Page 51 of The Lost Story of Sofia Castello

50

PORTUGAL, 2000

‘How about you tell me what you’re doing?’ I march over to Sofia and stare at her defiantly, deciding that attack is the best form of defence – my only form of defence. ‘Why did you bury this box in the garden?’ I ask, stepping inside. As I hold the box out to her in the bright light of the kitchen, it suddenly seems a lot more innocuous and rather anticlimactic, but then I notice Sofia’s stunned expression.

‘How did you know?’ she gasps.

‘I saw you last night.’

Gabriel bounds into the kitchen, holding a bag of groceries. ‘Lily!’ he cries cheerily, putting the bag on the table and coming over. ‘How are you? Oh…’ His smile fades as he looks at the box in my muddy hands. ‘What is that?’

‘She knows,’ Sofia says glumly, looking away.

‘No, actually, I don’t know!’ I exclaim. I go over to the table and place the box in the centre. ‘I saw Sofia burying it in the garden,’ I say to Gabriel, although I’m sure he already knows she did this. I glare at him. ‘I take it you know what’s inside it?’

Gabriel looks at Sofia and throws up his hands helplessly.

‘I don’t understand,’ I say. ‘Can one of you please explain what is going on? And before you lie to me again, I heard you talking on the tape before you went out.’

‘What tape?’ Gabriel asks, clearly horrified.

‘I accidentally left my voice recorder on when I walked out earlier.’

Sofia and Gabriel look at each other, and then she lets out a laugh. ‘I think this is what’s known as being caught red-handed.’

‘But being caught doing what?’ I cry. ‘Why did you feel the need to hide a box full of clippings from me?’

‘You did see them?’ Sofia’s eyes widen.

‘No, you turned up before I was able to read them.’

‘You have to tell her,’ Gabriel says, and, to my relief, Sofia nods.

‘But first I need a strong coffee.’ She gives me an apologetic smile.

‘I’ll put some on.’ Gabriel goes over to the stove.

‘Come.’ Sofia picks up the box and beckons at me to follow her into the living room. She sits down on the sofa and pats the space beside her for me to join her. ‘First of all, I’m so sorry.’ She clasps my hand tightly as I sit down. ‘I’ve handled this so badly.’

I feel myself soften a little. ‘Please just tell me what’s happening. And tell me the truth,’ I add firmly.

‘Of course. But before I do…’ She clears her throat. She looks so nervous. ‘I want you to know that it seemed like a good plan at the time.’

‘What did?’

‘Hiring you to write the book. But I didn’t contemplate how it would feel once I’d got to know you – and grown to care for you – care for you a lot.’ She looks down into her lap, like she might be about to start crying. ‘I guess I was driven mad by anger and the need for justice.’

‘Can you please just tell me!’ None of this is making any sense and I can feel myself starting to panic.

She nods. ‘But to explain fully I’m going to have to go back to where we left off, when I returned to Lisbon.’

‘Oh… OK,’ I say, although I’m not exactly sure how going back to 1941 is going to explain the secret she’s been keeping from me. I really hope she isn’t fobbing me off.

She lets go of my hand, and we both settle back on the sofa.

‘All right, here goes nothing,’ she says, and I realise that her voice is trembling.