‘What has happened?’ she asked sharply. ‘Who are you?’

‘It’s all right,’ the old woman said. ‘Some dogs attacked Enrique. This man helped him home. Your brother has gone to get some water.’

She lowered her bag to the floor, still frowning anxiously.

‘I’m sorry if I startled you,’ Harry said.

‘Where are you from?’

‘I’m English. My name’s Harry Brett. I work at the embassy.’

Her eyes widened. ‘Then – you are the one who he—’

‘Er, yes.’ So the girl knew what her brother did for a living too.

‘What has he done now?’ She gave Harry a long hard look, then turned and left the room.

‘My daughter,’ the old woman said. She smiled. ‘Mi Sofia. Corazón de mi vida.’ Heart of my life.

There were voices on the stairs, the girl’s angry, Enrique’s an apologetic mumble. He limped in, followed by the girl who was carrying the bucket of water. Enrique sat in a chair opposite Harry, and the girl took a pair of scissors from a drawer. She looked over at the boy.

‘Paquito, go into the kitchen. Go on. Light the oven for heat.’

Obediently the boy got up from the bed and left the room, with a last scared glance at Harry.

‘I think his leg’s the worst,’ Harry said. ‘But they got his arm too. Can I help?’

She shook her head. ‘I am all right.’ She turned to her brother. ‘You’re going to have to find some new trousers from somewhere.’ She began cutting his trouser leg, Enrique biting his lip to stifle cries of pain. The leg was a mess, full of puncture marks, lengthened into tears in the flesh where the dogs had torn at it. Sofia took off his jacket and cut his shirtsleeve, revealing more bites. She produced a bottle of iodine from the drawer. ‘This will sting badly, Enrique, but otherwise these wounds will become infected.’

‘Is there any sign of rabies?’ Enrique asked tremulously.

‘You cannot tell,’ she replied quietly. ‘Were any of the dogs behaving wildly, staggering or blinking?’

‘One staggered, the Alsatian,’ he replied anxiously. ‘Is that not right, señor?’

Sofia looked at Harry, her face sharp with fear.

‘I hit it with a stone when it went for me earlier. That was why. None of the dogs seemed ill.’

‘Then that is hopeful,’ Sofia said.

‘Those dogs are a danger,’ Harry said. ‘They should be destroyed.’

‘That will be the day, when the government does something for us.’ Sofia went on bathing her brother’s leg. Harry watched, surprised by her steady cool professionalism.

‘Sofia was to be a doctor,’ the old woman croaked from the bed.

Harry turned to her. ‘Really?’ he asked awkwardly.

Sofia did not look up. ‘The war put a stop to my training.’ She began cutting cloth into strips.

‘Oughtn’t your brother see a doctor?’

‘We cannot afford one,’ she replied brusquely. ‘I will see the wounds are kept clean.’

Harry hesitated. ‘I could pay. After all, I rescued him, I ought to see it through.’

She looked at him. ‘There is something else you could do for us, señor, something that would cost no money.’

‘Whatever I can.’

‘Say nothing. My brother told me on the stairs you have known for some time he was following you. He only did it because we need the money.’

Harry looked at Enrique; sitting there in his cloth bandages he looked weary, a scared boy.

‘The block leader, the Falange official for this tenement, he knew we were struggling and said he could get Enrique work. We were not happy when we learned what it was but we need the money.’

‘I know,’ Harry said. ‘Your brother told me.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘So you asked him about what he did.’

‘Wouldn’t you?’

The girl pursed her lips. ‘Perhaps.’ She went on looking at him. Her face was serious, but it wasn’t pleading; he sensed she wasn’t someone who would plead.

‘Thank God Ramón was not around downstairs,’ Enrique said.

‘Yes, that gives us a chance. We can say Enrique was attacked by dogs but not that you were there; they might even pay him till he is better.’

‘And when I am better, señor, you will not have to worry about who is following if you know it is only me,’ Enrique added. ‘I will say you just walk the streets for fresh air, which is all I have seen you do anyway.’

Harry laughed and shook his head. Enrique laughed too, nervously. Sofia frowned.

‘I’m sorry,’ Harry said. ‘I’m sorry, only the whole thing is so strange.’

‘It’s the world we live in all the time,’ she replied sharply.

‘I didn’t bring this situation about, you know,’ Harry replied. ‘All right, I’ll say nothing.’

‘Thank you.’ Sofia exhaled with relief. She produced a packet of cheap cigarettes and passed one to Enrique before offering one to Harry.

‘No, thanks. I don’t.’

Enrique took a deep draw. There was a harsh snore from the bed; the old woman had fallen asleep.

‘Is she all right?’ Harry asked.

The girl looked at her tenderly. ‘She sleeps all the time. She had a stroke when Papa was killed fighting for the militia.’

Harry nodded. ‘And Paquito is your little brother?’

‘No. He lived in the flat opposite with his parents.’ She looked at him with that unflinching stare. ‘They were union activists. One day last year I came home and found the door of his flat open, blood smeared on the walls. They had taken his parents and left him behind. We took him in, so the nuns would not get him.’

‘He has not been as he should in the head since then,’ Enrique added.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Sofia has work in a dairy,’ Enrique continued. ‘But it is not enough to keep four of us, señor, that is why I took that job.’

Harry took a deep breath. ‘I won’t say anything. I promise. It’s all right.’

‘Only please, señor,’ Enrique said with another attempt at humour. ‘Do not lead me into that square again.’

Harry smiled. ‘I won’t.’ He felt an odd sense of kinship with Enrique; someone else forced by circumstances to be a reluctant spy.

‘That was a strange place for a diplomat to go walking,’ Sofia said, her eyes keen.

‘There was a family I knew there once. Years ago, before the Civil War. They lived in the square where the dogs were. Their block had been bombed.’ He sighed. ‘I don’t know what became of them.’

‘No one is left there now,’ Sofia said. She looked at him curiously. ‘So you knew Spain before – this?’

‘Yes.’

She nodded but said no more. Harry got up.

‘I won’t say anything about Enrique. And please, you must let me pay for a doctor.’

Sofia stubbed out her cigarette. ‘No. Thank you, you have done enough.’

‘Please. Send the bill to me.’ He took out a piece of paper and wrote his address down, handing it to her. She got up and took it. He realized that of course Enrique knew where he lived anyway.

‘We will see you,’ she said noncommittally. ‘Thank you, Señor – Brett, is that how you say it?’ she asked, rolling her ‘r’s.

‘Yes.’

‘Brett.’ She stood and nodded gravely. ‘And I am Sofia.’ She extended a small, shapely hand. It was warm and delicate. ‘We are in your debt, señor. Goodbye.’

It was a dismissal. To his surprise, Harry realized he didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay, learn more about their lives. But he rose, picking up his hat.

‘Adios.’

He left the flat and descended the dark staircase to the street. As he walked back to the Puerta de Toledo he found his legs were shaking a little and the buzzing was back in his ears. The ruined square came back to him, the dogs. Were the Mera family all dead, he wondered. Like Bernie?