“It’s on my to-do list.”

She followed the keeper to his room and sat at the table while Isaac prepared two cups of herbal tea and, after sniffing at the brandy bottle, poured a few drops into each one.

“It’s not bad,” said Alicia, tasting the cocktail.

They sipped their spiked chamomile in peace and quiet, like old friends who don’t need words to enjoy each other’s company.

“You’re looking well,” said Isaac finally. “I suppose that means that you’ll leave us soon.”

“I’m not doing anyone any good by staying here, Isaac.”

“The place isn’t bad,” he assured her.

“If I didn’t have matters to resolve, no other place in the world would seem better than this.”

“You’re welcome to return whenever you like, although something tells me that once you leave, you won’t be coming back.”

For an answer, Alicia smiled.

“You’ll need clothes and things,” the old man pointed out. “Fermín says that your home is being watched, so I don’t think it would be a good idea to collect anything from there. Somewhere I have a few of Nuria’s clothes that might suit you.”

“I wouldn’t want to—”

“I would consider it an honor if you accepted my daughter’s things. And I think my Nuria would like you to have them. Besides, I think you must be the same size.”

Isaac went over to a wardrobe and pulled out a suitcase that he dragged up to the table. He opened it, and Alicia had a look. There were dresses, shoes, books, and other objects whose sight made her feel an immense sadness. Although she’d never met Nuria Montfort, she’d started to get used to her haunting presence, listening to her father talk about her as if she were still by his side. When she saw the remains of a life contained in an old suitcase, which a poor old man had kept to save the memory of his dead daughter, she couldn’t find the right words. All she could do was nod.

“They’re good quality,” she said, for she had a keen eye for labels and the feel of fabrics.

“My Nuria spent all she had on books and clothes, poor thing. Her mother always said she looked like a film star. If you’d only seen her. It was a joy to look at her . . .”

Alicia moved some of the dresses in the suitcase to one side and noticed something peeping through the folds. It looked like a white figure, about ten centimeters high. She picked it up and examined it under the light of the lamp. It was an angel made of painted plaster, with its wings open wide.

“I haven’t seen that for years. I didn’t know Nuria had kept it. It was one of her favorite toys, from when she was a little girl,” Isaac explained. “I remember the day we bought it, at the fair of Santa Lucía, next to the cathedral.”

The figurine’s torso felt as if it had an empty hole in it. When she placed her finger over it, a tiny door opened, and Alicia saw it had a hidden compartment.