Page 27 of The Lost Story of Sofia Castello

26

LISBON, 1940

The months following my expo performance passed in a blur. Alexandre had been right when he told me that my life would turn upside down and inside out. ‘Jacaranda Seeds’ was a smash hit in Portugal, and I immediately returned to the studio to record an album with Emilio. He and Alexandre felt strongly that the album should be a mixture of different kinds of songs and that I shouldn’t limit myself to fado. This suited me just fine as I approached my songwriting in the same way I approach my food – always eager to try something new. It was an attitude I’d adopted when it came to the opposite sex too, and I thoroughly enjoyed the buffet of men all eager to woo me as my star ascended.

Not that many succeeded in their attempts. My experience with Bing had left me bruised and determined that I should never be made to feel like that again, so I crafted a suit of armour made up of cutting wisecracks and withering stares to protect my heart. Of course, this only seemed to make me more popular, as men do so love the challenge of the hunt. None of them came close to getting past my armour though. I didn’t like any of them enough, and besides I was too distracted by other things, such as my beloved Judith and ‘That Pesky Diamond’, as I’d come to think of it. I’d continued rotating the Vadodara Teardrop between various hiding places in my room, but every time I returned to the hotel I felt a surge of panic as I opened the door, praying I wouldn’t find the room ransacked and the gem gone.

The war was now raging across Europe, and the Germans were blitzing Britain with their bombs. Lisbon had become flooded with refugees and even though the lights still shone and the music still played in Portugal, there was a growing sense that they could be switched off at any moment, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were a little like the band who kept playing on the deck of the sinking Titanic . Every time I saw a refugee wandering the streets like a startled rabbit blinking in the dazzling sunshine and overdressed in their winter clothes, I thought of Judith and felt yet another pang of loss. But all my searching for my beloved friend remained in vain.

Then, one morning in October, I was walking to the studio when I saw a young man coming towards me. I knew instantly that he was a refugee. The heavy woollen coat was an immediate giveaway. He had the same haunted expression I’d seen in Judith too. The hollow look of the hunted animal.

As I drew closer, I gave him a beaming smile, to try to let him know that he was welcome in Lisbon and that we Portuguese were no threat to him. But then, from out of nowhere, a car came screeching to a halt beside us and a man leaped out. There was something familiar about his pinched face and thin moustache, and then I realised – it was Kurt Fischer. I saw a look of horror upon the refugee’s face as Fischer grabbed his arm.

‘Hey!’ I exclaimed. Finally, this was my chance to try and find out what had happened to Judith.

‘Shut up!’ Fischer hissed at me over his shoulder. Then, in a trice, he bundled the young man into the back of the car and slammed the door shut behind them.

‘What are you doing?’ I cried, pulling at the door handle. But it all happened too fast, and the car went speeding off down the hill, almost taking my hand with it. As I stood staring after it, my blood turned to ice. Had Judith been bundled into a car like this too? I stumbled my way down the hill, my head a jumble of panicked thoughts.

I burst into the studio to find Emilio hunched over the mixing desk.

‘Well, someone’s keen to get started this morning!’ he exclaimed with a grin.

‘I’ve just seen something,’ I gasped. ‘Something awful. A Gestapo agent, snatching a refugee off the street right in front of me. It was the same guy I’d seen following my friend – the friend who was taken.’

‘Whoa, take it easy.’ He beckoned me to come and sit beside him. ‘OK, what happened?’

I took a breath before telling him what I’d seen. ‘I know it was the same man my friend pointed out to me in the restaurant the night she got so spooked. I recognised him immediately. His face is pointy like a weasel’s.’

Emilio frowned. ‘Does he have blond hair and a thin moustache?’

‘Yes! Why, do you know him?’

‘I think I might know of him.’ Emilio went over to his coat hanging on a peg by the door. ‘Is this him?’ he asked, taking a photograph from the pocket.

I shivered as he showed me the picture. I recognised Fischer instantly, sitting at a café table. Clearly the picture had been taken in stealth as he seemed to be blissfully unaware of the camera. ‘Yes, that’s him. But why do you have this picture?’

Emilio shifted his chair closer to mine. ‘I’ve started helping the Allies,’ he whispered.

‘With what?’

‘Gathering intelligence on German activity here in Lisbon.’

‘Wow. And here I was thinking you were just a mild-mannered music producer,’ I quipped.

‘What do you mean, “just”?’ he retorted. ‘In fact, my music career makes the perfect cover.’ He paused for a moment before leaning even closer. ‘It could be the same for you too – if you wanted to help. Especially if your album sells as well as we’re expecting it to.’

‘Are you kidding me? Of course I want to help!’ I exclaimed, although I wasn’t entirely sure what this would entail.

‘Shh!’ He looked at the door anxiously.

‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered. ‘But yes, I’d do anything to help defeat those monsters. Anything to help my friend.’

‘Awesome.’ Emilio slipped the photograph into his trouser pocket. ‘I’m sure you’ve already figured this out, but Alexandre has big plans for you. He doesn’t just want you to be a star here in Portugal – he’s aiming for America and Britain too. And as your profile rises, so will your access to certain social circles.’

‘Such as?’ I asked, surprised.

‘The kind of circles German agents like to infiltrate. You could be a very useful observer for the Allies, or even a courier.’

‘A courier of what?’ I whispered, my excitement growing.

‘Top-secret information.’

I gave a laugh of disbelief. I’d thought that my rise to fame as a singer was a crazy twist of fate, but the thought of becoming some kind of courier for the Allies seemed even more fantastical. ‘Count me in!’ I exclaimed.

‘Excellent!’ Emilio clapped his hands together. ‘We’d better start making a best-selling record then.’

I sprang to my feet and began doing my vocal warm-ups, racing up and down those scales like a lark. After weeks of feeling helpless in the face of Judith’s disappearance, I finally felt a sense of purpose and direction again. I was going to do everything in my power to help my jacaranda seed sister – that’s if she was still able to be helped. If it was too late and those monsters had killed her, I was going to do everything I could to get revenge.