’t write even if he knew where I was. He’s written me off, I’m destined for the flames. Peter’ll be in heaven though, safe in the arms of Jesus.’ He laughed harshly. ‘You look uncomfortable, Harry. You don’t believe all that religious stuff, do you?’