“If you want a piece of advice, don’t trust those people.” The words came out of her mouth like bullets from a gun. “They might seem charming, but they’re snakes. Believe me.”
Once again, the intricate tangles of the island’s ancient quarrels had ensnared him, turning even a mundane activity like having a coffee into a tedious exchange of words, reproaches, and explanations.
“Let me guess,” he said in a tired voice. “You’re a Docampo.”
“I am.”
“And about that coffee . . .”
“The machine’s off.” She shook her head. “And the fridge has been empty since the end of the summer. If you want, you can have a beer. We’ve got plenty of that.”
Roberto checked his watch, hesitating. It was still only eleven o’clock in the morning.What the hell?he thought. It might be early, but he couldn’t think of anywhere better to be than sitting on that terrace, enjoying the weak rays of sunlight that filtered through the clouds scudding across the sky. And doing something normal, like having a beer while he looked out at the sea and enjoyed the sunshine, seemed like a well-deserved prize and the perfect contrast to the events of yesterday.
“A beer would be great, thanks.”
The woman nodded and disappeared into the restaurant. She returned shortly with a bottle of tepid Estrella Galicia and a bowl of tired-looking peanuts. Even so, Roberto was delighted as he sat enjoying a view that was more than a match for anything to be had from the most elegant terrace one could imagine.
The tranquility lasted no more than ten minutes. As he sat there, his eyes closed, he sensed the presence of somebody casting their shadow over him. He opened his eyes, already wary.
“Good morning,” came the deep, nasal voice of Luis Docampo, the bearded man he had nearly come to blows with upon arriving on the island. “Mind if I sit down?”
Roberto hesitated. The man didn’t appear to be looking for trouble, despite their previous encounter, and there was nothing to gain from being unpleasant, so Roberto nodded politely. Luis fetched a chair and dragged it across the floor, its legs squeaking on the tiles. He groaned as he eased his large body into the seat.
“I think you’ve already met my wife, Amaia,” he said, pointing to the half-open door.
“Yes, she was very ...” Roberto was about to say “friendly” but thought better of it. “Hospitable. And she brought me a beer.”
“Do you mind if I join you?”
Roberto shrugged, and Luis Docampo took the gesture as a yes. He turned toward the door and gave a loud whistle. Amaia popped her head round the door, and a minute later she returned with another beer for her husband.
“She told me you were here,” the man said, “so I came to see you. We didn’t get off to a very good start the other day.”
“You were tormenting a kid,” replied Roberto dryly. “A kid, what’s more, who has some kind of learning disability. If you want me to apologize for stopping you, I’m afraid you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
The man shook his head. “I wasn’t hurting him. I was just winding him up. I was going to give his stupid superhero toys back.”
“Even so, it isn’t right.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Luis leaned on the table, which creaked under his weight. “You’re like everyone else from the mainland, turning up here, thinking they know it all and we’re just a bunch of hicks. That boy isn’t what he seems.”
“Really? What do you mean?”
“The kid’s always going about spying,” said the man, before taking a sip of his beer. “He’s always hanging around our places, peering through the windows, trampling the fields.”
“That’s just a kid messing around!”
“Messing around? If only! A few weeks ago, a bunch of chickens disappeared from my coop, and later I found them with their heads chopped off.” Luis Docampo stared at him before adding ominously, “I’m sure it was him.”
7
A Walk on the Beach
“Their heads? What do you mean?”
“Like I said! Right off!” Luis brought his fist down on the table, making the bottles clink. “He pulled their fucking heads off and chucked them on the path. I’m telling you, that boy is bad news. I was just trying to teach him a lesson, that’s all. Until you turned up.”
Roberto sipped his beer, which suddenly tasted bitter. He couldn’t help wondering if the Freire kid had been responsible for the grisly scene with the rabbit on his own doorstep. If what the man said was true, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d done something of the kind. Diego didn’t seem to have the capacity to know what a curse was, much less perform a ritual of this sort. Even so, a seed of doubt had been sown.
