Page 64 of The Lost Story of Sofia Castello

63

PORTUGAL, 2000

‘But how… why?’ I stammer, staring at Jane. Of all the revelations over the last twenty-four hours, this is by far the most shocking. All the other people in Sofia’s story are just that – people in her story. But Jane has featured in my life for over a decade. She’s one of my closest confidantes. Or so I thought.

Suddenly, Gabriel is at my side, taking hold of my arm and steering me back to the sofa. ‘Why don’t you sit down?’ he says softly. I remember what Sofia told me about him wanting me to know the truth from the start and smile at him weakly as I sit down.

‘I’ll be in the kitchen,’ he adds, as if to reassure me.

I nod numbly, and he leaves the room.

Jane sits down beside me.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ I ask, feeling utterly bewildered.

‘Sofia wanted to make sure that she could trust you first,’ Jane replies.

There’s something about her use of the word ‘trust’ that makes me feel slightly annoyed. ‘What about who I can trust?’ I mutter. I think back to the photograph of Judith I’d seen on the mantelpiece before it mysteriously disappeared. The bobbed hair might be more immaculately cut and white rather than brown, and her face might be lined now, but there was a definite similarity in the heart-like shape of her face, I realise now. ‘Is that why you hid the photo of Judith on the mantelpiece?’ I exclaim, looking at Sofia. ‘Were you afraid I’d see the similarity with Jane?’

‘I didn’t realise you’d noticed it had gone.’ Sofia gives a sheepish laugh. ‘But yes.’

I look back at Jane. ‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.’

‘I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you before you left, but we felt it was too risky.’ Jane puts her hand on top of mine, the huge diamond in her ring glinting yellow.

‘Wait – if you’re Judith, is that the diamond – the Vadodara Teardrop?’ I point at the ring.

Jane nods. ‘It is. Or part of it at least.’

‘I have another part here,’ Sofia says, pointing to the jewel in her crescent moon ring.

‘We had it cut after the war,’ Jane explains. ‘To break the curse!’

‘Right.’ I frown as more jigsaw pieces start falling into place. ‘But you knew I wrote Sir Lawrence’s book. You got me that job. Was that deliberate? Has this whole thing been a set-up from way back then?’

‘No!’ Jane exclaims. ‘It was after you wrote his book. After we saw what was in it.’

‘Or what wasn’t,’ Sofia adds.

‘What do you mean?’

‘The way he painted himself as such a hero in the chapter on the war years,’ Jane says.

I wrack my brains, trying to remember what Lawrence had said about the war. Most of the book had focused on his acting career. I remember him talking about helping people during an air raid and then another piece of the jigsaw falls into place. ‘He talked about the night you almost died in the Blitz!’ I exclaim, looking at Sofia.

‘Yes, but without giving me a mention,’ Sofia replies bitterly.

‘Of course he wouldn’t mention you,’ Jane says drily. ‘He was responsible for your death. The last thing he’d want to do is draw attention to any connection between you.’

Sofia nods, and my anger at her fades. She looks so tired and drawn.

‘I’m really sorry, Lily,’ she says softly. ‘I didn’t like deceiving you, but reading his book made me so mad. Especially when it did so well and won him even more affection and acclaim. It all felt so unfair. Knowing that he’d effectively killed me and my career and gone on to become this hero of the acting world and – how do you call it in England? A national – national…’ She furrows her brow.

‘A national treasure,’ Jane says drily, in her cut-glass accent.

I turn to look at her. ‘How do you have an English accent? Did you end up going to London when the war ended?’

She nods. ‘Yes, a few years after. And once I started working in the book world, I decided to get rid of my German accent to try to fit in.’

I hear the sizzle of oil coming from the kitchen and realise that Gabriel must be cooking.

‘So what happened after you discovered that the Germans shot the plane down, when you were at Alexandre’s?’ I ask, remembering where Sofia had left the story.

Jane looks at me solemnly. ‘I will never, ever forget that moment.’

‘The moment we realised we were supposed to be dead,’ Sofia says quietly.

‘I can’t imagine how it must have felt.’ The room is warm, but I can’t help shivering. It’s such an eerie thought – and it must have been even worse for Sofia, knowing that her lover had played a key role in making it happen. I feel another jolt of disbelief as I think of Sir Lawrence Bourne and the hours we spent together working on his book and how much I’d liked him. It’s chilling to think of what he’d done and what he’d been capable of. ‘I’m so sorry.’

Sofia shakes her head. ‘You mustn’t be sorry. Do you remember when I said to you that sometimes things that seem like the end of the world are actually just the prologue for something truly delightful?’

I nod.

‘Well, believe it or not, my death ended up becoming the prologue to the most delightful story of all.’

‘Mine too,’ Jane agrees enthusiastically.

‘How?’ I stare at them both in disbelief.

‘My death allowed me to finally live my life on my own terms.’ Sofia snorts with laughter. ‘Now that’s ironic.’

I look at her, confused. ‘But how? You were forced to go into hiding.’

‘No, no, no – I chose to go into hiding,’ Sofia corrects me. ‘To protect myself and Judith – and, of course, my daughter.’

‘You have a daughter?’ I glance around the room. After the Judith revelation, I’m half expecting her to leap out from behind the curtains, crying, ‘Surprise!’

‘Yes,’ Sofia says softly, looking down into her lap. ‘Or, rather, I had.’

A heavy silence falls on the room. I so badly want to ask what happened to Sofia’s daughter, but I’m aware that it would be straying into deeply personal territory. I see a flash of red and picture my dream daughter running into the room and clambering onto my lap. I blink hard to make her go away.

‘Are you all right?’ Jane asks Sofia, and she nods. Then a terrible thought occurs to me. Did the Germans somehow get to her – did they kill her daughter?

‘It was actually Alexandre’s idea,’ Sofia says. ‘When the news reports started coming out about the plane crash and we realised that no one knew I wasn’t on board, he spotted the opportunity. At first it was just to buy us some time to escape to his place in the mountains to figure out what we wanted to do next. But the more time that passed, the more appealing it became to me to never return. Especially when it was confirmed that the Luftwaffe had shot the plane down.’ She grimaces. ‘Quite frankly, I was terrified. And not just for me, but for my baby, and of course Judith.’ She smiles at Jane. ‘While I was pregnant, I thought I might one day reveal the truth to the world – that I was alive after all. Once the war was over and if the Allies won.’

‘Why didn’t you?’ I ask.

Sofia picks up the muddy box and tips the newspaper clippings onto the sofa between us. ‘After the war, it was as if none of it happened. All of the members of British society who’d come to Lisbon and cosied up to the Germans were instantly forgiven and welcomed back into the fold. Look…’

She fishes through the clippings and shows me an article about Lawrence’s starring role in a film made the year after the war ended – the film that propelled him to stardom.

‘They were all protected. How could I, a humble former varina from Portugal, possibly challenge a British earl? Who would have believed me? Back then, members of royalty and the aristocracy were still seen as being next to godly. And, of course, I hadn’t been prepared for the huge outpouring of grief after my death. I was scared that if I suddenly reappeared, people would be furious at me for deceiving them. But more than anything, I didn’t want that monster having anything to do with my daughter. I was terrified he’d work out the dates and realise that she was his and try to take her from me.’

‘Wow!’ I say under my breath. ‘So where did you go after you left Alexandre’s place in the mountains?’

The women look at each other and laugh.

Jane grins. ‘Where we would be least expected.’

‘Germany,’ Sofia says.

‘What?’ I splutter.

‘Not immediately of course,’ she continues. ‘We moved there about a year after the war ended.’

‘My grandma had a cottage in the forest in Bavaria,’ Jane says.

‘And of course I’d never become famous in Germany,’ Sofia adds. ‘I wasn’t known there at all, thanks to the banning of my records.’

‘That’s hilarious,’ I say.

Sofia grins. ‘I thought so too. And it turned out to be a wonderful place to raise my daughter.’

‘So they never found you – or her?’ I ask hopefully.

‘No. Everyone thought I’d perished in the ocean – they never recovered half of the bodies from the plane – so the fact that they never found my corpse didn’t arouse any suspicion. And Alexandre didn’t tell a soul, not even Emilio – so we didn’t have to worry about it ever coming out.’

‘That’s incredible,’ I murmur. ‘When did you come back to Portugal?’

‘In 1960. Alexandre sorted out a new identity and a fake passport for me courtesy of a dubious connection he had in Porto.’

‘And that’s when I went to London,’ Jane says.

I lean back on the sofa and shake my head. ‘Can I ask what happened to your daughter?’

‘She died of cancer two years ago,’ Sofia replies quietly, and any last trace of anger I have towards her instantly goes. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to lose her daughter the same way she lost her mum.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s all right. She’s free from pain now, and I like to believe that she’s with my mother, so that brings me great comfort.’ But her eyes glimmer with tears.

Gabriel comes back holding a bottle of wine, a tea towel draped over his tanned arm. ‘Is everything OK?’ he asks cautiously.

‘Yes, it’s all good,’ I reply.

He grins. ‘Very good. Would anyone like a glass of wine?’

‘Yes!’ we all chorus with such enthusiasm it makes us laugh, and any remaining tension disappears.

As Gabriel fetches some wine glasses from the drinks cabinet in the corner, Sofia gives me a sad smile. ‘Losing my daughter was another factor in me deciding to tell my story. I never told her who her real father was – or who I really was, for that matter – as I wanted to protect her from him to the very end. And then I turned eighty and I realised that I have very little left to lose. If it all backfires on me, who cares? I’ll soon be dead.’

‘Shh!’ Jane says crossly.

‘You’re going to live to a hundred at least,’ Gabriel says, laughing. ‘You’re too stubborn to die on us – you love nagging me too much.’

Sofia lets out one of her loud guffaws. Then her smile fades and she looks back at me. ‘But, most importantly, when it comes to telling my story, I have the blessing of my grandson.’

‘Your grandson?’ I ask, looking at her surprised.

Gabriel clears his throat.