On a sunny morning earlier this month, a small group gathered at the entrance to Barcelona’s Fossar de la Pedrera, or Mass Grave of the Quarry. They were a mix of ages and types. An elderly woman, smartly dressed, clutched flowers as she stood next to her middle-aged son. A father and his young daughter waited patiently. Another visitor struggled to keep a restless chihuahua in check and hold on to her parasol. The Fossar is relatively inaccessible from the city. Hidden by sheer walls of sandy rock, it rarely features in the tourist itineraries. Local people generally stay away but, once a month, small huddles can be seen making a dignified progress between the plaques and monuments, tactfully slowing down as members of the group linger over a particular name or a certain tribute. This is a place of mourning. Following the end of the Spanish civil war in 1939, the bodies of 1,700 Republicans –soldiers, civilians, people caught in the wrong place at the wrong time – were carted through the centre of Barcelona and dumped here without dignity or ceremony, after summary execution by the fascist forces of General Francisco Franco. Their bullet-ridden corpses were covered in…