Suddenly he heard the scooter approaching from the opposite direction, and before he knew what had happened, Carlos was coming down the pavement and stopping jerkily in front of the shop.
“Amazing!” said Carlos, breathless. “I did it! I went all the way up Granados, turned into Rossello, past our apartment, then came back down Balmes, all non-stop! Quick, Eduardo, grab the handle bars, so I can get off.!”
“Now my turn,” said Eduard.
“I don’t think so,” said his father’s voice behind him. “Well done Carlos, but we’ll wait a year or two before Eduard tries such a trick.”
When Sergio finally sold the Vespa, he gave a bonus to Carlos, who promptly spent it on another old scooter. In Carlos’s mind, he harboured an ambition that the bicycle shop would one day be a scooter shop, and perhaps even sell motorcycles.
Manel loved working with his expanded business, but he had not realised in advance how long and exhausting the hours would be. Suddenly he found himself the employer of several other people, and in contact with multiple suppliers in addition to the continuing complications of food rationing. Eduard needed help in the grocery, so a ‘boy’ was employed, who ironically was older than Eduard. Clara was only eleven years old when the department store opened, and she was immediately thrust into the responsibility of a full-time job. With three others in the clothing and fabrics department, Anna had a management role, as well as working full-time with the sewing.
Manel found a girl the same age as Clara to work alongside her, learning to operate the sewing machine. Clara was sad to find that the girl had not been to school, and had not learned to read. “I didn’t go to school either,” she said, “but my father taught me to read.”
The girl blushed. “My father can’t read,” she said. “nor my mother.”
Clara resolved to try to teach her protégé to read, but it was hard to find the time with so much work to do.
The family ceased going home during the siesta; there always seemed to be extra chores when the store was closed, and they often had a rather meagre sandwich to get them through the day. They were tired at the end of the day, and were grateful that it was only a short walk to their apartment. The evenings were spent listening to the wireless, keeping up to date with progress of the war. They tried to read between the lines of the heavily censored news, and were pleased to hear that the Nazis seemed to be in retreat. They had a feeling that as the Allies moved slowly towards Berlin, their business was slowly moving towards great success. They realised that the two events were completely unrelated, but they liked the co-incidence of the two successes.
They looked forward to Sundays, which were invariably spent doing very little at home. Anna continued to be loyal to the Catholic Church, but neither Manel nor the children accompanied her. Father Matias chided her for coming alone, but she told him she could not persuade her family to join her. Sunday was the day they could enjoy a late, leisurely lunch, a treat usually provided by Manel’s contacts in the black market. Every week, he warned the family not to brag about their special Sunday goodies, as he continued to be a little worried about the morality of the black market. When he said this to Anna, she understood his concern, but reassured him that everyone was doing what he was doing.
Sunday afternoon was a time for siesta for Manel and Anna, and Clara often had her head in one of the much-thumbed books from Senora Mirlo. This was the time when Eduard would borrow the shop key, and go and spend a happy hour mastering the trumpet. Sometimes he would see Carlos, who had come alone to the shop next door, to continue tinkering with the engine of another old Vespa scooter. Carlos was rapidly teaching himself motor mechanics, just as Eduard was teaching himself the trumpet.
One weekday afternoon, not long after the siesta, a smartly dressed man carrying a large attaché case, arrived and asked to speak to Manel. It turned out that he was a representative of the famous Singer Sewing Machine company. Manel introduced him to Anna and Clara, and he opened his elaborate sales brochure.
“This, ladies and gentleman, is the Singer Electric Model 201, the most advanced and best machine ever made by the Singer Company. For ordinary housewives, there is a long waiting list to get hold of this model, but as you are a growing business with an excellent reputation, I can get one to you almost immediately.”
“I doubt we can afford it,” said Anna, although Clara was very excited by the prospect of having an electric machine.
“I can come to an arrangement,” said the salesman. “If you carry our literature, and demonstrate the machine to prospective customers, you can have the machine for a very small down-payment, and a low monthly outlay.”
“I’m not sure,” said Manel. “We have built this business without borrowing a penny. I’m not sure if I want to now.”
“One more thing,” continued the salesman. “You will receive an excellent commission on every Singer Machine you sell.”
Manel looked at Anna and Clara. Clara was nodding eagerly, but Anna paused.
“Come back in half an hour,” she told the salesman, “and we’ll have an answer for you.”
As soon as the man had left, Clara jumped up and down. “Please, father, I could do so much more. I’ll earn the money to pay for it! We’ve got the girl training on my machine, and this is our opportunity. I could work very quickly and efficiently on a new sewing machine if it’s electric. Please, father!”
Manel smiled. “It’s very tempting, and I think we could manage the repayments. Mind you, I don’t want borrowing money to become a habit. We’ve seen enough of the problems caused by debts with all the people we’ve helped in the grocery.”
When the salesman returned later in the day, he was accompanied by another man with a sack truck bearing an enormous box. “I’ve brought a Model 201 to demonstrate to you,” he said. The staff gathered round, customers momentarily ignored, and they were all very impressed. Clara looked at her father. He nodded, and Clara grinned. Soon they were shaking hands, and an empty box was taken away on the sack truck.
They were at home on a Sunday when the news came that the war in Europe was over. A wireless announcement was greeted with delighted by most of the citizens of Barcelona, and by alarm by the Fascists who were controlling the city. Once more the family wondered what Franco’s future would be with Hitler dead and gone.
Carlos was pleased that the war was over, but he was wistful that the work of assisting soldiers and airmen on their way to Gibraltar was finished. “I liked meeting the young men, and helping them. I’ll miss that.”
Fifteen-year-old Eduard wanted to go out and see what was happening in the streets. Anna hesitated to let him go, but Manel said, “It’s a very important day. We must trust him; and if he comes back drunk, he’ll be sorry in the morning!”
“I’ll take my trumpet,” said Eduard. “You never know, I might get to play it!”
When Eduard staggered back around midnight, he was only a little drunk, and full of the stories of the evening. Huge numbers of Barcelona citizens had gathered in Placa Catalunya to celebrate the Allied victory, watched over by grim-faced Civil Guards, most of them on horseback. Eduard had met a few school friends, and they’d drunk a little beer, but of greater significance was the singing: for the first time in years there was open defiance of the armed police, as the crowd repeatedly sang the great ‘Els Segadors’ – the Catalan national anthem. Eduard played his trumpet for the Catalan anthem; but when he saw a troop of mounted Civil Guards watching him, he quickly switched to the Fascist song ‘Face to the Sun’. The crowd surrounding him, also aware of the Civil Guards sang loudly, and saluted the guards themselves, who misunderstanding the irony of the situation, smiled and joined in with the singing. In the heat of the September night, the crowds would sing and dance until dawn, but Eduard had remembered he had a grocery shop to open the next morning, and reluctantly had dragged his trumpet home.
A few days later, Franco broadcast to the Spanish nation, telling them that nothing had changed. His Fascist re
gime was still in control; his aim for Spain to be self-sufficient was still on track; rationing would continue; and the population was instructed to remain calm.
The Generalissimo’s speech set the tone for several years to come. The Bonet family business progressed steadily, and gained a reputation for quality and reliability. The pawnbroker continued to be important for the community, and Manel went on recycling unclaimed items from the pawnshop, in addition to gradually expanding the range in all departments.
Clara gathered a circle of admiring women, amazed at the skills of the teenage girl, and excited to commission her to make dresses. Sometimes wealthier clients brought pictures torn from magazines of dresses they would like her to make, and she astonished everyone when she achieved excellent copies from the sketches and photographs. She continued to work in the shop, often with a small audience, many of whom had never seen an electric sewing machine, and were very impressed by her skills with it.
CHAPTER FOUR
The young man Manel had employed to help Eduard in the grocery side of the store had worked out well. Eduard had become friends with him, and he was learning quickly. He had become invaluable when dealing with the complexities of the rationing system. With him on board, Manel had been vaguely thinking of expanding the sales area for groceries into the large stockroom behind the shop.
It was thus a shock to all when the young man received his call-up papers.
“I’ll be eighteen next month,” he said, “and I have been sent train tickets. I have to go to Franca Station, but they don’t tell me where the train’s going. I’ve got a short list of what to take, but apparently we’ll get kitted out in uniforms, and sent to a camp somewhere.”
“But you must know where you’re going,” said Eduard.
“No, I don’t know. They don’t tell you more than the date and the time of the train where you have to report.”
“That’s scarey,” said Eduard. “National Service? I suppose that will happen to me as well.”
“I hated it,” said Manel, “but it may not be quite so brutal now. It was not that long after the war, the Great War, when I was called up. My uniform was horrible, and the food was terrible.” Seeing Eduard’s horrified face, Manel went on quickly, “It’s probably not so bad now. With memories of the war, most countries were training all their young men, even though they’d said the war had been the war to end all wars.”
Eduard had become very good friends with Carlos, and at the end of the day he asked him about his National Service experience. Carlos laughed. “I didn’t do it,” he said. “I was eighteen during the civil war, and had already volunteered for the Republicans. I spent my eighteenth birthday in a ditch somewhere or other near Tarragona. That was before the Nationalists started advancing on Barcelona.”
With the business slowly growing, and Manel’s work as manager increasing, he had only a couple of weeks to find a replacement for his grocery boy. After some hesitation, he took Eduard to one side.
“I’ve been thinking. I think we need a more senior man running the grocery. I need you to get more of a view of the whole business, and we’ll be able to work together with things like the wages and taxes and so on. They’ll be a job here for the boy when he comes out of the army, but then it won’t be long before your National Service. I’ll advertise for a more experienced warehouseman. He can work with you, and gradually take over responsibility for the grocery. At first you can come upstairs to my office for a day a week, and then when the new man is able, you’ll work with me full time.”
“Your office?” said Eduard. “You’ve only got a little desk in the corner of the men’s clothes room. You’re almost hidden by the trouser rack!”
“I know,” smiled Manel, “but we’re taking the apartment on the next floor. We need space for stock rooms, and I’ll have a proper office.”
When he had been recruiting girls for the ladies department, Manel had been swamped by desperate young women. Recruiting a more senior man for the grocery was harder; he was faced with a number of unemployed and unemployable middle-aged men, to whom he felt he could not give responsibility. After a few dispiriting days, a smart man of Manel’s age, came into the shop and spoke to Eduard.
“Are you still looking for a grocery manager!” asked the man.
“Yes,” replied Eduard, “my father is. He’s seen several men who have no experience. I expect he’ll pleased to interview you if you have experience in the retail trade.”
“I’m Ferran Perella,” said the man, holding out his hand.
“Pleased to meet you, Senor Perella,” said Eduard. “We’re very busy now, as you can see, but my father could see you during the siesta. Can you come back?”
“I’ll be pleased to,” said Senor Perella.
Eduard returned to the queue of customers, and when there was a lull, ran upstairs to his father. “I think we might have our new grocery man,” he said. “He’s coming to meet you at siesta.”
Perella returned just as they were about to lock the door. Anna and Manel met him and asked his experience. He had been working in a wine store in the Born before the war, but it had had a direct hit by a bomb. Next he’d worked in an expensive clothing shop for men in Gracia, but that had gone bust. He explained that there were fewer and fewer customers who could afford the clothes, and the owner had let him go shortly before declaring bankruptcy. Currently he was out of work, but had kept himself smart in order to be ready for an interview such as this. He’d only had offers of work in construction, but he not only felt he had skills which should be used in retail, but he also intended to remain smart and clean at all times, not get dirty like a builder.
Manel asked him if he could stay for the afternoon and they could see how he was with customers. Perella smiled, and said he’d be delighted to work for nothing for the afternoon.
With Eduard to show him where everything was, the new man was an efficient and happy addition to the team, and at the end of the day, Manel offered him the job. He said he could start immediately, and they shook hands, saying they’d see him the following morning.
Only Clara had misgivings. Eduard had enjoyed working with him; Anna thought he was very pleasant, and the customers were charmed by the smiling new employee. After a few days, Clara took her father to one side.
“I want to speak to you privately,” she said. “Perhaps it’s just my imagination, but I think Senor Perella is a bit creepy.”
Manel was alarmed. “Has he done or said anything to you that was wrong?”
“No,” replied Clara, “it’s just a feeling. You know he said the wine shop was bombed, and the clothes shop went bankrupt? He didn’t have any references, did he? I wonder what he did in the war?”
“I think you’re worrying about nothing,” said Manel, “but I hear what you say. Perhaps Eduard will pick up something in casual conversations, but I remain optimistic.”
The war in Europe was over, and the civil war was seven years ago: but rationing continued. The Generalissimo made frequent broadcasts on the wireless, extolling the virtues of something he called “autarky”. No-one had ever heard this strange word before, but it seemed to be all about Spain being self-sufficient. Manel remained unconvinced.
“This autarky-thing,” he said to Anna. “I think it’s a way of keeping control. I’m sure after all this time, the farms must be getting back to some kind of production, but rice and beans are still in short supply. I know that many factories have not been rebuilt, but some of the bigger firms are doing well. We don’t have a problem getting supplies of fabric or clothing, and yet even soap is still rationed. Here in the Eixample, we are recovering, even seeing some of the bombsites being cleaned up, new apartment houses built. But we’re lucky. There are many parts of Barcelona, the slums to the south, where there’s still a lot of poverty. The newspaper reports lots of petty crime amongst young people in poor areas, and growing prostitution. Thank goodness we are able to employ a few people, especially the girls upstairs.”
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p; “The war was terrible,” said Anna, “we all know that. We knew it would take a long time to recover. We must be hopeful. Things are getting better.”
“Getting better, yes,” said Manel, “but very slowly. It’s up to us to make things happen.”
Investigating the upper floors of the building, Manel discovered three more apartments, empty and dusty. He took Anna up to see them.
“Here’s the plan,” he said. “We take the whole building, and put in new stairs right to the top. We will have a whole floor for ladies’ clothing, and a separate floor for Clara’s fabrics, haberdashery and bespoke ladies’ dresses. Oh – and we expand the grocery out the back, giving us much more space for fresh food, perhaps even meat and fish.”
Anna gasped. “Are you sure we can afford to do this?”
“We paid for the electric Singer very quickly. I think we can afford the extra rent.”
“The rent for three more floors is going to be a lot more than buying a sewing machine!” exclaimed Anna.
“We took a risk when we expanded from an ordinary grocery shop into a small department store. The risk paid off: we’re busy all the time, we’ve taken on staff to work for us, and there’s far more profit in the clothes and materials than in the groceries. We’re still struggling with rationing with food, and the cigarettes don’t make much profit even though we sell a lot. Let’s take a bigger risk. Let’s become a proper department store.”
That evening, the family sat around the kitchen table. Anna smiled, and said, “I’m usually cautious, but what your father said makes sense to me. I’ve seen the space upstairs over the shop, and we can get it at a cheap rent. We must expand gradually, but that will be inevitable as the old apartments need quite a lot of work to make them into good spaces for the shop. We should develop one floor at a time, and gradually grow into the new spaces.”
“With Senor Perella in charge of the grocery, I can do some of the work cleaning up the place, and do some of the building work,” said Eduard. “I’m off to the army soon, so it will be good to leave Senor Perella to get on without me.”
The Phoenix of Montjuic Page 8
