Tomorrow in the Battle Think on Me (28 page)

She set off in one direction and I made as if to go in the other, but after taking a few steps, I stopped and turned round and, watching her move off, her back to me, her legs so like those of her sister Marta – or perhaps it was the way she walked rather than her actual calves – I decided to follow her for a while, until I got bored or tired. She strode confidently along for a couple of blocks, as if she knew exactly where she was going, but without being in any particular hurry, and only when she turned down Velazquez did she slacken her pace and begin to drift momentarily towards certain shop windows – one heel at a slight angle, the ground was wet – like someone merely locating where a place is and resolving to have a better look at it another day, then gradually the pauses became longer – her heels straight, the ground still wet – until, at last, she went into a clothes shop, and then I remembered that she had been charged with buying a birthday present for her sister-in-law, María Fernández Vera, on Téllez’s behalf. I gingerly stopped outside the same shop and from one corner of the shop window I peered inside, especially when I saw that Luisa had her back to the street while she was talking to the assistant. Then she went over to the skirt rail and stood there looking at the skirts and touching them, still accompanied by the assistant – one of those young women who don’t allow a customer time to think and are constantly trying to anticipate their tastes, she kept holding up skirts to which Luisa said no with a shake of her head – until at last Luisa chose one and disappeared into a changing room. She was careless or perhaps trusting, she left her handbag outside on what was more of a table than a glass counter. After a couple of minutes, she reappeared with the skirt on, still tucking in her blouse. It didn’t really suit her, it was too long, and the colour was rather bland, her own skirt suited her better. She took a few steps forward and then back while she looked at herself in the mirror – the ticket still dangling – she looked at herself from the side, from the back, I could see from her face that she had decided against it, so I withdrew from my spying position and went off and stood perusing a nearby newsstand, waiting for Luisa to come out, I was forced into buying a foreign newspaper that didn’t interest me in the least. She looked at her watch once she was out in the street again, perhaps she was killing time before another appointment,
a skirt didn’t seem a very suitable present for Téllez to give his daughter-in-law, it would be obvious that he hadn’t bought it himself, although perhaps that didn’t matter. Luisa continued on down Velázquez, and when she reached the corner of Lista or, rather, Ortega y Gasset (the street changed its name ages ago, but the old name prevails and, unfortunately for the philosopher, that’s the one it’s still known by), she went into a department store, large and diverse enough for me to follow her and observe her from a distance without being seen, if I was careful. I watched her walk through the book section, she picked up a book, quickly read the blurb on the back or the inside flap and returned it to its pile, she didn’t even leaf through it (they mostly have new books in these places and a lot are wrapped in cellophane, which is a real drag), finally, she decided on one, I couldn’t see what at first, and went over to the record department, I kept my distance, with my back to her, pretending to be poring over the videos, looking round every now and then in case she should leave without my noticing. In a moment of panic (she suddenly glanced over to where I was standing), I selected a video at random as if I were about to buy it, to give the appearance of doing something: an absurd gesture, it didn’t matter what I was doing as long as she didn’t find me out, or even if she did find me out. But Luisa was in no hurry or else was still looking for a present and, after a few moments, she walked off with her book but no record towards the food section, I followed after with my video in my hand and stationed myself by the magazines and started flicking through them, watching her out of the corner of my eye, still keeping behind her at all times, it’s the one invariable rule when following someone. And then I thought that she must be intending to return home soon, or to Deán’s home (to someone’s home, whichever it was), because she took out two large tubs of Häagen-Dazs ice cream from the freezer where they were on display, when she opened the transparent glass door I saw her figure momentarily enveloped in the cold air, during the few moments it took her to choose the flavours, a cloud of cold air that seemed to make her blush. If she delayed going home, they would melt, it was the same ice cream that Marta had offered me at that supper at home and now Luisa was buying it too, or perhaps it was Eugenio who
liked the ice cream and both sisters bought it for him – Marta had used it as a quick dessert, she hadn’t known she was going to have a visitor until that evening. Ice cream in winter for such a small child, it didn’t seem likely, I thought, correcting myself, not that I have much idea what children of that age or any other age eat, although Luisa would have to start finding out since she had offered to take care of him. That was when I wondered about the boy, who would he be with all that time, at that age – this I do know – they can’t be left alone for a minute unless they’re asleep, like that night in Conde de la Cimera when I went away and left him truly alone, nothing had happened to him. Perhaps his aunt and uncle were taking care of him for a while, María Fernández Vera and the brother Guillermo, while Deán and Luisa were having lunch with Téllez to discuss the child’s future, a discussion I had partly prevented by my presence. Luisa also picked up a packet of good-quality sausages and some beer, Mexican beer, perhaps she was going to improvise a supper with those meagre ingredients, but not with me. She went over to the desk to pay, I followed, still making sure I kept out of sight, I went over to the section she had just left, I too chose a tub of ice cream from the freezer, I too was enveloped in the cold air, and then I immediately went to join the queue at the checkout so as not to be separated from her by too many other customers – luckily there was only one other customer between us – otherwise I might have lost sight of her on the way out. The guy between us wasn’t very tall, so I could still see her. I was standing very close to her, I had a clear view of the back of her neck (fortunately, she didn’t suddenly turn round). Then I saw the title of the book she had chosen,
Lolita
, an excellent choice, but, at the time, it seemed a little strange to me and not a particularly suitable present for her sister-in-law. Only when I was hurriedly paying for my ice cream and my video did I realize what I was buying, having chosen it blindly,
101 Dalmatians
, a cartoon, it didn’t interest me in the least, but I didn’t have time to run back and change it. Once out in the street, Luisa Téllez walked down Lista in the direction of the Castellana and, before she reached Serrano, she turned down another street and entered a clothes shop with large windows, much too exposed if I wanted to spy on her. I could wait in a
nearby bar, but I preferred to watch her, so I decided to walk up and down outside the shop, glancing in as I passed, but without stopping, as if I were a character in a film repeatedly entering and leaving the field of vision, crossing the screen from one side to the other, that’s how she would see me if, by chance, she noticed me, the first time she saw me would, for her, be the first time that I was casually strolling down that busy street, stranger things happen. The pavement was slightly uneven there and a puddle had formed, I had to avoid it each time I passed and, each time I did so, I took advantage of that brief pause to glance inside the shop, Luisa was talking to the idle shop assistants and was touching and looking at everything, she probably couldn’t make up her mind. She picked up another skirt and a sort of elegant T-shirt (I saw how elegant it was later on) and went into the changing room, again leaving her handbag and her shopping bag behind, the women stood around yawning, their arms folded, waiting for her to re-emerge, there were no other customers on that afternoon of changeable weather, the assistants were wearing clothes from their own shop, which, I suddenly realized, was Emporio Armani. I was just beginning to get tired of walking up and down like that (I paused now and then) when Luisa emerged from the changing room wearing the T-shirt and the skirt, the skirt was quite short and deep red in colour and it suited her perfectly, even better than the one she had been wearing. I rapidly moved out of visual range and waited more than a minute before walking past again and, when I finally did, I caught Luisa in the middle of a double manoeuvre: she was turning to go back into the changing room, having looked at herself in the mirror and, on her way, she began taking off the elegant cream-coloured T-shirt. I glimpsed her bra, her arms in the air with the sleeves of the blouse turned inside out, I saw her smooth, clean armpits. I couldn’t help but stop and stare and, as I did so, I stepped in the puddle with my right foot, soaking my shoe, I could feel the water in my sock and on my skin, horrible, such an unpleasant sensation. When I looked up, Luisa had disappeared into the changing room, but now I knew for certain that she was the woman I had seen undressing and looking out of the window of Marta’s bedroom the night after my visit, Marta’s sister, Luisa Téllez, who had perhaps also seen me as she looked
out, while I stood there next to my taxi, pretending to be waiting for someone and thinking, for a second, that the silhouette in the window could be Marta still alive. I had thought that, knowing it to be impossible. One sister had ice cream already at home and the other was buying it now; one had an Armani top that I had helped to remove and the other was trying one on now, before my very eyes. I was still under the spell, I thought, or the spell was still working. But perhaps she was buying this new top for her sister-in-law, on behalf of Téllez, a father-in-law with money, he must have acquired it during the Franco era. I saw Luisa pay with a credit card (each article of clothing in a separate bag), and I moved out of the way so that I could follow her when she came out of the shop: she went back down Ortega y Gasset or Lista and walked as far as the Castellana, that avenue which is like a river flowing through the city, forming a long frontier with straight tree-lined quays, there are no meanders and no water, just asphalt, and the pavements or quays are not raised up. One of those trees had been blown over in the storm, it had been cut off at its base and the ground was scattered with splinters, the storm glimpsed from the restaurant must have been extremely violent, with almost hurricane-force winds, unless the tree had fallen over some days before and had still not been removed, the branches had not yet been sawn off, in Madrid imperfections are never corrected immediately. However it happened, it had fallen towards the pavement, not towards the road – the river – which is always full of cars, it could have killed some passer-by. We weren’t far from Hermanos Bécquer, that is, from the corner of the Castellana where, nearly two years before, I had picked up Victoria and then deposited her back there afterwards, late into the night, that’s what she had wanted, to be left: where I had met her, so I did. Once we had climbed back into the front seats of my car and before turning on the engine again, I wondered whether I should offer her a bit more money and invite her to come back to my place until morning: if she was Celia she would be embarrassed or saddened, if she was Victoria she would be delighted to accept, a whole Tuesday night with the meter running, it probably didn’t happen that often, it’s probably considered to be a real stroke of luck. I didn’t suggest it though, perhaps, again, because I did not
want to be absolutely certain, and perhaps so as not to have to remember her figure in my bedroom, it is harder to rid oneself of ghosts that have been in your own rooms.

“Anything else?” she asked, while I was hesitating. That’s what shop assistants ask you in shops.

“Do
you
want anything else?” I replied, trying my luck.

“Ah,” she replied, in a slightly surprised, vengeful tone of voice, “remember now, I’m here to do what you tell me to do, you’re in charge.” She had picked up her mac from the back seat but she hadn’t put it on, she had placed it on her lap, carefully folded, like someone preparing to leave. I said nothing, and then she took another piece of chewing-gum out of her handbag and while she was unwrapping it, added rather mockingly, studying the tiny rectangle: “And to think you could have killed me.” She could allow herself this remark now because she was feeling calm and no longer afraid, she herself had said, “You can see right away what a bloke is after,” and it was me she had seen.

“What a nasty girl you are,” I replied and it was then that I started the engine again as if it were a continuation of that phrase or perhaps a full stop. The noise made the light in the porter’s lodge at the German embassy go on, but only for a moment, darkness was immediately restored. Perhaps the guard hadn’t even noticed our presence, perhaps he was dozing and the sound of the engine had woken him up from some bad dream. “Where shall I drop you?”

“Where you found me,” she replied. “The night isn’t over yet for me,” and she put the chewing-gum in her mouth: this time it was a strawberry smell that mingled with the other smells in the car, there were newer, stronger smells now.

I wasn’t expecting that last remark, I mean, it hadn’t even occurred to me to think such a thing, and that was why I decided to follow her too or, rather, not to leave after dropping her on the corner which had not, for the moment, brought her bad luck. We were so close to the corner that I made a short detour before returning to Hermanos Bécquer in order to absorb that unexpected thought and to gain time. Before she got out, I gave her another note, I put it in her hand, money passing from hand to hand, that doesn’t often happen.

“What’s this for?” she asked.

“For the fright I gave you earlier on,” I replied.

“You
are
conscientious, anyway, you didn’t really,” she said. “Still, it’s received with thanks.” She opened the door, got out of the car and began putting on her raincoat before stepping on to the pavement, her minuscule skirt was more creased than ever, but it wasn’t stained or crumpled, not by me at least. I drove away quickly, when she still had just the one sleeve on. I turned to the right, now only one of the other two prostitutes was standing in a doorway in the Castellana, the ground was still damp and it must have been freezing.