The Galician Parallax by James G. Skinner

giving birth as the Bullocks boarded one of the daily Iberia flights from Heathrow to Santiago de Compostela en route to their new and uncertain life in Galicia. Two hours later, at 6 p.m. the DC 10 was landing at the Galician airport.
    Stan had been given a sincere farewell by his colleagues at the Coastguard Station in Falmouth, followed in the evening by a formal dinner at the Prescott with the rest of his close Cornish friends. Many toasted the couple with whimsical and superficial speeches wishing them well and all the luck in the world looking towards a future full of joy. It was Gerard Phillips, his commanding officer at the station that ended the evening with a strange and conciliatory yet poignant note in the final speech of the evening.
    ‘Stan… you’ve done a good job over the years as a safety officer here in Falmouth. We’re all going to miss you. Many mariners of all nationalities that have sailed through our waters in moments of danger should be eternally grateful for all the hours you spent attempting to save their lives.’
    He then looked at Yolanda.
    ‘Your new husband is a good man but has had a raw deal in the past, especially his own family who suffered years of hardship during the battles with your country’s fishermen. Do not misunderstand me,’ he smiled, ‘but thank God that’s now all over and hopefully this new century we are beginning will bring benefit for both our seafaring people as they work together in peace and harmony.’
    He raised his arms as if delivering a blessing.
    ‘I hope that Stan will receive the warm welcome in your land as we have welcomed you here in this small and remote part of England.’
    Cheers, tears and a few extra bottles of champagne ended the evening.
    Juan Jose was waiting at the airport, not quite knowing what to expect.
I wonder what the hell he looks like
, he thought, as some of the passengers were going through immigration whilst others were already appearing through the exit doors. For the first time in years he felt oddly nervous. It wasn’t long before Yolanda exited the arrival section followed by Stan pushing a trolley laden with luggage. Juan Jose stood motionless as she approached him holding out her arms obviously searching for an embrace. It was nearly a year and a half since he’d said farewell to her at the same airport, hoping that somehow her stay in Cornwall would help her overcome her past ordeal. Suddenly, here she was, married and well and truly pregnant. They hugged for what seemed like an eternity.
    Yolanda finally released her father and with a broad smile, looking at her husband, said, ‘This is Stan, Dad.’
    Stan stepped aside from the trolley and walked up to his father-in-law and shook his hand.
    ‘Please to meet you, sir.’
    Juan Jose smiled but said nothing, not at all as he’d imagined.
But then what did I expect?
he thought. Somehow the ice had been broken. As they approached Juan Jose’s awaiting limousine, his mobile rang. It was a call from his office.
    ‘Afternoon, sir. The Taboada police station called. A British lady, Ms Jennifer Stanford has had her handbag stolen; says that her passport is also missing. She’s desperate as has to travel tomorrow back to England. I’ve taken down her personal details.’
    He looked at his watch.
    ‘OK. Call the embassy switchboard and ask for the duty officer. Pass on the information. I’ll…’
    Yolanda instantly sensed Stan’s bewilderment. She whispered, ‘Forgot to tell you…’
    At that moment, Juan Jose held up his hand at them as he continued to speak over his phone, ‘I’ll sort out the emergency passport when I get back.’
    ‘OK. Shall I advise the police that you’ll contact Ms Stanford later?’
    ‘Yes, need hotel or any other info, also tell them to get Ms Stanford to have two passport-size photographs taken. I’ll call later.’
    ‘OK.’
    Juan Jose hung up and placed the phone back in his pocket.
    Yolanda finished her sentence.
    ‘Dad’s also