Page 68 of The Lost Story of Sofia Castello

67

LONDON, 8 MAY 2000

‘Wh-What?’ I stammer.

‘What?’ Jane echoes.

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Sofia snaps.

‘Emilio Almeida,’ Lawrence replies. ‘The fellow you wrote your songs with.’

‘What do you mean, he sold me out to pay off a gambling debt?’ Sofia looks ashen-faced.

‘Exactly that.’ Lawrence sits back in his seat and sighs. ‘I found out last year when I had dinner with an old SOE colleague. Emilio was the one who told the Nazis you were on that plane.’

‘No!’ Sofia gasps. She looks at Jane, panic-stricken. ‘He can’t have been. He was one of my closest friends.’

Once again, I trawl my memories of her book and the scenes I wrote featuring Sofia and Emilio, and I start feeling sick.

‘But you did spurn his advances,’ I say cautiously. ‘And what about the night at Estoril? The night you followed the Gestapo agent Kurt Fischer into the casino and you bumped into Emilio there. Is there any way Emilio could have been meeting Fischer instead of Lawrence? You did say he looked really panicked when he saw you.’

‘Yes because he was there to try to catch Lawrence,’ Sofia replies, but her tone is a lot less harsh now.

‘Me?’ Lawrence replies.

‘Is anyone else really confused?’ Gabriel mutters, and I shoot him a sympathetic smile.

‘Are you talking about the night we spent together in Estoril?’ Lawrence asks Sofia.

She nods.

‘I was there with the SOE,’ he says indignantly. ‘We were trying to find out who was passing secrets to the Germans, but whoever it was gave us the slip.’

‘No,’ Sofia mutters. ‘No, no, no.’

‘Are you lovely people ready to order yet?’ the waiter asks, reappearing yet again through the ferns.

‘No!’ Sofia practically screams.

‘I’m sorry,’ the waiter mutters, backing away. ‘Perhaps it would be easier to come and find me when you are ready.’

‘We will, thank you,’ Jane replies apologetically.

‘Are you all right?’ Lawrence asks Sofia, clearly concerned.

‘Of course not,’ she snaps back. ‘Almeida can’t have betrayed me. He was my songwriting partner.’

‘But if he was in love with you, and then found out you were in love with Trafalgar…’ I say.

‘You were in love with me?’ Lawrence says hopefully.

‘Shh!’ Sofia says crossly.

‘And he knew you wrote “Ocean Longing” about Trafalgar,’ I say more animatedly as events from her book start connecting in my head. ‘And I think he knew you were pregnant too!’ I blurt out without thinking.

‘You were pregnant?’ Lawrence exclaims.

‘Lily!’ Sofia cries. When we’d rehearsed this lunch, everyone had been under strict instructions to never disclose the pregnancy or Gabriel’s true identity to Lawrence. But things are different now. Now I’m convinced that Lawrence is innocent.

‘You kept being sick around Emilio,’ I continue. ‘And he knew you’d slept with Trafalgar in Estoril. He must have worked it out, and it probably drove him mad with jealousy.’

‘Oh God,’ Jane mutters. ‘I think she might be right.’

‘Of course she’s right!’ Lawrence exclaims.

‘But…’ Sofia looks at me, horrified. ‘Do you really think I could have been wrong all these years?’

I nod. ‘I’m going to say something now, and I hope you don’t mind because it will be breaking the terms of our NDA,’ I say to Lawrence.

He shrugs. ‘Go ahead.’

I turn back to Sofia. ‘When I was working with Lawrence on his book, I asked him why he felt his three marriages had failed, and he told me that his wives were never able to compete. I’d assumed he meant with his career as an actor, but he told me, strictly off the record, that it was because he’d never got over his first love.’

‘That’s right!’ Lawrence exclaims. ‘I remember that conversation, and I was really worried you’d try to slip it in the book without me noticing.’ He looks at Sofia. ‘I was talking about you. My first love. My only true love.’ He smiles. ‘I’d totally forgotten how bloody feisty you can be though.’

Gabriel stifles a laugh.

‘I’d assumed you didn’t mention me in your book because you didn’t want people knowing we were connected – because you’d killed me,’ Sofia says hesitantly.

‘Poppycock!’ Lawrence splutters. ‘I was protecting your memory. Our memories. Like I said in my letter.’

‘What exactly were you going to do with that letter?’ I ask.

‘The same as all the rest,’ he replies. ‘I was going to take it to London Bridge and drop it in the Thames. Every year, I’ve written one to you, on the eighth of May. Every year since your death.’ He reaches across the table to Sofia. ‘Please, my darling, you have to believe me. I would never, ever have done anything to hurt you.’

We all stare at Sofia, awaiting her response.

‘Apart from nearly getting me blown up twice in the Blitz,’ she finally mutters, but I’m sure I can see a twinkle in her eye.

‘Well, yes, but I was young and foolish then.’

‘You also had a totally different voice,’ Sofia remarks.

‘Cor blimey, so I did,’ Lawrence says, slipping into a cockney accent. ‘I was working as a spy and I didn’t want anyone knowing my true identity,’ he says, reverting to his normal voice. ‘But I promise you, that was the only thing I hid from you. And it was only because of the war.’

Sofia nods. ‘Do you have any proof that Almeida betrayed me? Anything concrete?’

To my relief, Lawrence nods. ‘Of course. My old colleague in the SOE showed me the file they had on him. I can arrange another meeting with him so he can show you. Hell, I can call him right now if you want?’

‘But why didn’t it come out that he’d helped the Germans?’ Jane asks.

‘My guess is that the Americans covered it up,’ Lawrence replies. ‘Just like the Brits covered up so many of their own dirty secrets after the war ended. It might have been different if Almeida had lived longer, but he drank himself to death in 1947.’

‘Maybe due to his guilty conscience?’ I suggest.

Lawrence nods. ‘Could well have been.’

‘And there was me thinking it was because he was heartbroken over my death,’ Sofia mutters before taking a large gulp from her glass of wine. ‘I remember seeing him on the television on the day of my memorial in Lisbon looking like death, and I’d assumed it was because he was so heartbroken I’d died. I’d actually felt sorry for him and bad that he didn’t know that I was still alive.’ She looks at Jane, horrified. ‘That son of a bitch was eaten up with guilt, not sorrow!’

‘How are you still alive?’ Lawrence asks. ‘How did you manage to fool the whole world?’ He turns to me. ‘Have you known about this all along? All the time we worked together.’

‘No!’ I exclaim. ‘I only found out a few months ago.’

‘Right. And you?’ He looks at Jane.

‘I’ve known from the start,’ she says, looking a little sheepish. ‘I’ve known Sofia since the war.’

‘And you?’ Lawrence looks at Gabriel. ‘How are you involved in all of this?’

An awkward silence falls upon the table, and we all turn to look at Sofia.

‘He’s my grandson,’ Sofia replies after what feels like forever.

I reach for Gabriel’s hand beneath the table, and he squeezes mine tightly.

‘He’s our grandson,’ Sofia adds softly.