Page 87 of The Seven Sisters

‘True. But in her letters, she talks about sitting in Paul Landowski’s studio for the sculpture that now stands in the gardens of A Casa das Orquídeas. She also tells Loen, her maid, that Laurent begged her to stay in France and not to return to Brazil. I wonder if he followed her here . . . But how do we discover whether theydidmeet again after he arrived in Rio?’

‘We ask your friend Yara, the maid,’ shrugged Floriano. ‘If she gave you those letters, I think it’s safe to say that, for whatever reason, she wants you to know the truth.’

‘But she’s terrified of her mistress. Giving me the letters is one thing, but speaking to me about what else she knows about my own heritage is another.’

‘Maia,’ Floriano said firmly, ‘stop being so defeatist. She’s already trusted you enough to hand over the letters. Now, how about we walk back to your hotel and I read them?’

‘Okay,’ I agreed.

*

While Floriano sat in my suite and began to read Bel’s letters, I crossed back over the road to Ipanema Beach and went for an exhilarating swim in the fierce waves of the Atlantic Ocean. Drying myself in the sun, I decided that Floriano was right and I mustn’t be frightened of pursuing the story I had travelled halfway across the world to discover.

As I lay there on the warm sand, I wondered whether my reluctance was something to do with the fact that every step would take me closer to discovering the truth about my real parents. I had no idea if they were alive or dead, or, in fact, why Pa Salt had given me a clue that had led me much further back into the past than logically I needed to go.

And why was Senhora Carvalho so intent on refusing to admit that her daughter had evenhada child? A young woman who had definitely been the right age to be my mother . . .

Yet again, I remembered Pa Salt’s words engraved on the armillary sphere.

I couldn’t and shouldn’t run away.

*

‘Are you happy to take a trip back up to the Casa with me to see if Yara will tell us more?’ I asked Floriano as I arrived back in the hotel suite.

‘Sure,’ he said, not looking up from the letter he was reading. ‘I’ve only a couple more letters to go.’

‘I’ll take a shower while you finish.’

‘Okay.’

After I’d closed the bathroom door behind me and removed my clothes, I stepped into the shower, feeling acutely aware of Floriano’s presence in the next room. Given that he’d been a total stranger to me only two days ago, his easygoing attitude and relaxed manner made me feel as if I’d known him for far longer.

And yet, his book I’d translated was philosophical, moving and full of human angst. So I supposed I’d expected someone who took himself far more seriously than the man currently sitting only a few feet away from me next door. Emerging from the bathroom, I saw that Floriano had placed the letters neatly in a pile and was staring out of the window towards the beach.

‘Do you want to put these in the safe?’ he asked me.

‘Yes.’

He handed them to me and I moved to open it.

‘Thank you, Maia,’ he said suddenly.

‘What for?’ I asked, as I tapped in my security code.

‘For allowing me to be privy to those letters. I’m sure there are many of my colleagues who would love to have had the privilege of reading them. The fact that your great-grandmother was actually there at the time ourCristowas being constructed, staying under the same roof as Heitor da Silva Costa and his family and actually sitting in Landowski’satelierwhile he was making the moulds, is really astonishing. I’m honoured, truly,’ he said, offering me a small mock bow.

‘It’s you who deserves thanks. You’ve already helped me so much in putting some of the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle together.’

‘Well, let’s drive up to the Casa and see if we can add a few more.’

‘You would have to wait outside, Floriano. I promised Yara I wouldn’t tell anyone about the letters. I don’t want to break her trust.’

‘Then I will simply provide a chauffeur service for the senhorita.’ He grinned at me. ‘Shall we go?’

We left the suite to walk in the direction of the lift and Floriano pressed the button to call it. As it opened and we stepped inside, I saw he was studying my reflection in the mirrored walls.

‘You have a tan. It suits you. Now,’ he added as the doors opened onto the lobby and he marched through it purposefully, ‘onwards and upwards.’