Page 67 of The Lost Story of Sofia Castello

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LONDON, 8 MAY 2000

Lawrence grips the edge of the table, and I see that his hands are shaking.

‘Why don’t you sit down?’ I ask nervously. As much as I’m on Sofia’s side in all of this, I don’t want him collapsing on us.

Lawrence looks down at me, his face drained of colour. ‘You knew?’ he whispers.

I nod, annoyed at myself for feeling guilty. But it was one thing thinking of the young Trafalgar from Sofia’s story being in cahoots with the Nazis. The much older Lawrence standing before me suddenly looks so vulnerable and weak. And I still can’t shake the sense that something isn’t quite right. The things he was saying right before Sofia arrived don’t make sense. I gesture at his chair. ‘Please, sit down.’

Sofia shoots me an annoyed glance, no doubt thinking me disloyal. But she wasn’t here when he talked about today being a sad anniversary. She doesn’t know that there might be more to all of this.

Thankfully, Lawrence sits down, and before anyone can say anything, the waiter returns with our bottle of wine. We all sit in extremely awkward silence as he fills our glasses.

‘Are you ready to order yet?’ he asks innocently.

‘No!’ Jane and I yelp in unison, and he beats a hasty retreat.

As soon as he’s left, I feel the urge to speak. I need to try to get to the bottom of this anniversary business, and catch Sofia and Gabriel up on what was said before they got here.

‘Were you talking about Sofia before when you said this was a very sad date for you?’ I ask.

Lawrence nods, still gazing at her in disbelief. ‘Yes, this was the date we first met. Thursday the eighth of May 1941. And this was where we met – or downstairs at least, in the wartime restaurant.’ He leans across the table. ‘Is it really you?’

Sofia remains stony-faced, so Lawrence looks back at me.

‘Is it really her?’ he asks imploringly.

I nod.

‘But how?’ Lawrence returns his gaze to Sofia. ‘You died in a plane crash.’

‘Ha!’ Sofia replies. ‘You thought I did.’

‘Why are you being like this? Why aren’t you happy to see me?’ Lawrence’s normally powerful voice cracks with emotion. ‘Why have you made me believe you were dead all these years? And what did you mean, my plan failed?’

‘Your plan to murder me!’ she hisses, causing Lawrence to flinch.

‘What on earth are you talking about?’

I stare at him, transfixed. He looks genuinely shell-shocked but not at all scared or panicked as I’d been expecting. There’s no sign of a guilty conscience. He’s either giving the performance of a lifetime or there’s something badly wrong with Sofia’s account of things.

‘There’s no point lying,’ Sofia says, her eyes sparking with anger. ‘I know what you did. I know that you were a traitor to your country and how you helped the Germans kill me – or at least you thought you did.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Lawrence’s voice is growing stronger now, and he sounds almost indignant. ‘I would never have betrayed my country to help those bastards. And why would I ever help anyone kill you?’ He bangs his hand on the table, causing his cutlery to jangle. ‘You were the love of my life!’

Sofia gulps, and for the first time since her arrival, I see a flicker of doubt in her eyes. ‘Liar!’ she exclaims. ‘I was told by a very reliable source that you were a double agent.’

Lawrence frowns and shakes his head. ‘I’d like to meet that reliable source of yours because they’re talking utter horse shit!’

‘Don’t raise your voice to her,’ Gabriel pipes up protectively, but Lawrence completely ignores him.

‘You were the only person who knew I was on that plane,’ Sofia continues. ‘The only person who could have told the Germans.’

‘That’s not strictly true,’ I say quietly.

Sofia glowers at me. ‘There’s no way Alexandre would have betrayed me. He was the one who took care of me after this asshole tried to kill me.’

‘I know, but…’ I start mentally scanning the chapters of Sofia’s book leading up to the plane crash, trying to work out who else might have known.

‘But nothing,’ Sofia retorts, glaring at Lawrence. ‘This son of a bitch killed me, and now everyone’s going to know about it!’

Before anyone can respond, the waiter reappears through the wall of ferns. ‘Are you ready to order now?’ he asks cheerily.

‘No!’ we all chorus this time, and again he beats a hasty retreat.

‘What are you talking about?’ Lawrence says to Sofia, and to my surprise he now seems just as angry as her. ‘How could you possibly think I’d want you dead? I’ve spent the last fifty-nine years of my life pining for you. I’ve wrecked three marriages because I was still in love with you! And do you want to know what I do every year on this day?’

Sofia seems to have lost the power of speech.

‘Yes please,’ I murmur.

‘I go to London Bridge with a letter for you. Look – look ,’ he booms, grabbing his leather satchel from the floor.

‘Stop raising your voice to her,’ Gabriel says again.

Again, Lawrence ignores him and tears the satchel open. ‘Look!’ he practically yells, taking out an envelope and shoving it across the table to Sofia. ‘Read this!’

‘Do not tell me what to do!’ she barks back at him, and I have to fight the nervous urge to laugh. It’s like watching a battle between two aging but still fearless boxers. And I realise that it’s reminding me a little of the scenes I’ve already written featuring them – that same spark still burning strong.

‘I will absolutely tell you what to do if I think you’re being a stubborn old fool!’ he retorts.

‘Don’t call her a fool,’ Gabriel says, and finally Lawrence looks at him.

‘Who are you?’ he asks, and I feel a jolt of alarm.

‘Never you mind,’ Gabriel replies, much to my relief. The last thing we need right now is anyone being gutted like a mackerel.

I return my gaze to Sofia, who is staring suspiciously at the envelope.

‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ Lawrence snatches the envelope back and tears it open. ‘I shall read it to you then.’ He takes the letter out and clears his throat. ‘My dear Sofia…’ As soon as he begins, his tone softens. ‘So here we are, another year gone and still I feel your loss so acutely. I know they say that time is a great healer, and in other things I’ve certainly found that to be true. But not with you. With you, it feels as if every year the loss becomes more acute and the secret I’ve borne in my heart all this time grows larger and aches even more.’

‘Aha!’ Sofia cries triumphantly.

Lawrence glares at her. ‘The secret of our love ,’ he continues pointedly. ‘The secret I’ll take to my grave. When I’ve seen the way others have cashed in on your memory over the years, it’s infuriated me. Especially the monster who deserves to burn in hell for the way he betrayed you. If he hadn’t drunk himself into an early grave, I swear I would have happily killed him for you.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Sofia interrupts. ‘ Who are you talking about?’

‘The bastard who betrayed you.’

‘The clipper pilot?’ I say. ‘Bing?’

Lawrence looks at me blankly, then shakes his head.

‘Who?’ Sofia asks again.

‘Your music partner. Emilio Almeida. He sold you out to the Germans to pay off a gambling debt.’