by Adam Creed
Carmelo looks at his hands, the middle finger of his left hand cut off just above the bottom knuckle. He switches the gun to his right hand, all liver-spotted now; he thinks how much more Saint Peter might hold him to account for, had life gone another way. He used to be left-handed, but he adjusted and now he pushes out the release catch and pulls out the magazine with his right, discharging the bullets from their clip. He replaces the empty magazine and pulls on the trigger, manages it fine. The hammer clunks heavy in the lonely house. As he returns the bullets, he thanks God for the Italian marble that constitutes his floors. There will be blood, but Jacobo can mop. Together, they will wipe clean this smear of new history.
Now the day has come, now this final bit of business is demanded of him, his blood courses a little faster. It feels nostalgic and to stiffen his ardour, he thinks of the bad things his visitor wishes to pass, and rekindles all the malice which comes with that territory. He has no choice, he really doesn’t. These days on earth are just a part of our scheme: a mere section for the soul.
Tomorrow, when they have erased this execution – for that is what it is – Carmelo will confess. He will confess his ancient crime. Nobody can silence him, not all these years on.
Carmelo walks quite briskly to the lift. The blood is really shifting now, across the fibres that line his arteries. The gun is heavy in one hand and Carmelo presses the G button in the lift with the index finger of his other, but steps quickly backwards, out of the lift as the doors close on the empty chamber, and instead he takes the broad, oak staircase, peeking to see if his visitor is waiting down below for the lift. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was. But as Carmelo descends, coming level with the chandelier and seeing the whole of the hallway sprawling out below, he sees that the hall is empty, the door to the drawing room still closed.
He opens the door slowly, the gun behind his back and his finger on the trigger. The visitor is standing by the French windows. He half turns, sips from his grappa, saying, ‘I poured you one.’
Carmelo reasserts the grip of his right hand on the pistol, wishes his house was not so grand, its rooms not so large. He doubts if he could even hit the French windows with his shot, let alone the visitor standing in front of them, so he walks to the cocktail cabinet – just five yards or so from the target. He reaches out with his left, picks up the grappa. Carmelo holds it with his thumb and three fingers, wants to be one pace closer, to make sure. He raises the glass, suddenly wanting a taste of the aquavite, its effect; and the spirit stings his lips.
His eyes water and the grappa burns Carmelo’s throat. The visitor smiles, comes towards him, reaching out, and Carmelo brings the pistol from behind his back and tries to lift it. He tries to point it at his quarry but his hand is suddenly loose. The grappa really burns him now and he hears the pistol crash onto the marble and his legs give way. When his head smashes on the marble, he thinks he might blemish it.
Carmelo brings his knees to his chest and he tries to make himself sick, but he can’t.
From above, he looks like a question mark on his fine marble floor. Today, there is a thin vein of red, where Carmelo’s blood makes its slow course.
Acknowledgements
The places in this story are real, but the names of the places are often not. All the characters in the book are fictional, though the forenames are usually common to friends and acquaintances, so for the Guadalupes and Manolos I know, these characters are not you. My apologies if, for even a moment, you might think they are. An exception is Jackson Roberts, who is kind of real.
My thanks to the patrons of all the places in the book, such as Bar Fuente, Quinta Toro, Hotel Catedral and Ladrón del Agua, plus many others. The places in the story are your names, but not your establishments. As an example, there is a Bar Fuente in Almagen (a fictional village very closely based on a real one), but the owner is not Salva, nor is it in the lower barrio; and the Quinta Toro thrives.
You might say that the milieu is a collage of isolated samples of the real Alpujarras (and Almería, Granada and the Costa) cut out and stuck back together again – like a Braque or some Picassos.
The Alpujarras is truly a last outpost of what people often refer to as the real Spain. Its people eke a hard living from a land still watered by the irrigation systems designed and built by the Moors in the sixteenth century. Tourism helps the people of the Alpujarras and I would urge people to visit – but quietly, and only tell the discerning.
Adam Creed, Las Alpujarras, 2011.
Some of the books which informed the novel are:
Arthur, Max (ed.), Fighters Against Fascism
Brenan, Gerald, The Face of Spain
South From Granada
The Spanish Labyrinth
De Falcones, Ildefonso, The Hand of Fatima
Elms, Robert, Spain
Greene, Graham, Monsignor Quixote
Hemingway, Ernest, Fiesta
Jacobs, Michael, Andalucia
Junta de Andalucia, Guide to the Alpujarras
Kennedy, A. L., On Bullfighting
Lee, Laurie, As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning
A Moment of War
Nooteboom, Cees, Roads to Santiago
Orwell, George, Homage to Catalonia
Preston, Paul, We Saw Spain Die
Franco: A Biography
Richardson, Paul, Our Lady of the Sewers
Tóibin, Colm, Homage to Barcelona
Tremlett, Giles, Ghosts of Spain
Walker, Ted, In Spain
Glossary
Acequia A man-made water channel which forms part of the ancient irrigation system created by the Moors.
Acotea A room with a large, unglazed opening.
Alamos Poplar trees.
Alcazar A moorish fort.
Ayuntamiento Town hall, which in rural areas is
central to village life – more so than in Britain.
Bachillerato School studies from age sixteen: the baccalaureate.
Balsa A water reserve which can be any size between a paddling pool and a large pond. Crucial in conserving one’s entitlement to water.
Bancale A terrace, on which crops can be grown.
Barranco A large ditch or gulley.
Barrio A neighbourhood.
Bocquerones Anchovies. Tiny fish, often pickled in
vinegar, but white and silvery – unlike the tinned variety.
Brigada Sergeant (first class).
Bocadillo A sandwich (usually crusty and half the length of a baguette).
Burnous A hooded‚ berber cloak.
Borracho Adjective or noun, to describe a drunken state.
Cabo Lance Corporal.
Campo The countryside.
Caña A small measure of beer, say, a third of a pint.
Carretera A main road.
Casetas The bars at a fiesta. Sponsored by political parties each battling for affections.
Chiringuito An open-air bar. Often found on beaches, but also in cities and the mountains.
Chorizo Literally, a spicy sausage. Also a derogatory term for a badly behaved character from a poor background.
Choto Goat (meat).
Comedor Dining room.
Corral Animal quarters at the bottom of a Spanish house, oft converted into a garage or a spare room.
Corrida Bullfight.
Cortijo A small, rural building. Usually comprises a three-roomed abode within a smallholding.
Cortinas Curtains.
Cubata A mix of spirits and a soft drink. A long drink with a generous measure of alcohol.
Cuerpo The National Police Corps – more prevalent in cities (see ‘Guardia’).
Denuncia There is no British equivalent of this legal process in which one citizen can denounce another.
Fabada A warm, winter dish with sausages and pork and beans; a little like cassoulet.
Feria Like a fiesta, but bigger. Usually in large cities and lasting for a week and with a series of bullfights at its heart.
Fue
nte Fountain.
Gitano Gypsy.
Granadinos People from Granada city.
Guardia A member of the Guardia Civil, which maintains military status and was originally created to suppress discontent in rural areas. Still associated with Franco and reviled by Lorca.
Guirri An outsider. Usually derogatory.
Huerta A parcel of land upon which villagers grow produce. Akin to an allotment but privately owned and larger.
Lente (la) Lens. In this case, the name of the (fictional) regional newspaper for the city and province of Almería.
Matanza Traditional slaying of a pig and a whole day’s partying whilst the beast is butchered and sausages and black pudding are made.
Merienda Picnic
Misa Mass
Mosto Grape juice, non-alcoholic, but which attracts a free tapa in traditional bars.
Nido (el) Nest (the)
Papas al pobre An Andalucian dish of potatoes and peppers, slowly fried in a small sea of olive oil.
Paseo A Spanish institution in which groups of people informally process, dressed smartly; typically between eight o’clock and ten in the evening. An everyday ritual.
Peña A club‚ often for aficionados of flamenco.
Plaza/plazeta A square/small square.
Primo/prima Cousin. In rural Spain, people have many dozens of primos living in the same village.
Rambla A broad thoroughfare, usually a dried-up river bed.
Silla Montar Saddle. In this case, a geographical feature where a ridge swoops down between two peaks.
Sol y sombre Sun and shade. A potentially lethal mixture of brandy and anis, typically drunk alongside coffee at breakfast.
Teniente Lieutenant.
Tinao A balcony‚ often connecting two buildings on a narrow street.
Tocino White ham. Like lard which someone has traced with a thin line of red biro.
Toreador A handler who prepares the bull for the kill. Dressed in similar fashion to a matador.
Also by Adam Creed
Suffer the Children
Willing Flesh
Pain of Death
About the Author
Adam Creed was born in Salford and read PPE at Balliol College Oxford before working for Flemings in the City. He abandoned his career to start writing at Sheffield Hallam University‚ following which he wrote in Andalucia then returned to England to work with writers in prison. He is now Head of Writing at Liverpool John Moores University and Project Leader of Free to Write.
Death in the Sun is the fourth novel in the D. I. Staffe series‚ which also includes Suffer the Children‚ Willing Flesh and Pain of Death. The series has been translated into ten languages.
First published in 2012
by Faber and Faber Ltd
Bloomsbury House
74–77 Great Russell Street
London WC1B 3DA
This ebook edition first published in 2012
All rights reserved
© Adam Creed, 2012
Map © Eleanor Crow
The right of Adam Creed to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly
ISBN 978–0–571–27498–7