‘Mining, eh?’ Harry asked. This had to be the gold. His luck was continuing. His heart pounded. Steady, he thought, take it carefully. ‘I remember at school you wanted to be a palaeontologist. The secrets of the earth, you used to say.’

Sandy laughed. ‘Oh, it’s not dinosaurs now.’ The doorbell rang. ‘Excuse me. Must go and welcome Sebastian and Jenny.’

He went out. Barbara was silent a moment, then smiled uncertainly.

‘It’s good to see you again.’

‘And you. You’ve a fine house here.’

‘Yes. I’ve landed on my feet, I suppose.’ She paused, then asked quickly, ‘Do you think Franco will come into the war?’

‘Nobody knows. There are all sorts of rumours. If it happens it’ll be sudden.’

They fell silent as Sandy reappeared, accompanied by a well-dressed couple. The man was in his thirties, small and slim, handsome in a dark, southern Spanish way. He wore the Falange uniform, dark military dress with a blue shirt. The woman was younger, attractive, too, with blonde hair and smooth round features. Her expression was haughty.

‘Harry,’ Sandy said in Spanish. ‘Let me introduce Sebastian de Salas, a colleague of mine. Sebastian, this is Harry Brett.’

The Spaniard pressed Harry’s hand. ‘I am delighted, señor. There are so few Englishmen in Madrid.’ He turned to his companion. ‘Jenny sees so few of her compatriots.’

‘Hello there!’ The woman’s voice was cut-glass, her eyes hard and appraising. She turned to give Barbara a cold, formal smile. ‘Hello there, Babs, what a nice dress.’

‘Would you like some wine?’ Barbara’s tone was equally cool.

‘I’d rather have a G and T. Been out at the golf club all afternoon.’

‘Come on everyone,’ Sandy said cheerfully. ‘Take the weight off your feet.’

They sat down in the comfortable armchairs. ‘What do you do then, Harry?’ Jenny asked brusquely.

‘I’m a translator at the embassy.’

‘Met anyone interesting?’

‘Just a junior minister.’

‘Jenny’s an Hon, Harry,’ Sandy said. ‘Sebastian’s an aristocrat too.’

The Spaniard laughed self-deprecatingly. ‘A small one. We have a little castle in Extremadura, but it is falling down.’

‘Don’t knock it, Sebastian,’ Jenny said. ‘I’m a cousin of Lord Redesdale. Know him?’

‘No.’ Harry wanted to laugh, she was ridiculous. Jenny took the glass Barbara handed to her.

‘I say, thanks. Mmm, lovely.’ She leaned back against de Salas.

‘How long have you been in Madrid, Señor Brett?’ de Salas asked.

‘A little over a week.’

‘And how do you find Spain?’

‘The Civil War seems to have caused a lot of – dislocation.’

‘Yes.’ De Salas nodded sadly. ‘The war did much damage and now we have the bad harvests. People are suffering. But we are working to improve things. It is a hard road, but we have made a start.’

‘Sebastian’s in the Falange, as you can see.’ Sandy’s tone was neutral but his look at Harry was keen, mischievous. De Salas smiled and Harry smiled neutrally back. Sandy put his hand on Barbara’s arm.

‘Babs, see how Pilar’s getting on, would you?’

She nodded and went out. The obedient housewife, Harry thought. The idea pained him for some reason.

‘Señor Brett,’ de Salas said when she had left. ‘May I ask something? Only, I fear many Englishman do not understand the Falange.’

‘It’s often hard to understand foreign countries’ politics,’ Harry replied carefully. He remembered the screaming horde around the car, the boy who had wet himself.

‘In England you have democracy, yes? That is what you are fighting for, your system.’

‘Yes.’ God, Harry thought, he’s gone straight to the point.

De Salas smiled. ‘Please understand I mean no offence.’

‘No, of course.’

‘Democracy has worked well in England and America, but it does not work everywhere. In Spain under the Republic, democracy brought chaos and bloodshed.’ He smiled sadly. ‘Not all countries are suited to its freedoms, they tear themselves apart. Sometimes in the end the authoritarian way is the only one.’

Harry nodded, remembering he should avoid politics if he could. ‘I can see that. Only I suppose one might ask, who holds the rulers to account?’

De Salas laughed and spread his hands. ‘Oh, señor, the whole nation holds them to account. The whole nation represented by one party. That is the beauty of our system. Listen, do you know why the Falange wear blue shirts?’

‘Don’t say it’s because all the other colours were taken,’ Sandy interjected with a laugh.

‘Because blue is the colour of workmen’s overalls. We represent everyone in Spain. The Falange is a middle way between socialism and capitalism. It has worked in Italy. We know how hard life is in Spain now, but we will do justice to everyone. Just give us time.’ He smiled earnestly.

‘I hope so,’ Harry said. He studied de Salas. His expression was open, sincere. He means it, Harry thought.

Barbara returned. ‘We can go through,’ she said.

Sandy got up and stood between Harry and de Salas, a hand on each of their shoulders. ‘We should renew this talk another time. But let’s change the subject now, eh, out of deference to the ladies.’ He gave them a fatherly smile and Harry wondered again, how did he come to seem so middle-aged, so much older than he was? He had felt sorry for Sandy before but now he struck him as faintly repulsive.

A COLD BUFFET had been laid in the dining room. They filled their plates and took them to the oak table. Sandy opened a fresh bottle of wine. Jenny had brought the gin bottle with her.

‘Sandy,’ de Salas said, ‘you should have invited a señorita for Señor Brett.’

‘Yes, Sandy, we’re one short,’ Jenny agreed. ‘Bad form.’

‘There wasn’t time.’

‘It’s all right,’ Harry said. ‘I should meet plenty of señoritas on Thursday. I’m going to my first Spanish party.’

‘And where is that?’ de Salas asked.

‘General Maestre’s house. It’s his daughter’s eighteenth.’

De Salas looked at Harry with new interest. ‘Maestre, eh?’

‘Yes. I translated at a meeting between him and one of our diplomats.’

Sandy’s voice was suddenly sharp. ‘No, Sebastian, no business tonight.’

De Salas nodded and turned to Barbara. ‘How are your plans going, señora, to work with the orphans? The marquesa was helpful?’

‘Yes, thanks. She’s hoping to fix something up.’

‘I am glad. Will you enjoy going back to nursing?’

‘I’d like to do something to help. I feel I ought to, really.’

‘Jenny is a nurse too, like Barbara,’ de Salas told Harry. ‘I met her when she came out to help during the war.’

‘What?’ Jenny lifted her head, her face flushed. Harry realized she was drunk. ‘I didn’t catch that. Why am I like Barbara?’

‘I was saying you were a nurse.’

‘Oh yes! Yes!’ She laughed. ‘I’m not a proper nurse, though. I never trained. But when I came out, they put me straight into helping at operations. After the Jarama battle. Just as well I’m not squeamish.’

Barbara bowed her head to her plate. Sandy gave her a solicitous glance.

‘Harry,’ he said, ‘do have some of this marvellous red. I had to pay the earth for it. Scandalous.’

De Salas smiled at Harry. ‘I expect the embassy has its own supplies.’

‘We get rations. They’re not too bad.’

De Salas nodded. ‘Is it true there is much hardship in England? Food is rationed?’

‘Yes. But everyone gets enough.’

‘Do they? It is not what we read here.’ He leaned forward, genuinely interested. ‘But tell me, please, I am interested, why do you go on with the war? You were beaten in France, why not surrender now?’

He wouldn’t let it go. Harry glanced at Barbara. ‘It’s what all the Spaniards think,’ she told him.

‘Hitler has offered you peace. And I have seen so many killed in Spain, I wish the killing could stop in Europe.’

Sandy leaned forward. ‘He’s got a point, you know. England should surrender now, while good terms are on the table. I’m not being unpatriotic, Harry, I only want what’s in my country’s best interests. I’ve been away nearly four years, and sometimes you see things more clearly from a distance. And England can’t win.’