Page 23 of The Lost Story of Sofia Castello

22

PORTUGAL, 2000

‘OK, first we need to rinse them,’ Gabriel says, taking the bucket of fish over to the sink. ‘And then we cut them open.’ He takes a knife from his belt and hands it to me, staring at me intently, and I realise that this must be some kind of test. He’s trying to see if I’ve got the guts to gut the fish, so to speak, or if I’ll get squeamish and bottle out. Well, you’ve picked the wrong woman, on the wrong day to mess with , I think, grabbing the knife from him.

‘Let’s do it!’

Gabriel harrumphs and turns on the tap.

Once he’s rinsed the fish, I stand beside him at the kitchen counter, knife in hand, and he hands me a mackerel and takes one for himself.

‘First you lay it on its back, like this,’ he says, laying his fish down on the wooden chopping board in front of us. I follow suit. ‘Then you open its gill covers.’

He pulls open two flaps either side of the fish’s head and he grins at me mischievously, as if he’s waiting for me to cry out in horror. There’s no way I would give him the satisfaction, so I swallow hard and copy what he’s doing, cutting a kind of cord in the fish’s mouth and then pulling out something that wouldn’t look out of place in the climactic scene of a horror movie, but I maintain my composure and keep my expression neutral.

‘We have to remove the gills because they are full of – how do you say? – blood and that would make the fish taste very bitter,’ he says, with what looks like a decidedly evil smirk.

Fighting the urge to retch, I throw the bloody gills in the bin.

‘That’s good,’ he says, looking and sounding quite surprised. I smile at him defiantly, my jaw clenched. ‘Now put the fish on its side, like this.’ I copy him and turn my fish on its side. He places the tip of his knife by a small hole towards the tail. ‘Now, we need to cut from – how do you say? The anus?’

Oh God. The only good thing about this horror show is that it’s completely taken my mind off my earlier pain and anger. I place the tip of my knife by the tiny hole and copy Gabriel, slicing up the belly of the fish.

‘And now we pull out the guts,’ Gabriel says gleefully, and at this point I half expect him to throw his head back and cackle. But, still determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cringe, I grit my teeth and plunge my fingers inside the fish and pull out the slippery innards.

‘ Muito bom ! Good work,’ Gabriel says, nodding approvingly.

Much to my annoyance, I feel a small glow of satisfaction at having won his praise.

I’m about to say something sarcastic when I hear the kitchen door opening. I turn and see Sofia dressed in her robe, her black hair messy and her face flushed from sleep. She frowns at Gabriel, then switches her gaze to me and, more specifically, Gabriel’s shirt on me.

‘What is going on?’ she asks, her voice taut.

‘I’m, er, teaching Lily how to gut a mackerel,’ Gabriel answers, his face flushing.

Still staring at the shirt, Sofia says something to him in Portuguese. She sounds angry. Gabriel replies in Portuguese, his voice rising and his tone defensive.

‘He saved you from drowning?’ she says to me in English.

‘No!’ I exclaim. ‘He thought he was saving me, but I was absolutely fine.’

‘Is that his shirt?’ she asks, like a headmistress interrogating a naughty schoolgirl.

‘Yes, my dress got washed out when the tide came in, so he lent it to me.’

Sofia turns back to Gabriel and barks something at him. He heads straight for the sink and washes his hands as Sofia continues to berate him.

Gabriel gestures at me and mutters something, and I’m able to catch the final word, which I repeat in my head to try to remember it so I can look it up. Segredo.

He dries his hands and gives a laboured sigh, then stomps out of the back door without a backward glance.

‘Is everything OK?’ I ask cautiously.

Sofia sits down at the table and gives a heavy sigh. ‘Yes, I just don’t want him getting overly familiar with you. You’re here to work on the book and I don’t want him overstepping any boundaries.’

‘Oh, don’t worry, he didn’t,’ I say, sitting down across the table from her. ‘To be honest, I get the feeling he doesn’t really like me all that much. I’m pretty sure he was only teaching me how to gut a fish in an attempt to make me sick – but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction,’ I can’t help adding. ‘I actually find him kind of annoying.’

Finally, she cracks a smile. ‘OK, good.’ She places her hand on top of mine and gives it a squeeze. ‘I’m sorry, you must think I’m a terrible drama queen. It’s just that this book is so important to me – and it’s kind of terrifying too, revisiting all of these ghosts from my past, and preparing to reveal all to the world, especially given the nature of what I’m going to reveal.’

Please tell me! I feel like begging but manage to refrain. ‘I can imagine,’ I say instead. Gently does it , fast becoming the mantra for this job. ‘But you mustn’t worry. Your story means so much to me. There’s no way I’d let an irritating fisherman and his fish innards distract me from helping you tell it.’

Sofia throws back her head and snorts with laughter, then she looks at the fish on the counter. ‘Speaking of fish, shall we make a start on cooking them?’

‘That would be great.’

We go over to the counter and she inspects the gutted fish. ‘We need to wipe the insides first.’

‘Fantastic!’ I say sarcastically, and she laughs again.

‘Don’t worry, as soon as you taste your first mouthful, it will all be worthwhile. There’s nothing better than fish fresh from the boat.’

She tears two lots of paper towel from a roll on the side and hands one of them to me before showing me what to do.

‘So, what made you go for another swim?’ she asks as we clean the mackerel.

As much as I don’t want to relive what happened, I know that opening up to Sofia will help build the trust between us and hopefully make her more inclined to open up to me too. ‘I… I had some bad news from back home and it… it made me really hurt and angry, and I needed to get it out of my system. I thought maybe going for a swim would help.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ She looks at me, clearly concerned. ‘And did it?’

‘Yes, I think so.’

Sofia looks at me expectantly.

I take a breath before continuing. ‘I heard from my ex that he and his new partner – the woman he left me for – are having a baby.’

‘Oh.’ She raises her thin black eyebrows.

‘We’d been together forever – well, since university.’ I turn my attention back to my fish, hoping that by avoiding eye contact it will be easier to confide in her. ‘And we’d been trying to have a baby for ages, but then I found out that I’m infertile, and he immediately traded me in for someone else.’

‘And now she’s pregnant?’ Sofia says softly.

‘Yep. And they’ve only been together for ten months – that I know of anyway. I’m guessing there might have been an overlap.’ As I speak my worst suspicions out loud, I feel sick, and the sight and smell of the gutted fish in front of me really isn’t helping. I glance at Sofia.

She gives me a sympathetic smile. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘It wouldn’t have been so bad if he hadn’t broken the news the way he did. His email was really pompous and insensitive. He asked me if I could find it in my heart to be happy for them.’ My anger starts bubbling back to life. ‘Me, happy for them, with no mention of the pain they’ve caused me. No apology.’

‘What a rat!’ Sofia exclaims. She looks so outraged on my behalf it makes me want to hug her. ‘If you ask me, I think you have dodged a bullet,’ she says firmly. ‘Who wants to be with someone who can be so insensitive at a time like this? And someone who could so callously leave you when you’ve just been told you can’t have children.’ She starts uttering a stream of words in Portuguese, which I’m pretty sure are expletives. She finishes by muttering ‘son of a bitch!’ with such vehemence it makes me giggle.

‘You’re right.’ I throw my dirty paper towel in the bin. ‘It’s funny, when we first broke up, all I could think about were the good things I’d lost. All the good things about him – and the good times we had. But I’m starting to realise that they all happened years ago – years before we broke up. If I’m brutally honest, our relationship had come off track long before it actually ended.’

‘Attagirl!’ Sofia exclaims. ‘That’s a very important realisation. It means you are finally free.’

I look at her questioningly. ‘Free of what?’

‘Free of being trapped in a nostalgia-tinted reality – or non-reality.’ There’s something about the earnestness in her voice that makes me think she’s speaking from personal experience, and I risk giving her a gentle nudge.

‘Is that something you’ve done before?’

‘Oh yes!’ she exclaims with a bitterness to her tone. ‘In fact, you could say I’ve made it my life’s work to become mired in nostalgia – or, rather, my death’s work.’ She laughs wryly.

‘How do you mean?’ I ask softly, praying I don’t scare her into clamming up again.

‘I mean being forced to pretend to be dead creates a deep wistfulness for the life you’ve left behind.’

I’m intrigued by the fact that she said she was ‘forced’ to pretend to be dead, and instantly my mind fills with the questions: who by and why?

‘I constantly have to remind myself that being a famous singer wasn’t all sweetness and light,’ she continues before turning her attention back to her fish. ‘Anyway, now you’re able to see the reality of your relationship, you’re free to move on to something much better.’

‘Yes, and I think I already have.’

She looks back at me. ‘What do you mean?’

‘This job, coming here, meeting you. You’ve already made me feel so much better and I’ve only known you for two days! I’d give you a hug, if my hands weren’t covered in fish slime.’

She laughs as she turns on the tap and rinses her hands. ‘A little fish slime doesn’t bother me. I was a varina , remember? I used to handle fish every day.’

‘Oh yes!’ I feel a rush of gratitude as she comes over and hugs me tight. She’s surprisingly strong for one so small. ‘Thank you so much, and I’m so sorry for being so unprofessional.’

She stares at me as if I’m deranged. ‘What do you mean unprofessional?’

‘Look at me!’ I gesture at Gabriel’s shirt. ‘I can honestly say I’ve never ended up losing my dress and becoming an emotional wreck on a job before!’

Sofia shakes her head. ‘You’re not an emotional wreck; you’re being emotionally honest. There’s an important difference.’

I feel a wave of relief as her words sink in. It’s OK to feel how I do, and it’s OK to express it too. ‘Thank you,’ I say softly. ‘Seriously, you’ve really helped me.’

‘I have?’ She looks so shocked at this, it takes me by surprise.

‘Of course. And you’ve helped loads of other people too, through your songs.’

She frowns. ‘Hmm, I think that’s more to do with the power of dying young. There’s nothing like a tragic death to help immortalise a person and their work. Just look at James Dean and Buddy Holly.’

‘I’m sure your songs would have stood the test of time even if you hadn’t died,’ I say firmly. ‘And like I said, you’ve really helped me and I know that you aren’t tragically dead.’

She stares at me intently. ‘Do you really mean that?’

‘Absolutely. I’m loving spending time with you. You’re an inspiration.’

I’m not sure if it’s a trick of the light, but her eyes are suddenly shiny, as if they’ve filled with tears.

‘ Obrigada ,’ she says quietly before clearing her throat. ‘And I’m sorry about before. The way I spoke to Gabriel. What’s that saying the British have about being grumpy when you wake up? I must have got out of the bed on the wrong side.’

I laugh and nod. ‘There’s no need to apologise. You got angry at him, not me.’

‘I know, but it must have made you feel uncomfortable.’ She sighs. ‘Talking about Judith made me more emotional than I’d expected.’

‘That’s understandable. Did you… did you ever find out what had happened to her?’

She nods, grim-faced. ‘But I think I’m going to need a glass of wine before I can tell you the next instalment – a very large glass. Maybe you could do with one too?’ She looks at me hopefully.

‘Sounds great.’ I nod. ‘I’ll just have a quick shower and get dressed.’

‘Of course. And, Lily?’

‘Yes?’

‘Thank you for what you said.’ She looks so genuinely grateful. I could never have imagined a tiny powerhouse like Sofia needing reassurance or validation, but I’m really glad I was able to give it to her. I feel as if it’s brought us closer.

I hurry upstairs and into my room. But before going into the bathroom, I fetch my Portuguese phrasebook and turn to the words beginning with S. I scan the page for something resembling segredo – the word Gabriel had said to Sofia while looking at me. I shiver as I read the English translation. It means secret.