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a refuge for wildlife.’
    While they wait he inspects the pictures on the walls: water-colours, nature scenes (he recognizes the dam on which the ill-fated ducks had swum), prettily done but amateurish.
    Two women enter, followed by Roberta bearing a tea-tray. ‘These are they,’ intones Roberta: ‘señora Inés and her husband señor Simón and their son David. Señora Valentina and señora Consuelo.’
    The women, clearly sisters, are, he would guess, in their sixties, greying, soberly dressed. ‘Honoured to meet you, señora Valentina, señora Consuelo,’ he says, bowing. ‘Allow me to thank you for giving us a place to stay on your beautiful estate.’
    â€˜I’m not their son,’ says David in a calm, level voice.
    â€˜Oh,’ says one of the sisters in mock surprise, Valentina or Consuelo, he does not know which is which. ‘Whose son are you then?’
    â€˜Nobody’s,’ says David firmly.
    â€˜So you are nobody’s son, young man,’ says Valentina or Consuelo. ‘That is interesting. An interesting condition. How old are you?’
    â€˜Six.’
    â€˜Six. And you don’t go to school, I understand. Wouldn’t you like to go to school?’
    â€˜I have been to school.’
    â€˜And?’
    Inés intervenes. ‘We sent him to school in the last place where we lived, but he had poor teachers there, so we have decided to educate him at home. For the time being.’
    â€˜They gave the children tests,’ he, Simón adds, ‘monthly tests, to measure their progress. David didn’t like being measured, so he wrote nonsense for the tests, which got him into trouble. Got us all into trouble.’
    The sister ignores him. ‘Wouldn’t you like to go to school, David, and meet other children?’
    â€˜I prefer to be educated at home,’ says David primly.
    The other sister, meanwhile, has poured the tea. ‘Do you take sugar, Inés?’ she asks. Inés shakes her head. ‘And you, Simón?’
    â€˜Is it tea?’ says the boy. ‘I don’t like tea.’
    â€˜Then you need not have any,’ says the sister.
    â€˜You will be wondering, Inés, Simón,’ says the first sister, ‘why you have been invited here. Well, Roberta has been telling us about your son, about what a clever boy he is, clever and well spoken, about how he is wasting his time with the fruit-pickers’ children when he ought to be learning. We discussed the matter, my sisters and I, and we thought we would put a proposal before you. And if you are wondering, by the way, where the third of the sisters is, since I am aware that we are known all over the district as the Three Sisters, I will tell you that señora Alma is unfortunately indisposed. She suffers from melancholy, and today is one of those days when her melancholy has got the better of her. One of her black days, as she calls them. But she is entirely in accord with our proposal.
    â€˜Our proposal is that you enrol your son in one of the private academies in Estrella. Roberta has told you a little about the academies, I believe: the Academy of Singing and the Academy of Dance. We would recommend the Academy of Dance. We are acquainted with the principal, señor Arroyo, and his wife, and can vouch for them. As well as a training in dance they offer an excellent general education. We, my sisters and I, will be responsible for your son’s fees as long as he is a student there.’
    â€˜I don’t like dancing,’ says David. ‘I like singing.’
    The two sisters exchange looks. ‘We have had no personal contact with the Academy of Singing,’ says Valentina or Consuelo, ‘but I think I am correct in saying that they do not offer a general education. Their task is to train people to become professional singers. Do you want to be a professional singer, David, when you grow