His mouth opened, but he seemed to have run out of insults. For a moment I thought he was about to have a stroke. . no kidding; I was a nurse once, remember. . but it passed, and he seemed to sink into himself. ‘Get out, get out,’ he said. ‘Your wine fair will never happen.’
‘Ah, but it will,’ I told him. ‘That’s taken care of. One way or another it will, even if you go on blocking Plaça Petita. But if you do, I’ll promise you this. I will use my resources, and I have them, make no mistake, to make sure that everyone in St Martí, and in L’Escala, knows what you’ve done, and why. I’ll put posters in the streets, I’ll post an announcement on the regional website. I’ll give the story to the Girona press. Your name will be shit, everywhere.’
He looked at me, and knew serious when he saw it. Then he shrugged. ‘I’m an old man. I should care,’ he sneered.
‘You should,’ I said. I turned to leave, ushering my companion in front of me, in case he decided to take a swing at him after all. ‘Come on, Matthew.’ I had gripped the handle when his voice came from behind me.
‘Wait a moment.’ His tone suggested that I got through to him, but not necessarily that he was beaten.
We stopped. ‘Well?’ I challenged. I could see him regrouping, regaining some bravado. I could see a crafty glint in his eyes.
‘You want your little fair in your little village,’ he murmured. ‘You want me to give my approval, or you will try to ruin the reputation that I have built up through my long lifetime.’ His back straightened, as he drew himself to his full height, only around five feet eight, but tall for a Catalan man of his age. ‘Very well,’ he announced. ‘I will tell the mayor that should she wish to allow it, then for my part I consent. However. .’ he paused, ‘. . this is public land, and just as the restaurants in Plaça Major pay ground rent to put their tables in the square, then you must pay a proper amount for using Plaça Petita.’
I knew that he was ready to fire his last bullet, so I invited it. ‘And what would a proper amount be, for one day of preparation and three days of the fair?’
His right hand caressed his heavy jowls, as he made a show of considering my question. ‘I would say. . two million pesetas.’
Although the euro has been the official currency for nearly ten years, many Spanish people still think in pesetas and quote prices in the old units. I did a rough conversion in my head. The old swine was asking for just over twelve thousand euro, or if you prefer it in sterling, around nine and a half grand at the exchange rate then.
‘Wouldn’t it be for the mayor to determine a fair cost?’ Matthew growled, having done the same mental arithmetic.
Old Planas laughed, and patted his right bum cheek, a crude gesture which I took to mean that he had the mayor in his back pocket, as well as the police.
It was my turn to shrug. ‘OK,’ I said, ‘we’ll pay that. I’ll arrange to see Justine on Monday morning, to collect her signed permission. But I warn you now, if I find that the figure has gone up by even one peseta, then everything I promised will happen.’
His mouth fell open again, in surprise this time, not fury. He had no more to say as we left the stuffy little office.
We walked through the public area, and stepped back into the fruit market. I headed for my usual stall, to buy some peppers, onions, figs and nectarines, all on the shopping list that I had in the same place that Planas had claimed he kept the mayor.
Matthew followed. ‘Primavera,’ he muttered, leaning over me. ‘We can’t do that. Ben can’t hope to cover that sort of overhead.’
‘Ben doesn’t have to,’ I told him. ‘I will.’
‘But it’s a hell of a lot of money.’
‘Come on, man. You were in the PR business, weren’t you? Have you never seen a pissing contest before?’
‘Not one with a woman involved. . and no, not even figuratively. Seriously, the fair isn’t budgeted for something like that. Ben’s talking about charging fifteen euro a ticket, to include six tastings. With that sort of ground rent, I reckon he’d need to sell three thousand to break even. He’ll do well to shift a tenth of that. Ingrid and I, we can’t let you do that.’
‘Yes you can, Matthew.’
‘Come on, you’ve got a kid to bring up. You can’t be chucking away that sort of money.’
I smiled up at him. ‘Actually I can. I don’t like talking about my finances, but between you and me, the biggest mistake that old man made was in thinking that he could bully me financially. I can chuck twelve thousand euro into the pot without a second thought. When I was with Oz, we both made money. When we divorced, I did very well out of it, for he didn’t want it to get messy. When he died, he left a trust fund for Tom that’ll see him well through university, and beyond.’
‘That’s fine,’ said Matthew, ‘and it’s very generous of you, but I still feel bad about it, and so will Ingrid, not to mention Ben.’
‘Then don’t mention it, to either of them.’
He looked at me, seriously. ‘Primavera, if I’ve learned one thing in life, it’s this: never keep secrets from your wife.’
I had to agree with him on that. Tom was three years old before his father ever knew he existed. That wasn’t fair to either of them, and I’m ashamed of it now. ‘No,’ I agreed, ‘but try to wait until all the tickets are sold. You might be surprised how many we shift. Truth is, I am careful, and I’m not given to chucking money down the drain. Maybe I have a secret weapon.’
‘And do you?’
‘Could be, but I’m keeping it to myself for now.’ I sighed as I started to make my fruit and veg choices. ‘Life does get complicated, though. One thing about Oz; he had a way of slicing through problems.’
‘Oh yes? And what would he have done in this situation? What would he have done about Planas?’
‘If the old clown got him mad enough, he’d probably have had him taken out.’
Matthew laughed. . but he couldn’t see my face.
Ten
‘Do you really believe that?’ Gerard asked. I had just reached the end of a blow-by-blow account of the morning’s events, over dinner in La Lluna, a restaurant in L’Escala that’s as far off the tourist track as you can get. . and that means, not very. More often than not, Tom would have been with us, but I’d wanted to talk to my friend on my own, and Ben had been happy to sit with him. Cher and Mustard had also been happy to sit with Charlie. About a year ago, Father Olivares, the senior parish priest and Gerard’s immediate boss. . although Gerard would counter that his immediate boss is God. . attempted to give him a very gentle hint about the propriety of dining à deux with a divorced woman. He was told, pretty sharply, I suspect, that he was a priest, not a monk, therefore a member of an open society, and that the reverend father would have thought nothing of him dining à deux with a divorced man. (In other words, he told him to fuck off, but in clerical terms.)
‘Yes, I do. Are you shocked, that I could love someone who’s capable of such a thing?’
‘I’m shocked,’ he conceded. ‘But not by that. I’ve been hearing confessions for long enough to know that love is blind, deaf, dumb, and has no sense of smell. Also I’m human, and as susceptible to rage as the next man. No, I’m shocked because I’ve seen a few of your late ex-husband’s movies and wouldn’t have suspected that he’d be capable of such a thing.’
I stared at him, astonished. ‘You never told me you were a fan,’ I exclaimed.
‘I didn’t like to,’ he said, head bowed, but grinning.
‘Well, I’m sorry to shatter your illusions, but not only was he capable, he did. The last night that he and I ever spent together, in New York, he told me everything about his life that I hadn’t known before.’