‘I know. But you know what I’m afraid of, Señora Bea? That I’m not good enough for him. When I see him looking at me spellbound and he tells me he wants us to grow old together and all that sweet-talk he comes up with, I always think that one morning he’ll wake up and look at me and he’ll say: “Where on earth did I find this dimwit?”’
‘I think you’re wrong, Bernarda, Fermín will never think that. He has you on a pedestal.’
‘Well, that’s not a good thing either. I’ve seen a lot of gentlemen, the sort who put their wives on pedestals as if they were the Virgin Mary, who then run after the first pretty young thing they see passing by, like dogs after a bitch on heat. You wouldn’t believe the times I’ve seen that with these little eyes God gave me.’
‘But Fermín isn’t like that, Bernarda. Fermín is one of the good ones. One of the few. Men are like chestnuts they sell in the street: they’re all hot and they all smell good when you buy them, but when you take them out of the paper cone you realise that most of them are rotten inside.’
‘You’re not saying that because of Señor Daniel, are you?’
Bea took a while to reply.
‘No. Of course not.’
Bernarda glanced at her.
‘Everything all right at home, Señora Bea?’
Bea fiddled with a pleat on the shoulder strap of Bernarda’s slip.
‘Yes, Bernarda. The trouble is that I think we’ve both gone and got ourselves husbands who have a secret or two.’
Bernarda nodded.
‘Sometimes they’re like children.’
‘Men. What do you expect?’
‘But the thing is, I like them,’ said Bernarda. ‘And I know that’s a sin.’
Bea laughed.
‘And how do you like them. Like Evaristo?’
‘No, good heavens, no. If he keeps looking at himself in t
he mirror he’ll wear it out! A man who takes longer than me to get smartened up gives me the creeps. I like them a bit rougher, I’m afraid. I know my Fermín isn’t exactly what you’d call handsome. But he is to me – handsome and good. And very manly. In the end, I think that’s what matters, that he’s truly a good person and that he’s real. That he’s someone you can hold on to on a cold winter’s night and who knows how to make you feel warm inside.’
Bea smiled in assent.
‘Amen. Although a birdie told me the one you liked was Cary Grant.’
Bernarda blushed.
‘Don’t you? Not to marry, of course. I’d say he fell in love the first time he looked at himself in the mirror. But between you and me, and may God forgive me, I wouldn’t say no to a good squeeze from him …’
‘What would Fermín say if he heard you, Bernarda?’
‘What he always says. “After all, we’re all going to get eaten up by worms in the end …”’
Part Five
The Name of the Hero
1
Barcelona, 1958
Many years later, the twenty-three guests gathered there to celebrate the occasion would look back and remember the historic eve of the day when Fermín Romero de Torres abandoned his bachelorhood.