poured out the drinks.
‘Leave the bottle here,’ said the man.
The proprietor shrugged his shoulders and put the bottle down on the table. It was still almost full.
The man raised his glass and said: ‘As we’re so far from home, we Scandinavians needn’t be quite so formal, need we? My name’s Ivar.’
They drank.
‘Do you live here?’ said the man, after a while.
‘Up there.’
Dan gestured up towards the misty grey spot in the mountains.
‘It looks wonderful,’ said the man. ‘This is a wonderful country.’
They considered this for a moment and the man filled the glasses again.
‘As I was saying, wonderful. They don’t cheat you and everyone’s so nice and friendly and helpful.’
‘Yes, they’re good people,’ said Dan Pedersen, for something to say.
After their third glass, the man said: ‘I was here four years ago for a brief business trip—this is a business trip too, in fact. I’ve just taken a few extra days as a holiday before I fly home.’
‘Oh yes,’ said Dan Pedersen, who easily became quite unnecessarily rude when he drank spirits.
‘Everything’s much better since then,’ said the man. ‘Not at all the same bother at the borders and much more democratic.’
‘This is no democracy,’ said Dan Pedersen. ‘It’s a corrupt dictatorship which the fascists call democracy to kid foolish foreigners. One shouldn’t really come here at all.’
‘Why do you live here then?’
‘Because we don’t give a goddam what kind of régime they have as long as it’s warm and as long as we’re left in peace. It’s fine living here, especially for foreigners and in many cases for Spaniards too. Most people do exactly the same things whether they live in a democratic community or under tyranny. The difference in daily life is very small. People work, eat, have sex, go to bed tired at night and wake up even more tired in themornings. On Saturdays they drink or sit at home listening to the radio or go out for a walk. We don’t bother with politics and so we can live here. But that doesn’t stop us thinking it’s all wrong.’
Siglinde looked at her husband with amusement. She liked the way he said ‘we’. She loved him. She thought about the night before.
‘And it’s all wrong here, is it then, as you put it?’
‘Yes, definitely.’
The man filled his glass again, though only he and Dan were drinking now. Then he said: ‘You’re wrong. Franco has done a lot for this country. Before his time everything was chaotic and disorderly, the economy was even worse than it is now and people shot each other dead in the streets. He cut the Gordian knot and freed both the country and the people from their worst problems. He brought order. Aren’t I right?’
‘Yes, if the right way to free someone from his problems is to kill him.’
‘Skoal,’ said the man.
‘Skoal,’ said Dan Pedersen.
The bottle was empty now.
Santiago was approaching their table, still looking drowsy after the siesta.
Siglinde took the opportunity.
‘Here’s the friend we were waiting for,’ she said.
They got up and said goodbye to the man from Malmö.
‘Hell,’ said Dan Pedersen to his wife. ‘Lots of people reason like that. It almost made me angry.’
He thumped Santiago on the back.
‘Now let’s go on up to Jacinto and bust a bottle of champagne,’ he said.
Willi Mohr walked a few yards behind the others up the slope towards the church. Although he had drunk very much less than Dan, his head felt fluffy and he felt abnormally light. The brandy had quite an effect in the heat. He definitely did not like being drunk and thought it would be best if he took things carefully for the next few hours. And yet he felt in a good mood and was expecting good of the evening. He had begun to feel a sense of solidarity with Dan and Siglinde, which he could not explain butwhich gave a certain content to the days. He often found himself being curious to know what was going to happen next.
Dan
‘Leave the bottle here,’ said the man.
The proprietor shrugged his shoulders and put the bottle down on the table. It was still almost full.
The man raised his glass and said: ‘As we’re so far from home, we Scandinavians needn’t be quite so formal, need we? My name’s Ivar.’
They drank.
‘Do you live here?’ said the man, after a while.
‘Up there.’
Dan gestured up towards the misty grey spot in the mountains.
‘It looks wonderful,’ said the man. ‘This is a wonderful country.’
They considered this for a moment and the man filled the glasses again.
‘As I was saying, wonderful. They don’t cheat you and everyone’s so nice and friendly and helpful.’
‘Yes, they’re good people,’ said Dan Pedersen, for something to say.
After their third glass, the man said: ‘I was here four years ago for a brief business trip—this is a business trip too, in fact. I’ve just taken a few extra days as a holiday before I fly home.’
‘Oh yes,’ said Dan Pedersen, who easily became quite unnecessarily rude when he drank spirits.
‘Everything’s much better since then,’ said the man. ‘Not at all the same bother at the borders and much more democratic.’
‘This is no democracy,’ said Dan Pedersen. ‘It’s a corrupt dictatorship which the fascists call democracy to kid foolish foreigners. One shouldn’t really come here at all.’
‘Why do you live here then?’
‘Because we don’t give a goddam what kind of régime they have as long as it’s warm and as long as we’re left in peace. It’s fine living here, especially for foreigners and in many cases for Spaniards too. Most people do exactly the same things whether they live in a democratic community or under tyranny. The difference in daily life is very small. People work, eat, have sex, go to bed tired at night and wake up even more tired in themornings. On Saturdays they drink or sit at home listening to the radio or go out for a walk. We don’t bother with politics and so we can live here. But that doesn’t stop us thinking it’s all wrong.’
Siglinde looked at her husband with amusement. She liked the way he said ‘we’. She loved him. She thought about the night before.
‘And it’s all wrong here, is it then, as you put it?’
‘Yes, definitely.’
The man filled his glass again, though only he and Dan were drinking now. Then he said: ‘You’re wrong. Franco has done a lot for this country. Before his time everything was chaotic and disorderly, the economy was even worse than it is now and people shot each other dead in the streets. He cut the Gordian knot and freed both the country and the people from their worst problems. He brought order. Aren’t I right?’
‘Yes, if the right way to free someone from his problems is to kill him.’
‘Skoal,’ said the man.
‘Skoal,’ said Dan Pedersen.
The bottle was empty now.
Santiago was approaching their table, still looking drowsy after the siesta.
Siglinde took the opportunity.
‘Here’s the friend we were waiting for,’ she said.
They got up and said goodbye to the man from Malmö.
‘Hell,’ said Dan Pedersen to his wife. ‘Lots of people reason like that. It almost made me angry.’
He thumped Santiago on the back.
‘Now let’s go on up to Jacinto and bust a bottle of champagne,’ he said.
Willi Mohr walked a few yards behind the others up the slope towards the church. Although he had drunk very much less than Dan, his head felt fluffy and he felt abnormally light. The brandy had quite an effect in the heat. He definitely did not like being drunk and thought it would be best if he took things carefully for the next few hours. And yet he felt in a good mood and was expecting good of the evening. He had begun to feel a sense of solidarity with Dan and Siglinde, which he could not explain butwhich gave a certain content to the days. He often found himself being curious to know what was going to happen next.
Dan
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