Page 29 of The Lost Story of Sofia Castello

28

LISBON, 1941

Agreeing to sing a thirty-minute set and try to identify a Nazi double agent certainly added an extra level of frisson to that night’s performance. As I stepped into the spotlight and gazed out at the silhouettes of the audience at the small round tables, I wondered if that rat of a traitor was there, looking up at me. Well, if he was, it was my job to make myself as enticing to him as possible. I thought of Judith again and tried to send her a telepathic message. If you only knew the things I’m doing to try to save you, my jacaranda sister!

I began my set with a couple of the tracks from my soon-to-be released album then, once I’d got the audience nice and warmed up, I performed ‘This Doll’, making extra effort to wither and pout my way through it. When the song came to an end, most of the men in the bar hollered and whistled. I wondered if James Sinclair was one of them.

I finished the set with ‘Jacaranda Seeds’, pouring every ounce of emotion I could into it as I thought again of Judith. The place erupted in applause, and as the house lights came up, I gazed out into the audience, looking for someone with auburn hair, but no one fit the description Emilio had given me. I stepped down from the stage feeling a wave of disappointment. As I made my way towards the bar, people’s praise rang in my ears. I glanced left and right, smiling graciously and saying thank you, but there was still no sign of anyone resembling Sinclair. The only thing I could think to do was sit at the bar and hope that if he was present, he’d make his way over to me.

I sat on a stool, crossed my legs, making sure to pull the hem of my dress above my knee, and then I took my cigarettes from my purse. As if by magic, a hand holding a silver lighter appeared over my shoulder. Maintaining my composure, I put a cigarette in my mouth and lit it. Then I turned and felt a mixture of excitement and fear as I saw a man with blue eyes and red hair right behind me.

‘So, what do you do for your next trick?’ I asked drolly, my heart pounding.

‘I make you disappear,’ he replied. His words were slightly slurred, and I could smell the liquor on his breath. I felt a little sick. What did he mean by making me disappear? Did he somehow know that I was working for the Allies? ‘And reappear in my suite,’ he continued with a grin.

I fought the urge to retch. I might not have known if he was guilty of being a double agent yet, but he was definitely guilty of being a sleazeball.

‘I think you have me mistaken for someone else,’ I said, blowing a thin plume of smoke in his face.

He frowned. ‘No, I know who you are. I just watched you singing on?—’

‘Someone with no class,’ I cut in.

His face flushed red. ‘Oh no, I didn’t mean… I just meant that I’d like you to see my suite. It has a piano and a corner bar. It really is something else.’

‘Hmm, well, how about you make a bottle of champagne magically appear and maybe I’ll think about it?’

His face broke into a smile of relief. ‘Of course!’ he replied as he waved to the bartender.

Emilio was right – Sinclair had a weakness for both women and alcohol, and by the time the bottle of champagne was finished, with him having quaffed most of it whilst ogling my breasts and legs, he was eager as a puppy.

‘Come on then – let’s see this piano of yours.’

‘Are you sure?’ In his eagerness to vacate the bar stool, he went careering into a waitress. ‘Watch where you’re going,’ he slurred at her crossly, and I had to bite my lip to stop myself from giving him a piece of my mind.

I took a final sip of my drink for Dutch courage. My hope was that he would be too inebriated to make any kind of advance and I’d be able to have a snoop around for anything potentially incriminating. Our conversation so far had been useless – he was too drunk and dull to offer anything more than a series of monologues on his prowess at various different sports. It took all my self-restraint not to suggest that he add World Champion Bore to his list.

Sinclair guided me through the bar and into the lobby, one hand pressed into the small of my back. Feeling his touch made my skin crawl, but my loyalty to Judith and desire to help overrode my fear. As we waited for the lift, he started swaying like a poppy in the breeze.

‘You’re so beautiful,’ he murmured.

And you’re so disgusting, I thought, all the while smiling sweetly.

The lift doors opened, and I stepped and he staggered inside.

‘And so talented too,’ he murmured, lurching at the buttons and stabbing the one for the top floor.

As soon as the doors closed, the smell of alcohol emanating from him became overpowering. I really hoped Emilio and whoever he was working for appreciated the lengths I was going to.

We arrived at the top floor, and he stumbled out ahead of me. ‘This way,’ he said before letting out a loud belch.

In my admittedly patchy history with men, this was fast becoming the worst experience of them all. I only have to get inside his suite and have a snoop, then I can make my excuses and leave , I reminded myself.

After several bungled attempts, Sinclair finally managed to unlock his door, and I followed him into the room.

‘Ta-da!’ he cried, turning on the light.

His room was pretty much identical to mine, but not wanting to burst his bubble, I feigned delighted surprise. ‘How incredible!’ I cooed.

‘ You’re incredible.’ He smirked and staggered towards me. I deftly stepped to the side, and he went teetering past.

‘How about we have a nightcap?’ I suggested, trying not to roll my eyes. With any luck, one final drink would be enough to tip him over the edge and into oblivion.

‘Excellent idea.’ He lurched over to the drinks cabinet in the corner, and I glanced around the room, looking for anything incriminating. I made a mental note of a briefcase in the corner, although I wasn’t sure if a double agent would be so obvious.

Just like the day I sang at the opening of the Portuguese World Expo, I was struck by how surreal my life had become. It all felt like a dream – or, rather, a nightmare – as Sinclair came staggering towards me holding two crystal tumblers of what looked like whisky. The glasses were so full and he was so incapable of walking straight, the drink sloshed over the sides as if he was aboard a ship on a roiling sea.

‘So you were lying then,’ he said, thrusting one of the glasses into my hand.

My skin instantly prickled. ‘What do you mean?’

‘In your song. This doll is for being played with after all.’ He gave a suggestive sneer, a glob of saliva gathering in the corner of his mouth.

‘Hmm, that all depends,’ I said, trying desperately to think of what to say next.

He opened his mouth to speak and another belch escaped. How he had the arrogance to think I’d want anything to do with him was beyond me.

‘Depends on what?’ he asked, beginning to hiccup. I made a mental note to kill Emilio if I made it out of there without first killing Sinclair.

‘On what we’re playing.’

‘Oh, I think we both know what we’re playing,’ he said menacingly, taking a lurching step towards me.