The Villa of Dreams

by Lucy Coleman

  ‘Just in time. Come, meet the guys.’

  Antero is looking so different today and it the first time I’ve really seen him casually dressed.

  He proudly introduces us to his friends, as if he’s known us both forever, which I find touching. The singer, a man named Miguel, stops tuning his guitar to shake hands, while the other two standing behind him giving a brief nod and a smile.

  Carolina and I are conscious that we’ve interrupted their preparations and are eager to leave them to it.

  ‘Shall we settle ourselves on the end table?’ I prompt as Carolina and Antero gaze back and forth at each other, trying to downplay the moment.

  ‘Sure. We’re performing four sets over the next two hours. It’s a promo for a concert here that we’re supporting next month.’

  ‘Oh, that’s interesting. I took a quick look online at the Time Out Academy where they run the cookery courses, but didn’t realise they held musical events here, too.’

  ‘Yes, the Time Out Studio hosts some big international names and this is an important gig for us. Is there anything I can get you both before I re-join the guys?’

  I glance at Carolina, smiling. ‘Don’t worry about us. It won’t be long before we take it in turns strolling around to find something to eat.’

  Antero scoops up a guitar case to pull out two tall stools for us. He lays it across a couple of the seats opposite.

  ‘Two more people will join us shortly, so if you can try to reserve eight seats in total, we’re sorted. I’ll see you in a bit. Enjoy.’

  Carolina pulls a purse from her bag and indicates for me to take a seat. I ease myself up onto one of the two stools at the enormous table, which is like a huge breakfast bar. Other seating areas comprise long bench seating with lower tables. All the seating is communal; it needs to be, due to the popularity of this place and adds to the unique atmosphere and experience.

  ‘What would you like to drink?’ she asks.

  ‘A coffee would be perfect, thank you,’ I reply, and she tips her head in the direction of the nearest coffee booth.

  ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  The early-bird diners are streaming in now to make sure they can get a seat. In an hour’s time, the place will be full, with disappointed latecomers endlessly trailing around hoping to grab someone’s seat as soon as they are ready to leave. But people often linger, and what I adore about this place is that it’s perfect for people-watchers like me.

  When I first arrived in Lisbon, I’d happily spend a couple of hours on a Saturday, walking around the market. Then, grabbing a variety of small snacks and waiting patiently until a space at one of the tables became available, I’d sit and watch the world go by. At weekends, time dragged a little for the first couple of weeks until Maria’s grandson helped me sort out the workshop. It was crammed full of old furniture and boxes that were literally falling apart. I had no idea if it would be possible to make enough space for it be usable. However, with a little direction from Maria, and a garden bonfire one evening, it was soon sorted. I spend most of my free time there now but being here today and making new friends is exactly what I need.

  Two women approach, waving to Antero and the guys. One of them immediately comes across to do the introductions. None of them speak any English, but I get the drift that the taller of the two ladies is his wife and the other one is the girlfriend of the guy who plays the keyboard.

  Carolina appears a while later, apologising for the delay but the queues are already growing. She has two small coffees and, in a babble of conversation with our new companions, is no doubt checking what they would like to drink. After some back and forth, and a little laughter, Carolina turns to me.

  ‘They are saying it’s cocktail time. If we all put in ten euros, Luana is happy to wait in the line.’

  Looking across as the cocktail bar, the queue snakes back quite a way, so it could be a while, but she smiles pleasantly as we hand over our notes.

  Carolina enters into a conversation and while I try to grasp whatever words I recognise – the number is growing by the day – I’m happy to tune out, until, behind us, the band strikes up.

  All around, heads start to turn in our direction, but I suspect only the diners sitting in the first couple of sections will be able to hear the music clearly. Already the background noise is escalating, but gradually my ears become accustomed to it.

  By the time Luana returns, the group are on their third song, which, to my surprise, is in English, although it’s not something I recognise.

  I lean in to Carolina, ‘I assumed it would all be in Portuguese.’

  ‘Antero told me once that both he and Miguel did several tours around Europe with their former band and they performed some titles in English and in French. They were hoping to make a name for themselves, but eventually there was a split. He doesn’t play very often these days, he says there’s no money in it and it’s ceased to be a dream for him. He helps Miguel out from time to time if he’s one short.’

  Finishing off our coffees, Luana passes across two large glasses, half-filled with sangria. We toast and the drink is a wonderfully refreshing taste of raspberries with a hint of alcohol and a blast of fruitiness from the sliced apples and strawberries floating on the top.

  This is just the fun kind of relaxation I needed today.

  When the guys break for lunch, Carolina and I relinquish our seats as we offer to go in search of food. We’re two stools short and Antero heads off in the opposite direction on a mission.

  ‘What shall we get?’ Carolina asks, as we saunter past the gourmet burger bar and another little place selling sandwiches that bear no resemblance at all to the sort I often grabbed for lunch in the UK. We have a fistful of euros ready to feed us all.

  ‘Antero asked if we could get some pastéis de bacalhau. Shall we look for some sharing platters, too?’

  ‘Oh, I love those salt cod fritters and that’s a great idea. Let’s head for Manteigaria Silva, then.’

  ‘Ah, we share the same favourite delicatessen.’

  As we anticipated, the queue is long but orderly and eventually it’s our turn.

  ‘What do you think we should choose, Seren?’ Carolina turns to me, as the woman behind the counter hovers.

  ‘Two large cheese platters and a selection of cooked meats, to begin with.’ I leave her side while she begins placing our order, to walk along to look at the display. Craning my neck to peer over people’s shoulders to catch brief glimpses of the tantalising food, I head back to her.

  ‘Why don’t we ask for a basket of ciabatta, some of the stuffed figs and a few of the patanegra grande cones. I’ve tried them before and the ham is delicious.’

  ‘Great choice,’ she confirms, ‘although how we are going to carry it all back, I have no idea.’

  We pay and stand to one side, and I suggest Carolina enlists Antero’s help to carry back the trays.

  Their affection for each other is clear when I spot them weaving in and out of the constant stream of people as they hurry towards me. Antero’s body language is demonstrative – he even places his arm around Carolina’s shoulder, seemingly to avoid someone bumping into her. But she’s enjoying his attention and happy to let him fuss over her.

  When we eventually arrive back at the table, we offload the slate platters, to everyone’s delight. Antero takes it in turns with Carolina to interpret for me, when the conversation begins to flow thick and fast. At one point, Miguel, who is the only one who speaks English, and Carolina change seats to save passing food around the table.

  ‘How long have you been in Lisbon?’ he asks, making polite conversation.

  ‘I arrived in the first week of November.’

  We lean forward to refill our plates. I take two thin slivers of toasted ciabatta and a fig stuffed with patanegra, a thinly sliced, cured ham.

  ‘Would you like some of the cheese? If you lift your plate, we can hope we don’t lose any,’ he smiles at me. The cheese he’s referring to is in a
ball, which is fast spreading out over the almost black slate.

  ‘I’d love some, thank you.’

  He reaches over to grab one of the spare forks in the centre of our section of the table and digs into the melting cheese, quickly scooping it up and depositing it on my plate, where it begins to softly ooze.

  ‘Surviving the homesickness must be the worst. I lived and worked in the UK for two years and then ended up touring around Europe before returning here.’

  I wait while he serves himself.

  ‘It hasn’t been too bad. I have a little hobby to fill my time at weekends and I’ve done some sightseeing.’

  ‘If you are ever in need of some company, or someone to show you around, let me know. Antero will give you a contact number.’

  It’s a genuine enough offer and I thank him. If he was coming on to me, he’d have asked for my number, I’m sure.

  We begin eating again and I laugh at his attempts to get the cheese onto a small piece of bread, which results it in falling off and dropping down onto his shirt.

  ‘There’s a knack,’ I explain. ‘I’ve had this before. You need to scoop it up like this.’

  He watches as I demonstrate, sliding the crispy ciabatta up close and, with my knife, flipping a portion of the cheese onto the bread. It has a life of its own, but most of it ends up in my mouth.

  ‘It’s worth the effort, isn’t it?’ I remark as he follows suit.

  I look over his shoulder and see Carolina and Antero, their heads close together as they chatter away. I’m glad I came, it was the right thing to do.

  At the end of the performance, Carolina and Antero disappear for a while and eventually it’s just me and Miguel. I grab us a coffee and we end up having a pleasant chat about all sorts of things. His career has had its ups and downs, but he’s at a point now where he’s thinking of focusing more on song writing.

  ‘Life is disjointed when you are constantly travelling. It’s time to ease myself back into my old life and put down some roots. I have been a bad son, I think.’

  I can’t imagine that’s the case at all. ‘I’m sure your family have missed you and are simply delighted that you’re back to stay.’

  ‘Um, yes,’ he replies, sounding a tad hesitant.

  I give him a quizzical look.

  ‘Putting down roots means one thing only to my mother and two sisters. It’s time I settled down.’

  I glance at Miguel, sympathetically. ‘Oh dear. Good luck with that.’

  He grins back at me. ‘Thanks, I’m going to need it.’

  11

  It’s All About Perspective

  This morning, I awoke feeling anxious and unsettled, and I can’t seem to shake it off, even though everything in the office is fine and the text that Reid sent an hour ago confirmed that all his guests have finally left. Our secret is safe for now, so where is the huge sense of relief? I can only assume it’s paranoia. It can create monsters where there are none and I suppose reality is setting in. I fear that the risk of Reid and me continuing to see each other is too great, given his precarious situation, and everything could change in an instant.

  There’s a tap on my office door and Filipe enters as I beckon him inside. Standing, I indicate for him to take a seat before I sit back down.

  ‘I thought I’d come along and let you know that the board have agreed to the issuing of the remaining fifty tickets. Senhora Veloso will call in a personal favour to extend our limit by another thirty people. If you can arrange for a marquee to be set aside for that purpose, the directors will act as hosts and effect introductions. However, it would be useful to make someone available to chaperone the VIPs around the site at some point during the evening.’

  ‘Of course. I’ll make the necessary arrangements and ensure our special guests are well looked after.’

  ‘Appreciated. I also wanted to pass on the thanks of the entire board, after giving them feedback about the little presentation on Saturday night. Everyone is delighted with the progress being made, Seren. Your attention to detail has not gone unnoticed and the only outstanding problem is that of the issues raised by Rafael.’

  Filipe doesn’t miss a thing and I need to be mindful of that.

  ‘It’s all in hand, I can assure you. I’m going to reach out to the agent of an up-and-coming singer to see if we can get permission to play her first album as a soundtrack for the entire evening.’

  A slight frown settles on his forehead. ‘Is that not a risk? Would it not be better to go with a more established singer?’

  I can’t really pass on what Reid told me in confidence, so I need to tread warily here. ‘Forgive me, as I’m not an expert in this field, but there is a resurgence in a new wave of fado?’

  His face brightens. ‘Ah, yes! I don’t suppose the person you have in mind is Yolanda Abreu?’

  ‘It is. I was under the impression she’s only recently started recording.’

  ‘She is new, but a rising star. I know her family, so I will make enquiries. Excellent, Seren. I will leave you to your work as you obviously have everything under control.’

  As soon as he leaves, I call Carolina.

  ‘Good news! You can release that second batch of tickets. The downside is that Senhor Ferreira has asked if someone could make themselves available to chaperone the special guests around the site throughout the evening. In your opinion is that something I should do myself?’

  ‘I think you will be needed to troubleshoot any problems, Seren. I can do that for you and find someone to step in for me. How does that sound?’

  ‘Great and much appreciated. I doubt I will be straying far from Rafael, as it’s imperative he is happy, and things go smoothly. So, thank you.’

  ‘Oh, Antero asked me if you needed Miguel’s number? I’m not sure why.’

  ‘Ah, yes, he was kind enough to offer to accompany me when I’m on the tourist trail. But, to be honest with you, that’s the last thing on my mind for now. And I’ve just started a new project in my workshop, which I’m rather excited about. I fear it’s a little ambitious, though.’

  ‘Ooh… I’m curious. You must invite me around to see it. One day you will be exhibiting here, I have no doubt of that.’

  I start laughing. ‘I will definitely invite you round, but I’m not so sure I’ll ever be exhibiting here! But this piece is rather special as it’s a gift for someone.’

  ‘An admirer, then.’

  ‘No. Just a surprise and I hope a good one.’

  Putting down the phone, I see I have a new email from Reid, sent to both myself and Filipe. It’s quite formal, saying how delighted he is with the samples and could we pass on his grateful thanks to Bernadette and her people. I had no doubts at all he’d approve, but his business-like tone is a stark reminder for me to be alert, for fear of letting anything slip. I’m curious there is no mention of Beatriz at all, though. It could mean that she’s had to step back in line with Reid’s wishes, of course. But it serves to reiterate that it’s a delicate situation and likely to become more complicated as each day passes.

  When I return home, later than usual, as I’m turning my key in the lock, Maria suddenly appears at my side. She’s carrying a casserole dish, which is clearly hot as she’s wearing oven gloves.

  ‘Olá, Seren. I keep missing you. I was going to invite you in, but we have already eaten. I kept this warm for you in case you returned hungry. I hope you like duck, we call it arroz de pato.’

  ‘That’s so kind of you, Maria. Lunchtime seems like a long time ago,’ I reply gratefully. ‘I’m too tired to cook, so it was going to be bread and cheese for me.’

  She steps inside, following me through to the kitchen and placing the dish down on a trivet.

  Maria turns back around, studying my face intently. ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I reply slightly hesitantly as Maria is never usually this direct.

  ‘Everything is going well?’

  ‘I’m busy, but it’s good.’

  ‘Y
ou know where to come if you have any problems, or if you need anything. No matter what time of the day, or night.’ Maria looks directly at me for a second or two, as if to labour the point. ‘I will leave you to eat, then.’

  ‘Maria, I am happy here, you know that, don’t you? And I’m so grateful to have the use of the workshop.’

  ‘Then I am happy, too,’ she says as she turns and walks away.

  The smell emanating from the casserole is enough to make me immediately grab a towel and lift the lid. It appears to be a toasted rice dish with a crispy top layer. I can smell red wine and there is a scattering of sliced, smoked sausage that fills the kitchen with a peppery aroma. Grabbing a fork, I can’t resist digging in and discover that the chunks of duck meat literally fall apart. I end up carrying the dish across to the table and sit, too tired to bother decanting it onto a plate, because it’s so delicious. Half of it is gone before I know it and I set the rest aside to cool.

  Yanking open the door below the sink unit, I pull out a brown wooden box. Inside are a few spare keys and Maria told me there’s one in here for the solid oak door set into the wall at the rear of the garden. As I’m searching through, my phone lights up and I see that it’s Reid. I grab it, smiling as I put it to me ear and head off into the bedroom.

  ‘How was your day?’ The sound of his voice is comforting as I lie back, resting on the bed.

  ‘Good. Productive. A long one, actually. And you?’

  ‘I’m back in my studio. I’ve been commissioned to produce a set of watercolour prints for a private collection and Tomas has asked me to focus on that. He says I’ve had too many distractions lately. It’s partly his fault for arranging functions and parties, but it does generate a lot of interest in my work.’

  ‘That’s a good thing for you to have quiet time, though, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, as long as he isn’t being manipulated. Beatriz might be behind this, making sure I’m within easy reach. Ana is back with her now and things appear to have quietened down.’