by Sally Bryan
But it was times like this that I understood why people ‘came out,’ if only to stop others from interfering. One swift declaration that I was in love with Arwen would put an end to it all and let the pieces fall where they may.
And why not do just that?
This was not some weird phase I was going through, I knew that now, and I most certainly did love that stupid girl. The problem was that when those fragmented pieces settled, they’d be scattered far and wide and no amount of glue would ever stick them back together again. No matter how much of a disaster this holiday had been for my relationship with Gabe, I had no desire to see him hurt. And besides, my love life was no business of Dan’s or anyone else’s.
I wanted to change the subject and was about to ask Arwen how she intended to spend the day when my attention was taken by movement in my periphery.
No.
They were here, or at least two of them were because even now, Samuel and Karla were walking towards us, or more specifically, Samuel was creeping towards Arwen with a hushing finger held to his lip but Arwen noticed my glassy expression, turned her head and yelped with delight, shoving away her chair and skipping across the room to embrace the pair of them.
I liked both Samuel and Karla but seeing them now really brought the bitter taste out in my coffee as I scanned beyond them in anticipation of the other two emerging any second. Both Dan and Gabe held questioning expressions, Dan, in particular, being unable to look away from the activity as the screeching diminished and a more subdued conversation began from a distance. Dan no doubt had them pegged and would know they’d be her Camino buddies and I wondered if he felt like I did, that the girl he craved was slipping away because she had other friends now. Clearly, they must have bonded.
After a few minutes, Arwen brought them over, the newcomers recognising my familiar face first.
“Hey, Freya,” Karla said, not needing to stoop to offer me hugs from where I sat, “it’s so awesome to see you again,” which sounded genuine enough but then, why wouldn’t it?
Samuel merely nodded. “I really recommend Coimbra if you’ve not been yet,” he spoke to us all, his usually friendly self in fisherman hat, “historically, it’s the university city, like your Oxford or Cambridge, Freya. I tried to tell Arwen that one day wasn’t enough but you lot arrived and so we got ditched.”
So, the news was that Arwen had been with the gang, or at least two of them, up until yesterday and I noticed how Dan perked from the news that they were ditched in favour of him. He’d spent the last minute studying the pair but now stood and used his height advantage to look down on Samuel as he held out his mitt. “I’m Dan.”
“Samuel,” he took the palm, winced from the crush and tried to let go but found himself unable to retract, “it’s nice to meet you,” he reinforced when finally, he was able to take back his limb.
Arwen nudged Dan in the side, “we’re going to Belém if you’re interested?”
He shrugged, “Belém?” Then the recognition hit him, “you need a whole day to buy custard tarts.”
Samuel answered for her, “it’s not just the custard tarts but the Torre de Belém.”
“Which means tower,” Gabe helped.
“We’re both massive fans of that style of architecture,” Arwen said and Dan’s eyebrows dipped with scepticism.
“Oh really? And what style would that be?” He directed the challenge to Samuel, evidently believing the guy had ulterior motives and I quickly fired a text to Dan to explain that Samuel and Karla were in a relationship and that he should stop being a jerk.
Samuel didn’t even flinch, “that would be the Portuguese Manueline style.”
Dan had no answer to that and then his phone vibrated, he checked the message and subtly nodded in acknowledgement.
“Are you coming or not?” Arwen repeated.
“Uuum, I don’t think so,” passing the chance to spend the day with Arwen was evidently easier now he knew Samuel was no threat, “but bring me back some custard tarts. They’re at least one thing I miss from England.”
“Me too!” The Piston yelped and everyone’s head turned to look at her.
“You’re not going with them?” I enquired.
Samuel shook his head. “If it’s between old buildings and geocaching, there’ll only ever be one winner.”
Dan coughed and Arwen beamed in my direction, “Freya, you should keep her company. You always said you fancied giving geocaching a try. Now’s your chance.”
I felt my facial muscles slacken as I shot her an angry glare that I had to quickly cover up. I’d said nothing of the sort and she knew it, the little minx, and I lamented the inability to drag her out into the corridor and tell her so, along with other things.
The Piston shot suddenly forwards, hands clasped at her solar plexus. “Oh, you should so definitely come. Nobody ever comes with me, it’ll be so much fun.”
I glanced apologetically at the girl, “I really would, Karla, but it’s my first day in Lisbon and I was kind of hoping to explore the sites.”
“Well that’s what geocaching’s all about,” Arwen intervened, helpfully, with more than just a little sparkle in the eyes, “walking around the city, following GPS signals, or whatever, and burrowing for the hauls, right? You could both totally do that whilst exploring Lisbon.”
What could I do? She got one up on me and I then had to endure the remainder of my breakfast with her triumphantly grinning from opposite, whilst all I could do was promise to get her back at some point.
I soon realised, however, that I’d been wrong to so readily dismiss geocaching and by default, having to spend the day with The Piston. Sure, my outfit was wasted and yes, she repeatedly chastised me for having the desire to wander off from the signal, or whatever it was we were supposedly following, whenever there was anything of interest to see but there were positives too.
Karla was an easy target, innocent as she was, and as long as I could direct the conversation towards more interesting subjects, then knowledge could be attained.
“So, how many hauls did you dig up during the Camino?” I asked as my attention was stolen by a beautiful quaint little street with old shops and a tramline running straight down the cobbles.
“No, no, not there, it’s this way,” she tugged me away from where I’d wanted to go and onto the adjacent boring street with nothing of interest. As it turned out, The Piston could be a little too assertive when it came to certain things. “The Camino? Only three, not many.”
“Is that all?” I tried to sound disappointed. “Why?”
Her face was full of concentration as she stared into her phone. “Because, Freya, people get bad tempered. Are you paying attention? Left at the end of this street then we have to go north by northwest.”
“Really? For how long?” We were heading away from the centre now, from the things I wanted to see.
“Until I say, Freya.”
I decided not to interrupt whilst she simmered down and she used the time to talk about geocaching, Samuel and geocaching, all as the girl’s short legs barely moved. It truly was a strange hobby for such a plodder and yet more evidence against Arwen’s Camino tales. Karla might have been capable of walking faster when not staring into a phone though I doubted it.
“Arwen was wrong to call it a haul,” she said with a serious tone a few minutes after we’d turned left, “as were you back there.”
“What?” I asked, not knowing what the heck she was referring to, though the mention of Arwen’s name focused my attention.
“Before, at breakfast, she called it a haul when it’s a cache. She was wrong about that. You too.”
I couldn’t help grinning. “Well, did you ever offer to take her along with you? How else is she supposed to learn about it otherwise?”
“She came! Everyone did! And she still can’t remember obvious terminology.” This was most interesting and uncharacteristically catty of Karla and I remained quiet whilst she rambled on, in the hope she’d eventual
ly drop a tidbit of juicy gossip, which meant having to endure and sift through the useless crap first, entirely geocaching related. “And it was one of my best ever caches … in Zaragoza. I had to get down on my hands and knees and pull up a tonne of weeds but it was worth it because someone had left a crushed coin with the word geocaching engraved on it. I took it and replaced it with a Lego man and then Arwen started laughing and said she couldn’t take it anymore.” She shook her head from the unpleasant memory. “That was when she told us she was taking the train and everyone ended up following her.”
“Hah.” It came out much louder than intended, which prompted Karla to show her teeth. “Sorry.” I considered it for a second. “Hang on … train to where?”
“All the way to Santiago de Compostela,” Karla snarled.
And there it was. The lying little minx. Oh, but what now of all Arwen’s tales of traversing mountains and meadows and streams whilst camping in the wilderness, of making lifelong companions and eating fried breakfasts, of singing Kumbaya around the campfire and visiting strange and wonderful sites, of dancing with nature as the sun sank over the horizon. As it turned out, she’d done little more than geocached her way only as far as the first major city, Zaragoza, which Google Maps confirmed was less than two hundred of a seven hundred mile journey. And poor Karla was still upset over it.
“Let’s find this cache,” I said softly and in return, she absolutely beamed.
“Looks like it’s somewhere over there.” She nodded up the street, a mere residential one at that, which was hardly a scintillating introduction to this strange hobby. Still, I’d go along with it for Karla, I liked her. “They were sharing a tent most nights.”
My heart thudded. “Who?” I half yelped as my throat backed up, as if I needed to ask.
“She was, with Floor.” My worst fears were confirmed in a tone almost like we were taking a gentle stroll on a quiet street, which we were, even if my surroundings suddenly lost all clarity.
I had to take a breath, “Arwen and Floor were sharing a tent?”
“Not far now and why are there so many parked cars around? Some geocachers have no imagination. Huh? Oh, yes. Well, most nights, for two weeks or thereabouts. I only know because they argue a lot and we hear it through the tent. Nobody can understand them because it’s always in Spanish but other times it’s in English and your name gets mentioned and Luuk says Arwen’s only doing it to wind her up.”
I didn’t know whether or not to take relief from that last bit, though there was one question I just had to ask. “Karla, are Arwen and Floor in a relationship?” As soon as I asked, I regretted it. Not because I feared Karla might suspect my reasons for asking but because I didn’t know how I’d cope with the truth. Surely, if they were a couple then Floor would be with the rest of them in Lisbon, yet to the best of my knowledge she wasn’t and even though I was afraid of the answer, I couldn’t look away.
But Karla just shrugged, “dunno, they don’t tell me anything and after Zaragoza, I don’t speak much to Arwen, not until she apologises.” Which was hardly helpful and only threw up more questions. But if they were sharing a tent then either they were in a relationship or were simply … I could barely bring myself to contemplate it.
I exhaled loudly, prompting a questioning sideward peep from Karla. It was all driving me mad, though the truth was that after what I did to her, I probably deserved it. I just hoped Arwen wasn’t enjoying my misery too much.
* * *
It was one of the better hostels.
In my limited travelling experience, there weren’t many that organised evening socials with cheap food, drink and music so that travellers could mingle. Usually it was left up to chance and you’d converse with the occasional Scandinavian or Brazilian in the laundry room but here, because you only needed to pay three Euros for a glass of wine, which they’d happily fill to the top, there were now dozens of travellers in the communal room with more trickling in every few minutes. I was still on a budget and it was an inexpensive way to spend an evening.
The Piston and I had only just arrived back and after spending an entire day with her there were few things that sounded better than a glass of wine and together with Samuel, we loitered by a large fish tank whilst I tried not to watch Arwen too hard as she happily distributed Belém custard tarts from a carrier bag, like she needed to do that to be popular. Apparently, they were the reason to come to Lisbon and I was curious as to their taste.
“I’m sorry about before,” Karla said after taking a sip of beer, “I get tetchy looking for geocaches.”
I pulled my eyes away from Arwen, who was held up by a tall guy wearing a bandana and who leaned too far forwards, unable to look away as the pastry rested forgotten in his hand. “I wasn’t in the least bit offended.” I reassured her. “If anything, I found it amusing. It’s good to have hobbies you’re serious about,” or so I assumed.
She examined her keyring of a tram, which apparently were big in this city, if I ever got to see it. She’d taken it from the cache and replaced it with one of her patented Lego men and I’d had to think of my breakup to keep from laughing. She was still wearing her jeans, covered in filth from when she had to crawl beneath a parked car and through a puddle from where there was a loose cobble, under which was buried the cache and she’d remarked how it was her new favourite.
The communal room was gradually filling with more people, one group from which headed straight for the bar before beginning a game of air hockey and I scanned the room for Gabe and Dan but reasoned they were most likely still out busking.
Arwen noticed me from beside her bandana and, unable to resist the mischief, skipped straight over, leaving behind a poor infatuated soul whilst struggling to maintain a straight face. “How was your day geocaching?”
Karla turned away with a “humph” and I knew there was no way I could give Arwen the satisfaction of knowing she was under my skin, at least not with this.
“We had an incredible time, right Karla? And I can’t thank you enough for suggesting it.” I grinned, thrusting out my chest and her eyes narrowed. “There’s a geocaching society in Stirling and I’m thinking of taking it up when I get back.”
“Is that a fact?” She asked with a sceptical tone. “Then I’m sure you’d love to do it again tomorrow, right?”
“Are those Belém custard tarts?” I didn’t wait for her invitation and thrust my hand straight into the bag.
“Why not help yourself.”
I pulled one out from the many cartons she’d bought and as it was, they weren’t all that dissimilar to the egg custard tarts that were popular back home, though these were sweeter with a much crispier pastry.
“Would you like one, Karla?” Arwen offered with a smirk.
The Piston was leaning into Samuel and the back of her head twitched.
“That’s a no.” Samuel clarified.
Arwen jerked her head in the direction of the bar. “It’s thirsty work, being the most popular person in the room, I’m off for a drink.”
Finally my chance. After patiently waiting for an excruciatingly frustrating time, I had to risk indigestion by hurriedly scoffing down the tart and I’d only taken the first step when my attention was stolen by a figure dressed in black hobbling through the door. She was tall, she was striking and she had a style I’d never seen anywhere else and seeing her prompted my eyes to commence rapid blinking.
Because Floor was here.
And despite her apparent difficulty walking, which raised yet more questions, or perhaps answered them, she still made a beeline for Arwen, seeking her out only as quickly as someone with an obsession could.
She was dressed in her usual black, a blouse that showcased her slender arms and skirt that almost covered her feet so that I could only just see the special shoe she dragged across the floorboards. Her black hair was loose to frame her striking features, having evidently ditched the stupid tiara and that was when I noticed the braid and my heart thudded.
Tha
t was supposed to be one of our things, even though, in a moment of madness, I’d unravelled it and washed away the last essence of Arwen.
Now Floor had a braid.
And although the next minute had the potential to hurt me deeply, I couldn’t turn away because all my questions were about to be answered.
I held my breath as Floor tapped Arwen on the back, she turned around and, despite my watching closely, I was unable to witness Arwen’s reaction due to Floor’s head blocking the view, though what happened next could in no way be misinterpreted.
They kissed.
It was only a quick kiss, on the lips, closed-mouthed but I saw Arwen’s smile now, dwarfed by Floors as it was but then Arwen’s eyes snapped across to me and I jolted and froze, caught, unable to look away, despite feeling an ache like I’d never experienced. One side of Arwen’s mouth turned down but then she centred back to Floor, cupped her jaw and pulled her in for another, longer kiss as her hand slipped into her hair from where she began to wind Floor’s solitary braid around a finger.
I knew what she was doing, even understood it, that she was trying to make me jealous and succeeding pretty well at it. But what the fucking hell was she playing at? What if Dan had been here? Sure, I’d hurt her but had she lost all subtlety and decency over the last few weeks?
Finally, their lips parted but Floor clung to her arm, totally besotted, and pressed her boobs hard against Arwen and knowing I was still watching, she returned the gesture by crushing against Floor.
“There’s supposed to be a good cache in Belém. We could do that tomorrow.” Karla chirped from my side.
Over the last few seconds, a group of three male travellers had subtly shifted closer to the two women and again, Arwen and I made eye contact through the gap between them but I couldn’t tell what was going on behind her eyes. It was like she was conflicted but I couldn’t explain it.