‘Yes.’ She looked at him. ‘What about this work of yours? Is it nearly finished?’

‘Yes. Listen, are you sure we shouldn’t wait until it’s certain we can do this, before we tell them?’

Sofia shook her head decisively. ‘No. We do not want to leave it until we are about to go. They should know what we plan, now.’

‘I am glad.’

Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Enrique came in with Paco. He looked tired but Paco, at his side, had an unaccustomed colour in his cheeks. Enrique shook hands with Harry. ‘Buenas tardes. Madre de Dios, it is colder than ever.’ He turned to Sofia. ‘See, we have found some coffee. This stuff, anyway.’ Paco pulled a bottle of chicory essence from under his coat and held it up like a trophy, with a rare smile.

Sofia prepared the dinner, chickpeas with some small pieces of chorizo. They ate together at the table, Enrique talking about his work snow-clearing, the rich women who still wore high-heeled shoes and kept falling over. When they had eaten Sofia pushed away her plate and took Harry’s hand.

‘We have something to tell you.’

Enrique stared at them, puzzled. Paco, his head only a little above the level of the table, frowned worriedly.

‘I’ve asked Sofia to marry me,’ Harry said. ‘I’m going back to England soon and Sofia has said she’ll come back with me so long as we can take Paco with us.’

Enrique’s face fell. He looked at Sofia. ‘I will be left here alone?’ Then he shrugged and forced a smile. ‘Well, what would I do in England? I can hardly read and write. It was always you who was the clever one.’

Paco had been looking between the three of them. At Enrique’s words his face stiffened. ‘No! No! I won’t leave Enrique, no!’ He threw his arms round him, burying his face in his shoulder, making desperate squealing noises. Enrique lifted him up.

‘I will take him to the kitchen,’ he said. He lifted Paco up and went out. As the kitchen door closed, Sofia sighed. ‘Enrique is being brave. This, so soon after Mama.’

Harry took one of her hands, pulled it away from her face. ‘When we’re settled, we can try to get him over—’

He broke off as a loud knocking sounded at the door. Sofia got up, her face weary. ‘If that is Señora Avila again—’

She marched to the door and threw it open. Barbara stood there. Her face was pale and she had been crying.

‘What is it?’ Harry asked sharply. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Can I come in? Please? I went to your flat and then I thought you might be here. I’m sorry, I’d nowhere else to turn.’ She looked desperate, frightened.

Sofia looked at her for a moment, then took her arm. ‘Come in.’ She led her to a chair. Barbara sat down heavily.

‘Have some wine,’ Harry said. ‘You look frozen.’

‘Thanks. I’m sorry, were you eating?’

‘We’ve finished,’ Sofia said. ‘Paco was upset, Enrique has taken him into the kitchen for a moment.’

Barbara bit her lip. ‘He’d better not hear why I’ve come.’ She pulled a packet of cigarettes from her handbag, offered one to Sofia and lit up. She sighed with relief.

‘It’s good to be with friends. You’ve no idea.’

‘What is it?’ Harry asked. ‘What’s got you into this state?’

She clasped her hands tightly on the table and took a deep breath. ‘You know Sandy and I haven’t been getting on. You know I’ve talked about going home.’

‘Yes.’

She swallowed. ‘A while ago I overheard a telephone conversation he was having in his study. It was an accident, I wasn’t eavesdropping, but what he was saying was so strange. He was talking to someone about your investments, then he asked about what the person on the other end had done to some man – ’ she shivered – ‘saying he was tough. It kept going round in my mind. They mentioned a name. Gomez.’

Harry’s eyes widened as Barbara pulled the copy of Ya from her handbag. ‘Then the evening before last I saw this.’

Sofia leaned forward to read the article. Harry sat back, staring at Barbara, his mind whirling.

Sofia looked up. ‘You are saying there is a connection?’ she asked urgently.

The kitchen door opened and Enrique looked out enquiringly. Sofia rose and went into the kitchen with him. Barbara remained slumped in her chair. Harry looked at her. Sofia came back.

‘I have asked them to stay in the kitchen.’ She sat down again. ‘Señora Barbara, are you sure of this? You are – forgive me – overwrought.’

Barbara shook her head vigorously. ‘It all fits.’ Her voice rose. ‘Sandy’s been involved in torturing and murdering a man. After I read the paper I didn’t want to go home. I made myself. I told him I’d a bad headache and had to go to bed. Now I can hardly bear to talk to him.’ Her whole body shook for a moment. ‘I heard him laughing in the hall with the maid, he’s having an affair with her. I felt so scared, lying there in bed, I’ve never felt so afraid. Then today I went out early, to the veterans’ hospital. Afterwards I – I just couldn’t go home. I should, I must, but I just couldn’t face it.’

‘Barbara,’ Harry said quietly. He coughed, for a moment he couldn’t find his voice. ‘I know about this.’

‘What?’ She looked at him blankly. Sofia stared at him.

He laid his hands on the table. ‘I’m with intelligence. I’m a spy. It was my fault that man died.’

Barbara’s expression was shocked, aghast.

‘You told me what you did was not dangerous,’ Sofia said, her voice sharp as a whip.

‘I never wanted to do this. Never.’

He told the two women everything: his recruitment in London, his meetings with Sandy, his trip to the mine, his slip that had cost Gomez his life. They listened in horrified silence. From the kitchen they heard occasional sobs from Paco, soothing noises from Enrique.

‘A gold mine?’ Barbara said when he had finished. She looked Harry in the eye. ‘You bastard, Harry.’ She didn’t shout, she spoke in low sorrowful tones. ‘These last two months you’ve been coming to dinner and meeting me for lunch and all the time you were spying on Sandy. On me as well, presumably!’

‘No! No, when I came over to Spain I’d no idea you were with him. I’ve hated deceiving you, I’ve hated the whole bloody business if you want to know. Hated it!’ he said, so loudly and bitterly Sofia looked at him in surprise.

‘And what about the danger I was in?’ Barbara continued. ‘You knew about Gomez and you didn’t warn me!’

‘I didn’t know for certain till Friday. Though I said you should go home.’

‘Oh, thanks, Harry, thanks so bloody much!’ Barbara took off her glasses and ran her hands across her face. ‘Your name was mentioned when I overheard Sandy on the phone. I couldn’t believe you could be involved in murder. And yet you were a spy all the bloody time.’

Harry looked at Sofia. She had turned her face away.

‘It’s over, please believe me. Listen, they’re kicking me out because of Gomez. I’m glad.’ He took a deep breath. ‘They’re trying to recruit Sandy now.’ Looking at the two women’s shocked faces he thought, oh God, what have I done to them?

Sofia turned back to him. ‘That man Gomez was at Toledo. Where the streets ran red with Republican blood and the Moors took heads as trophies. You need not mourn a man like that.’

Barbara turned to her. She looked shocked. Sofia met her eye. ‘You should go back to England, Señora, away from here. You could stay in a hotel till you can get a boat or an aeroplane.’ She gave Harry a firm look. ‘We will help you, won’t we, Harry?’

‘Yes, yes.’ He nodded eagerly, grateful for the ‘we’. ‘Sofia’s right, Barbara, you should go home as soon as you can.’

‘Do you think I don’t know that?’ To his surprise she laughed, a hard bitter laugh. ‘I can’t go home yet. My God. You don’t know the half of it.’

Something in her voice chilled Harry. ‘What do you mean?’

She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders. ‘You don’t know about Bernie. Bernie’s alive. He’s being held in a labour camp near Cuenca and I’m involved in a plan with an ex-guard in Madrid to get him out. To rescue him. On Saturday, in six days’ time.’ She stopped, looked at him. ‘There, it’s your turn to be shocked, isn’t it?’