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you’re back.’
    ‘Forced to come back. My father. Family stuff. Money, you know.’
    The man emptied his glass and handed it to Rita, who, with what looked like a huge effort, extricated herself with a sigh from the tangle of sheets and went to fill it up again. Her hip brushed Gabriel’s shoulder on her way past. It was she who gave off that smell of medication, sweat and disease. She drank half the glass and then slumped back down next to the man. She kept scratching herself, on her nose and her arms. Her nails left long red scratch marks on her pale skin. Gabriel felt as though he was on a hospital visit. Just to be polite, he took a tiny sip of gin. It was lukewarm and tasted medicinal. He set it down on the table and tried to work out the best way to leave as soon as possible. But the man started up again, more for his sake than his visitor’s.
    ‘A sodding saxophone. That’s all I could get out of the old bastard. This time I really thought he was done for, no fucking chance though! He’s like a tick hanging on to his shitty life. A bag of decaying organs, that’s all he is. But with a heart like a Swiss watch, indestructible. Tick tock,tick tock. The old fucker. He knows full well I’m up to my neck in shit and that all he has to do is sign a rotten piece of paper to get me out of it. But no! He enjoys having me on a leash like this. It’s the only thing which gives him a hard-on,’ the man said. ‘Do you have any family?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Well, you don’t know how lucky you are! All my life, he’s been a pain in the neck! You can smell how this town stinks, but, I tell you, it’s not the manure, it’s him! Yeah, him! Jesus Christ, I’m not going to settle for just the sax! No way! I don’t know what the hell it was doing there. I’d never seen it before. It was in front of the door next to the umbrella stand. So I just took it. Sometimes you do things without knowing why. So as not to leave with nothing …’
    Somewhere in the far distance a clock struck eleven, the noise muffled by the dark of the night. Gabriel stood up.
    ‘Well, it’s late. I’ll be on my way. Thanks for the drink.’
    ‘I’ll see you out.’
    Before opening the door, the man whispered to Gabriel, ‘What do you think of Rita?’
    ‘Well, uh … I hardly know her.’
    ‘Physically?’
    ‘She’s, erm, well endowed.’
    ‘Well endowed?’
    ‘Attractive then.’
    ‘Because I could always … if you want … I could go for a wander. You know what I’m saying?’
    ‘That’s kind but no. I’m up early tomorrow.’
    ‘Ah, another time then perhaps?’
    ‘Perhaps. Goodnight.’
     

     
     
    José’s car smelt of wet blankets, grease and stale cigarettes. As Gabriel got in, José asked him to ignore the mess; he meant the used tissues, crumpled sweet wrappers, oily rags, old chewed pens, screws, bolts, springs, the greying remains of the stuffed toy rabbit and the set of tattered road maps.
    ‘I haven’t had time.’
    With every jolt, the saxophone on the back seat knocked against a big gift-wrapped box. On either side of the road, fields of mud stretched towards the hazy horizon. The landscape felt unreal. Did Gabriel believe in it? Even the presence of a few crows failed to convince him. Gabriel had felt this way all morning. He had gone through the motions, but felt nothing. Madeleine had been in her usual place, behind reception, encased in a tight-fitting grey suit, like soft armour. She had said ‘good morning’, asked him if he had slept well, if he liked his new room, without everreferring to the previous afternoon. They had wished each other a good day. The pavement under his feet might as well have been a rolling walkway transporting him from his hotel to the Faro. José had shaved, combed his hair and put on a clean shirt.
    ‘What’s in the box?’
    ‘A little kitchen on wheels for Maria. Where did you eat last night?’
    ‘Nowhere. I went for a walk and had a few peanuts before going back to the