‘I was going to ask her again what she meant when she took the blanket off her legs and stood up. I have to go to the bathroom, she said. I stood up and, as I helped her to walk, I realized she was even thinner than she looked at first glance: I felt her shoulder blades and hipbones in my hands. There was no light in the bathroom and the toilet tank was broken. Fearing that she might fall, I asked her if she wanted me to stay in there with her, but she said no, handed me a plastic bowl and asked me to fill it with water from the kitchen. I did what she said and, while listening to her urinate behind the door, with the bowl in my hands, waiting for her to finish, I felt that I had to get her out of that place, not for her sake, but for mine. Since she seemed to be taking too long I asked if she was all right; her answer consisted of opening the door, taking the bowl from me and shutting herself in there again.
‘When she came out she’d washed her face and combed her hair. She held the bowl out to me and asked me to put it back in the kitchen. I was about to say: Let’s just go, Tere. You’re sick, you have to see a doctor. Put some clothes on and I’ll go get the car. But I waited, I didn’t say anything. I took the bowl, Tere started to walk on her own back to her armchair and wrapped herself back up in the blanket. She seemed very tired from the effort and stared out the window; the sky was even darker than before, but night hadn’t yet fallen. I left the basin in the kitchen and went back into the room. When she saw me, Tere said: Aren’t you going to ask me why I asked you to come over? I sat back down in front of her and reached for her hands again, but she pulled them away and folded her arms, as if she’d just got a sudden chill. What did you ask me here for? I asked. Tere let a few seconds pass; then she said, straight out: I gave you guys away. I heard the words, but didn’t understand their meaning; Tere repeated them. Knowing what she was talking about, I asked her what she was talking about.’
‘She was talking about the last robbery, no? The robbery of the Bordils branch of the Banco Popular.’
‘Right.’
‘She meant she was the one who gave them the tip-off.’
‘Right. I went quiet, silent, as if she’d told me she’d just seen a UFO or that she’d just been sentenced to the electric chair. Tere unfolded her arms and, as soon as she started to speak (slowly, with many pauses), I looked away from her and fixed my gaze beyond the window and the kids who were still playing football, on the horse that was ambling around his post. Tere assured me that what she’d said was the truth, repeated that it had been her who had informed the police and that’s why she’d made an excuse not to participate in that morning’s robbery. They scared me, she explained. They threatened me. Although if they’d only threatened me I wouldn’t have said anything. They threatened my mother and my sisters, threatened to take the kids away. They were fed up with us, especially fed up with Zarco. They wanted to catch him any way they could; for his own sake and because they knew that, if they caught him, the gang would be finished. They put me between a rock and a hard place. I knew that sooner or later they’d catch us; and I also knew that Zarco would never suspect me and that, if by some miracle he found out that I’d snitched on you, he wouldn’t do anything to me. Not to me. So I ended up giving in. What choice did I have? The question hung in the air for a few seconds. I was stunned: I didn’t know what to think, except that what Tere said was true. How could it not be? What interest could Tere have in lying about it, and so many years later at that? What could she possibly gain from accusing herself of such a thing? Only I insisted on one condition, she continued. And they agreed. This time she waited for me to ask the question, but I didn’t. The condition was that they’d let you escape, she said. I looked away from the window and stared at her. Me? I asked. Tere touched the beauty spot beside her nose. I had to choose someone and I couldn’t choose Zarco, she explained. I told you already: they weren’t going to let Zarco escape; you they would. She paused. You understand, right? she said. That morning the cops weren’t after you. Even if Zarco hadn’t stopped at La Devesa they wouldn’t have caught you; and if they had caught you they would have let you go pretty soon. That was the deal I made with them. And those kinds of deals are kept. You know better than I do.
‘That was it: I did know; but I still didn’t know what to think, or what to say. I said: Why are you telling me this now? Why didn’t you tell me before? Tere answered: Because before Zarco was alive and I didn’t want you telling him. She added: And because I don’t want you to keep thinking something that isn’t true. I want you to know the truth; and the truth is that you never owed Zarco a thing. Tere sat there looking at me expectantly for a few seconds. Since I didn’t say anything she asked: Are you mad at me? Why would I be? I answered. Didn’t you say you saved me? Yeah, she said. But before that I snitched on you. You and everybody. And on top of that I let everybody believe that the one who snitched was you. What were you going to do? I replied, shrugging. First you had no choice but to give us up; then you had no choice but to keep quiet about having given us up. Besides, I continued, after a pause: Do you know how many years ago that happened? Thirty. It doesn’t matter to anyone any more. The ones it could have mattered to are dead now. Zarco’s dead. Everybody’s dead. Everybody except you and me. Tere listened to me attentively, I don’t know whether relieved or sceptical, and when I finished talking turned back towards the window. I looked at her sharp profile, at her very pale cheeks and temples, blue networks of veins showing through. Before I could go on, Tere said: Look. It’s raining.