“How do you propose to do that? By dint of more verses?”

Fermín lowered his voice.

“I have a plan . . .”

* * *

True to his promise, Fermín showed exemplary manners for the rest for the dinner. He laughed at Don Anacleto’s jokes, treated Merceditas as if she were Marie Curie, and every now and then cast Alicia altar-boy glances. When the moment came for the toast and the cutting of the cake, Fermín delivered a long, impassioned speech that he’d prepared, eulogizing the host. This brought about a round of applause and a heartfelt embrace from the man who was being honored.

“My grandson will help me blow out the candles, won’t you, Julián?” the bookseller announced.

Bea turned off the dining-room lamps, and for a few moments, they were all caught in the candles’ flickering light.

“Make a wish, my friend,” Don Anacleto reminded him. “If possible in the shape of a plump widow in the flower of maturity and vigor.”

Bernarda delicately removed the teacher’s champagne glass and replaced it with a glass of mineral water, exchanging glances with Bea, who nodded.

Alicia watched that spectacle almost in a trance. She feigned a friendly calm, but her heart was beating fast. She had never been in a gathering like this. All the birthdays she remembered had been spent with Leandro or alone, usually hidden in a cinema, the same one in which she hid almost every New Year’s Eve, only to curse that awful habit they had of interrupting the film at midnight and turning on the lights for ten minutes before going back to the film. As if it weren’t insulting enough having to spend the night in the empty stalls of a cinema, with six or seven other solitary souls with nobody and nowhere to go back to, they had to rub their noses in it. That feeling of camaraderie, of belonging and affection that went far beyond the jokes and discussions, was something Alicia didn’t know how to handle.

Julián had taken her hand under the table, and was pressing it hard, as if, of all those present, only a child could understand how she felt. Had it not been for him, she would have burst into tears.

When all the toasts were over, Bernarda was offering coffee or tea, and Don Anacleto was doling out cigars, Alicia stood up. Everyone looked at her in surprise.

“I wanted to thank you all for your hospitality and your kindness. And very particularly you, Señor Sempere. My father always held you in great esteem, and I know he would have been very happy that I was able to share this special evening with all of you. Thank you very much.”

They all looked at her with what seemed like pity, or perhaps she only saw in others what she herself felt inside. She gave little Julián a kiss and headed for the door. Bea got up and followed her, still holding her napkin.