Page 63 of The Lost Story of Sofia Castello

62

PORTUGAL, 2000

Sofia breaks off at the sound of a car approaching outside. ‘That must be Gabriel,’ she says, jumping to her feet and instantly looking nervous.

‘Hang on a moment,’ I say. ‘You gave Judith the name Rose?’

‘Yes,’ she replies, looking even more ill at ease.

‘What’s the Portuguese name for Rose?’

I hear the front door opening, and Sofia begins pacing around the room.

‘Is it Rosária?’ I ask.

‘What? Oh yes, I…’ she stammers, looking anxiously at the door.

‘ Boa noite ,’ I hear Gabriel call from the hall, and the front door closes.

‘Come through,’ Sofia calls, wringing her hands.

I hear a woman cough, and I stare at Sofia. ‘Who’s with him?’ I whisper, although I’m pretty sure I can guess, and my mind is blown by this latest development.

‘I – uh – invited someone to join us for dinner,’ Sofia replies as the door slowly opens.

Gabriel walks in looking just as nervous as Sofia. A woman walks in behind him. A woman with white bobbed hair, wearing a wraparound paisley dress. Her appearance is so unexpected and out of context, it’s only when I smell her signature rose perfume that I realise who it is and I cry out in shock.

‘Jane!’

‘Lily!’ she cries and hurries over and gives me a hug. ‘Are you OK?’

My mind races as I try to work out why and how she’s here. My emails about Sofia must have caused her so much concern, she has come to bat for me. But I can’t believe she’s come all this way to do so – she could have just sent an email. ‘You didn’t have to come,’ I murmur in her ear. ‘I didn’t mean to worry you.’

‘It’s all good,’ she replies, holding the sides of my arms and looking into my eyes. ‘I wanted to come. I needed to be here.’ She glances at Sofia.

Sofia sighs and sits down, looking slightly defeated.

‘It’s OK – you can trust her,’ I say. ‘She’s been my agent for thirteen years.’

Sofia laughs. ‘And she’s been my best friend for sixty.’

‘What?’ I stare from Sofia to Jane and back again.

Gabriel, who’s now standing by the fireplace, gives an awkward cough.

‘What does she mean?’ I say to Jane. ‘How have you been friends for sixty years?’

‘We met in Lisbon during the war,’ Jane says softly.

‘She’s my fellow jacaranda seed,’ Sofia says.

I let out a gasp as the enormity of the revelation hits me. ‘Not Rosária? Not the gardener?’ I stammer.

‘I’m Judith,’ Jane says with a smile.