Page 55 of Under a Spanish Sky

The waiter reappeared, bearing a tray with hot terracotta dishes still steaming from the oven, and set them down on the table. He collected the empty soup plates and left.

‘Very, very hot. Brown gravy and what looks like chunks of potatoes and chicken bubbling in it. Smells wonderful.’

She nodded, keen to continue her story. ‘Suddenly he sees a builders’ block and tackle on the far edge of the cathedral, where repairs to the roof are being carried out.

Helping her across the uneven roof to it, he looks over the edge.

He spots a few little figures scurrying about on the rain-swept square below and reaches for the rope. ’

‘Always assuming that he’s not as afraid of heights as I am,’ he added mildly.

She reached for her fork and prodded the steaming plate in front of her. As she tried to spear a piece of meat, he made a suggestion.

‘Alternatively, how about this as a version?’ He had already tried the chicken and was nursing a burnt tongue in consequence.

‘And mind out for the chicken, it’s absolutely boiling.

They spot the enemy closing in on them and make a break for it, up the spiral stone stair to the gallery.

They start running along the gallery, perched high up above the crowds below?—’

‘Vertiginously high.’ She was keen to put in her own contribution.

‘They start running along the gallery, perched vertiginously high above the crowds below. Suddenly, he sees a cluster of enemy soldiers emerge onto the gallery from another stair, just a short way in front of them. He stops dead and spins round. He and the girl start off again in the opposite direction, but their way is blocked by another group of soldiers. These men come charging out of the next stairway along, less than a stone’s throw ahead.

He stops, looking back over his shoulder at the heavily armed platoon behind him, and then forward to the soldiers advancing towards him.

He feels for a weapon but has nothing more than a dagger up his sleeve. ’

He picked up another piece of chicken and immediately had to take a big gulp of wine to avoid getting burnt again.

He swallowed and gave her another warning, before taking up the story once more.

‘Chicken’s still boiling. Take it easy. Anyway, he looks desperately downwards into the main aisle of the cathedral, packed with crowds of pilgrims, blissfully unaware of the drama being played out high above their heads.

Even worse, he sees that the soldiers are armed with crossbows. ’

She had taken his advice and was sensibly waiting for the chicken dish to cool down.

‘But what about my scenario of the pair of them on the roof? Couldn’t he stick the girl in the bucket on the hoist and then leap on after her and lower them hand-over-hand to the ground?

Once safely on the square, they’d be able to elude their pursuers and make good their escape through the narrow streets. How about that?’

He thought about it for a moment, eager to see a happy ending to their story. The chicken casserole was gradually cooling and he risked another mouthful. It really was excellent. He took his time while considering the various options. Finally he decided.

‘Yes, I reckon that’s the way it happened. After all, he was strong enough to lower the two of them safely to the ground. Why not? And once they were clear of the cathedral they could head for sanctuary in Portugal.’ He took a mouthful of red wine.

‘Just imagine.’ She was still waiting for the chicken to cool. ‘Trapped up there on the gallery. They both knew what awaited them at the hands of the Inquisition. She, in particular, would have been terrified at the thought of torture. Can you imagine being tortured at all? But when you’re blind…?’

Luke shivered at the thought, having seen enough medieval instruments of torture in museums to turn anybody’s stomach. He knew, with a sinking feeling, that there was only one way it could end. He chose to say it before she had to.

‘There would have been only one way out. He would have taken her in his arms. I can’t imagine that they would have been able to travel all that way together without getting emotionally involved.

He would have taken her in his arms and then, as the archers took aim, he would have turned to her and whispered that he loved her.

And then the two of them would have fallen from the gallery a hundred feet to the stone floor below and certain death.

’ He took another mouthful of wine, feeling saddened by this version of events.

Amy made a start on the casserole, but it wasn’t long before she declared herself full.

She pushed the plate away, wiped her mouth with her napkin and sat back, lost in thought.

Somehow their story couldn’t finish like that.

Their medieval counterparts deserved to find the happiness they both had found.

Luke looked across the table at her as the waiter cleared away the plates. He saw the pain on her face as she considered the fate of their characters. He caught the waiter’s eye and ordered two coffees, keen to get out into the open again and away from this morbid topic of conversation.

She came to a decision. ‘No.’ Her mind was made up and her voice was firm.

‘It’s unthinkable that they should have come so far, against the odds, only to find themselves beaten at the last hurdle.

They made it. I know they did. Here.’ She lifted her glass.

‘Let’s drink to them and their happiness. We did it, why not them?’

He reached out with his glass and touched hers. It was only right that their companions for the last thousand kilometres should be as lucky and as happy as they were.

‘To them and their happiness.’ Luke took a mouthful, then added, ‘And to ours, Amy. And to ours.’

They clinked their glasses together and Amy had a sudden thought. ‘That’s funny, we never knew their names, did we?’