Chapter 28

“We found this when we were clearing the last of the rubble.” The building foreman hands me an ornate box that I instantly recognise.

“Thank you.” I try to sound casual, but I hug it close to myself protectively. I listen to the rest of his progress report with only half an ear, my thumb playing over the corner of the box lid that looks to have been broken.

The work is going well, and they plan to be finished in just under two weeks’ time, with a new boiler being fitted next week. Then I can get in and clean everything properly. The entire bar area will need a deep clean and I dread to think what my apartment looks like. The foreman clears me for going up there, now that the building is structurally sound and the staircase and floor have been rebuilt.

I encounter a couple of workmen. One is plastering the new walls in the hallway, whilst the other is working in the bathroom, getting ready for the new bathroom suite that’s being installed in a few days. I’m pleased that despite the delays they’ve had with some materials, the schedule isn’t far off the plan. Provided nothing else goes wrong, I’ll be able to open in three weeks’ time.

I walk through into my bedroom and shut the door behind me. I look around in dismay. Although this room hadn’t been affected by the collapse, there’s still a layer of dust covering every surface. I can’t even strip the bed and wash the bedding until the new boiler is in place. I sit on the bed anyway and place the box on my knee. Now I can look properly, I see that a corner of the lid has broken off, the wood splitting along the grain. If it had been in here, instead of on the small bookcase I had in the hallway, it would never have been damaged. I turn it over, relief washing through me that the rest of it is intact.

I set it back down on my knees, but I don’t open it. Instead, I trace the carvings on the lid with my finger. Valery made the box for me, for our first anniversary of being together. He was always practical, wanting to learn new skills. He’d attended a woodworking course for several weeks and returned one day with this small wooden box. I loved it instantly. The sides are sanded perfectly smooth and waxed, so they have a silky finish that shows off the beautiful patterns in the grain of the walnut. The lid is thick and has intricate carvings of Flor de Mayo, May’s flower, the national flower of Gran Canaria. The delicate petals are exquisitely carved. I cease my fingers’ movement and remember his face when I opened it, his pleasure in my enjoyment. He was like that. He loved giving me things just to watch me open them or unwrap them. Many of the things he gave me are in the box—some more carved pieces, including a small bird, a guitar, and a peach.

There’s a large stack of photographs, including lots of Polaroids. Valery loved the instant camera and there are a myriad of pictures of us together here in Barcelona, at the Park Güell, as well as on trips back home to Gran Canaria. I’ve kept every hand-written note he made. He loved to create little sayings or pictures and leave them in places for me to find. There are postcards of some of our favourite places as well as a few poems. I chuckle at being called romantic. Valery was always far more romantic than me.

Also, there are treasures in the box. The most special are our wedding rings. I took mine off after he died and reunited them on a chain and kept them in a small ring box laid amongst the other keepsakes.

My fingers reach for the brass catch, but I stall. I used to spend hours taking out the contents of the box and sitting amongst the photographs, reliving all our moments together. But it never did anything but keep me locked in the box with the memories. I don’t want to get caught up in the melancholy anymore. My thoughts turn to Rafe and Florencio and how much has changed over the last few weeks. How I’ve felt lighter and no longer wake up feeling like I have nothing to look forward to. I know I can never fall in love again, but with them, I feel on the brink of something good. A sense of belonging that I’ve not felt in ten years.

I let go of the catch and hold the box for a minute, tapping a tango rhythm with my fingers. Leaving it closed, I rise and walk to the closet. I store it on a shelf out of sight, the safest place I have at the moment. It will never stop being important to me, but right now I want a brighter future.

With a spring in my step, I start the walk back up to the Pedralbes district and Estrella’s mansion. I’m looking forward to seeing Rafe and Florencio again.