The Angel's Game (The Cemetery of Forgotten 2)

“Well, that’s it then.”

“What is?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“No.”

“It’s time to go courting.”

“Excuse me?”

“Courting, or, in scientific terms, time for a kiss and a cuddle. Look here, Sempere, for some strange reason centuries of supposed civilization have brought us to a situation in which one cannot go sidling up to women on street corners or asking them to marry us, just like that. First there has to be courtship.”

“Marry? Have you gone mad?”

“What I’m trying to say is that perhaps—and this is your idea even if you’re not aware of it—today or tomorrow or the next day, when you get over all this shaking and dribbling over her, you could take Isabella out when she finishes work at the bookshop. Take her out for afternoon tea somewhere special, and you’ll realize once and for all that you were made for each other. You could take her to Els Quatre Gats, where they’re so stingy they dim the lights to save on electricity—that always helps in these situations. Ask for some curd cheese for the girl with a good spoonful of honey; that always whets the appetite. Then, casually, you let her have a swig or two of that muscatel that goes straight to the head. At that point, placing a hand on her knee, you stun her with that sweet talk you keep to yourself, you rascal.”

“But I don’t know anything about her, or what interests her, or—”

“She’s interested in the same things as you. She’s interested in books, in literature, in the very smell of the treasures you have here—and in the penny novels with their promise of romance and adventure. She’s interested in casting aside loneliness and in not wasting time trying to understand that in this rotten world nothing is worth a single céntimo if there isn’t someone to share it with. Now you know the essentials. The rest you can find out and enjoy as you go along.”

Sempere looked thoughtful, glancing first at his cup of coffee, which he hadn’t touched, then at me as I attempted with great difficulty to maintain the smile of a stockbroker.

“I’m not sure whether to thank you or report you to the police,” he said at last.

Just then we heard footsteps in the bookshop. A few seconds later Sempere senior put his head round the door of the back room and stood there looking at us with a frown.

“What’s going on? The shop is left unattended and you’re sitting here chattering as if it were a bank holiday. What if a customer had come in? Or some scoundrel trying to make off with our goods?”

Sempere’s son sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t worry, Señor Sempere. Books are the only things in this world that no one wants to steal,” I said, winking at him.

His face lit up with a knowing smile. Sempere’s son took the opportunity to escape from my clutches and slink off back to the bookshop. His father sat next to me and sniffed at the cup of coffee his son had left untouched.

“What does the doctor say about the effects of caffeine on the heart?” I asked.

“That man can’t even find his backside with an anatomy book. What would he know about the heart?”

“More than you, I’m sure,” I replied, snatching the cup from him.

“I’m as strong as an ox, Martín.”

“You’re a mule, that’s what you are. Please go back upstairs and get into bed.”

“It’s only worth staying in b

ed if you’re young and in good company.”

“If you want company, I’ll find someone for you, but I don’t think your heart is up to it right now.”

“Martín, at my age, eroticism is reduced to enjoying flan and staring at widows’ necks. The one I’m worried about here is my heir. Any progress on that score?”

“We’re fertilizing the soil and sowing the seeds. We’ll have to see if the weather is favorable and we reap a harvest. In two or three days I’ll be able to give you a report on the first shoots that is 60 to 70 percent reliable.”

Sempere gave a satisfied smile.

“A stroke of genius, sending Isabella to be our shop assistant,” he said. “But don’t you think she’s a bit young for my son?”