Sangre De Toro (Old Draft - Now Published!)

Chapter 29 - Moment of Truth

'I don't want to say too many details, without other members of your family present,' Rita said.

Lucia looked crushed.

'You don't have to treat me like a child, I'm strong enough to hear it.'

'Legally, I do,' Rita said. The girl rolled her eyes and took another puff, reminding her a lot of herself when she was that age - weird, edgy posturing mixed with childish vulnerability.

'I dunno if this is important but. A few years ago, Abuela was going through my mum's things and she found this. She can't bear to throw anything out that belonged to her. Anyway, this was from a conference or something, it's from the weekend my mum died. I think maybe she picked it up from a hotel when she saw a customer.' Lucia said it so matter of factly. She passed a battered leaflet across the table. Rita took it and inspected it.

The leaflet was in English.

'Standing for Freedom and Building Growth: Preserving national traditions and building a conservative movement across Europe.' Rita had a look at the list of speakers, who were from a range of different countries. Their mayor was on the list, a man she hated. He rarely seemed to not be on holiday, and also happened to be the president of the bullring.

These had to be the VIPs.

'Henry Dixon: Lessons from Margaret Thatcher on prospects for a sound economy.' She had heard that name before. But where? A conservative UK politician. What had he been doing here, she thought, irritated. The leaflet also mentioned another MP called George Stenton.

Valero had mentioned a wealthy British guy called George.

'What made you think this might be important, Lucia?' she said, more sharply than she intended.

'It wasn't me. It was Abuela. She's always going on about what was on at the time and how none of the guests at the events were looked into. I love her, but...it gets too much sometimes, like, she's always sad, especially when it's my mum's birthday and things like that. That doesn't make me a bad person, does it?' Lucia gulped.

'Not at all. Families are difficult,' Rita said. The girl was visibly relieved.

'So, a few weeks ago, like, that guy, Henry Dixon, it went viral that he was at that corrida. He hurt the bull, he tried to stop him getting away! It was horrible. Like, I just remembered that leaflet. So creepy that it was for the day before Mum dying.' Lucia's voice rose. She spoke passionately.

Ah yeah.

That was where she'd heard it.

To Rita, this sick spectacle was the national shame. And these pompous, privileged men came from overseas just so they could watch it.

'Maldito. He's not the only powerful man who enjoys this sort of thing,' Rita said. She went onto Google and searched for his name. The top result in English said, 'Lord Henry Dixon accused of mistreating escaped Spanish bull'.

'Pobrecitos,' Rita whispered. As well as Pepelito, the article had pictures of Castella's first bull Ladron bleeding, his tongue hanging out, hardly able to walk as he stood waiting to die. Trapped in the dark, driven mad with fear, Pepelito would have heard and smelt everything.

'This guy loves his corridas, doesn't he.' Henry was president of something called the Taurine Club of Kensington, an association for British bullfighting lovers. To view anything on its website, you had to pay and then fill out a form to become a member. There was no way she was doing that.

A chill came over her.

'Upper class British guys, who come here on holiday to watch bullfighting.'