by Lucy Coleman
Happy birthday, Seren. Missing you. I’ll ring this evening for a chat, my darling. There is some news, and your father has no idea about timing, but he’s instructed a solicitor. I didn’t want you hearing it from Judi. I’m not bothered, and I don’t want you to worry, either. Wish I was there and hope you took time out for a special lunch. x
None of the cards, or packages that have arrived are from my father. I guess my name has been struck from his electronic diary. Out of sight, out of mind.
Shortly after I arrive home at the end of the day, my phone kicks into life.
‘Happy birthday, my lovely friend. We should be getting ready to go out on the town to celebrate, sob. Still, only two months to go until Claire and I will be busy packing our bags and heading to the airport!’ Judi’s voice trills down the phone, the excitement raising her pitch and making me wince.
I ease the phone away from my ear.
‘Thanks, I had a little celebration at the weekend, but today was all about work. Your trip will be here before you know it, though.’
I can’t wait to welcome my visitors, but today I’m living in the shadow of a perfect weekend and feeling sorry for myself. Not because I chose not to tell anyone here that it was my birthday, but because I won’t be seeing Reid again until Saturday.
‘Sorry, that was a little tactless of me, wasn’t it?’ Judi continues. ‘You won’t be in holiday mode until after the fashion shoot and the party at the gallery is over. But then it’s relaxation time. Claire and I were wondering whether you wanted us to do some research and come up with an itinerary, given that you’re rushed off your feet. Transport is quite easy there, I gather?’
‘It’s not a problem, I’ll have a car by then. When we head into Lisbon, we’ll take the ferry, anyway, as it’s quick and easy. Your hotel is this side of the river and only about a ten-minute walk from my place. Aside from that, I thought you might enjoy a couple of days at the beach.’
‘Perfect! I thought you said you weren’t going to buy a car as you didn’t want to put a dent in that savings fund. I’m surprised you find time to go on trips. Your kestrel must be finished.’
‘No, he’s coming along though. I do a bit of travelling connected with work to a location just outside of Lisbon. Besides, once things calm down, I’ll enjoy exploring the wider area.’
‘What are you getting?’
This is embarrassing. She’ll think I’ve lost my mind if I tell her I’m getting a brand-new car. When the email from the dealership came through shortly after Reid’s text this morning, I couldn’t believe it. He’s arranged everything and the car will be delivered on Friday.
‘A Mini convertible.’
‘You bought a convertible? You hate getting your hair blown about. That salesman saw you coming. A deal you couldn’t refuse, was it?’ She laughs, then immediately continues, ‘What colour is it? Not some outlandish, car showroom, spotlight colour?’
‘No. It’s pepper white.’ To me, a car is simply a means of transport and who cares what the colour is, or the model? It just has to be easy to drive but, Judi is right, I doubt I’ll ever put the top down. Reid wasn’t to know that, of course, and he meant well.
‘Aren’t they a bit small, though. Will the three of us fit, given we’ll all have luggage?’
‘I’m sure we’ll manage,’ I reply, never having sat in one and with no idea what the current models are like.
She’s chuckling away. ‘You’ll be shopping for a headscarf then, like Grace Kelly. The beach sounds great. Oh, Seren, I really need this break. I bet you will, too, by the time we get there. We’ll go shares on the cost of the place at the beach, of course.’
‘A friend is lending it to us for a few days,’ I reply, awkwardly.
‘Goodness, some friend you have there.’
‘It was an offer I couldn’t refuse. How is life back at home?’ I ask, desperate to change the subject.
‘Ticking over. Have you heard the latest from your mum?’
‘She’s working full-time for Fi, now and loving every minute of it. But I assume you’re talking about the divorce?’
‘Ah, I’m glad she warned you. How do you feel about it?’ With Judi, our conversations can sometimes feel like a full-on inquisition. But I know it’s just her bubbly nature.
‘If she’s not worried, then neither am I. If the marriage is over, then they both have to move on. Mum seems to have embraced that already.’
‘Did your father remember your birthday?’
‘No. There’s been no contact.’
‘That’s sad. And you’re not panicking about work, it’s all coming together nicely?’
‘I have a good team, and everyone is totally focused on fulfilling the part they have to play. Any panicking will probably centre around the live fashion shoot, so I’ll apologise in advance as it will be a quick hello from me when you arrive. I will arrange for someone to collect you both, drop you off at the hotel and pick you up two hours later to drive you to the Cristo Rei monument.’
‘Seriously, this is going to be awesome. Neither Claire, nor I, have been to a fashion show, or seen anything being filmed before. And we promise not to be a distraction, but we’re so excited about it all. It’s a step up from the last event you invited me to – the building and construction industry exhibition, if I remember correctly,’ she giggles.
‘I seem to remember you spending a fair bit of time chatting to that rather handsome guy trying to sell you a conservatory.’
‘He was plying me with free snacks and coffee. I think he was equally as bored as I was. Are you still sort of seeing that client of yours?’
I’ve dodged Judi’s questions lately, as too much has happened and it’s not easy to explain.
‘It’s casual, that’s all.’
‘And as for the birthday celebrations, I presume you had a good time at the weekend?’
At last, a question I can answer with enthusiasm in my voice. ‘It was monumental.’
I’m not about to enlighten her about my romantic weekend with Reid, of course, but she’s still not wrong in her assumptions. And I’m sure the party atmosphere of the fashion shoot won’t disappoint.
17
Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
Every day I travel to and from work by ferry I still feel like pinching myself to check my new life is real. It took a while to get everything set up, but I now have a cartão de residencia, which allows me to live and work here for the next five years. The fact that I have a local bank account and pay my taxes here means it really is time to think about selling my house in the UK. Stupidly, I hadn’t realised that I’d have to pay tax on anything I earn back there too, as rent is income. Moving abroad isn’t easy and it’s the things you don’t know which cause problems, not the masses of information that is easily gleaned.
And now I also have a shiny new car parked up on the hill a few metres away from the house. Maria was a little surprised when it was delivered, given that transport in Lisbon is such an easy alternative. But I told her that I intend to take a few road trips. When exactly I’ll have time for that, I have no idea, but I have taken it out for a couple of test runs and it drives like a dream. I still feel uncomfortable about accepting a gift like this from Reid. It feels wrong, even though it was a kind gesture.
In the autumn, I will begin taking classes to learn Portuguese and I wish there had been time to set that up from day one. I know there are protocols, but so much is lost in translation, things that go over my head. Reid is more aware of those than I am, but after that chat with Filipe, I’m so glad that we’re being careful.
The tough part for me is that I can’t confide in any one person. I would hate to upset Maria, or offend her in anyway, given her religious beliefs. She has a crucifix hung up in her dining room and, as the Roman Catholic Church does not recognise divorce, my involvement with Reid is best kept hidden. Carolina and Antero are my friends, but in this instance the less they know about my private life, the better. Having
reorganised our little team, I was upfront about Filipe’s concerns. I could see that they were both relieved that they would no longer be working side by side, which was another good thing to come out of the changes.
The other option is to share everything with Judi, or Mum, but they wouldn’t understand that different rules apply here. And where would I start to explain the mess I find myself in? For now, I have no choice but to take it one day at a time and see what happens, because I don’t want to distance myself from Reid.
Even though it’s been warm and sunny so far this week, I’ve spent the entire time wishing the days away, consumed with the thought of being with Reid again. I’m also nervous, as we’ve had little contact and I have no idea whether Beatriz is causing him problems. But today the rain clouds appeared and, late on a Friday afternoon, all I want to do is to hurry home. It is a real pity I can’t use the car, but parking is limited close to the gallery and, ironically, the ferry is much quicker than queuing in the rush hour traffic. It’s the reason I didn’t buy one in the first place, but once I can take some time off to go further afield, I’ll be making the most of it.
Carolina had the day off to go and visit her parents for a long weekend and I miss her company on the journey back to Almada.
Tonight, I’ll eat, shower and crawl into bed to read. If the sun comes out again tomorrow, then I’ll take that as a sign that the gods are shining down on me and I have their approval. It’s been another full-on week, but I can manage just as long as I have something to look forward to that lifts my spirits and fills my heart with love.
‘It’s Saturday, relax,’ Reid chides me, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards him. We don’t kiss, that would be too risky given the throng of people exiting the ferry terminal, but he firmly grasps my hand in his and I let him lead me forward. ‘Most of the people who work in Lisbon will be heading in the opposite direction. It’s foreign tourists and those who live further afield, who flock here at weekends. We’ll be swallowed up amongst the general crowds, so there’s nothing at all to worry about.’
Reid’s words are reassuring, and I follow half a pace behind, as he’s eager to get started.
Once the crowd thins out a little, he slows his pace.
‘I’m glad to see you’ve worn sensible shoes. Are you content to wander? It’s just over a kilometre before we have a rather steep climb ahead of us and you have a choice. We can queue for a packed tram, or we can walk. What do you think?’
I love the colourful, vintage trams that are so much a part of Lisbon, but time with Reid is special. ‘Let’s walk,’ I reply, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.
He stops for a moment, spinning me around to face him and then leans down to kiss me gently on the lips. ‘Sorry, I couldn’t resist that, but I promise I’ll behave now.’
I smile up at him, savouring the moment. It’s nice to feel like a normal couple, doing normal things for a change, even if my eyes are constantly scanning around in case I spot a familiar face.
I watch an electric tuk-tuk as it passes by and these often brightly coloured vehicles are virtually silent. This one has a gold livery, with star bursts of purple and lavender-coloured seats. A family of four sit facing each other and the two young children wave as they go past. Reid and I wave back; it puts a smile on our faces.
‘Where are we heading?’ I ask.
‘Alfama. It’s a labyrinth of alleyways, stone steps and hidden gardens that makes it feel like a village. There’s a little shop I know you’ll appreciate. It’s like comfort food for people who are touchy-feely. But we’re stopping off somewhere else first. The old streets are tightly packed and it’s easy to get lost, or miss a little gem, if you don’t have your bearings.’
I look at him as if he’s totally mad, shaking my head, but I can see he’s excited to show me around. As we begin the uphill climb, a bright red tram slowly edges up the hill past us. It shakes and rattles as it wends its way up, almost as if it’s moaning about the heavy load it’s carrying.
The pavements are steep but not slippery. There are people walking in both directions and it’s narrow in places. Both sides of the street are lined with little shops, which is handy as it’s an excuse to take a break. Most carry the usual gifts: printed tote bags with scenes of Lisbon, fridge magnets, postcards, small replica azulejo tiles to use as coasters, soaps, little toys and jewellery.
One shop we linger in for a while sells canned fish in vintage tins. Tuna, sardines and even squid, in a variety of sauces. I love the decorative and colourful, ceramic sardines and chickens. The white china is painted with either gaily coloured stripes, the traditional Portuguese designs that remind me of blue Delft pottery, or random hand-painted flowers. Lisbon is full of colour, everywhere you look you turn a corner to find a painted mural in the most unexpected of places.
Aside from the trams, the streets here are virtually car-free, but with sections of the pavement being so narrow, we end up walking single file, weaving in and out of the constant throng of people as we begin to wilt in the heat. The cobbled pavements are uneven, but not so much that it’s bothersome when wearing comfortable, flat shoes. It’s only the steep slope that begins to take a toll on my calf muscles.
Up ahead, I spot a shady bench beneath a tree, set back in a little nook. I make a beeline for it, hoping to get there before anyone else claims it. An elderly man is sitting in the middle and, as I approach, Reid two paces behind me, the man very accommodatingly edges along to one end. I give him a smile, and he nods his head, waving one hand in the air in acknowledgment.
Lowering myself down with a slight groan of relief, Reid sits next to me and engages the man in conversation. From what I can make out, they’re talking about the weather, as the old guy points his hand to the sky, and it’s lovely to listen to them chattering away. I wish I could join in, but I know the day will come and I am already able to pick up on the odd phrase here and there.
It’s a delight to sit and look around. Set on seven hills, the streets of Lisbon wind their way up and up. There’s always another corner to turn and another stretch to climb. Every single tram that has passed by so far is full and I’m glad we decided to walk. But the shade here is welcome and I pull a bottle of water from my bag.
The man bids us goodbye and Reid slides his arm around the back of the bench, resting a hand on my shoulder.
‘It’s a long time since I did this walk,’ he reflects nostalgically.
‘Where does it lead?’
‘To one of my favourite viewpoints, Miradouro de Santa Luzia. I wanted to be the one to bring you up here.’ There’s such a warm, genuine tone to his voice that I can tell he’s happy that we’re together today.
‘There’s still so much to discover and I can’t wait to see it all,’ I remark.
‘You will, if you’re here to stay, that is. You didn’t make it clear when you told me about your plan, where you wanted to put down those roots.’
I turn my head to look directly at him and I can see it is a question, but one he felt he couldn’t ask until now.
‘Shortly after I arrived here, I realised that Lisbon, or Portugal at least, is my forever home. This is where I’m meant to be. It’s not easy to explain, Reid, but here I can simply be myself and it’s a different version of me. One that is free to be whomsoever I choose.’
He catches my hand in his, staring down at it. ‘Your words resonate with me more than you can appreciate, Seren. I only feel truly free when I’m in my studio and I shut the door on the world outside. The moment I reappear it starts all over again. People wanting something, the manipulation, the hoops I jump through to keep everything going, because what’s the alternative?’
‘You step off the path and you realise your world doesn’t come crashing down. It’s not easy, but you can take back control.’
Staring deep into my eyes, the smile he gives me is unconvinced. ‘I’m at the stage where every step I take in a different direction feels like I’m slamming myself up against a brick wall.
What’s surprising is that I’m beginning to see people in a whole new light. Anyway, enough of this depressing talk, it’s time to get going. Did you know that this quarter has Moorish influences and that it dates back to the Romans? But even they weren’t the first settlers here.’
Reid pulls me to my feet, and I can see that he wants to kiss me, but there are too many people around, so we set off again. The pavement gets even narrower and for a while we walk in the road as it’s so busy, but Reid doesn’t let go of my hand. He’s talking to me the whole time, my own personal tour guide, although it’s hard to stop my thoughts from whirling around inside my head.
I think about the problems surrounding him and his life and heave a sigh. Even from the little he told me while we were together at the beach, I can’t help but be worried for him. What if he isn’t over Beatriz and they have that toxic but addictive sort of relationship where you can’t live with someone, but you can’t live without them either?
Selling the property in Sintra would allow Reid to cut all financial ties with Beatriz and I know he said that he would lose money, but at least he’d be free. I realise that it represents everything he’s worked towards, but the consequence of not selling it is a huge price to pay in order to realise a dream. It could be years before he’s able to buy his freedom. How sad, especially as Beatriz is now making her presence felt. My intuition is telling me that Reid knows what’s happening, but whether he has an issue with that, I have absolutely no idea at all.
We are at two opposite ends of the spectrum when it comes to what we want out of life and yet I wouldn’t change one single second of the precious time we spend together.
I’m so engrossed in my own thoughts that I’m surprised when we reach a flat, balustraded garden, with a vine-clad pergola, known as a loggia. It runs along the entire length of a terrace to our right. Straight ahead of us, in the far corner, a courtyard is formed by the walls of a church. We walk past a rectangular pond, to a pretty, circular feature with a stone bust set on a plinth in the centre of it. Around it, is an arrangement of small shrubs and the pathway is formed in two-tone, limestone cobbles in a stone colour and dark grey. The attention to detail in these beautifully formed paths is so typical of Lisbon. It must take hours to place the cobbles so tightly together that they form perfect curves as the dark grey runs around the edges like a border of ribbon.
