Chapter Twelve
Twelve
The rest of the Azores were now fully in view, and we were chugging steadily towards Terceira Island.
The harbour looked far too small to accommodate the size and heft of Esmeralda – something else for my worry list – but presumably Thiago and his brother knew what they were doing.
Passengers lined the balconies, waiting patiently in the sunshine as the ship grunted and groaned its way into port, eventually dropping an anchor, or ten, to hold it in position.
Bing bong. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we have now arrived at Terceira Island, and you are free to disembark. You need to scan your cruise card as you leave, so please ensure you have it with you before making your way onto the bridge.’
It felt like we’d been sailing for months and I was desperate to feel land beneath my feet again.
Solid, dry land. The greens and blues of the Azores were breathtaking, and it felt like we’d landed in the rainforest, without the flies and the humidity.
Fresh, sunny air and a gorgeous mediterranean breeze.
I spotted Heidi at the other end of the Main Deck and doubled back down the stairs to avoid her.
I wanted to explore on my own for a few hours and listen to my self-actualisation podcast ‘You’re already there’.
I hurried over the bridge, pulling my cap low as Arlo scanned me out.
‘Kat! Wait for me!’ Heidi called from the back of the queue, but I ignored her and jumped in the nearest taxi.
‘Olá,’ the driver said, turning down the radio.
‘Olá! Angra, por favor.’
‘Sim.’
‘Obrigado.’
That was the extent of my Portuguese – hello, please and thank you – so I was relieved when he switched his light off and put his foot down.
No messing around. The guidebook described Angra do Heroísmo, or Angra for short, as one of three capital cities in the Azores and the perfect place to disappear.
It was a half-hour drive and it felt good to be in a car again, safely belted into the back, on wide, empty roads.
The breeze tickled my neck through the window as I took in the lush forestry and the Mediterranean blues.
The air was fresh in a different way to the cruise ship.
Less salty and more… green – the diet my doctor was always recommending.
Ornate buildings with elaborate windows whizzed by, giving Gothic fairy-tale vibes as we arrived into Angra’s historic centre.
The grand church stood watch over the main square, a pale blue triumph with duomo-topped turrets either side of an ornate clock.
Rows of white villas ran along the beachfront with sandy-tiled tops and colourful shutters, in turquoise, lime and cherry red.
The taxi pulled up in the harbour, outside a cosy coffee shop, and I went from sitting in the car to sitting in the sunshine. Peace. At. Last.
‘Olá. You are very welcome. What can I get you?’ A chunky man in a white shirt and jeans fussed around the table and presented me with a menu.
‘Good morning. Café con leche, por favor,’ I said, hoping my Spanish was close enough to Portuguese and desperate for some caffeine. ‘Do you have any pastries? Or something sweet to go with the coffee?’ I didn’t know the Portuguese for that.
‘Sim – but of course! You must try our local specialty – the Dona Amélia,’ he said, with pride. ‘Delicious, I promise you. Honey and cinnamon… mwah – one is never enough, huh?’
‘Sold,’ I said, closing the menu and handing it back.
I looked out across the harbour and felt my shoulders drop in relief.
The water slapped gently against the fishing boats as they returned with their morning haul, and tourists were taking photos and milling about, waiting for their boat trips to the other islands.
A pair of tanned teenagers in vest tops and shorts stopped in front of me to stare at their phones, seemingly unbothered by their enormous red backpacks.
‘It’s this way!’ one of them huffed, pointing at a road sign with Monte Brasil in clear type.
The highest point on the island was just beyond the city and jutted out into the ocean.
Apparently the views were magnificent from the top but I couldn’t think of anything worse than hiking all that way in the heat.
The waiter reappeared with my coffee and a lumpy fairy cake covered in icing sugar, and I slipped on my headphones and closed my eyes.
Pure. Bliss. Nobody wanted anything from me – well, they did, they always did, but they couldn’t ask me unless they found me, and nobody would find me here.
I could listen to my podcast in peace. Bryce Donnelly had been pepping me up with his words of affirmation for over ten years now.
Well known as the ‘Aussie Gu-roo,’ he was the master of self-actualisation.
When I’d been ghosted by dates in the past, Bryce was the only man who could snap me out of my misery.
His message was one of control and empowerment.
Apparently men ignoring me was a good thing.
Every ghosting took me a step closer to finding the right one and becoming myself.
Bryce said I could have anything I wanted – and what I currently wanted was to win this pitch.
The music started and I felt myself get into the zone. ‘Whatever it is you’re dreaming about, whatever it is you want. Imagine you already have it,’ Bryce lilted softly, in his hot, Aussie accent, then paused for effect. ‘You’ve got it. Say it with me. I’ve got it. It’s already mine.’
‘I’ve got it. It’s already mine,’ I repeated, mouthing the words as I exhaled.
‘Louder!’ Bryce could be very persuasive when he wanted to be.
‘I’ve got it. It’s already mine!’ I said to no one in particular.
‘Now say I’ve done it; I’VE WON,’ Bryce cried.
‘I’VE DONE IT; I’VE WON.’
I felt a tap on my shoulder and jumped. Leo was standing over me, and I nearly knocked my coffee over, whipping off my headphones.
‘Can I help you?’ I said, astonished to find him once again in my earhole. How had he found me here?
‘Sorry to interrupt, I just thought you’d be annoyed if I sat within listening distance while you did your affirmations and didn’t make myself known.’ He couldn’t resist a smirk, which riled me even more.
‘They aren’t affirmations, I was on the phone. Can’t you go to one of the other coffee places?’
‘Easy, easy,’ he said, holding his hand out like a horse whisperer. ‘Sure, I’ll get out of here. I didn’t want to be rude, that’s all, and I didn’t see you until I sat down. I was gearing myself up to climb the mountain.’
‘Fine. Sorry.’ He’d caught me unawares and I was being unnecessarily harsh.
‘I was thinking of doing the same,’ I said, not to be outdone, having been doing nothing of the sort.
I’d been gearing myself up to eat a cheese platter for two and a carafe of white wine, once my coffee and fairy cake starter was out of the way.
‘Great minds,’ Leo said, following my gaze. ‘Fancy a race?’
My coffee had been quite strong, and I felt some latent competitive rage rear up inside me. He was laughing at me again. He didn’t think I had it in me. I’d show him.
I shrugged. ‘Why not?’ Knowing even as I said it that my aptitude, attitude and attire were all in short supply. I sat up and eyed my maxi dress and trainers. No teeny tops or weeny shorts here.
‘You’re on. After you’ve eaten your cake, obviously.’
‘It’s required eating, apparently. The Dona Amélia – a local delicacy.’
Leo shaded his eyes, salivating as I tucked in.
‘I’ll leave you to it and be back in ten,’ he said, walking off along the waterfront.
An old man with a leathery tan wobbled in on a fishing boat and was trying to lasso his rope over a wooden post. The boat was laden down with nets of silvery fish, their rainbow bodies glinting in the morning sun.
Leo whistled then held out his hand to help, catching the rope and pulling him in.
‘Obrigado,’ the fisherman called gratefully, revealing a gold tooth.
Leo waved and strode off like the everyday hero he was, while I snaffled down my Dona Amélia.
It was as sugary and delicious as promised, and I hoped the solid carbs would fuel my enthusiasm levels before my hike.
What had possessed me to agree to it? I could barely walk up the stairs these days, let alone up and down a mountain in half a day.
I was supposed to be enjoying some R luckily the fire in my belly fuelled my competitive spirit.
It had been a few years since I’d dragged myself up Snowdon for charity.
Heidi had suggested we do it as a team-building exercise and it had been hellish.
But the facts were the facts. I was gold and he was a silver and there was no way he was beating me to the top of this mountain.
My upper lip was sweaty, and I unglued my dress from my back.
The two backpackers were already halfway up, their matching red bags zinging bright against the pale grey rock.
A man sat in a portacabin at the foot of the path, handing out maps and taking money.
‘Ten euros,’ he called on repeat as a steady stream of tourists ploughed through the turnstile.
‘Two, please. I mean, por favor,’ Leo said, going first and paying me in.
‘You didn’t need to do that,’ I said and instantly regretted my tone.
He gave me a look. I hadn’t meant it to come out quite so rude. ‘It’s kind of you, though, thanks,’ I said, trying to backtrack. I wasn’t used to men paying for me. I wasn’t used to men doing anything for me.
‘It’s a business expense,’ he said, nonchalantly. ‘Makes no odds who claims it.’
I smiled. Of course it didn’t. He wasn’t thinking about me at all; it was one of a hundred receipts he’d be adding to his bill for Brooke to pay at the end of the pitch process. Rich people didn’t think about money in the same way as us mere mortals. It was all just admin to them.
He opened the map and handed me one side so we could stare at it together.
‘Let’s do the short circuit,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to take any chances getting back for the boat.’
‘Agreed.’
‘The Igreja S?o Jo?o Baptista – Miradouro Santo António. This red line, here,’ I traced the route with my finger embarrassed at the state of my nails.
‘Less than two miles, which won’t even take an hour. We’re already on the trail in fact… looks like it started in the car park.’
‘Even better!’ I said, delighted. ‘Saves us rushing.’
‘It won’t be much of a race if there’s no rushing,’ Leo said, good-naturedly. ‘Unless you want to walk to the top together, then sprint back down?’
‘Erm, yeah… good idea.’ Another terrible idea. Walking was one thing; sprinting was something else entirely. I hadn’t done that since my last school sports day – twenty years ago.