11At first no one dared tell my mother in Bahrain what had happened to Adrian and they were hoping they wouldn’t have to because he would recover before she came home. But two years later, after they had lost hope, Aida phoned my mother to tell her all about the accident, leaving aside the permanent damage it had done to him. Alberto had come back from one of his trips a few weeks after the incident. He was horrified at what had happened. He spent most of his four months’ leave in the bar close to his house, then disappeared to sea again.
After Aunt Aida called her, my mother came straight back from Bahrain. That was in the middle of 1995. We waited for her at home – Aunt Aida, Merla, Adrian and me, Pedro and his children.
Tragedy leaves deep scars on the walls of memory, whereas happine
