Calle Betis is home to the modest second-floor flat that Niña Puñales shares with her two companions when they gather for a meal. Its view across the Guadalquivir, with the Arenal close by and the Tower of Gold and Giralda in sight, makes this small domestic address more valuable to her than its plain furnishings suggest: the view is the one part of her life that she considers her own.

Setting and View

The flat stands on Calle Betis, a short distance from the Arenal. From its window, Niña can look out across the Guadalquivir toward the Tower of Gold and the Giralda. The narration presents this prospect as a possession fit for kings, millionaires, or film stars, while belonging in practice to a woman with little else. The contrast turns the street’s riverside outlook into the flat’s defining wealth.

The Flat as a Home

Niña bought the apartment long ago with what little she made during a brief spell of fame. She lives there without paying rent, among old furniture, a gleaming brass bed, an image of the Virgin of Hope, a signed photograph of Miguel de Molina, and a chest of drawers holding yellowing bedcovers, tablecloths, and the untouched linens of her trousseau. These objects make the flat a record of private attachments and an anticipated domestic life that remains unused.

Gatherings and Security

When the three companions are not eating tapas in bars in Triana, they often meet at Niña’s home to share a meal. In the scene associated with the flat, she fries eggs with crisp, lacy edges in the way Don Ibrahim likes, while singing softly in her rough, liquor-worn voice. The ordinary work of cooking gives the apartment a hospitable, intimate character, distinct from the public barroom gatherings nearby.

What the Address Means to Niña

The flat is Niña Puñales’s only property. She says, by way of consolation, that at least the swindle did not take it from her; owning it means she can live without rent and preserve a measure of independence despite her scant resources. The street’s view is therefore more than scenery: it accompanies a precarious but tenacious sense of security.

That security also has a stark limit. For twenty years Niña has kept up the monthly payments to El Ocaso, S.A., to provide herself with a humble niche and gravestone in the sunniest corner of San Fernando Cemetery. The home on Calle Betis and the carefully funded grave mark two ends of her private planning: a place she owns in life, and a place she means to claim after death.