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“Señora Coronado? I asked, raising my voice, in case the poor thing was deaf, half-witted, or both.
The elderly woman examined us carefully, with some reserve. Her eyes looked blurred, and only a few wisps of whitish hair covered her head. I noticed that she gave me a puzzled look, as if she’d seen me before but couldn’t remember where. I was afraid Fermín was going to rush into introducing me as the son of Carax or some similar lie, but all he did was kneel down next to the old lady and take her shaky, wrinkled hand.
“Jacinta, I’m Fermín, and this handsome young lad is my friend Daniel. Father Fernando Ramos sends us. He wasn’t able to come today because he had twelve masses to say—you know what the calendar of saints’ days is like—but he sends you his best regards. How are you feeling?”
The old woman smiled sweetly at Fermín. My friend stroked her face and her forehead. She appreciated the touch of another skin like a purring cat. I felt a lump in my throat.
“What a stupid question, wasn’t it?” Fermín went on. “What you’d like is to be out there, dancing a fox-trot. You have the looks of a dancer; everyone must tell you that.”
I had never seen him treat anyone with such delicacy, not even Bernarda. His words were pure flattery, but the tone and expression on his face were sincere.
“What pretty things you say,” she murmured in a voice that was broken from not having had anyone to speak to or anything to say.
“Not half as pretty as you, Jacinta. Do you think we could ask you some questions? Like on a radio contest, you know?”
The old woman just blinked for an answer.
“I’d say that’s a yes. Do you remember Penélope, Jacinta? Penélope Aldaya? It’s her we’d like to ask you about.”
Jacinta’s eyes suddenly lit up and she nodded.
“My girl,” she murmured, and it looked like she was going to burst into tears.
“The very one. You do remember, don’t you? We’re friends of Julián.
Julián Carax, the one who told scary stories. You remember that, too, don’t you?”
The old woman’s eyes shone, as if those words and the touch on her skin were bringing life back to her by the minute.
“Father Fernando, from San Gabriel’s, told us you adored Penélope. He loves you very much, too, and thinks of you every day, you know. If he doesn’t come more often, it’s just because the new bishop, who is a social climber, loads him with such a quota of masses that his voice gives out.”
“Are you sure you eat enough?” the old lady suddenly asked, with a worried expression.
“I eat like a horse, Jacinta. The trouble is, I have a very manly metabolism and I burn it all up. But believe me, under these clothes it’s all pure muscle. Feel, feel. Like Charles Atlas, only hairier.”
Jacinta nodded and looked reassured. She couldn’t take her eyes off Fermín. She had forgotten about me completely.
“What can you tell us about Penélope and Julián?”
“Between them all, they took her from me,” she said. “My girl.”
I took a step forward and was about to say something, but Fermín threw me a look that told me to remain silent.
“Who took Penélope from you, Jacinta? Do you remember?”
“The master,” she said, raising her eyes fearfully, as if she thought someone might hear us.
Fermín seemed to be gauging the emphasis of the old woman’s gesture and followed her eyes to the ceiling, weighing up possibilities.
“Are you referring to God Almighty, emperor of the heavens, or did you mean the master, the father of Miss Penélope, Don Ricardo?”
“How’s Fernando?” asked the old woman.
“The priest? Splendid. When we least expect it, he’ll be made pope and will set you up in the Sistine Chapel. He sends you all the best.”
“He’s the only one who comes to see me, you know. He comes because he knows I don’t have anyone else.”
Fermín gave me a sidelong look, as if he were thinking what I was thinking. Jacinta Coronado was much saner than her appearance suggested. Her body was fading away, but her mind and her soul were still blazing with anguish in that place of wretchedness. I wondered how many more people like her, or like the lusty little old man who had shown us how to find her, were trapped in there.
