Béla Bártok’s
Microcosms
and a book of sheet music under one arm.
‘What a morning! I feel as if I’ve been in the wars.’
Thirty-year-old grey-blue eyes were gazing at Carvalho—eyes inherited by every Vilardell since the founding of the dynasty. The first of the line had been a slave trader, at a time when most people no longer trafficked in slaves. He had returned to his home town with enough money to make himself a Count and pass the title on to his children. She had her grandfather’s grey-blue eyes, the body of a flat-chested Romanian gymnast, the face of the sensitive wife of a sensitive violinist, and hands that must have stroked his penis as if it were Mozart’s magic flute.
‘Do you like the view?’
‘I’m very demanding.’
Without removing her coat, Adela Vilardell sat on the deck-chair and immediately had the grub-like hound on her lap. Carvalho tried not to look at her, so as to avoid yet another defensive conversation. He leaned again on the balcony rail, and looked sideways at the woman. She in turn was studying him, as if to calculate his weight and the effort that would be required to push him over the edge.
‘How are your studies going?’
‘Which studies?’
‘Music. Your cleaning woman tells me you’re taking music lessons.’
‘Yes. I started them again, just like that. When I was young, I got as far as the fourth grade, but then I dropped it. It was a torture that my mother inflicted on me. But now it’s sheer delight—the best hours of the week. I’m not the only one who goes. It’s at the Centre for Musical Studies, a new place that’s full of people like me.’
‘What does “people like you” mean?’
‘Adults who want to learn something they’ve never been able to do before, for lack of time, or money, or interest.’
‘With you, of course, it was lack of interest.’
Adela Vilardell nodded and waited for the interrogation to continue.
‘When was the last time you saw Stuart Pedrell?’
‘I don’t remember the exact date. It was towards the end of 1977. He was preparing for his trip, and we talked briefly.’
‘You weren’t planning to go with him?’
‘No.’
‘Was it that he didn’t want, or you didn’t want?’
‘There was never any question of it. Our relationship had been cooling off for some time.’
‘For anything—or anyone—in particular?’
‘It was a question of time, really. Our relationship lasted nearly ten years, and there were periods of great intensity. We’d spent whole summer months together, when his family was away on holiday. By then, we were a long-established couple. We were very used to each other.’
‘Besides, Señor Stuart Pedrell was spending time on other women.’
‘Everyone that came along. I was the first to realize it. Or rather, the second, because I suppose his wife Mima was one step ahead of me. I didn’t care. The only thing that bothered me was the way he went round picking up infants.’
‘Infants?’
‘Up to the age of twenty, every man and every woman ought to be in infant school.’
‘Did you benefit financially from your relationship with Stuart Pedrell?’
‘No. He didn’t support me. It’s true that he paid for me sometimes. When we ate out together, for instance, he would pay the bill for both of us. Maybe that strikes you as excessive.’
‘Didn’t you ever offer to pay?’
‘I am, or used to be, a young lady. And I was brought up on the principle that women don’t pay in restaurants.’
‘It would seem that you live on investment income. A lot of it.’
‘Yes. I have my great-grandfather to thank for that. He was a shepherd from Ampurdán who got together enough money to send my grandfather off to what remained of our American colonies.’
‘I know your family history. I read it a short while ago in the
Correo Catalan
. It was a bit toned down, though.’
‘Daddy had shares in the
Correo
.’
‘During the time that Stuart Pedrell was missing, did he ever
Microcosms
and a book of sheet music under one arm.
‘What a morning! I feel as if I’ve been in the wars.’
Thirty-year-old grey-blue eyes were gazing at Carvalho—eyes inherited by every Vilardell since the founding of the dynasty. The first of the line had been a slave trader, at a time when most people no longer trafficked in slaves. He had returned to his home town with enough money to make himself a Count and pass the title on to his children. She had her grandfather’s grey-blue eyes, the body of a flat-chested Romanian gymnast, the face of the sensitive wife of a sensitive violinist, and hands that must have stroked his penis as if it were Mozart’s magic flute.
‘Do you like the view?’
‘I’m very demanding.’
Without removing her coat, Adela Vilardell sat on the deck-chair and immediately had the grub-like hound on her lap. Carvalho tried not to look at her, so as to avoid yet another defensive conversation. He leaned again on the balcony rail, and looked sideways at the woman. She in turn was studying him, as if to calculate his weight and the effort that would be required to push him over the edge.
‘How are your studies going?’
‘Which studies?’
‘Music. Your cleaning woman tells me you’re taking music lessons.’
‘Yes. I started them again, just like that. When I was young, I got as far as the fourth grade, but then I dropped it. It was a torture that my mother inflicted on me. But now it’s sheer delight—the best hours of the week. I’m not the only one who goes. It’s at the Centre for Musical Studies, a new place that’s full of people like me.’
‘What does “people like you” mean?’
‘Adults who want to learn something they’ve never been able to do before, for lack of time, or money, or interest.’
‘With you, of course, it was lack of interest.’
Adela Vilardell nodded and waited for the interrogation to continue.
‘When was the last time you saw Stuart Pedrell?’
‘I don’t remember the exact date. It was towards the end of 1977. He was preparing for his trip, and we talked briefly.’
‘You weren’t planning to go with him?’
‘No.’
‘Was it that he didn’t want, or you didn’t want?’
‘There was never any question of it. Our relationship had been cooling off for some time.’
‘For anything—or anyone—in particular?’
‘It was a question of time, really. Our relationship lasted nearly ten years, and there were periods of great intensity. We’d spent whole summer months together, when his family was away on holiday. By then, we were a long-established couple. We were very used to each other.’
‘Besides, Señor Stuart Pedrell was spending time on other women.’
‘Everyone that came along. I was the first to realize it. Or rather, the second, because I suppose his wife Mima was one step ahead of me. I didn’t care. The only thing that bothered me was the way he went round picking up infants.’
‘Infants?’
‘Up to the age of twenty, every man and every woman ought to be in infant school.’
‘Did you benefit financially from your relationship with Stuart Pedrell?’
‘No. He didn’t support me. It’s true that he paid for me sometimes. When we ate out together, for instance, he would pay the bill for both of us. Maybe that strikes you as excessive.’
‘Didn’t you ever offer to pay?’
‘I am, or used to be, a young lady. And I was brought up on the principle that women don’t pay in restaurants.’
‘It would seem that you live on investment income. A lot of it.’
‘Yes. I have my great-grandfather to thank for that. He was a shepherd from Ampurdán who got together enough money to send my grandfather off to what remained of our American colonies.’
‘I know your family history. I read it a short while ago in the
Correo Catalan
. It was a bit toned down, though.’
‘Daddy had shares in the
Correo
.’
‘During the time that Stuart Pedrell was missing, did he ever
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