Page 50 of The Lost Story of Sofia Castello

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PORTUGAL, 2000

After stomping around on the beach for a while, I still don’t feel any calmer, so I march back into the living room, fired up and ready for a potential confrontation, but there’s no one there.

‘Hello?’ I call out cautiously, but there’s no response.

I jump at the sound of a click from the sofa, and I see my tape recorder sitting on the arm. The click was the sound of the tape coming to an end. I must have left it recording.

I left it recording!

I grab it and race up to my bedroom, closing the door behind me and sitting down on the bed. I rewind the tape a few minutes and press play. It’s silent. I rewind it some more and this time when I press play, I wince as I hear my own voice.

‘… for the child I wasn’t able to have – that I’ll never be able to have. You might think that I’m pathetic for letting that get to me, but I’m not. I’m human. And I know you’re keeping something from me. So, if you want to continue with me as your ghostwriter, I want you to be honest with me. Totally honest. I’m going to go for a walk to give you a chance to think about it, but if you’re not prepared to be straight with me, then I’m going to leave.’

I sit dead still and listen to the sound of me leaving the room.

‘My God!’ I hear Sofia mutter.

I hold my breath, then hear the creak of the door opening and Gabriel’s deep voice booms out of the recorder. He’s speaking in Portuguese, but whatever he’s saying sounds urgent and I hear my name. I stop the tape and replay it, pausing after every couple of words to translate them using my Portuguese dictionary, writing them on a piece of paper.

What… is… wrong… with… Lily?

Then Sofia starts speaking, and again I slowly translate, writing the words in English.

I… upset… her.

I go through the rest of the recording like this, translating the key words, then figuring out the sentences and writing them down…

‘How?’ Gabriel asks. ‘Has she found out?’

My skin erupts in goosebumps. Have I found out what?

‘No,’ Sofia replies. ‘Although she knows I’m keeping something from her.’

‘Shit,’ Gabriel says. ‘I think she read my note to you too.’

I stare at the tape recorder. So whatever the big secret is, Gabriel is clearly in on it. I glance at the driftwood rooster on the windowsill. After he gave it to me, I thought I could trust him. I thought we were friends. Have I been an idiot? Was I reading things into the situation that just weren’t there?

I press play, and Sofia speaks. I flick through the dictionary like a woman possessed, to translate what she’s saying.

‘What should I do?’

‘Tell her the truth.’

There’s that word again – verdade . Truth. But the truth about what? Or, I reflect, who? I shiver as I think back to Sofia’s questions about my real dad. Is this somehow connected to him? Does she know who he is? Is that the secret they’ve been keeping from me? Of course it isn’t, I tell myself – that would be ridiculous.

I press play again and translate Sofia’s next sentence.

‘But if I tell her the truth, she’ll hate me.’

My stomach churns. What on earth are they keeping from me?

‘You will have to tell her in the end,’ Gabriel responds.

‘But we haven’t finished the book yet. We’re not even close. Oh God!’ Sofia’s voice rises in panic.

I hear the sound of movement. ‘We need to go and get…’ Gabriel says, his voice fading, and I realise that they were leaving the room. Sure enough, I hear the door creaking closed.

What do they need to go and get? Where have they gone? And what should I do?

I go over to the window and look down at the garden. As my gaze falls on the rose bush, I remember Sofia burying the box beneath it. Could that hold the key to all the secrecy?

I race downstairs and into the garden, buzzing from a mixture of anger and adrenaline. Was this whole project started under some kind of false pretence? Was I specifically picked to ghostwrite the book for some kind of nefarious motive? I’m aware that my thinking is becoming increasingly far-fetched, but how else can I explain all the strange goings-on?

I crouch by the rose bush and start digging at the earth with my bare hands. I should have thought to use a spoon at least, but I need to get the box before Sofia returns. Mud clumps beneath my nails and covers my skin, but I keep digging, and finally I feel something solid. I tug at the box and pull it free, sprinkling earth everywhere. I open it a crack and see that it’s full of newspaper clippings. But before I can properly look at them, the back door of the cottage bursts open, flooding the garden with light.

‘Lily!’ I hear Sofia cry. ‘What are you doing?’