‘You’re the recognised authority on all matters literary, Governor. I know nothing about the subject.’
The governor gave him an icy look.
‘I’ve sent men into solitary confinement for three months for less impertinent remarks. Few survive, and those who do come back in a worse state than your friend Martín. Don’t make the fatal mistake of assuming that your qualifications grant you any privileges. Your records say you have a wife and three daughters out there. Your luck, as well as that of your family, depends on how useful you make yourself to me. Am I getting this across clearly?’
Dr Sanahuja swallowed hard.
‘Yes, Governor.’
‘Thank you, Doctor.’
From time to time, the governor would ask Sanahuja to take a look at Martín. It was no secret that the governor didn’t trust the resident prison doctor, a dishonest charlatan who seemed to have forgotten the notion of preventive care from signing so many death certificates. The governor dismissed him shortly afterwards.
‘How would you describe the patient’s general state, Doctor?’
‘Weak.’
‘I see. What about his demons, so to speak? Is he still talking to himself and imagining things?’
‘There’s no noticeable change in that regard.’
‘I’ll take that as a yes. I read an excellent article in the ABC by my good friend Sebastián Jurado, in which he talks about schizophrenia, the poets’ illness.’
‘I’m not qualified to make such a diagnosis.’
‘But you are, I hope, qualified to keep him alive, aren’t you?’
‘I’m doing my best with what I’ve got.’
‘Your best may not be good enough. Consider the plight of your daughters. So young and vulnerable. So unprotected and with all those callous swine and reds still hiding out there.’
As the months went by, Dr Sanahuja became quite fond of Martín and one day, while sharing cigarette stubs, he told Fermín what he knew about the man whom some, because of his ravings and his status as the prison’s resident lunatic, had jokingly nicknamed ‘the Prisoner of Heaven’.
6
‘Truth be told, I think that by the time they brought David Martín here he’d already been ill for some time. Have you ever heard of schizophrenia, Fermín? It’s one of the governor’s favourite new words.’
‘It’s what we civilians like to refer to as “being off one’s rocker”.’
‘It’s no joke, Fermín. It’s a very serious illness. Not my speciality, but I’ve seen a few cases and the patients often hear voices, or they see and remember people and events that have never taken place … The mind slowly deteriorates and the patient can no longer distinguish between reality and fiction.’
‘Like seventy per cent of Spaniards … And do you think poor Martín suffers from this illness, Doctor?’
‘I’m not sure. As I said, I’m not a specialist, but I’d say he shows some of the most common symptoms.’
‘Perhaps in this case his illness is a blessing …’
‘It’s never a blessing, Fermín.’
‘And does he know that he is, shall we say, affected?’
‘Madmen always think it’s the others who are mad.’
‘That’s what I was saying about seventy per cent of Spaniards …’
A guard was watching them from the top of a sentry box, as if he were trying to read their lips.
‘Lower your voice or we’ll get into trouble.’