The Frozen Heart by Almudena Grandes Read Free Book Online Page B

You’ll have to talk to the woman who runs the nursery school with you, decide what you’re going to do, whether you’re going to sell up or close the place, I have to find a job, I can’t . . .’
    ‘But you’ve already talked to Marcel and he . . .’
    ‘He nothing! Marcel will do what he can, when he can, and right now he can’t, right now we have to wait, to see how it goes, how things develop. At least that’s what I’m going to do. If you want to go back before then, talk to your son, I’m sure he’d be delighted.’
    ‘Why are you so stubborn, Ignacio?’ Grandma Anita shook her head from side to side, having travelled this road so often before.
    ‘I’m not stubborn,’ he replied, almost gently, ‘I’m realistic.’
    ‘Realistic my foot! You’re stubborn, that’s what you are, stubborn as a mule.’
    Her husband made no further attempt to defend himself. He simply went back to his seat, poured himself another brandy, and toyed with it for a moment.
    ‘Anyway . . .’ At the sound of her husband’s voice, Grandmother stiffened, but he was not talking to her now, but to his son. ‘Where did you say you were living?’
    ‘It’s a small development, four apartment blocks with communal gardens near Arturo Soria.’
    ‘And where’s that?’
    ‘Well, I’m not sure how to explain . . . At the end of the Calle Alcalá, right at the end, past the bullring.’
    ‘In Ciudad Lineal ?’
    ‘No, farther out, heading towards Canillejas.’
    ‘Canillejas?’ Ignacio Fernández looked at his son, eyebrows raised, his face like that of a frightened child. ‘But that’s miles outside Madrid.’
    ‘It used to be, Papá. Nowadays it’s part of Madrid. The city has grown a lot since you were there.’
    ‘But I never even thought I’d be living in Canillejas,’ he said, and glanced at his wife, who gave him a curious smile, shaking her head as if to say she had been right all along.
    ‘So what do you want?’ His son was smiling too. ‘I don’t think you’re going to find a place back on the Glorieta de Bilbao.’
    ‘Well, if not there, at least somewhere near by.’
    ‘What’s the name of that square?’ One year later, this was the first question Raquel asked the caretaker as he helped her take down the blue-and-white sign from the balcony, which was clearly no longer for sale. ‘That’s the Plaza de los Guardias de Corps,’ he told her. ‘That’s difficult,’ she said, as the man, who had told Mamá that he realised the apartment was a little expensive, but in this neighbourhood, they wouldn’t find anything better, signed a piece of paper. ‘And how far is it to the Glorieta de Bilbao?’ she asked him. ‘On foot?’ She nodded. ‘About ten minutes if you’re a slow walker . . . That’s not far, now, is it? No. I’d say it was very close.’
    ‘You’re going to love it, Grandpa, you’re going to love it.’ She had rushed to the phone as soon as they got home, eager to be the first to tell him the news. ‘You can’t imagine how big the sky is from there.’
    I n the hour and a half of my second class that morning, my mother managed to crash the voicemail system of my mobile. Álvaro, hijo , it’s Mamá, don’t forget to give Lisette the money for the gardener; Álvaro, hijo , remember to pick up the post, I know you’ll probably forget; Álvaro, hijo , when you pick up the post, could you go through it and throw out the junk mail, because I don’t have time for all that rubbish right now; Álvaro, hijo , instead of gorging on junk food like you always do, why don’t you ask Lisette to make something for you back at the house, you know what a good cook she is; Álvaro, hijo , call me when you’re leaving La Moraleja, I might take your sister out shopping . . . I deleted the messages before leaving the campus, standing at the bar with a glass of beer and two montaditos de lomo , the house speciality, famous all over Madrid’s Universidad Autónoma, although some people