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the front room. The air tingled with the scent of cooking. In the dining-room, Jaime sat at the table, a bottle of brandy and an empty glass in front of him. ‘I don’t know what’s for grub, but it’s making me hungry.’
    Alvarez brought a glass out of the sideboard, filled the glass with brandy, added two cubes of ice from the insulated container. ‘From the smell, it could be Estofat de xot. She’s not cooked that for months.’
    â€˜You’re making me even hungrier!’ Jaime reached across the table for the bottle, but as he did so there was the swish of the bead curtain to warn him that Dolores was coming through from the kitchen. He hastily withdrew his hand.
    Face damp with sweat, she stepped into the dining-room. ‘I’m sorry, but the meal’s going to be a bit late because the shopping took such a long time, what with not finding what I wanted and meeting people who would talk.’
    â€˜She who travels slowly prolongs the pleasure of arriving,’ Alvarez said.
    â€˜There’s not much pleasure in shopping with all the foreigners around.’ She turned. ‘You’ve time for another drink,’ she said over her shoulder as she went back into the kitchen.
    Jaime picked up the bottle. ‘Where did you learn these peculiar things you say?’
    â€˜Probably at school.’
    â€˜Bloody odd school you must have gone to.’ He refilled his glass. He drank, put the glass down, looked at the bead curtain and said in a low voice: ‘Have you noticed Dolores?’
    â€˜What about her?’
    â€˜I think something’s up.’
    Alvarez’s concern was immediate. ‘You mean, she’s ill?’
    â€˜Not exactly ill. But acting strange. Comes in here a moment ago and says the meal’s going to be late so have another coñac. You know what she’s usually like. Says I’m a drunkard when I’m on my first drink. Another thing. It’s days since she’s yelled at me over anything. Why’s she like this?’
    â€˜How would I know? Maybe it’s because your cousin made such a hit with her.’
    â€˜Are you suggesting she and him…?’
    â€˜Have you gone crazy? If she heard you suggest that, she’d yell so hard your brains would scramble.’
    â€˜Well it just seemed like that’s what you were implying.’
    â€˜Do yourself a favour and stop thinking.’
    â€˜But it makes me worry, her behaving like this.’
    â€˜If a man offers you a lamb for free, don’t bother to ask him where he got it.’
    â€˜I suppose you learned that at your school as well?’ He drank deeply. ‘Well, I’m glad I didn’t go to it.’

CHAPTER 7
    Built before the Civil War, Hotel Vista Bella had catered for wealthy families from Palma or the Peninsula who spent much of the summer enjoying the quiet tranquillity of the port. Then, events both inside and outside Spain had dramatically affected the number of such guests and times had become very hard. The advent of the package holiday trade had offered a return to prosperity, but the family who owned the Vista Bella had been reluctant to accept it because they had had the foresight to realize that it must change the character of the hotel. Strangely, they had not at first realized that it must to an even greater degree change the whole character of the port with the result that the wealthy, whose prime requirement was exclusivity, would no longer favour it. Events, however, had soon forced them to acknowledge the fact that if they were to stay in business, they had to come to terms with the change. They had modernized and greatly enlarged the hotel, but in keeping with their ethos had – in so far as this was possible – continued to run it with the caring efficiency shown in the past, despite the fact that many of the guests bore little resemblance to their predecessors.
    Alvarez turned off the pavement, went