Barbara is a 20-something bright young graphic designer, living in Madrid.

The world should be her oyster. But instead, she is scarred by personal tragedy.

Six months ago her fiance, Javier, was killed in the Madrid train bombings while on his way to work.

One hundred and ninety others died along with him that morning of 11 March, after the bombers set off a series of explosions aboard four commuter trains.

It was Spain's worst terror outrage. It was also a day, says Barbara, that has overshadowed the rest of her life.

Painful memories

"Sometimes I still can't believe it. I sit here in the living room, like I always did after work and I watch the door, waiting for Javi to come home. But of course he doesn't.

"At first I thought of moving house. The pain was so bad. We bought this place together and lived here for two years so it's full of memories. But in the end that's the reason I've stayed. Our house is the only part of Javi I have left."

The black sign of peace and mourning hangs on her balcony, facing out onto the street.

These hand-drawn signs were once visible all over Madrid in shop, house, bar and even car windows. Now though, says Barbara, people are beginning to forget.

"Of course, with the six month anniversary there are special programmes on TV. Some people will cry. But basically, Spaniards not directly affected are moving on.

"But for us who have lost someone, we can't. My neighbours whisper about me as 'the one who lost her boyfriend,' but they don't knock on my door to check how I am when they hear me crying. I need to take sleeping pills at night or I can't sleep. And then I have such terrible nightmares.

"Sadness and rage keep me awake. Sadness for me and rage for Javier.

"For my part I'm sad because I'm alone. I've lost Javier. We were together for seven years. I never imagined life without him.

"But I also feel rage because the people responsible for his death haven't been brought to justice. Javier didn't die in an accident. He was murdered.

"This is all a lot bigger than a few petty criminals. This is about global terror. About extremism and atrocity. Like what's happening in Iraq now and what happened on 11 September in New York."

Inquiry 'farce'

"I also hold Spain's ex-Prime Minister Jose Maria Aznar directly responsible. And his government. Just because they had an absolute majority in parliament, it gave them no right to send Spanish soldiers to Iraq against the will of the majority of Spanish people.

"I am convinced if our former government hadn't supported the Iraq war there would have been no bombs here and Javier would still be alive.

"The inquiry going on now in parliament, investigating the events during the days surrounding the bombings - it's a farce. A total circus. None of us victims of the bombings have been invited to appear. Not even the lawyers of the victims. Aznar hasn't been called as a witness. Can you believe that?"

To protect Javier's family, Barbara doesn't want to show me his photo. All that's visible of him in their living room is his dartboard. The darts still in place where he left them.

Barbara looks over to the television set.

"That's how I found out. About the bombs," she says.

She's choking back the tears as she speaks and I feel terrible for pressing her.

"We never usually had breakfast at the same time, but that morning I had to get up as early as him so we sat here watching breakfast TV. We were even going to take the train together from Santa Eugenia (one of the three train stations targeted) but at the last moment I stayed back to finish my makeup.

"Javier rushed off. He had only recently started a new job as an economist and didn't want to be late.

"I kept the TV on in the background and then I heard the sirens. The ambulance and police and I heard the news presenter talking about the explosions.

"I rushed out onto the street and ran towards the station but the police wouldn't let me through. I didn't know what to do, so I went into town to Javier's parents' house. "

Support

"We called all the hospitals and visited them one by one. When we didn't find him I knew he was dead. Later we went to IFEMA (Madrid's main congress centre which the authorities turned into a makeshift mortuary). It was chaotic there.

"The volunteers were kind. So were the priests - one of them still calls me regularly to check how I am. But none of them knew what was going on. Finally a forensic doctor called us and Javier's brothers and I had to go downstairs to identify his body.

"We held the funeral two days later. But I can't bring myself to go to his grave.

"The authorities here are just so hypocritical. You hear them all the time on radio and TV saying how much they've been helping survivors of the attacks and the families of those who died. It's just not true.

"I don't know if it's been the same for everyone, but lots of victims' organisations have sprung up - independent ones - nothing to do with the government, because there was a need for them.

"People had felt left on their own. Because Javi and I weren't married, I don't seem to count. I've had to find my own therapist and paid for him myself.

"One day of marriage would count for more with the Spanish authorities than the seven years we spent as a couple. It hurts so much. It makes me so angry. I just don't exist."