Page 59 of The Lost Story of Sofia Castello

58

LISBON, 1941

The following day, I went to see Alexandre, who, after initially expressing fears for my safety, came round to my request to return to London. While I was relieved at the chance to try to redeem myself, I couldn’t help feeling jittery, and on the way back to my hotel, I couldn’t shake the feeling I was being followed. But when I turned around, all I saw was a scrawny newspaper boy in a scruffy old coat loitering behind me.

My strange sickness and upset stomach continued, and after about a week, a terrible thought began nagging at me. I kept pushing it away and telling myself that it couldn’t possibly be – and that surely I wasn’t that unlucky – but after two weeks there was no escaping my growing fear as I’d definitely missed a period. Could my sickness have nothing to do with my feeling on edge? Could it be due instead to me being pregnant?

My rising fame meant that I didn’t dare go in person for a pregnancy test, so I ended up confiding in Alexandre, and he despatched his secretary, Fatima, with a phial of my urine to the doctor’s. If I hadn’t been so terrified at the potential result, I would have found the prospect of old sourpuss being made to carry my urine anywhere highly amusing, ditto the test itself.

Believe it or not, back in the 1940s, a pregnancy test was carried out by injecting the woman’s urine into the back of a frog, which sounds crazy now but was surprisingly effective. If the woman was pregnant, the hormones in her urine would cause the frog to produce eggs within twelve hours, which would be visible in a sac on its body. But, of course, none of that interested me then. All I could think was that I might have been impregnated by someone who was prepared to betray his country for the Nazis, and I was filled with stone-cold dread.

The day after I’d given my urine sample, I returned to Alexandre’s for a meeting about my upcoming London trip where, to my surprise, Fatima greeted me with a smile for the very first time, and a sympathetic one at that. I stepped inside Alexandre’s office, heart pounding, and he leaped to his feet and rushed over to greet me.

‘Sofia! Please, sit down.’ He gently guided me to one of the armchairs. ‘I have very big news,’ he said, going over to his desk and taking a file from the drawer. ‘You are with child,’ he stated, with all the gravity of a prime minister declaring his country was now at war.

‘Oh,’ was all I was able to say in response.

‘Who is… How is your relationship with the father?’ Alexandre asked gingerly. Of course, he didn’t have a clue who the father was. When I’d told him I needed to take the test, I’d vaguely mentioned that I’d been seeing someone.

I shook my head, too stunned to speak.

‘It would be better if – uh – you and he were to get married before – uh…’ He trailed off, looking embarrassed.

The thought of me marrying Trafalgar was so preposterous, I let out a slightly hysterical burst of laughter.

‘It’s just that, your reputation…’ Again he trailed off, clearly embarrassed.

‘I know,’ I said, standing up. ‘My reputation will be in tatters.’ I felt so angry suddenly, yet unexpectedly defensive of the tiny foetus growing inside of me. ‘I need to go and do some serious thinking.’

He gave me a sympathetic smile. ‘Of course. And, Sofia?’

‘Yes?’

‘If you don’t want to, you know, have it, that can be taken care of.’ He looked so awkward by this point, I was surprised he didn’t just slide from his chair into a puddle of embarrassment.

‘Oh.’ I stared at him for a moment in disbelief. ‘OK.’

I returned to my hotel feeling shell-shocked, my head spinning from all that had happened. But one thing I knew for sure now that the fact I was actually pregnant had registered with me was that there was no way on this earth I could have an abortion. And it wasn’t because back then abortions were horrendous backstreet affairs – although God knows that would have been enough of a reason. It was because I was experiencing yet another completely unexpected twist in the unfolding tale that was my life. Ever since my mother had died, I’d felt so lonely with no other family, but now I had the seed of my child and my mother’s grandchild growing inside me – and that notion was surprisingly comforting.

I lay on my bed and placed my hands over my womb – or where I thought my womb was anyway – and I imagined being the mother to my mother’s grandchild, and despite everything, that made me smile. This baby would reconnect me to my mother. This baby would be my family. And although I hadn’t given much thought to becoming a mother before, I felt sure I’d be a good parent because I’d grown up with the very best of examples. And I’d also grown up without a father so I knew all about how that felt.

I was drifting into a nap when there was a knock on the door. I opened it to find Emilio standing there, his hair shiny with Brilliantine and smelling of his old pine cologne. It was a smell I’d always liked, but now, thanks to my hormonal upheaval, it made me feel slightly sick.

‘Where have you been, Castello?’ he said, coming into the room. ‘I’ve been trying to get a hold of you.’

‘I was at Alexandre’s, why?’ There was no way I wanted Emilio knowing about the baby yet, and I’d sworn Alexandre to secrecy. I needed more time to come to terms with it myself.

‘I have some excellent news.’

‘Oh yes?’ I replied, wondering what it could be.

‘When you’re invited back to London again to do another show, the SOE are going to set up a meeting between you and Trafalgar.’ He smiled at me, his eyes gleaming with excitement. ‘I’ll give you another coded message to pass to him – although this time it won’t be genuine of course – and when you’ve got him alone, you can try to find out more. Perhaps you can use the closeness you’ve formed with him to your advantage.’ There was a slightly knowing tone to his voice that set me on edge, and the thought of being intimate with Trafalgar now was nauseating.

I felt a burst of panic as I thought of the child now growing inside of me. Our child, but there was no way I wanted Trafalgar having anything to do with it. Not ever. No way. But what if he realised I was pregnant? And what if he’d told the Germans I was working for the Allies? What if by going to London I’d be walking into some kind of trap?

My nausea grew, and I leaped to my feet and raced to the bathroom.

‘You OK?’ Emilio called after me.

I turned the tap on full so he wouldn’t hear me retching, then hastily cleaned my teeth and splashed some cold water on my face.

‘Sorry about that,’ I said, returning to the room. ‘I’m still having a few stomach issues.’

‘Shouldn’t you go see a doctor?’ Emilio stared at me. I’m sure it was a look of concern, but in my paranoid state, I feared he might have worked out the truth.

‘I’m fine, and yes of course regarding London,’ I said breezily to try to avert any suspicion. I took a deep breath and forced my mouth into a smile. ‘I’ll do whatever it takes to catch that traitorous rat.’

Emilio’s face broke into a broad smile, and I breathed a sigh of relief – suspicion averted.

‘That’s fantastic.’ He stood up and patted me on the back. ‘Good work, Castello!’

After he left, I stood there with my hands on my stomach, staring helplessly at the door. ‘What am I going to do?’ I whispered to the tiny seed of a child growing inside me. ‘How am I going to protect you?’

The night before I was due to fly to London, I didn’t sleep a wink. But unlike the previous occasion, when I’d been too excited, this time it was because I was consumed with dread. Try as I might, I couldn’t see how my trip could possibly be a success. Despite Emilio’s coaxing, I just couldn’t imagine Trafalgar being stupid enough to out himself to me. And I couldn’t see him believing any sudden change of heart on my part either. Emilio had told me to say that I’d had a meeting with the Portuguese leader, Salazar, and he’d convinced me to support the Germans, which I guessed was vaguely plausible, given Salazar’s neutrality, but still.

My pregnancy had knocked me for six, physically and emotionally, and I didn’t feel my normal formidable self. Even my old fail-safes, praying to my beloved mother or Santo Antonio, no longer seemed to be working. My panicked thoughts were too loud, and it was as if they were jamming our lines of communication.

At around two in the morning, there was a knock on my hotel-room door. I looked at the clock and frowned. My car to the airport wasn’t due for another couple of hours. I padded over to the door and called out, ‘Hello?’

‘It’s hotel reception,’ a woman’s voice replied. ‘We have a message for you.’

I opened the door expecting to see one of the receptionists, but to my surprise what looked like a street urchin was standing there in a tatty coat, with a peaked cap pulled down over their face.

‘What the hell?’ I exclaimed as they barged past me into the room. I grabbed the closest thing to me to use as a weapon, which sadly happened to be an umbrella – and a broken one at that. ‘You’d better get out of here quick smart before I make you sorry,’ I said as menacingly as I could muster for one who had been rudely interrupted at two in the morning.

There was a moment’s silence as my intruder and I stared at each other, or I stared at their cap at least. And then, to my shock, they began to giggle, causing me to prickle with indignation.

‘I might not look scary to you, armed with this mere umbrella, but I can assure you that in the right hands, the humble umbrella can be a lethal weapon and… and this is no laughing matter.’

But my waving the umbrella about as if it were a sword only caused the urchin to laugh even more, and to add insult to injury, they even doubled over, clutching their side from the hilarity.

‘What is wrong with you?’ I cried, feeling intense irritation.

‘Oh, Sofia,’ they gasped, and the cap was whipped off to reveal a dirt-streaked face. ‘I’ve really missed you!’

I stared at the scrawny figure in front of me in absolute shock, and I think it took me a full ten seconds to regain the power of speech.

‘Judith?’ I gasped, my mouth suddenly dry. ‘Is it… is it you?’