“His name’s on the programme. Don Manuel Orquito, the pirotecnico of esta ciudad.”
“Globos illuminados,” Mike said. “A collection of globos illuminados. That’s what the paper said.”
The wind blew the band music away.
“I say, I wish one would go up,” Brett said. “That Don Manuel chap is furious.”
“He’s probably worked for weeks fixing them to go off, spelling out ‘Hail to San Fermin,’ ” Bill said.
“Globos illuminados,” Mike said. “A bunch of bloody globos illuminados.”
“Come on,” said Brett. “We can’t stand here.”
“Her ladyship wants a drink,” Mike said.
“How you know things,” Brett said.
Inside, the café was crowded and very noisy. No one noticed us come in. We could not find a table. There was a great noise going on.