“If you’re trying to catch a glimpse of that old crone’s ankles, Ramuntxo, I’ll have you know that my girls will be more than happy to show you theirs,” Olazábal’s roaring laughter brought Ramuntxo out of his little reminiscences. Or was it the ghost of a bad memory? “And they’ll show you a lot more, at least depending on how many pesos you’re willing to part with tonight.”
Ramón eyes burned bright as he turned back to face Olazábal. “I’d pay a lot more than a few pesos to catch a glimpse of La Vieja’s ankles. Much, much more.”
He laughed. “La Vieja’s name, in case you haven’t already figured it out, is Mari.”
“So it really was her husband who took my father,” Ramuntxo was adamant. “The lightning that struck him down ...”
And for the first time that evening, Olazábal recognised Ramuntx
