A Song for Molly

On Monday the eighth of November, at half past ten at night, the Linden Hotel was quiet. Daniel was sitting in the little library in the basement, under the green lamp, while Harry's clock ticked on the shelf. He was looking at the photo again.

He had been looking at it for eight days, and he knew every part of it now. The young man with the guitar, thin and dark, laughing. The girl with the red hair flying in the wind. The wide grey river behind them, and the big building with its towers.

He zoomed in on the birds. He had read about them on the night the photo arrived. They were called the Liver Birds, and there were two of them, one on each tower of the Royal Liver Building in Liverpool. They were made of copper, and they were taller than a man. People in Liverpool said that if the birds ever flew away, the city would end.

Daniel had tried to call Grandad every day for a week, and Grandad had avoided every call, with short messages and short excuses. Busy with the tomatoes. At the doctor's. Football on TV.

Tonight, at last, he answered.

— Dani. It's late. Is everything all right?

— Everything's fine, Grandad. Lucía sent me a photo.

There was a pause, and Daniel could hear the television in Grandad's kitchen in Triana.

— What photo?

— Please don't pretend, Grandad. You on a ferry, with a guitar and a girl. On the back it says Molly and me. The Mersey, 1966. In hospital you asked for Molly. And that song in Bath, I know you —

— Dani, Grandad interrupted. His voice was quiet but very firm. Some doors are closed. Leave this one closed.

— But who is she? Why did you never —

— Goodnight, Dani. Give my love to your mother.

And the line went dead.

Daniel put the phone down next to the red guest book and stared at the photo for a long time.

He started a list in his head. The young man in the photo played the guitar, but Grandad had never touched a guitar in his life. The young man had been to England, but Grandad had always said he had never left Spain. And in hospital, in January, Grandad had spoken perfect English to a nurse.

Daniel had known his grandfather for his whole life, and he had eaten at his table every Sunday as a boy. And now he looked at the laughing young man on the ferry and saw a stranger.