‘I realise you must be tired after your journey but I’d like to know why Señor Pedro Vidal isn’t here,’ he said at last.
‘He wasn’t able to come.’
The doctor kept his gaze fixed on me, waiting. His eyes were cold and he seemed like the type of person who listens but does not hear.
‘Can I see her?’
‘You can’t see anyone unless you tell me the truth about why you’re here.’
I surrendered. I hadn’t travelled a hundred and fifty kilometres just to lie.
‘My name is Martín, David Martín. I’m a friend of Cristina Sagnier.’
‘Here we call her Señora de Vidal.’
‘I don’t care what you call her; I want to see her. Now.’
The doctor sighed.
‘Are you the writer?’
I stood up impatiently.
‘What sort of place is this? Why can’t I see her?’
‘Sit down, please. I beg you.’
He pointed to the chair and waited for me to sit down again.
‘May I ask when was the last time you saw her or spoke to her?’
‘Just over a month ago,’ I replied. ‘Why?’
‘Do you know anyone who might have seen or spoken to her since then?’
‘No… I don’t know. What’s going on?’
The doctor put his fingertips to his lips, measuring his words.
‘Señor Martín, I’m afraid I have bad news.’
I felt a knot in the pit of my stomach.
‘What’s wrong with her?’
The doctor did not reply, and for the first time I thought I glimpsed the shadow of a doubt in his eyes.
‘I don’t know,’ he said.
We walked along a short corridor flanked by metal doors. Doctor Sanjuán went in front of me, holding a bunch of keys in his hands. As we passed I thought I could hear voices whispering, suppressed laughter and sobs. The room was at the end of the corridor. The doctor opened the door but stopped at the threshold, his expression unreadable.
‘Fifteen minutes,’ he said.
I went in and heard the doctor shut the door behind me. Before me lay a room with a high ceiling and white walls reflected in a floor of shining tiles. On one side stood a bed – a metallic frame surrounded by a white gauze curtain. It was empty. Large French windows looked out over the snowy garden, trees, and in the distance the outline of the lake. I didn’t notice her until I’d taken a few steps into the room.
She was sitting in an armchair by the window, wearing a white nightdress, her hair up in a plait. I went round in front of her and looked straight at her, but her eyes didn’t move. I knelt down next to her, but she didn’t even blink. I put my hand over hers, but she didn’t move a single muscle. Then I noticed the bandages covering her arms, from her wrists to her elbows, and the straps that tied her to the chair. I stroked her cheek, gathering a tear that trickled down her face.
‘Cristina,’ I whispered.
Her eyes were blank: she seemed completely unaware of my presence. I brought a chair over and sat opposite her.
‘It’s David,’ I murmured.
For a quarter of an hour we remained like that, not speaking, her hand in mine, her eyes lost and my questions unanswered. At some point I heard the door open again and felt someone taking me gently by the arm and pulling me away. It was Doctor Sanjuán. I let myself be led to the corridor without offering any resistance. The doctor shut the door and took me back to his freezing office. I collapsed into a chair, unable to utter a single word.
‘Would you like me to leave you alone for a few minutes?’ he asked.
I nodded. The doctor left the room, closing the door behind him. I stared at my right hand, which was shaking, and clenched my fist. I hardly felt the cold of that room, or heard the shouts and voices that filtered through the walls. I only knew that I needed some air and had to get out of that place.
8
Doctor Sanjuán found me in the hotel dining room, sitting by the fire next to a plate of food I hadn’t touched. There was nobody else there except for a maid who was going round the deserted tables, polishing the cutlery. Outside it had grown dark and the snow was still falling, like a dusting of powdered blue glass. The doctor walked over to my table and smiled at me.
‘I thought I’d find you here,’ he said. ‘All visitors end up in this hotel. It’s where I spent my first night in the village when I arrived ten years ago. What room were you given?’
‘It’s supposed to be the newly-weds’ favourite, with views over the lake.’
‘Don’t you believe it. That’s what they say about all the rooms.’
Away from the sanatorium and without his white coat, Doctor Sanjuán looked more relaxed, even friendly.
‘I hardly recognised you without your uniform,’ I remarked.
‘Medicine is like the army. The cowl maketh the monk,’ he replied. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘I’m all right.’
‘I see. I missed you earlier, when I went back to the office to look for you.’
‘I needed some air.’
‘I understand. I was hoping you wouldn’t be affected quite so much.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I need you. Or rather, Cristina needs you.’
I gave a deep sigh.
‘You must think I’m a coward,’ I said.
The doctor shook his head.
‘How long has she been like this?’
‘Weeks. Practically since she arrived here. And she’s getting steadily worse.’
‘Is she aware of where she is?’
‘It’s hard to tell,’ the doctor replied with a shrug.
‘What happened to her?’
Doctor Sanjuán exhaled.
‘She was found, four weeks ago, not far from here – in the village graveyard, lying on her father’s grave. She was delirious and suffering from hypothermia. They brought her to the sanatorium because one of the Civil Guards recognised her from last year, when she spent a few months here, because of her father. A lot of people in the village knew her. We admitted her and she was kept under observation for a night or two. She was dehydrated and had probably not slept in days. Every now and then she regained consciousness, and when she did, she spoke about you. She said you were in great danger. She made me swear I wouldn’t call anyone, not even her husband, until she was capable of doing so herself.’
‘Even so, why didn’t you let Vidal know what had happened?’
‘I would have but… You’ll think this is absurd.’
‘What?’
‘I was convinced that she was fleeing from something and thought it was my duty to help her.’
‘Fleeing from what?’
‘I’m not sure,’ he said with an ambiguous expression.
‘What is it you’re not telling me?’
‘I’m just a doctor. There are things I don’t understand.’
‘What things?’
Doctor Sanjuán smiled nervously.
‘Cristina thinks that something, or someone, has got inside her and wants to destroy her.’
‘Who?’
‘I only know that she thinks it has something to do with you, and that it frightens her. That’s why I think nobody else can help her. It’s also why I didn’t let Vidal know, as I ought to have done. Because I knew that sooner or later you would turn up here.’
He looked at me with a strange mixture of pity and despair.