The Prince of Mist (Niebla 1)

Max smiled and shook Roland’s hand.

‘How’s the house? Do you like it?’ asked the boy.

‘Opinion is divided. My father loves it. The rest of the family don’t see it that way,’ Max explained.

‘I met your father a few months ago, when he came to the town,’ said Roland. ‘He seemed like good fun. A watchmaker, isn’t that right?’

Max nodded again. ‘Yes, he is good fun…sometimes. Other times he gets silly ideas into his head, like moving here.’

‘Why did you move?’ asked Roland.

‘The war,’ replied Max. ‘My father thinks it isn’t a good time to be living in the city. I suppose he’s right.’

‘The war,?

?? Roland repeated, his eyes downcast. ‘I’ll be called up in September.’

Max was lost for words. Noticing his silence, Roland smiled.

‘It has its plus side,’ he added. ‘This could be the last summer I have to spend in this place.’

Max smiled back timidly, thinking that in a few years’ time, if the war hadn’t ended, he would also have to enlist. Even on a radiant day such as this, the spectre of war shrouded the future in darkness.

‘I suppose you haven’t seen the town yet,’ said Roland.

Max shook his head.

‘Right, new boy. Get on your bike. I’m giving you the guided tour.’

*

Max had to struggle to keep up with Roland. They’d only pedalled about two hundred metres from the end of the breakwater and already he could feel sweat sliding down his forehead and his body. Roland turned and gave him a teasing grin.

‘Lack of practice, eh? Life in the big city has knocked you out of shape?’ he shouted without slowing down.

Max followed Roland along the promenade and into the streets of the town. When Max began to flag, Roland reduced his speed and stopped in the middle of a square by a large stone fountain from which fresh water gushed invitingly.

‘I wouldn’t recommend a drink,’ said Roland, reading his thoughts. ‘Stitch.’

Max took a deep breath and dipped his head under the jet of cold water.

‘We’ll go slower,’ Roland conceded.

Max kept his head immersed in the basin for a few seconds, then straightened up, water dripping down his head and onto his clothes.

‘I didn’t think you’d even last that long, to tell you the truth. This,’ he said pointing around him, ‘is the centre of town. The main square containing the town hall. That building over there is the court but it’s not used any more. There’s a market here on Sundays. And on summer evenings, they show films on the wall of the town hall. Usually old movies with the reels all jumbled up.’

Max gave a little nod as he tried to recover his breath.

‘Sounds amazing, doesn’t it?’ Roland laughed. ‘There’s also a library, but I’ll stick my hand in the fire if it has more than sixty books.’

‘And what do people do round here?’ Max managed to say. ‘Other than cycle.’

‘Good question, Max. I see you’re beginning to get the idea. Shall we go?’

Max sighed and they returned to their bikes.

‘But this time I set the pace,’ Max demanded. Roland shrugged his shoulders and pedalled off.