The Scent of Lemon Leaves

by Clara Sanchez

  “I’m told you believe you’ve been mistaken for somebody else.”

  “Wouldn’t that be the most reasonable explanation?”

  “Maybe,” he said, taking a long final swig.

  I also drained my cup. We stood up.

  “I hope there’ll be no repetition of this,” he said.

  His words seemed to be deliberately aimed at me. I got his drift. He tried to rearrange his jacket, wriggling inside his second skin. I was dredging up my past, trying to find someone like Tony. I found a few. They weren’t exactly Nobel Prize winners, yet they managed to make the world conform to their own vision of it.

  I was almost certain that Tony had wrecked my room at the orders of Fredrik Christensen, or that he’d let others do it. There was something in the movement of his eyes that betrayed him. On the way to the lift, I told Roberto that I needed to get another car, since the one I had was giving me some problems. Roberto assented with a gesture of already having entertained this possibility. He no longer looked me in the way he’d done on the first day, but with more respect and interest now.

  I had to use the bottle of water from the minibar to take my pills, which vexed me, because everything in the minibar was several euros more expensive. And every extra euro I spent was filching from my daughter’s inheritance. Nobody was going to compensate either her or me for this service I was doing. Nobody cared. There were other things to think about, other enemies. I’d been left behind, in my world, and that’s where the objects of my hatred, my friends and my enemies were. I had neither energy nor mental powers for any more than that. And, if I’m to be sincere, this was the first time I didn’t expect remuneration or recognition, the first time that no one would know whether I’d succeeded or failed, the first time I didn’t give a shit about other people’s opinions, and I felt free.

  I had a sleep and it was dusk when I woke up. Now the sun was setting a minute earlier every day, pretty much like what was happening in my life. A minute was a long time. I didn’t regret having slept too long, as I needed to rest. Good God, it was ages since I’d felt so well! If it weren’t for the expense of the call, I would have phoned my daughter to tell her, but one call leads to another, and if I missed phoning her one day she’d get worried, so I preferred to tell her in my thoughts. My wife had certainly got to the point of reading my mind. I’d had confirmation of this on numerous occasions and she used to say jokingly that if I was going to cheat on her I’d better be careful, even if it was only a thought, because she’d be able to read it, and I blindly believed her. I was certain that those black eyes of hers were capable of penetrating the bottommost depths of my mind.

  I spent half an hour on my reconnaissance of the hotel, the general stairway, fire escape, roof terrace, lifts, service entrances, kitchens, restaurant, all the nooks and crannies, and the basement. I still had to check the laundry, the toilets for public use, and explore the passageways, one by one, as well as the pantry. If the guests had any idea of how deficient the security system was they’d be running away instead of leaving their savings here, but such is life. Some knew and some didn’t. I’d make the most detailed plan I could and design an escape route in keeping with my limitations. I wasn’t tired and felt so full of energy that I went out for a while. It was getting cool and my jacket didn’t bother me in the least. I wanted to forget for a moment that I was an ailing old man. The air was laden with the fragrance of flowers. This could be the perfect time to go over to Sandra’s house and see if she’d come back.

  I drove slowly, savouring the moment of going into the narrow street and approaching the little house, but also fearing that I might not find Sandra there, fearing that I wouldn’t be able to exchange a few words with this girl who could be my granddaughter, a granddaughter sent so I could give her only the good things that life had given me. Of all the people I’d met after arriving here, she was the only one who made me feel that I had a bit of life ahead of me, that there would be a life after Fredrik and Karin. The track was almost dark and not even the little house had its porch light on. A girl in her state… I only hoped nothing had happened to her. From our earlier conversation I’d deduced that she didn’t have friends around here, and yet everyone knows that young people, being as they are, make friends quickly. While I was ruminating on such matters, standing there motionless next to the metal gate somewhat bemused, hoping that maybe the lights would suddenly go on, I heard someone behind me and also felt a hand on my arm, which startled me, although I made an effort not to show it.

  “Ah, it’s you?” Sandra said.

  Sandra, Sandra. She’d arrived. She was here.

  “I’m very glad to see you,” I said, trying to disguise my happiness.

  More than Sandra, I saw shadows of Sandra. The hair, the arms, shadows of edges of things falling on the shadow of her trousers.

  “Forgive me for turning up at this hour, but I’ve only just been able to talk things over with my wife. I hope I haven’t startled you.”

  Sandra laughed. “I’m not easily frightened. I’ve been in tighter spots than this.”

  She laughed again, although she didn’t seem to be the sort of girl who expressed happiness by laughing. I think she did it for me, to make me feel comfortable.

  “Come in. Don’t just stand here,” she said as she opened the gate.

  Then she opened the door of the house. I waited, walking around the garden, breathing in its fragrance, then all at once the porch light came on and the plants were visible. Sandra came out and settled in a hammock.

  “I was going to offer you a beer but I don’t have any. I haven’t had time to go to the supermarket.”

  “Don’t worry. I prefer not to drink alcohol.”

  “Me neither. Now I’m pregnant I don’t drink or smoke, and I’m not handling it at all well. Right now I’d love to have a cig.”

  She was a trusting girl who believed in her right to be in the world without anything bad happening to her, without anybody attacking her or harming her. I was certain that it had never as much as occurred to her that things could be otherwise. I sat down on one edge of the other hammock, without reclining.

  “Well… I’ve come about this question of renting the house. We can wait till next summer if that suits your sister.”

  “I’ll speak with her about it but not right now. Right now I don’t want any hassle. I couldn’t stand it if she started asking me if I’ve thought about what I’m going to do with my life.”

  “Take your time. There’s no hurry. By the way, did your friends turn up, those elderly foreigners?”

  Sandra sat up. “Yes, they did, and I’ve just come from their house. Fred’s just gone off on a trip and she needs somebody to help her and I’ve got nothing to do. You’d certainly like that house. What a garden! Swimming pool, barbecue, summerhouse, fruit trees. Three storeys, counting a sort of loft, and a greenhouse.”

  “That’s too big for us. The maintenance costs are too high. They must have a lot of employees.”

  “Don’t you believe it. A gardener and a helper they pay by the hour.”

  “And do they have friends? These rich retired folk only get around with people like themselves.”

  “Yes, I think that’s true. But there are some young guys who go there. At least two Spaniards who turn up from time to time and speak with Fred. Karin’s teaching me how to knit. She’s very nice, very understanding, and she cares about me.”

  “It’s curious how two such different people can get on,” I remarked.

  “I don’t see why. All of us are pretty much the same.”

  What would Sandra be like now if she’d been one of Fredrik’s and Karin’s victims? I was really glad that her soul hadn’t been in contact with anything like that, glad that she was generous, that she opened up the door of her house to a stranger like me, and I was glad that evil hadn’t caught up with her.

  “I have to go to the supermarket tomorrow. Do you want me to pick up anything for you and bring it here? In your st
ate you shouldn’t be carrying bags or any weight.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be going back to Villa Sol in a while and tomorrow I’ll most probably be spending the day in and out of the swimming pool. If you give me a telephone number I’ll call you after I speak with my sister.”

  I gave her the phone number of the hotel and the number of the suite. I was running the risk that she’d talk about me with the Christensens, but then again our meetings had too little relevance to be talked about.

  “Sometimes people aren’t what they appear to be,” I said in a desperate attempt to get her to read my mind as Raquel used to do.

  “Now you’re going to tell me you’re a satyr or something like that.”

  I half-smiled.

  “Maybe,” I said. “One never knows where the danger is until one discovers it.”

  Sandra waved goodbye to me and went inside the house yawning. She was wearing wide-legged Indian silk pants and strappy sandals. Sandra didn’t know what she was getting into and neither did I, which bothered me. I hadn’t counted on this, on running into somebody who was going to need protection.

  Raquel would have got angry. No, she would have been incensed. She would have told me that what I was being unscrupulous, that I should leave this girl alone, that I shouldn’t drag her into this and that there was no reason why she should be yet another victim. But things aren’t so easy, Raquel. They are the ones that have taken her into their terrain. It wasn’t me who put her there. It was them, and she’s let herself be led like a lamb. Yet it was true that, if she didn’t have a clue, if she was totally ignorant of the kind of people she was dealing with, the danger would be minimal. As long as Sandra saw Fredrik and Karin outside of hell, she’d see them as angels and not devils. Maybe angels didn’t exist and absolute good didn’t exist, but I could vouch for the fact that absolute evil certainly existed.

  3

  The Venom of Doubt

  Sandra

  I had to take Karin to the gym in the four-by-four. We said “gym” so as not to call it rehab. The gym was in the centre of town, in the main street where it was impossible to park, so I went to look for a spot thinking I’d go for a walk. I’d return after an hour to collect her, wondering how much they’d be paying me for doing this and also thinking that Fred would be feeling some relief at being liberated from these obligations. Apart from the gym, there were the medical check-ups and going to the shopping centre. She also liked the street markets, hunting for old bits of junk, going to the hairdresser, having a stroll along the seafront if she wasn’t up to walking on the beach. She loved raving on about her childhood in the Norwegian farmhouse, about the incomparable beauty of her mother, about the manly beauty of her father, and about the beauty of her brothers and sisters, not to mention her own. About the beauty of the salmon they tended to have for dinner and the beauty of the lights in the middle of the night. When she got tired of this, she asked me about my life, because she couldn’t stand silence. I fell into her claws too. Over the time I’d been living in her house I’d been getting used to her, and Karin didn’t need to go out of her way to ensure that my priority was to keep her happy.

  I wondered what was going to take her fancy today. I left her at the door of the gym, drove off. When I got to the corner, a man waved at me, taking his hat off as he did. I recognized Julián, the one who wanted to rent my sister’s house. I waved back, but he came over to the car.

  “Can I get in?” he asked, opening the door.

  He asked me if I’d like to go and have a cool drink. He’d discovered a place at the lighthouse where they made fresh fruit smoothies. What about it? Would I risk going up there with him? I told him I had to be on my way back within the hour and, as soon as I got the words out, what I said sounded strange, as if it wasn’t me, who always arrived late everywhere. That was when I realized that I wouldn’t be able to stand Karin’s look reproaching me for making her wait.

  We set off, without my suspecting that from then on Villa Sol would never be the same again, as if the curtains in a theatre had opened up and at last there was a story. I didn’t get it straight away. At first I didn’t want to get it. It scared me. Julián was serious. He was frowning and there was a sad expression on his face. He pulled a press cutting out of his pocket, an ad about some house for sale maybe.

  “And your wife? I never see her,” I asked with a sense of something tense or disagreeable in the atmosphere.

  “My wife died. She’s never been here.”

  I immediately thought that when we got out of the car I’d get rid of him with one good kick in the balls. I thought I could push him over with one hefty shove and he’d take so long to get up again I could put kilometres between us in the meantime.

  “I’m sorry I lied,” he said, “but it’s better like that.”

  “I don’t understand you,” I replied, feeling him looking at me. I didn’t take my eyes off the road.

  “I would never have got you involved in this, I swear it, but the fact is that when I met you you were already involved.”

  Involved? What could I be involved in when I was spending my life with the plants in the garden and hanging around with old people?

  “I think it’s my duty to tell you what your real situation is.”

  I didn’t like it in the least that someone should be trying to manipulate me or play games with me, so I raised my voice louder than I should have.

  “I already know what my situation is!”

  “No, you don’t know,” he said as I parked the car.

  With the page of the newspaper in his hand, he led me to a stone bench looking out over the sea.

  “How do Fredrik and Karin treat you?”

  “Fred and Karin?”

  “The old Norwegian couple.”

  I had no idea where all this was leading when I said fine, they were affectionate, they knew how to respect my space and I knew how to respect theirs. When I talked about space, he smiled vaguely. I didn’t like him finding something funny in what I’d said. It put me in a bad mood.

  “I didn’t want to have to show you this,” he said, holding out the page from the newspaper.

  On the page there was a photo, the photo of a couple. Right then, that’s all I saw because he’d put me off with that ironic smile and I didn’t care about anything else.

  “Look carefully, please. Don’t you recognize them?”

  “I don’t know what’s so funny about saying they respect my space.”

  “Because it’s a cliché. It doesn’t suit you.”

  I took the page and looked hard at the photo. They were… they were Fred and Karin. I concentrated so as to study it better.

  “Yes, it’s them,” Julián said. “Nazis, criminals and dangerous. Fredrik Christensen murdered hundreds of Jews. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

  I was perplexed. I didn’t know what to think.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’ve come here after him. I don’t want him to go off to the next world without having to recognize his guilt, without paying in some way for what he did. He might be the only one of them left alive at this stage.”

  “Why are you telling me this? Why don’t you tell the police?”

  “When I arrived here, that’s exactly what I thought I’d do, make it public, make their life a misery, but that would be a poor revenge, and now I think that they could lead me to others. You’re going to and from their house and they don’t suspect you. If you weren’t pregnant, if I didn’t keep thinking you could be my granddaughter and if I didn’t feel such a toad asking you, I’d ask you to tell me what you see there.”

  “I haven’t seen anything special and, anyway… they’re my friends.”

  “Your friends? I told you I don’t want you to be in any danger, but get that idea out of your head. These people are nobody’s friends. They’re vampires feeding on the blood of others and they love your blood. It gives them life. Be very careful.”

  We didn’t have the smooth
ie. Julián knew very well where he could speak with me without anybody seeing us. We looked like the typical couple of an old man and young woman, half hidden by the trees. I already had the telephone number of the Hotel Costa Azul where he was staying in case I wanted to contact him, but under no circumstances could I go there in person because he was being watched and it was dangerous. The most sensible thing to do would be to disappear from the lives of the Christensens, from Julián’s life and to go back to my own normal existence. He begged me to resist the temptation of saying anything to my Nazi friends, to contain any desire I might have to tell them about this because I’d be glad about that later.

  “You take it,” he told me, holding out the newspaper page. “Keep a close eye on them.”

  I folded it and put it in my pocket.

  What did I know about Julián? I knew nothing at all about him. He’d turned up one day at my house and now he was saying these strange things. I could believe him because I knew that the Nazis had existed. Everyone knew that the Nazis had existed, that they got turned on by the swastika and all that. But Fred and Karin? I knew them. Karin put a cushion at my back to ease my kidneys when I was sitting in my favourite chair. It was winged, high-backed, and had a footrest. Fred didn’t talk much. When he was around, he limited himself to going out and buying cakes and serving us tea. It was Karin who wore the pants in our group. Karin was teaching me how to knit, and Fred sometimes had visitors and spent time talking with them. But what was so special about that?

  Julián had inoculated me with the venom of doubt. He’d just told me terrible things about my friends. He’d informed me that Nurse Karin was a depraved criminal and that she’d helped to kill hundreds of people to advance the career of her husband, who’d been decorated by none other than the Führer. “Do you know how many people you have to kill to be deemed worthy of getting the Gold Cross?” He’d forced me to have doubts about Fred and Karin, and about him too. He was no longer the kindly old man in the white hat who was always going on about his wife. Now I didn’t know who he was. Maybe this wife of his had existed and maybe she hadn’t. Perhaps he wasn’t even interested in renting the house. I didn’t like the idea that he’d been making a fool of me. At least the Norwegians hadn’t lied to me, though it was true they hadn’t told me about their lives either, which was unusual for people in their eighties, but for the moment the information I had about them was what I’d seen and heard for myself, and my own conclusions.