Weeks in Naviras (12 page)

I’d begged Dad not to mention Mum in his speech but halfway through he seemed to wander off-course. With a tear running down the side of his nose, he said his only regret was that she wasn’t there to see me married. I bit my lip and within an hour or two it had swollen up. Rav’s speech was better, showering me with compliments and poking gentle fun at James. Yet it lacked the stereotypical bawdy tales of drunken mayhem and previous girlfriends. Already James’s earlier life was being edited.

With the speeches and dinner out of the way my wedding descended into a very traditional piss-up with lots of dancing, which was all I’d really wanted. I enjoyed it even if I spent much of my night meeting Tories and not enough with my close friends or family. Everyone behaved – in the twenty months that James and I had known each other he’d been quite efficient at phasing his university friends out of his life completely. I didn’t mind, because almost from the moment I married James began to mind less about things. I ignored little things. It was positive, as Rosie would often say. As for her, she behaved impeccably at my wedding, and brought her new boyfriend who was working at the US embassy. She kept well out of my limelight and actually looked happy for me.

Although we went to Naviras the day after the wedding it hadn’t been intended as our main honeymoon. Because we’d got married so fast a two week break somewhere further afield had been prohibitively expensive. James had been adamant that he wanted to find somewhere out of the village, somewhere a bit more ‘five star’, as he put it. It made sense – at that time of year the ocean was freezing and impossible to swim in. James had wanted an indoor pool, and of course Lottie didn’t have a pool of any kind. But it seemed rude to go out and not stay with her. ‘She wouldn’t say anything, but she’d be upset,’ I’d said. James had agreed but suggested that we break it up after two nights and head to a spa hotel in Lisbon.

‘Why did Harry chose Naviras for his stag party?’ I asked on the first evening, as we sat outside the beach bar watching the moon rise over the sea.

‘Oh, funny one, that.’ James was slouched in his chair, arms folded. ‘He’d wanted to go surfing further down the coast, but everywhere was booked up. When he’d tried and failed to get in elsewhere, he thought we could use Naviras as a base to check out some of the beaches nearby.’

‘But you didn’t go surfing, surely.’ I’d hoped he would confirm this, avoid me thinking I’d married someone I barely knew.

‘None of us did, the spring tides made the waves far too big,’ James didn’t seem too upset about it. ‘Not safe for amateurs like us and besides, none of us were in a fit state to drive. Bloody Lottie and her bottomless drinks.’ He grinned.

‘We should drive inland to a vineyard, pick up some wine to take home,’ I said, and James
signalled agreement. None of that actually happened, of course, because on the second day of our honeymoon Michael Shandwick died after a bout of pneumonia. James and I had been sitting outside La Roda that afternoon, just the two of us on the veranda but a few people inside watching some crucial European football match for Portugal. When James’s phone started vibrating he rejected the first call, but answered when it rang a second time.

‘Rav,’ was all he said. James must have known Shandwick had been at death’s door for some time. He said ‘uh-huh’ a few times. ‘Will Rosie come up as well? Fine. I’ll get a flight. Not sure, I’ll ask her now. OK, bye.’

‘Shandwick’s dead,’ he said, with a big exhalation. ‘He went last night.’

‘Wow.’ I’d been soaking up the weak sunshine, trying to relax.

‘I have to get back,’ James didn’t move a muscle.

I took off my sunglasses. ‘I know. Do you want me to come?’

‘Well, do you want to come?’ Perfectly neutral.

‘I want to, if it helps you.’

At that moment Luis came up the steps to the terrace outside La Roda, smiled and waved quietly to us before walking into the bar. I watched as he bought a beer and sat on a stool inside, watching the football on the large overhead screen and chatting to the owner. James’s eyes were on his phone and didn’t notice Luis nor my eyes following him.

‘I think,’ said James, slowly, ‘It might be best for me to have a couple of days to get this sorted, then you come back at the weekend?’

‘Sure, that makes sense, I suppose,’ I said. ‘You’ll only be on the phone all night here, anyway.’

James was resting his elbows on the arms of his chair, texting. ‘It’s going to be busy for the next week, L.’ Already his phone was vibrating constantly. ‘But don’t let that put you off staying. Why don’t you get Gail out or something, make the best of it?’

‘James, I’ll come back to London the day after tomorrow and I can help out.’

‘Okay,’ He said it absently. ‘Got to go, Rav’s found me a nine o’clock flight from Lisbon. I’ll have to leave in the next half an hour if I’m going to make it.’

James said something else but at that moment Portugal scored in the football and Luis and everyone else inside La Roda cheered loudly. ‘Sorry,’ I said, ‘I missed that?’

‘Just saying I’ll get a taxi, leave you the car to drive back to Lisbon with. I’ll call you from the airport before the plane leaves, okay?’

‘Don’t you want me to come back up to the house and help you pack?’

‘No really, it’ll be easier if I just scoop up the essentials and run.’

He told me he loved me and apologised again. We kissed too briefly and then he was walking down the steps to the square, hurrying back up the street to Casa Amanhã. I watched him until he disappeared around the corner of the winding street, then I looked out to sea.

It would be another six weeks before the by-election would take place, but James knew he’d have to see-off challenges almost immediately. He’d have to go and dance on Michael Shandwick’s grave, mark his territory. I must’ve sat there for about half an hour, staring at nothing. I’d become a Tory wife, would be expected to deputise for James at summer fetes and craft fairs, charity auctions. I’d always been ambiently aware of this possibility, but of course how you think you’ll deal with something is quite different to how it actually feels once it happens.

The football was finishing, and judging from the cheers coming from inside La Roda Portugal had won. Before long Luis came out to the terrace, where it was getting chilly and the wind was gathering strength.

‘Where’s Jamie?’ Luis just stood there, bottle of beer in hand.

‘He’s had to go back to London,’ I said. There was no point trying to pretend I was alright with it.

‘No. Did you to get into a fight?’

‘The Member of Parliament where he grew up just died. Jamie wants to take over from him, so he’ll have to win a selection contest then a by-election.’

‘And so he’s left you alone, on your honeymoon.’ Luis was obviously disgusted.

‘I could’ve gone back with him.’

‘Why didn’t you?’

‘Because he’ll be so busy organising his selection campaign, I might as well stay here and be alone, instead of being alone in London.’

Luis seemed to consider this for a moment. ‘You won’t be alone here, Lottie and I will look after you.’

I laughed. ‘I’m sure you will. It’s only for a couple of nights.’

‘You should go up to the house and change into something warmer. I’m going up there now, I’ll tell Lottie what’s happened.’

Luis put his beer bottle down, only half drunk, and stood up to leave. But first he put his hand on my shoulder and rested it there.

‘You’ll be okay?’

‘I’ll be fine. I just want to sit here for a while.’ In reality I didn’t want to face Lottie,  scared of what she’d say. But after another twenty minutes I covered in goosebumps and had no choice but to slowly head back up to Casa Amanhã. Lottie was standing at the door to the restaurant, insulated from the wind by a grey tweed trenchcoat.

‘You poor thing,’ she said, still somehow upbeat.

‘Jamie told you what happened?’

‘No, Luis did. I did warn you about what happens to people who get involved with politicians, darling.’

‘I know, and really Lottie, I’m fine about it.’

She gave a little laugh. ‘I don’t believe you, but we’ll talk about it later. Luis and I are going to feed you, and my advice? Get stinking drunk, but stay off the gin.’

I took her advice, and got absolutely inebriated. Because it was still winter the restaurant was closed, but Lottie still cooked most days. Rarely for her she relinquished control of dinner to Luis that night. He came down to the bar, happy with the football result, he said. His life in Naviras was lop-sided, long days from April to October but during the winter months he was essentially on holiday. We chatted about London, Luis explaining how he’d tried to get a Portuguese restaurant off the ground in the east end but things hadn’t worked out. Our Londons were so different, I’d rarely ventured east of Liverpool Street, he’d never had much time for the west end. ‘Too much money and not enough fun,’ he said, delicately separating the fishbones from the flesh with his knife. ‘And everything shuts at midnight. In the east end the party goes on till everyone’s had enough.’

I also met Carolina for the first time that night. She was going on ten and spent two hours each day on the bus to and from school, which was quite a way inland from the village. She walked into Casa Amanhã to collect the housekeys at nine o’clock, the time of her curfew. Luis was more relaxed about timekeeping in the winter when there were fewer strangers’ in the village. During high season he was far more strict, and she was never to be caught by him in La Roda. It can’t have been easy on her, growing up in Naviras where there were few children around in the winter. Hardest of all must’ve been the lack of contact with her mother, who packed her things when Carolina was six, fled London and went off to see the world.

‘That was when my restaurant folded,’ Luis explained. ‘She took all our money with her, I tried to make it work for a few months but I couldn’t look after Carolina and run the restaurant at the same time.’

‘So you brought her back to Naviras?’

‘Where else would I bring her? Anyway, she was turning into a monster in London, I’d been worried about what would happen to her, once she joined the big school.’

I nodded, understanding even though I had no children. ‘Do you think her mother will ever come back?’

‘I don’t think so, she hated Naviras and used to say she’d kill herself if she ended up here for the rest of her life. If she does come back there’ll be the most insane argument,’ Luis was bristling. ‘How could she come in and out of her daughter’s life like that? We don’t need her. Carolina has me, she has Lottie, she has a nice place to grow up. I wish I still had a restaurant of my own but in a way I’m glad it all happened the way it did.’

‘How about you?’

‘How about me, what?’

‘Do you want to grow old in Naviras?’

‘Hey, I’ve lived in London, I’ve been to Lisboa many times. I don’t want to live in a city, the noise and the smell, the kids taking drugs. I don’t want that for Carolina. I don’t need to be always wondering if I’ll come back to my flat to find the door kicked in, everything stolen. Who needs that?’

We didn’t discuss James that evening, in fact Lottie seemed determined to change the subject whenever it veered near him. She didn’t seem to mind when Luis explained how he disapproved of Lottie’s cooking technique. ‘She expects everyone in her kitchen to be bloody telepathic,’ he said, and Lottie just laughed. They had fundament
al disagreements on how to cook, Luis insisting that a fish shouldn’t be drowned in sauces or seasoning.

‘Luis feels that fish should be served as nature intended it,’ said Lottie, wearily. ‘But you have to understand the market, darling. The people who come here expect treatment, something unique. That’s what brings them back.’

‘She covers her seabass with too much rosemary from the garden,’ muttered Luis, grinning. ‘All a seabass needs is a little pepper and a tiny drizzle of lemon. Perfect. Not with its flavour drowned out with herbs and butter.’

As the empty wine bottles accumulated on the bar and the wind howled outside we decided Lottie and Luis should have their own TV cookery show, including their banter and arguments. I felt I ought to go down to La Roda to get a mobile signal, see if James had sent a message, but somehow another hour passed. Lottie and Luis were reminiscing about ‘Naviras people’, as they called them, regulars who used to come back year on year.

Eventually, drunk and exhausted, I said I was going up to bed. Immediately Lottie got up and began picking up the empty bottles, storing them in the recycling bin behind the bar. ‘Good for you, darling. Go and have a nice long sleep, and make sure to lie in tomorrow.’ I think she’d only been staying awake to keep me company.

We walked up the stairs to the vestibule and Lottie turned in, closing the door to her private quarters on the ground floor. Luis walked over to the front door, to head back to his small house in one of the travessas off the square. I went to give him a hug. ‘Thanks for looking after me this evening.’

‘It was my pleasure,’ he said. ‘Oh, and Ellie, Jamie gave me the keys to your car before he left.’

‘Oh right, yeah, I wondered where they were.’

‘They’re in a little hole behind the painting above the sink, in your bathroom.’

‘Okay,’ I didn’t think much of it. I tottered slowly up the staircase to Room Seven and took off my shoes. The tiles on the floor sent waves of chill up my legs. I didn’t turn on the lights, but could see the room was in chaos after James’s frantic packing. I went into the bathroom and turned the little lamp on, not paying much attention to the painting as I took it down. Behind the painting a little alcove, just the same size as a house-brick, inside it the car keys waiting, along with a torn-out page from the complaints book, which I took out first and unfolded.