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Artimbau’s social-Freudian demagogy to the third bottle of wine.
    ‘Rich people had respect for him, because in this country theyrespect anyone who’s made a lot of money without too much effort. And Stuart Pedrell has certainly done that. He once told me the story of how he got rich, and it was enough to make you wet yourself laughing.
    ‘It was in the early 1950s, when there was that sudden block on imports. Raw materials were coming here only in a trickle, or via the black market. By then, Stuart Pedrell had finished studying to be a commercial lawyer. His father had already marked him down to take over the business, because his brothers had struck out on their own. He was still unsure of himself. He investigated the raw materials market and found out that there was a shortage of casein in Spain. Fine. So, where was casein to be got? In Uruguay and Argentina. Who wanted to buy it? He drew up a list of potential customers and visited them one by one. They were willing to buy from him if the ministry gave import permission. Easy as pie. Stuart Pedrell mobilized his contacts, who included government ministers, and they opened doors at the Ministry of Trade. The trade minister himself thought the whole project was very patriotic, because that was how Stuart Pedrell presented it to him. What would Spain do without casein? What would become of us without casein?’
    ‘I hate to think.’
    ‘Stuart Pedrell flew to Uruguay and Argentina. He talked with manufacturers. He went to meetings. He danced the tango. He even got into the habit of telling jokes with an Argentinian accent. He used to do that when he was on a high, or feeling down, or when he was playing the piano.’
    ‘In other words, all the time.’
    ‘No, no, I exaggerate. He got the casein at a reasonable price, a third or a quarter of the price that had been agreed in Spain. Everything went according to plan, and he used his first millions to make more. That’s not the best way to put it, of course, because he was clever enough to associate himself with businessmen who could make up for his personal aloofness. You could say that hewas a Brechtian entrepreneur—the kind with the best prospects for the here and now. An alienated capitalist won’t have much chance in the social-democratic future that faces us.’
    ‘Who were his partners?’
    ‘There were two main ones: Planas and the Marquess of Munt.’
    ‘Sounds like big money.’
    ‘Big money and very good connections. For some time it was said that the mayor was also in on the act. Not just the mayor, but various banks and religious and semi-religious sects as well. Stuart Pedrell would put up the money and then take a back seat. In a way, I suppose, he was schizophrenic. The world of business was one thing, and his intellectual circles quite another. When he’d made enough money to assure the future of four generations, he went back to university and studied philosophy and politics in Madrid. Later on, he enrolled at Harvard and the London School of Economics. I know for sure that he wrote poems which he never published.’
    ‘Did he ever publish anything?’
    ‘Never. He used to say that he was too much of a perfectionist. But I think it was because he couldn’t find a style. That happens to a lot of people. They have everything that they think they need in order to create, and then they find that they haven’t got a style. So they bring literature into their lives, or painting into their wardrobes. Some rich people decide to buy up magazines or publishing houses instead. Stuart Pedrell was involved in financing a couple of small publishers, but he never gave them a lot—just enough to cover their annual losses. The money was a pittance for him.’
    ‘What about his wife? Why is she called Mima?’
    ‘From Miriam. It’s quite normal. All my clients are called Popo, Puli, Peni, Chocho, Fifi or somesuch. These days it’s chic to be “tired”, and nothing tires you more than having to say