“I don’t know,” stammered Eduard. “How long would the contract be for?”
“Initially for three years, young man, and of course at the end of that time, you can renew.”
“Do I need to make a decision now?” asked Eduard. “I’d like to think about it.”
“Of course you must think carefully. It would be a big commitment. I have a suggestion. I will give you leave for one weekend, and you can take a train home, and talk about it with your father. Come back on Monday with a decision.”
“Thank you sir. I should like to go home and talk to my family.”
“There’s one more thing, soldier. We would really like you to stay. Your skills as a musician are valued, and I’d like to keep you.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Now, go and collect your travel pass, and get the next train today. Dismiss, staff sergeant.”
Eduard rose to leave. The sergeant major rose with him, turned to the photograph of Franco on the wall, and gave the Fascist salute. Eduard turned to the photograph and saluted, thinking, “Bastard, bastard, bastard!”
Carlos enjoyed tinkering with the engines of the second-hand Vespa scooters which came into the bicycle and scooter department of the store. He regularly worked late into the evening after the shop was closed, and was accustomed to seeing Perrella working in the grocery stores. Often Perrella would call out that he was finished, leaving Carlos to lock up. Ambros, who also had a key, let himself in and walked quietly into the bike shed.
“You made me jump,” smiled Carlos. “Come to get your hands dirty in my department, or got a new assignment of books?”
“Neither,” said Ambros. “I’ve just wandered by to see what our friend Perrella is up to. Listen out for me while I go and say hello to him.”
Ambros crept silently to the grocery store so that Perrella could not know he was there. Turning a corner, he saw the grocery manager loading his large rucksack with small tins of fish. On top of these he stuffed a large ham into the bag, then closed the fastenings. Hoisting the bag onto his shoulder, he called out. “Carlos, I’m just leaving. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I don’t think so,” said Ambros, stepping out of the shadows. “What have you got in that bag?”
“Nothing to do with you,” snapped Perrella. “Get out of the way!”
In one swift movement, Perrella swung the rucksack from his shoulder and hit Ambros with it. Ambros staggered back, shouting, “Carlos, I need a hand!”
Carlos was waiting just behind Ambros and swung one of his crutches at Perrella, and caught him a blow on his shoulder. Perrella staggered, but kept his grip on the rucksack, and rushed for the door to the street. Ambros barrelled after him and grabbed him. Carlos followed, unsure how he could help the fracas.
Out of the darkness, a man in soldier’s fatigues stepped forward and grabbed Perrella. “I don’t know what’s going on,” said Eduard, “but it don’t look good.”
“Eduard!” gasped Ambros and Carlos together.
“Just happened to be passing,” laughed Eduard, strengthening his grip on Perrella. “What’s happening?”
“We’ve been suspicious of this man for some time,” said Ambros, “and tonight we’ve caught him.”
“He’s been stealing from the shop,” said Carlos. “His rucksack is full of stuff he’s stolen.”
“I can explain,” said Perrella.
“You can explain to Senor Bonet,” said Ambros, “and to the Mossos. Carlos, can you go and get the boss? Bring him to the police station.” Carlos nodded. “And Eduard, have you got him in a good grip? Can you help me get him to the Mossos? You seem to be much stronger since you’ve been in the army.”
“Of course I am. I’ve got him, you bring the rucksack.”
Eduard’s boots crunched on the road as he frog-marched Perrella. “I’ve seen this done several times in the army when someone’s being marched to the prison wing, but I’ve never done it myself. Stop struggling Senor Perrella, I’m stronger than you and I’m not going to let go.”
As Eduard pushed Perrella into the police station, the reaction by the Mossos on the desk was unexpected. “Ah, Senor Perrella, it’s a long time since we saw you. I was thinking about you the other day. You’ve kept your head down for a very long time. Have you been behaving yourself?”
“You know him?” said Ambros, with some surprise.
“Of course we know him. He used to be one of our regulars. We’ve been keeping an eye on him at the flea market, but we didn’t have a reason to arrest him.”
“Well now you have. He’s had a responsible job in Senor Bonet’s department store, but it seems that wasn’t sufficient for him. We think he might have been stealing for some time.”
“Time to go back to his old cell in La Modelo. It’s mostly political prisoners these days, but there’s still a few petty criminals hanging around in there: quite a few of them he’ll know.”
Breathlessly, Manel, Clara and Carlos tumbled into the police station, but before they could confront Perrella, they greeted Eduard with astonishment.
“Eduard,” screeched Clara, “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Madrid. Carlos said we’d have a surprise, but I thought he meant Senor Perrella. He didn’t say it was you!”
“I was in Madrid this morning. Let’s sort out this mess, and then we can talk peacefully at home.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“So you see, it all happened very fast. There was no time to get a message to you. When the train pulled into Franca, I decided to walk, to enjoy the sea air, and to look by the shop. I didn’t expect such a welcome when I got to the shop.”
Eduard looked around his extended family. Anna hugged her son long and hard, and told Ambros and Carlos to stay with them to hear Eduard’s stories. It did not seem long since he’d left as a very inexperienced national service recruit, but so much had happened. His family wanted to know all about his time in Madrid, and would not be satisfied until he had told every detail. Finally, Anna said, “It’s wonderful to have you back, but you’ve not told us why you’re here.”
“I’ll save that for the morning,” said Eduard. “I need help with a difficult decision.”
Saturday dawned bright and clear, just like most Barcelona mornings. Manel told Eduard to wander down to the shop when he was ready, but after the late night before, the rest of the family had to hurry to open up. Eduard looked around the little apartment, and then tried to struggle into some clothes. He had gained much muscle since being in the army, and his old clothes seemed to be too small. He put on his army fatigues, and wore his distinctive forage cap with its extravagant red tassel.
At the store, Manel was in the grocery coping with customers and their ration books, as well as trying to work out what Perrella had taken. “Can you go down to the Mossos and see if Perrella is still there?” he asked Eduard. “He’s still got a key for the shop, and I’d like to get it back.”
“When can we talk?” said Eduard.
“When we close for the siesta, I promise you. We’ll stay here, and go up to my office for some privacy.”
Later, father and son were seated in the attic office. “Last night changes everything,” said Eduard. “You need a grocery manager, and I could do it easily. I came home to tell you I’m signing on for three more years in the army, but now I’m not so sure.”
“You love the trumpet, and you love being in the band, I can tell that from what you said last night,” said his father. “I can find another grocery manager, and do it myself for the time being. Let me be honest with you: if you had wanted to be a regular soldier in Franco’s army, learning to shoot and kill, I’d have opposed it, and your mother would be horrified; but being in the band is different. You can be a professional musician when you leave, and for three years you’ll have a wonderful time.”
“There’s talk of a trip to Africa,” said Eduard.
“Exactly,” said Manel. “You will have opportunities few young men get.”
“On one condition,” smiled Manel. “You remember our mantra: every time you salute?”
“Bastard, bastard, bastard,” grinned Eduard. “I never forget, but I dared not tell you in a letter in case it was read by anyone else.”
“As long as you remember where your loyalties lie,” said Manel.
Sunday lunch was a celebration of Eduard’s visit, although Anna was wistful that she would see so little of her son for the next three years. Ambros joined them as usual for lunch, and Eduard wondered why he seemed so much at home in their apartment.
“With all the excitement of Perrella, and your coming home, we’ve forgotten to tell you our news,” said Clara. “It’s a big secret, and no-one except those of us in this room, not even Carlos, know.”
Eduard looked at his sister, and then at Ambros who was grinning. “Tell me,” he said.
Ambros’s grin grew wider. “Your sister and I are going to get married.”
“When?” said Eduard.
“When she is eighteen, on her birthday. We’ve agreed to wait until then.”
“I’ll still be in the army,” said Eduard, “but for a wedding, I will be allowed to come in full dress uniform, and I’ll play my trumpet at the wedding. That’s much more important news than anything I’ve said. How could you keep quiet all day yesterday?”
“There was never the right moment,” said Clara. “Now, if mother says we can leave the dishes to her, please come for a walk with us. Ambros and I walk every Sunday afternoon. We have explored so much of the city. Where shall we go today?”
“Let’s go up to Montjuic,” said Eduard. “I love the view of the sea, and we can go past the magic fountain and look back at the city. Madrid is a very interesting city, what little I’ve seen of it, but I miss the sea.”
“I expect you always will,” said Clara. “Although we don’t like to go too close to the castle: too many bad things have happened there, and still do. Carlos’s father was shot outside the castle walls, and of course it’s where Lluis Companys was executed.”
“And many others,” said Ambros. “It makes us shudder to go too close, and there are many armed guards.”
“Today, we’ll turn our backs on the dreadful place,” said Eduard. “We will admire our beautiful city from the Palau National, and we’ll breathe in the good sea air.”
Later that day, Manel took his son to one side. “I have a gift for you to take with you to the army.” He pushed a small box into Eduard’s hand. When Eduard opened it, he found a new wrist watch. “It’s wonderful,” he said. “I never expected to have a wrist watch. I will treasure it.”
Manel smiled. “I didn’t have one until recently,” he said. “I used to think it was a luxury for rich people, but since I got one, I’ve found it very useful.”
The following day, Eduard walked back to the station. His army fatigues were commonplace in the city, but his distinctive forage cap drew many admiring glances. Franca Station was sleepy and dirty: although there were several trains each day to Madrid, few ordinary people could afford train fares, and even fewer had reason to travel. Anna had packed a meal for her son, and soon he was comfortable, and alone, in a compartment, beginning the long journey. At first there were good views of the Mediterranean, but after Tarragona, the line turned inland to Zaragoza. As the train steamed into Zaragoza, it seemed an age since the last time he’d taken this trip, the day he went as a nervous raw recruit into his National Service.
After changing trains in Zaragoza, Eduard opened the package his mother had prepared. He unwrapped fresh crusty bread with excellent ham and cheese, a huge tomato that he had to bite into without the juice running down his tunic, and a bottle of beer. He smiled: his mother had never given him a beer before; it was a signal of him growing up, and his mother’s recognition of him as a man.
It was late afternoon when the train pulled into Madrid Atocha Station, and Eduard ran to catch a bus to the barracks. He found, slightly to his surprise, that he was looking forward to being back at the barracks, with friends, and subject to the routines and disciplines of the army. Despite his mother’s excellent snack, he was hungry, and hoping he was in time for the evening meal. At the front gate, the private on duty saluted him, and told him to go directly to the sergeant major’s office.
The sergeant major’s staff stood and saluted him as he went into the building, and he was quickly ushered into his commanding officer’s office.
“Staff sergeant, at ease,” said the sergeant major. “Please sit down, Bonet. I hope you have come back with the right answer from your father.”
“I certainly have,” Eduard grinned. “I’m signing on for three years.”
“Congratulations, staff sergeant. Tomorrow we will do all the formalities, but for now, there’s just time to go and get into your dress uniform, and join the mess for dinner. Staff sergeant, dismiss.”
Hurrying into the mess, Eduard discovered his news had already reached Digger and his friends. Digger was standing with a drink in his hand ready for Eduard. “Excellent news, friend,” said Digger. “Now you really will be one of us.”
One of the trombonists wandered over. “Staff Sergeant Bonet,” he said, “no hard feelings. Welcome to the band.” Eduard shook hands with the trombonist, recognising the generosity of the gesture from the other brass player. Hardly had he gulped his drink, than they were summoned in to dinner.
Manel was asked to go to the Mossos office to give a statement regarding the goods stolen by Perrella. He felt very inadequate as he had to admit he didn’t know what had been taken over the last months. “After all,” he said, “I gave the man a position of trust, and he was doing the stock control. I realise I made a mistake, a mistake I won’t make again.”
“We have a key to the man’s lock-up shed at the flea market,” said the policeman. “You can accompany us when we go to open it. Perhaps you will find it interesting.”
Manel took Clara with him, leaving Anna to keep an eye on things at the shop, and they met the Mossos officers at the flea market. Several of the stall-holders looked shiftily at the police, and one or two hastily hid some of their goods, but the police were not looking for other felons at this time: they were keen to open Perrella’s shed.
Removing the padlock and opening the door, the Mossos shone a torch into the gloom. Clara gasped. It was an Aladdin’s cave of treasure, almost all of it stolen from the Bonet department store. The policemen smiled.
“Recognise this stuff?” they asked.
“All of it,” muttered Manel. “I feel such a fool, that he’s taken all this from under my nose without me noticing.” Turning to Clara, he continued, “You told me you didn’t like the man from the very first day we met him. I should have listened to you.”
“It was only a hunch, Father, not based on evidence.”
“Well, we have evidence now,” said the Mossos. “It’s going to take some time, but we have to make a list of everything that’s stored in the shed, and eventually you will be able to collect it and take it back to your shop.”
Back in the store, they told Anna what they had seen in the shed. Manel repeated once more his feelings of embarrassment and foolishness, but Anna reassured him that it was no crime to be trusting of his fellow men. “The business has grown quickly,” she said, “and we have all made mistakes.”
“Perhaps we should have stayed small, just a little corner-shop grocer’s. We did not have such troubles then,” said Manel.
“No,” said Anna, “you are a successful businessman, and you’ve built a successful business. In these times of poverty and hardship since the war, you have provided good employment for many people, some of whom are illiterate and could not work anywhere else. Thanks to Clara’s sharp eyes at the flea market, and Eduard’s unexpected assistance, we’ve caught Senor Perrella, and soon will get a lot of our goods back.”
Clara laughed. “We should be thanking him for alerting us t
o the dangers of big business,” she said. “Now we have to find a new grocery manager: and this time we need references!”
Eduard’s first morning as a regular soldier was filled with a great deal of form-filling and signatures. Much as he disliked the Fascist regime, he had to admit they were very good at red tape, and nowhere better than in the army. After a morning in the offices of the commanding officer, he was glad to get out onto the parade ground for some marching practice. The sergeant major seemed to equally pleased to escape his desk, and was in an unusually good mood as he introduced a new and more complicated marching formation. Several of the bandsmen crashed into one another as they learned the new routine, and at one stage as he passed Digger coming the other way, Eduard hissed, “We need to be ballet dancers to remember all this!”
The afternoon was devoted to band practise in the cavernous band room, and again the sergeant major introduced something new. Eduard was grateful for his skill in sight reading as sheet after sheet of new music was distributed, and he was aware that some of his fellow players were struggling with unfamiliar keys and rhythms.
After dinner that evening, the sergeant major stood, and the soldiers jumped up expecting the usual Fascist salute as their commanding officer left the mess. To their surprise, he didn’t leave, but asked them to stand at ease and be seated.
“Gentlemen, I have some announcements this evening, and whilst this sort of thing is usually posted on the notice board, I felt it was appropriate to speak with you directly.” He paused and looked round the room. “Gentlemen, you may smoke.”
The soldiers lit cigarettes, and turned to the top table.
“First, we welcome Staff Sergeant Bonet formally into the regular army. Most of you know he was recruited only as a National Service private, but by chance our Generalissimo heard him play his trumpet in Zaragoza cathedral, and impulsively promoted him into our band. He signed his papers this morning, and is now a full member of the regiment.”
There was some cheering and banging on the tables at this, and the sergeant major smiled indulgently.
The Phoenix of Montjuic Page 15
