Chapter Thirty #2
‘So, do we think the guy that’s missing is Lucinda’s husband?
The Porto News haven’t released much information about him, have they?
Which is unusual. Makes you wonder if he’s a government official or a spy.
And who is this Lucinda person you’ve got yourselves tangled up with?
Did she give you the impression she was married to a government official?
Or maybe she is the spy! Corruption, bribery, these are all things we need to consider too. ’
Now the chocolate has melted away, and the dopamine it released into my brain is a distant memory, I shoot daggers Tiago’s way.
He acknowledges my glare with a contrite nod.
How are we going to stop this sort of speculation from spreading around Porto?
That’s the thing with mums gossiping over coffee the way they do, they don’t ever allow the truth to get in the way of a good story.
By the time this has spread from family to family, it’ll have a whole lot more pizazz.
Car chases. Bandits. Drugs mules. Organ harvesters.
Wild theories thrown into the mix for added flair.
Tiago must know this, so why didn’t he just tell his mother what he knew about me and save all of this from happening?
‘Zeliá, I do love your enthusiasm. As a whodunnit enthusiast myself, I recognise the makings of good tale. My only concern is that Lucinda is a real person, and this conjecture is not ideal if she’s innocent, which she more than likely is.
It’s best if we don’t let our imaginations run wild, don’t you think? ’
Zeliá’s face falls at the same time she dramatically flings her hands in the air. ‘But – but …’ If she’s anything like my mother, her gesticulating is only just getting started.
‘Mum, it’s for the best.’
The woman is downcast, as she removes the plate of chocolate from our reach. Oh, she is just as dastardly as my mother!
‘I’ve already called my sisters. We’re going to meet by the Torre dos Clérgios belltower to discuss. What if we solved the case, while simultaneously uncovering a black market undercover ring selling … selling – what do they sell on the black market? – ah! Kidneys?’
I wince. How to handle this most delicate of circumstances (and get the chocolate back within reach)?
Zeliá has in her possession some interesting intel and is desperate to share it.
It’s the Portuguese way. This will need some careful consideration but there isn’t time to map out a plan.
We want to solve this mystery too, not for the sake of having some prime gossip but for the best outcome for our heavy sighing, aggressively frowning book club friend.
The quickest solution I can come up with is to deflect.
The only way is to go for the heart of a Portuguese mother.
Under any other circumstances I would not even consider it, but I’m, as they say, between a rock and hard place.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I fling myself at Tiago and kiss him hard on the lips.
There are gasps of surprise (from all three of us) but I do my best to play my part and only hope that Lucinda is grateful that I’m putting my body on the line to help her cause.
After a few seconds I stand back, but take Tiago’s hand firmly in mine.
His eyes are glazed like he’s stuck in a fever dream.
My bumbling sidekick will surely translate the meaning behind the kiss.
The faux kiss. There’s nothing juicier than a love story in the eyes of a Portuguese mother.
Tiago runs the pad of his finger across his bottom lip as if he can’t quite believe that happened, he’s playing his part of being love struck very well.
My heart is skittering and I find it hard to catch my breath.
Probably at my own audacity – really, I should be commended.
That was lightning-fast thinking on my part.
Perhaps it’s also that I can’t hear myself think over the shrieking of Zeliá.
She’s in the middle of some kind of clap, jump, shriek, that is oddly similar to a dance my mother performs when she’s ecstatic about some inane accomplishment of mine.
‘Ai, ai, ai, ai!’ Zeliá is officially glitching and it dawns on me that I might have made a miscalculation here.
‘When did this happen? Are you Instagram official? Where’s my phone!
I need to tell the family. Tiago. Tiago!
My phone. Tiago.’ She shakes her son so hard I swear if souls weren’t attached his would have flown away.
It works, he returns to earth with a bang.
‘Welcome to the family, Viviane. What’s your mother’s number?
We’ll have dinner. Lunch and dinner!’ OK, so she didn’t manage to get my mother’s number yet.
There is still hope I can get us out of this jam.
I shoot a desperate glance at Tiago, suddenly struck mute at making an error of such epic proportions.
What was I thinking! You read about fake dating all the time, but not for Portuguese families!
There is no such thing as not falling in love now I’ve gone and kissed the poor fool in front of her.
No, this a Defcon one situation. Next, she’ll be hearing the clanging of wedding bells.
Tiago clears his throat. ‘It’s, uh – early days for us, Mum. Like, very early. So early I’m still a bit in shock my – uh – self. So, if you wouldn’t mind keeping this between—’
‘Ah!’ She snatches up her phone from behind a vase and dials someone who picks up the call alarmingly fast. ‘Darling, I have the best news! Tiago and Viviane are dating! His book club friend, that’s the one.
Right, right, I’ve been worried about him too, the only relationship he has is with the Wi-Fi.
Yes, yes, they’ve just announced it. No not Instagram official.
’ She turns to me for confirmation. I quickly shake my head.
‘No, but that’s all to come. Yes, she’s a lovely girl.
Beautiful. Family lives in Porto, yes, yes.
álverez is the surname, no it’s not a secret.
It’s just all happened so fast – amor a primeria vista! ’
Love at first sight! When Zeliá finally ends the call, the interrogation begins in earnest. All I can do is give her crumbs of information and hope that they won’t be too upset when I pull the plug on this pretend love affair.
Tiago is absolutely no help as he toys with his hair and shoots me desperate looks.
When John the stepdad arrives, and Tiago’s mood becomes tense, I use that as an excuse to escape.
I trudge home, energy spent. It’s all the adrenaline I’ve pumped out, tangling myself in so many lies. All this participating in life outside the pages of a book.
No doubt, my lonely mother will be waiting on the stairs to quiz me about the day and I’ll have to use all my power to keep my facial expressions from giving me away.
When I get home, the apartment is empty.
The space always feels soulless without Mum here.
There’s a note in the kitchen: Querida, invited to fado at Casa da Guitarra, just a last-minute thing. I’ll be home late, so sleep well.
There’s a bloom of relief that I’ll be able to complete my nightly routine and go straight to bed, happy that Mum’s chosen to go out and perhaps find that hobby she so desperately needs. She didn’t say who with, but knowing Mother it’ll be one of my many aunts.
My mind is buzzing with the day’s developments.
My overstimulated brain chooses to focus on the kiss with Tiago.
Why exactly did a fake kiss send my pulse racing?
The daring nature of it? My own fearlessness?
Or because, quite honestly, he’s a cutie pie?
I brush a fingertip across my lips remembering Tiago’s lips so soft against mine.
The way he gently guided me closer with a caress to the back of my neck, my hand dropping to his hip as if we’d orchestrated the manoeuvre ahead of time.
There was a definite sizzle and if I didn’t know better, I’d say that was chemistry at play.
I simply don’t want to fall for the bumbling, fumbling chatterbox because … because …
It will really complicate matters.