About three days after I'd denigrated fascism in conversation with Mauricio, I was crossing one of the town squares and all the traffic suddenly halted. Horns blared out. A few young men leapt from their cars and stood, hands on horns looking out and across to the next man and to the next and shouting at the people in the square to stop walking. To stop. We faltered and stopped and looked around. And the horns stopped and there was silence and fear.
After perhaps a minute the young men jumped into their cars and let the traffic move. I looked at the people close to me and saw that we all looked ruffled - angry and scared because this power had just reached out and made us do what it wanted. When I got home I found out that the mad Colonel Tejero had taken the government hostage. The young men had been demonstrating in support. I tried to go to sleep but I kept imagining Mauricio and a group of those young men plunging up the stairs of my house to drag me out and punish me for my words.
None of the other army officers came to Tejero's aid. The next day he let the government go. We saw TV images of him looking flustered and absurd, waving his pistol around. The crisis was over. Neverthless it was a chilling moment. Pilar in particular had worried for her grandfather. He lived out in a little pueblo and was known to be a sympathiser with the left. Every one else in that town was a fascist. Memories were still fresh.
A while later, returning to Mercedes's car one day, we found that one of her tires had been punctured. Pinned to her windown was a note,
"This time we let down your Left Tire - Next time we'll burn you."
We all suspected Mauricio.
Other memories jogged by this photo. Further memories. This Photo. All the Photos
Trail - Spain
Photos in Chronological Order
Map/Diagram of Story Elements