Page 12 of The Lost Story of Sofia Castello

11

LISBON, 2000

‘More wine?’ Sofia asks, leaning forward for the bottle on the coffee table.

‘Oh, yes please,’ I reply. I’d been so engrossed in her story it was as if I’d been transported back in time to Lisbon during the war, and it takes a moment to get my bearings. ‘That sounded so scary.’

‘Huh.’ She gives a sarcastic-sounding laugh. ‘That was nothing – compared to what was to come.’

I think back to the biography of Sofia that I’d speed-read in preparation for our meeting. In the chapter on her death, the writer hinted that the Germans had been targeting her when they shot down the plane she was travelling on due to her support for the Allies – apparently she’d travelled to London to perform in a show during the Blitz. I wonder if I ought to ask her about this now, then think better of it as she’s already warned me not to skip ahead.

‘Have you ever really regretted meeting someone?’ she asks, handing me my drink.

I instantly think of Robin. In the months since our break-up, I’ve definitely had moments when I’ve wished that our paths hadn’t crossed in the Student Union on Freshers’ Week. If only I hadn’t joined the film society, I might never have met him and been spared the anguish of him leaving me sixteen years later. ‘Yes,’ I reply softly.

‘Would you care to elaborate?’ She raises one of her perfectly drawn eyebrows.

‘My ex-boyfriend,’ I mutter.

‘Oh dear!’ She shifts sideways on the sofa so she can properly look at me. ‘And dare I ask why that might be?’

I sigh. I know that me opening up to her will help us to bond and benefit our working relationship, but by the same token, I don’t want her to think of me as pitiful. ‘He ended up causing me a lot of pain,’ I reply, studiously avoiding eye contact.

‘Did he cheat?’ she asks matter-of-factly.

‘I’m guessing so. He left me for another woman.’

She nods. ‘How long ago was this?’

‘Ten months.’

‘Ah, so you’re still in the weeds of the break-up.’

‘Yes.’ I look at her and give a weak smile. ‘But I’m trying really hard to get out of them. That’s why—’ I break off, embarrassed.

‘Why?’ she echoes.

‘Why I jumped at the chance of this job.’

‘Do you mean to tell me that it wasn’t because you’d found out that a world-famous singer had come back from the dead?’ she exclaims with a look of mock outrage so dramatic I burst out laughing.

‘Well, obviously that was a big hook too,’ I reply. ‘But, on a more personal note, I was so, so grateful for the chance to get away from London and my apartment, and all the memories.’

She nods enthusiastically, like she really understands. Then she leans towards me and clasps my hand. Her grip is warm and surprisingly strong. ‘Do you know what’s interesting about me preparing to tell my story?’

‘Er, everything?’ I joke.

She grins. ‘To you maybe, but what’s really interesting to me is realising how some of the things that felt so catastrophic at the time were actually blessings in disguise.’

‘Such as?’

She lets go of my hand. ‘Such as Bing the asshole Jefferson.’

I wasn’t expecting this and can’t hide my surprise. ‘How do you mean?’

‘Well, I’ve realised that if I hadn’t been so easily impressed by that stupid Pan Am clipper and made the mistake of getting intimate with him, I wouldn’t have ended up in that bathtub, begging Santo Antonio for forgiveness and vowing to atone for my stupidity. And then I wouldn’t have ended up helping the refugees.’

I nod in agreement. ‘Helping them must have felt so rewarding.’ The biography I’d read hadn’t mentioned Sofia’s work with refugees, and I’m intrigued to know more.

‘Yes, it was, and because of them, something even better happened. Or, rather, some one .’

‘Another man?’

‘You’ll have to wait and see,’ she says enigmatically. ‘But, in the meantime, I want you to hold on to that thought whenever you feel angry or sad about your rat of an ex. You never know – one day you might be able to see that his leaving you paved the way for something – or someone – so much better.’

‘That’s definitely a comforting thought.’ I take a sip of my wine.

‘Good!’ She gives me a warm smile. ‘So, shall we continue, and I’ll let you see just how rewarding my brief encounter with that rat Bing proved to be?’

‘Yes, please!’ I raise my glass with a grin.