They were sitting in the dusk light of Plaza Real. Linda had always loved the square, even though it had a bad reputation for thieves and muggers. She loved the French neo-classical style, and Gaudi's iron lamps in the centre, the beautiful stone work softening in the early evening light. She hadn't seen Alfonso since being ordered up to Delgado's room, and now it was Sunday. Delgado had sent her back to her hotel, suggesting that she gather a few things and stay for the rest of the week in his Sitges apartment. She needed time to think, to contemplate her work, and what she really hoped to achieve by staying in Barcelona. She had felt flattered and honoured and saw it as some sort of recognition that Delgado was prepared to take her work so seriously. 'You do have promise. I have been hard on you and I will continue to be hard, but I saw from the moment I saw your work that you had more potential than anyone I have seen for a long time.' 'Well, why were you so awful to me about my work?' Linda had asked.
