Annie Perreault THE WOMAN IN VALENCIA Translated from the French by Ann Marie Boulanger Qc fiction Revision: Peter McCambridge Proofreading: David Warriner, Elizabeth West Book design: Folio infographie Cover & logo: Maison 1608 by Solisco Cover art: Spirit Level by Jordan Sullivan, jordan-sullivan.com Fiction editor: Peter McCambridge All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Copyright © 2018 Les Éditions Alto Originally published under the title La femme de Valence by Les Éditions Alto, 2018 (Québec City, Québec) Translation copyright © Ann Marie Boulanger ISBN 978-1-77186-237-0 pbk; 978-1-77186-238-7 epub; 978-1-77186-239-4 pdf Legal Deposit, 1st quarter 2021 Bibliothèque et Archives nationales du Québec Library and Archives Canada Published by QC Fiction, an imprint of Baraka Books Printed and bound in Québec TRADE DISTRIBUTION & RETURNS Canada - UTP Distribution: UTPdistribution.com United States & World - Independent Publishers Group: IPGbook.com We acknowledge the financial support for translation and promotion of the Société de développement des entreprises culturelles (SODEC), the Government of Québec tax credit for book publishing administered by SODEC, the Government of Canada, and the Canada Council for the Arts. Contents I THREE DAYS IN VALENCIA (THE ARBITRARY COLOUR OF THE SKY) THE WOMAN IN VALENCIA MONTREAL, SUMMER 2009 BARCELONA LEAVING BARCELONA AT THE TRAIN STATION ON THE TRAIN DISCOVERING VALENCIA STAYING IN VALENCIA: THE VALENCIA PALACE HOTEL GETTING AROUND VALENCIA DAY 2 ITINERARY: THE MAIN ATTRACTIONS WE MIGHT AS WELL FLY THREATS AND EMERGENCIES THE HOTEL AT NIGHT ROOM 714 DAY 3 ITINERARY WORTH THE DETOUR: THE VALENCIA INSTITUTE OF MODERN ART PUERTA DE SERRANOS THE TRAIN RIDE BACK IN BARCELONA SITGES MONTREAL AIRPORT II RETURN TO VALENCIA (THE HOSTILE POINT ON THE HORIZON) THINGS TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE THE WEATHER OUTSIDE 2025 VALENCIA MARATHON: STARTING LINE KILOMETRE 1 KILOMETRE 2 KILOMETRE 3 KILOMETRE 4 KILOMETRE 5 TRAVELLING LIGHT WHEN TO LEAVE? AT THE AIRPORT TRAVELLING FOR A LIVING LANDING IN SPAIN THINGS SEEN AND DONE GETTING AROUND BARCELONA WHERE TO SLEEP? WHERE TO EAT? NOT TO BE MISSED: CULINARY DELICACIES BARCELONA ON A SHOESTRING KILOMETRE 6 KILOMETRE 7 KILOMETRE 8 KILOMETRE 9 KILOMETRE 10 THE TIME DIFFERENCE LEAVING BARCELONA TRAVEL BY TRAIN ARTS AND ENTERTAINMENT KILOMETRE 11 KILOMETRE 12 KILOMETRE 13 KILOMETRE 14 KILOMETRE 15 GETTING ORIENTED IN VALENCIA STAYING IN VALENCIA: THE VALENCIA PALACE HOTEL OFF THE BEATEN PATH: BENICALAP PARK GETTING AROUND VALENCIA KILOMETRE 16 KILOMETRE 17 KILOMETRE 18 KILOMETRE 19 KILOMETRE 20 NOT TO BE MISSED: PUERTA DE SERRANOS WHERE TO SLEEP? KILOMETRE 21.1 KILOMETRE 22 KILOMETRE 23 KILOMETRE 24 KILOMETRE 25 DAY 2 ITINERARY: THE MAIN ATTRACTIONS THE CATHEDRAL BLOCKING THE VIEW KILOMETRE 26 KILOMETRE 27 KILOMETRE 28 KILOMETRE 29 KILOMETRE 30 THREATS AND EMERGENCIES UNFORESEEN EVENTS KILOMETRE 31 KILOMETRE 32 KILOMETRE 33 KILOMETRE 34 KILOMETRE 35 HAIR CARE VALENCIA PALACE HOTEL THE LOCALS WORTH THE DETOUR: THE VALENCIA INSTITUTE OF MODERN ART NOT TO BE MISSED: MERCADO DE COLÓN IN THE CAR GETTING ORIENTED EL PERELLÓ KILOMETRE 36 KILOMETRE 37 THE PRETTIEST BEACHES IN VALENCIA KILOMETRE 38 KILOMETRE 39 THE SEA AT NIGHT KILOMETRE 40 LEAVING VALENCIA KILOMETRE 41 LEAVING 42.2 KILOMETRES Points de repère Epigraphe Page de Titre “Indifference is the paralysis of the soul; it is premature death.” — Anton Chekhov, “A Boring Story” (translated by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky) “How to avoid going back? Get lost. I don’t know how. You’ll learn. I need some signpost to lead me astray. Make your mind a blank. Refuse to recognize familiar landmarks. Turn your steps towards the most hostile point on the horizon, towards the vast marshlands, bewilderingly criss-crossed by a thousand causeways.” — Marguerite Duras, The Vice-Consul (translated by Eileen Ellenbogen A terrible chill runs through your body when you think back to Valencia. And yet, it was August in a city by the sea, almost the end of summer vacation, the tail end of a suffocatingly hot summer. It happened next to the pool, when the light was at its peak. You were stretched out in what little shade there was to be had on a rooftop, your mind elsewhere. Not one for swanky hotels and bikinis, you were wearing a suit that you’d bought the day before, strings knotted tightly over your hipbones and around your neck. You were lazing on a deck chair, an open book resting on your stomach like a delicate paper tent. You had absolutely no expectations, other than soaking up the sun, getting a little rest, lazing in the tropical heat. Lying there limply, you were completely worry free, untroubled by any thoughts of the past, wanting nothing other than to be left alone. Through heavy eyelids, your gaze travelled idly between the sky, the perfectly straight row of empty lounge chairs, and the smattering of moles on your thigh like tiny black pinheads embedded in your flesh. You must’ve spent a good hour lounging like that, killing time, when you noticed something moving out of the corner of your eye, to your left. A woman was walking toward you. You turned to look over your shoulder and at that precise second, Valencia became—and would forever remain—a city of ice. The sky turned to grey, to concrete. You were the last person to speak to her. On the roof of the Valencia Palace Hotel, you did nothing to stop the withered blonde woman. You didn’t lay a hand on her shoulder, didn’t suggest that she sit or lie down, didn’t offer her a glass of water. You didn’t even light her cigarette when she fumbled with her
