rolled down her cheeks but she didn’t brush them away. Her mother put her arm around her and this time Gina didn’t shy away from her touch. “And that was it. When I woke up, it had already happened.”
The girl took refuge in her mother’s arms, like a baby bird. Regina held her in her embrace and, turning to the inspector, said severely:
“I think that’s enough, don’t you? As you can see, my daughter has been badly affected by all this. I don’t want her to have to repeat the same story again and again.”
Héctor nodded and gave Leire a sideways glance. She didn’t know what he meant by that look, but she was sure that at that moment, protected by her mother, Gina wouldn’t tell them anything else. And although the girl’s tears appeared sincere, she’d noticed a certain relaxation in Gina’s posture after her mother’s last words. Leire was going to say something, but Regina beat her to it.
“I still remember how terrible the following morning was.” The spotlights were back on the principal actress, who was demanding to act her role.
Héctor kept up the game.
“How did you hear about what happened?”
“Glòria called me first thing in the morning to tell me. God! I couldn’t believe it . . . And although she told me straight away that Gina was fine, that it was poor Marc who had . . . Well, I wasn’t happy until I saw her.” She hugged her daughter even tighter.
“Of course,” agreed the inspector. “Had you been having a party at the Castells’ chalet?”
The woman smiled ironically.
“Calling it a party is an exaggeration, Inspector. Let’s leave it at a simple dinner with friends. Glòria is charming, and one of the most organized women I know, but parties aren’t exactly her thing.”
“Who was there?”
“There were seven of us: the Roviras, the Castells, my husband and I, and Enric’s brother, the monsignor. Well, and Natàlia, of course. The Castells’ adopted daughter,” she clarified.
“Did it end early?”
If Regina was surprised by the question, she showed no sign of it.
“Early? I don’t know what to tell you; to me the night went on forever. I haven’t been so bored since the last Turkish film Salvador took me to see. Imagine, the Roviras, who dedicate more time to blessing the meal than eating, because they believe enjoying food is a sin of gluttony or greed or something. And Glòria, who spent the whole dinner getting up to see if the fireworks were bothering the little one. I told her the Chinese have spent centuries playing with powder but she looked at me as if I were an idiot.”
Gina sighed with annoyance.
“Mama, don’t be nasty. Glòria isn’t that hysterical. And Natàlia is a darling. When I babysit she always goes to sleep straight away.” Turning to the inspector, she added, “My mother can’t bear Glòria because she’s still a size eight, and because she’s studying for a degree.”
“Gina, don’t talk rubbish. I’m very fond of Glòria; she’s been the best thing that could have happened to Enric: finding a wife.” If the comment was meant to be complimentary, her tone clearly expressed a certain scorn. “And I admire her organizational ability, but that doesn’t change the fact that the ‘party’ was a bore: my husband, Enric and the priest spoke at length and in detail about Catalonia’s disastrous position at present, the crisis, the lack of values . . . To top it all, one can’t even have a drink with the controls they put on the road during the night of San Juan.” She said it as if this were Inspector Salgado’s direct responsibility.
“What time did you return?”
“It would have been around two when we arrived home. Salvador returns from a trip tomorrow. I’ll ask him; he pays much more attention to time than I do.”
While her mother was speaking, Gina rose and went looking for a tissue. Leire’s eyes followed her. The tears had stopped and in their place, for a moment, was something like satisfaction. Driven by an
The girl took refuge in her mother’s arms, like a baby bird. Regina held her in her embrace and, turning to the inspector, said severely:
“I think that’s enough, don’t you? As you can see, my daughter has been badly affected by all this. I don’t want her to have to repeat the same story again and again.”
Héctor nodded and gave Leire a sideways glance. She didn’t know what he meant by that look, but she was sure that at that moment, protected by her mother, Gina wouldn’t tell them anything else. And although the girl’s tears appeared sincere, she’d noticed a certain relaxation in Gina’s posture after her mother’s last words. Leire was going to say something, but Regina beat her to it.
“I still remember how terrible the following morning was.” The spotlights were back on the principal actress, who was demanding to act her role.
Héctor kept up the game.
“How did you hear about what happened?”
“Glòria called me first thing in the morning to tell me. God! I couldn’t believe it . . . And although she told me straight away that Gina was fine, that it was poor Marc who had . . . Well, I wasn’t happy until I saw her.” She hugged her daughter even tighter.
“Of course,” agreed the inspector. “Had you been having a party at the Castells’ chalet?”
The woman smiled ironically.
“Calling it a party is an exaggeration, Inspector. Let’s leave it at a simple dinner with friends. Glòria is charming, and one of the most organized women I know, but parties aren’t exactly her thing.”
“Who was there?”
“There were seven of us: the Roviras, the Castells, my husband and I, and Enric’s brother, the monsignor. Well, and Natàlia, of course. The Castells’ adopted daughter,” she clarified.
“Did it end early?”
If Regina was surprised by the question, she showed no sign of it.
“Early? I don’t know what to tell you; to me the night went on forever. I haven’t been so bored since the last Turkish film Salvador took me to see. Imagine, the Roviras, who dedicate more time to blessing the meal than eating, because they believe enjoying food is a sin of gluttony or greed or something. And Glòria, who spent the whole dinner getting up to see if the fireworks were bothering the little one. I told her the Chinese have spent centuries playing with powder but she looked at me as if I were an idiot.”
Gina sighed with annoyance.
“Mama, don’t be nasty. Glòria isn’t that hysterical. And Natàlia is a darling. When I babysit she always goes to sleep straight away.” Turning to the inspector, she added, “My mother can’t bear Glòria because she’s still a size eight, and because she’s studying for a degree.”
“Gina, don’t talk rubbish. I’m very fond of Glòria; she’s been the best thing that could have happened to Enric: finding a wife.” If the comment was meant to be complimentary, her tone clearly expressed a certain scorn. “And I admire her organizational ability, but that doesn’t change the fact that the ‘party’ was a bore: my husband, Enric and the priest spoke at length and in detail about Catalonia’s disastrous position at present, the crisis, the lack of values . . . To top it all, one can’t even have a drink with the controls they put on the road during the night of San Juan.” She said it as if this were Inspector Salgado’s direct responsibility.
“What time did you return?”
“It would have been around two when we arrived home. Salvador returns from a trip tomorrow. I’ll ask him; he pays much more attention to time than I do.”
While her mother was speaking, Gina rose and went looking for a tissue. Leire’s eyes followed her. The tears had stopped and in their place, for a moment, was something like satisfaction. Driven by an
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