by Lucy Coleman
I can’t help feeling winded. Were there cosy little dinners, two couples talking over old times? Why does he continue to let Beatriz back in?
‘I’ve also given up the lease on the studio. That was tough. Crating everything up ready to be shipped back to Lisbon with the furniture Beatriz wanted from the apartment marked a real ending.’
He sounds perturbed, rather than excited.
‘You’re having regrets?’
‘No,’ he states, emphatically. ‘But I can’t deny that there are a lot of good memories, of course. It was Ana’s first home. But for the last few years it’s been the only place I could return to, to get away from it all. You know, away from the rows and the pressure. The move had to be done at some point, although I kept putting it off. This trip might not have come at the best time, and the other complications I could cheerfully have done without, but it’s a major turning point.’
It’s taken a toll on him, though, I can hear it in his voice. He might have divorced himself from his links to London, but are the memories of their happy days together another reason to begin questioning his divorce from Beatriz?
‘You sound exhausted. Get some sleep. Travel safe and you know where I am if you need me.’
My heart is hurting as I disconnect, too dejected to stay on the line any longer.
For all my bravado about being able to handle a casual relationship, I’ve backed myself into an impossible situation. I see now that a part of me is more fragile than I could have imagined. It was impossible from the start and there was only one way it could end. Someone was going to get hurt and it was always going to be me.
19
The Big Day Has Arrived
I’m awake before the alarm on my phone goes off and I reach out to check for any messages. There’s one from Judi and it’s an animation. Clover leaves fall like rain, cascading down onto a growing pile that explodes to reveal the words good luck. It makes me laugh. And there’s one from Reid, asking me to text him as soon as I’m awake. It was sent over an hour ago, but I turned the volume of my phone off as it was the only way I was going to get any sleep.
Hope you slept well, Seren.
I tap in a quick response.
Morning, Reid. I managed a couple of hours, but I’ve been awake on and off since dawn.
Throwing on a pair of jeans and a top, it’s time to head into the kitchen to make a coffee and sit outside to enjoy it.
What time will you be heading up to the site?
They’re opening the gates an hour earlier for us, so about eight-fifteen. Why?
I’m parked up around the corner and I have the key you gave me to the back gate. Can I pop in for coffee if I’m really quiet?
My face instantly breaks out into a smile.
Of course. The kettle is on.
As I jump up and grab my mug, Maria opens her kitchen door and waves out to me.
‘Do you have time for another coffee?’ she asks, her voice hushed, but I shake my head sadly.
‘There are things I need to do before I leave for the monument.’
‘I understand. It’s a big day for you.’
Hurrying inside in case Reid suddenly appears to see where I am reminds me that creeping around like this is no way to live your life. And when I sneak out through the patio doors and see him walking towards me, I put a finger to my lips. As soon as he steps inside, I shut the doors.
‘My neighbour, Maria, is up. Let’s go into the kitchen.’
His face lit up the moment he saw me and yet I feel guarded today. Whether it’s the result of nerves making my stomach flutter because of the day ahead, or because there are some things I need to say to him – I don’t know. But they are words I can’t pull together right now.
As I make his drink, he comes up behind me and his hug is gentle. He rests his chin on the top of my head, and we stand for a few moments without moving. When I turn back around, I can see how much he’s missed me.
‘Come on, sit down. You look like you need this.’
He takes the mug, looking timorous. ‘I know I shouldn’t be disturbing you, but I couldn’t help myself.’
‘I’m glad you did,’ I reply, making a monumental effort to sound light-hearted. ‘I have a favour to ask.’
As we sit opposite each other, his eyes don’t move from my face. ‘Anything, anything at all.’
‘Carolina’s father bought one of your prints for her mother for their thirtieth wedding anniversary. She’d dearly love to be able to give them a signed copy of the official exhibition programme and I just happen to have one here.’
‘If only all requests were that easy.’
‘I know, I don’t ask for much, do I?’ I reply and his smile fades. I’m quoting him, of course, and he remembers.
‘That’s true and I wonder why.’
Say it, Seren. It’s always going to be an awkward moment and there never will be a right time.
‘Because – ultimately – what we each want out of life means that we aren’t even on the same page, Reid. We’re fooling ourselves, aren’t we, by brushing aside the obvious.’
‘I know it seems impossible right—’
I can’t bear to see the look on his face, so I put up a hand to stop him.
‘Please don’t feel you need to explain, Reid, it’s just the way it is. I’ll… um… go and grab that programme.’
Feeling like the bottom is about to fall out of my world, I head into the sitting room to find the brochure and a pen. Facing the inevitable is tough and I didn’t imagine it happening like this, but I tell myself that fate presented me with this moment for a reason. And who am I to question the wisdom of that?
‘Here you go. Carolina has written their names on a piece of paper, it’s inside the folder. I’m just popping out to my workshop to fetch something. I won’t be a moment.’
When I return, the brochure is tucked away inside the folder, the pen placed on top of it and Reid is cradling his mug in both hands, pensively.
He jumps up to help me manoeuvre the bird of prey onto a chair. Hovering above his square metal base, the bird’s beady eyes seem to stare back at me with a sense of melancholy. Our journey together ends here, today, and my emotions are raw.
‘He’s not heavy, just an armful,’ I explain, my voice barely a whisper and I cough to clear my throat. ‘The box is hollow and it will need cementing in as he’s top-heavy.’ Letting go isn’t easy, but I need to pull myself together.
Reid stares at the kestrel, then reaches out to run his fingers over the intricately constructed feathers. ‘It’s beautiful.’
‘The piece is called: ‘Freedom in Flight’. I made it for you.’
Reid looks at me questioningly. ‘Did I do something wrong?’ he asks, his voice husky.
‘It’s not about right or wrong, Reid.’
The seconds pass as he stares at me, without moving a muscle, or even a blink of his eye.
‘But what does that mean?’
‘It’s a present. I hoped you’d like it.’
‘Of course I do,’ he says, glancing down at it appreciatively. ‘It’s an outstanding piece and it must make you realise how talented you are. It touches my heart for you to give this to me, but why do I feel as if it’s a parting gift?’
‘How do I begin to explain what—’
A loud tap on the front door startles us both and, once again, I raise a finger to my lips.
‘It’s probably Maria,’ I mouth. ‘You’d better go. Please, please, don’t make a noise.’ I put up a hand, gesturing him to wait a moment. I hurry out to the tiny alcove to fetch an old blanket from the cupboard. ‘Here,’ I thrust it at Reid, ‘Wrap him in this, please hurry.’
He looks at me, his expression one of confusion and urgency, as he can see that I’m panicking.
There’s another slightly louder tap on the door. Lifting the statue and holding it tight against his body, Reid follows me back through to the bedroom. As I let him out through the patio doors, I can’t meet his ey
es.
‘Coming,’ I call out over my shoulder, as Reid strides across the garden.
I take a moment to pull myself together before retracing my steps back through the sitting room to open the door.
‘I hope I did not disturb you, Seren, but I meant to give you this, it is for good luck – boa sorte. Is old, made by my grandfather. Carry it with you and everything will be fine.’
Taking the little package from Maria’s outstretched hand, I give her a grateful smile. Did she hear us talking? I wonder. She might have assumed I was on the phone, but then the door is solid oak and the walls are thick, so it could simply be a case of bad timing. Guilt is a terrible thing and it can play tricks on you.
‘Thank you, Maria, I will treasure it.’
‘Is only small, but I felt… well, I may be a foolish old woman who should mind her own business, but I know you will forgive me.’
She turns and walks away without looking back, leaving me puzzled.
I take the gift into the bedroom, sitting down on the bed to open the package and inside is a little ceramic swallow in a black glaze, with a bright red beak. His wings are outstretched, and I’m touched by the gesture. I had no idea swallows represented good luck, although you see them everywhere in the gift shops here. I lay it down next to me and sit for a moment bent over, holding my face in my hands.
I’m feeling overwhelmed by life in general. It isn’t just this weekend, Reid, my job, my parents’ divorce… it’s everything. I set off a chain reaction leaving my old life behind and whatever I do next will have just as much impact. I need to be mindful of that fact.
My original intention was to give Reid his present the next time we were alone together at the villa, by the beach. Was I subconsciously sending out a message that we have no future together, while still struggling to accept that fact myself?
I feel numb, emotional and wrung out. Anxiety claws at my chest, making it hard to breathe and I focus on keeping myself calm. Reaching out for the swallow, I hold it in my hand, closing my fingers around it.
‘It’s not luck I need,’ I whisper out loud, ‘it’s direction. And the strength to get through the next two days.’
Going to pieces is not an option; I’m made of stronger stuff than that and now is the time to prove it. There are too many people counting on me today and I’m not going to fail them, they’ve all worked too hard on this for it not to be a dazzling success.
I leave half an hour early to take a leisurely walk up to the monument. Packing everything I need for this morning’s meetings into a small tote bag, I head off. Several years’ ago, when my life was hellish at times, I developed a coping technique for when things began to overwhelm me. Ironically, I have my father to thank for that and without it I know that I would be useless today. I call it parking. I visualise myself stretching out my arms to scoop up all my worries and concerns, the things not on today’s agenda but which are crowding my thoughts, and I place them in an imaginary box. I picture myself sealing it with tape and placing it in the corner of my workshop. I know that once the weekend is over and my visitors have flown back, I can dust it off and address the problems, one by one.
Logic tells me that if my focus wanders, everything will fall apart. Nothing else matters until this is done. Times when my father wanted me to fail, when his constant fault-finding and interrogation had me doubting myself, I couldn’t allow myself to make a mistake. He hated that I was able to keep my cool at times like that, because the power was firmly back in my hands. And it’s a tool I can use now.
I love this walk. The minute I step out of the courtyard onto the steep pavement and look up, way above the rooflines at the top of the incline is the back of the Cristo Rei statue. The plinth it sits on is so tall that he appears to rise up out of the roof of one of the houses and, if I squint, I could hold the statue of Christ the King in my hands. With his arms outstretched, it’s as if he’s embracing the entire world, wanting to give comfort to all. And I’m in need of comfort and reassurance.
Walking past a run of terraced houses, casas geminadas, as Maria has taught me, the second one is painted a very pale pink, which always makes me think of strawberry ice cream. When I reach the top of the first stretch, a wall mural on the side of a house advertises the restaurant Rampa do Pragal, which is on my to-do list, but I have no idea where it’s located. The artwork, though, is amazing. An image of the Cristo Rei looks towards the Ponte 25 de Abril, the background perfectly capturing that mesmerising blue Lisbon sky with a smattering of tiny, fluffy clouds and the twinkling water beneath it. What I love is that, peeking over the top of the wall, the bushes in the garden on the other side of it have grown about a foot higher, so they now form a natural frame.
I always pause for a moment to stare at the face of Christ, it’s a kindly face with a hint of a smile that reminds me of the Mona Lisa. Enigmatic. A smile that says, don’t give up, I can’t answer every single prayer, but I’m listening. I smile back, then move on.
There is a run of thick bamboo abutting the pavement now, forming a hedge to the side of what might be a grand property, but nothing at all is visible from the road.
In contrast, on the opposite side of the hill, a rough-rendered block wall is broken only by a pair of faded green, battered metal doors. One is pinned open, although there is a waist-height, metal grille across the opening. In front of it is a sign, propped up by a small planter, and there’s a message scrawled across it in chalk. It looks like the sort of place that might sell car parts, or garden supplies, maybe.
Turning the corner, I step off the pavement onto what I refer to as the square, but it’s really a roundabout that has a cast-iron water pump in the middle of it. It’s surrounded by a sweeping curve of dark grey, cobbled limestone. There are three trees which cast shade over a solitary bench and cars are parked at varying angles around the perimeter. The buildings are an eclectic collection of old properties with the usual charmingly peeling walls and paintwork, and a small café with two, sun-bleached canopies shading some tables and chairs which are set out on the narrow pavement. There are doorways, some with windows next to them, and I know from experience that you can’t tell the size of the property behind an innocuous-looking entrance. It could simply be the gateway to an unexpected treasure hidden beyond. Even a tiny opening can lead into a large orchard and the high walls don’t allow glimpses of what might be tucked away out of sight.
I suspect that a couple of the properties that sit on the very edge of the pavement are empty, and some may well have holes in the roofs, not visible at street level as I glance up. The only clue is the odd gutter full of sprouting plants and grass, and occasionally I spot a window that has been boarded up.
In between, there is often a newly built property. The old and new sit side by side, and if a property is beyond repair, at some point in time the plot will be redeveloped, and life begins all over again.
And just like that my mind is calm, my focus is back, and I accept that I cannot control everything around me. I can only be responsible for my own actions. Today my job is to have eyes and ears everywhere. And if a problem occurs, to be ready to jump on it.
As I cross the road and walk towards the gates of the Santuário Nacional do Cristo Rei, there is already a large group of people assembled in front of them, and in the middle of the wide road, a long line of vehicles are parked up.
I wave to Carolina and Antero, but they are deep in conversation with a group of burly-looking guys.
‘Bom dia,’ I call out as I walk briskly up to them and everyone turns to look at me.
Several people begin talking at the same time and I put up my hands to stop them.
‘Antero, can we please gather everyone together in little groups. The catering people over there, anyone connected to the fashion show itself here in the middle and anyone involved with the marquees and trailers on the right.’
Antero barks out the orders and people gather into little groups.
‘Carolina, as soon as the
gates are open, can you show the caterers exactly where we want them to park up.’
She nods and then turns to pull her little group together to explain what is happening in a rush of Portuguese.
‘Antero, is there a problem? Some of the guys seem a little agitated.’
‘Yes. They arrived late last night and have all parked up in the designated area. They’re saying there isn’t enough room and four of them have had to park further down. I haven’t been over to look yet, but I’m sure it’s a case of leaving too much space between each trailer. In fairness, they did arrive in the dark and I’m sure we can move them around to fit everyone into the space we’ve been allocated. The café is opening for us shortly, so I will encourage them to grab a little breakfast while I sort out the marquee people first. I’ll get them to unload their vans and stack everything up ready for later. Everything is in hand.’
‘Good. Carolina has the plans confirming the pitches, but I have copies in my bag if you need extras.’
The group in the middle are all tall, willowy young women. They are being bossed around by a diminutive, older woman who is trying to call together several stragglers who are sitting on a low wall to one side, chatting.
‘Senhora Vala? Me chamo Senhorita Maddison. Seren.’ I thrust out my hand as she steps forward to shake it.
‘Ah, Seren. Please to say Danielle. English not so good, desculpe.’
Well, I think it’s good enough for me and I know that desculpe means sorry, so I hold out my hands in an appreciative gesture and she inclines her head. We are going to do just fine. I’m sure some of the girls will speak a little English, anyway.
Quickly checking that Carolina and Antero have everything they need, we head off in different directions the moment the big gates swing back.