I almost dropped the rings, but all was forgotten when the priest, once the preliminaries were over, invited Fermín to kiss the bride. Just then, I turned my head for a second and thought I saw a figure in the back row of the church, a stranger who was looking at me and smiling. I couldn’t say why, but for a moment I was certain that the unknown man was none other than the Prisoner of Heaven. But when I looked again, he was no longer there. Next to me Fermín held Bernarda tight and smacked a kiss right on her lips that unleashed an ovation captained by the priest.

  When I saw my friend kissing the woman he loved it occurred to me that this moment, this instant stolen from time and from God, was worth all the days of misery that had brought us to this place and the many others that were doubtless waiting for us on our return to life. And that everything that was decent and clean and pure in this world and everything for which it was worth living and breathing was in those lips, in those hands and in the look of that fortunate couple who, I knew, would be together for the rest of their lives.

  Epilogue

  1960

  A young man, already showing a few grey hairs, walks in the noon sun amongst the gravestones of the cemetery, beneath a sky melting over the blue of the sea.

  In his arms he carries a child who barely understands his words but who smiles when their eyes meet. Together they approach a modest grave, set apart on a balcony overlooking the Mediterranean. The man kneels down in front of the grave and, holding his son, lets him stroke the letters engraved on the stone.

  ISABELLA SEMPERE

  1917–1939

  The man remains there for a while, in silence, his eyelids pressed together to hold his tears.

  His son’s voice brings him back to the present and when he opens his eyes again he sees that the boy is pointing at a small figure peeping through the petals of some dried flowers, in the shadow of a glass vase at the foot of the tomb. He is certain that it wasn’t there the last time he visited the grave. His hand searches among the flowers and picks up a plaster statuette, so small it fits in his fist. An angel. The words he thought he’d forgotten flare up in his memory like an old wound.

  And if one day, kneeling at her graveside, you feel the fire of anger trying to take hold of you, remember that in my story, as in yours, there was an angel who holds all the answers …

  The child tries to clutch the angel figure resting in his father’s hand and when he touches it with his fingers he accidentally pushes it. The angel falls on the marble and breaks. And that is when the man sees it. A tiny piece of paper hidden inside the plaster. The paper is fine, almost transparent. He unrolls it and instantly recognises the handwriting:

  Mauricio Valls

  El Pinar

  Calle de Manuel Arnús

  Barcelona

  The sea breeze rises through the gravestones and the breath of a curse caresses his face. He puts the piece of paper in his pocket. Shortly afterwards, he places a white rose on the tombstone and then retraces his steps, carrying the boy in his arms, towards the avenue of cypress trees where the mother of his son is waiting. All three melt into an embrace and when she looks into his eyes she discovers something that was not in them a few moments ago. Something turbulent and dark that frightens her.

  ‘Are you all right, Daniel?’

  He looks at her for a long time and smiles.

  ‘I love you,’ he says, and kisses her, knowing that the story, his story, has not ended.

  It has only just begun.

  THE END

  About the Author

  Carlos Ruiz Zafón is the author of seven novels, including the international phenomenon The Shadow of the Wind, and The Angel’s Game. His work has been published in more than forty different languages, and honoured with numerous international awards. He divides his time between Barcelona, Spain, and Los Angeles, California.

  www.carlosruizzafon.co.uk

  Also by Carlos Ruiz Zafón

  The Shadow of the Wind

  The Angel’s Game

  The Prince of Mist

  The Midnight Palace

  For exclusive short stories, poems, extracts, essays, articles, interviews, trailers, competitions and much more visit the Weidenfeld & Nicolson blog at:

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  Copyright

  A Weidenfeld & Nicolson ebook

  First published in Great Britain in 2012 by Weidenfeld & Nicolson

  This ebook first published in 2012 by Weidenfeld & Nicolson

  © Shadow Factory S.L.2011

  English translation © Lucia Graves 2012

  First published in Spain as El Prisionero del Cielo by Editorial Planeta, S.A., 2011

  The rights of Carlos Ruiz Zafón and Lucia Graves, to be identified as the author and translator of this work respectively, have been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor to be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN: 978 0 297 86812 5

  Weidenfeld & Nicolson

  The Orion Publishing Group Ltd

  Orion House

  5 Upper Saint Martin’s Lane

  London, WC2H 9EA

  A Hachette UK Company

  www.orionbooks.co.uk

 


 

  Carlos Ruiz Zafón, The Prisoner of Heaven

  (Series: The Cemetery of Forgotten Books # 3)

 

 


 

 
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