Chapter 5
Chapter Five
R ebecca had time for a quick shower and hair wash before descending the wooden staircase to the big whitewashed kitchen. Delicious smells wafted from the pans on the oven, and Cristina, the youngest cousin, was laying the table with pretty painted pottery.
‘Ah, Rebecca,’ said Maria. ‘How was your first day? What do you think of Quinto do Mar?’
‘It’s beautiful,’ she replied with genuine enthusiasm. ‘The grounds are lovely, and the facilities are a treat. I’m really looking forward to teaching my first class tomorrow.’
‘Excellent, and I hear Felipe took you to our beautiful Falésia beach. You know it is the best beach in the whole of Europe.’
‘So I’ve been told,’ said Rebecca with a laugh. ‘But having seen it now, I’m inclined to agree.’
‘Felipe took you to the beach,’ said Katerina in a sing-song voice as she sauntered into the kitchen, fastening a clip in her long brown hair.
‘He did,’ said Rebecca, amused by the playful tone in the girl’s voice.
‘Do you think he’s handsome?’ asked Cristina, taking a keen interest in Rebecca’s answer.
Rebecca laughed and glanced over at Maria. ‘With his mother standing there and about to feed me, I’d be foolish not to agree, I think.’
Maria laughed. ‘But I am biased. He is my boy. A very good boy, but it is beyond time that he settled and found a nice girl.’
The two cousins exchanged smirks. This was obviously a regular observation.
‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ asked Rebecca, feeling a bit of a spare part, although it was obvious the kitchen was Maria’s domain and a very well-oiled machine.
‘No, it is all prepared. Ah, here is Felipe. Sit down, querida . Felipe, get Rebecca a glass of wine.’
Felipe crossed the floor to give his mother a kiss on the cheek. ‘Evening, M?e .’ He turned to Rebecca. ‘Red or white? We have a very good red from the Douro valley or a Vinho Verde, which, if you like a fresh, light wine, is perfect.’
‘Sorry, I don’t know anything about Portuguese wine but the white sounds good to me.’
‘By the end of the summer, you will know plenty,’ said Felipe, taking a bottle of white wine from the fridge and pouring her a generous glass. ‘ M?e , wine?’
‘ Sim, querido ,’ she replied and he filled her glass.
‘What are we having for dinner?’ he asked.
‘Food,’ said Cristina, laying napkins at each place setting.
‘You’re so lame,’ said Katerina with a withering sneer.
Rebecca bit back a smile. It reminded her of being a teenager back at home, although her brothers had tended to gang up on her. ‘Your English is very good,’ she interjected before Cristina could respond.
‘We go to the international school,’ said Katerina with an indolent shrug. ‘ Pai , our father, always wanted us to speak good English. He said we would always get good jobs in the hospitality business. And now we have to slave for our cousin.’
Felipe snorted and took a leisurely sip of his wine.
‘Yes,’ Cristina joined in. ‘We have to clean the hotel rooms and help in the kitchen.’
‘You brats have to earn your keep somehow,’ said Felipe with an indifferent shrug. ‘And one of you will need to train Rebecca as she is taking over some of the shifts, since Paula left.’
‘If I train her, she could take my shift this weekend,’ said Katerina quickly.
Rebecca noticed a slight tensing of Felipe’s jaw, but he merely gave her a resigned look before saying, ‘No one is taking your shift this weekend but you. That’s the deal.’
‘But—’
Felipe held up a hand, which Rebecca felt was a little autocratic. Surely she could swap a shift with the younger girl.
‘It’s not fair,’ Katerina said sulkily, her shoulders hunched.
‘Life isn’t fair,’ said Felipe. ‘You’ll get over it. And your friends will all still be there when you’ve finished.’
‘But they’re going to the barbecue. It will be over by the time I get there.’
Felipe gave her another indifferent shrug, which Rebecca thought was overly harsh. ‘There will be other barbecues.’ Didn’t he remember being a teenager? Or was it the same as at home? One rule for the girls and a different one for the boys.
‘You’re so mean.’
‘I know,’ he said and pulled his phone out of his pocket.
His mother, moving like lightning, slapped his arm. ‘No phones at the table.’
‘Sorry, M?e .’
Katerina beamed, clearly pleased that he was the one in trouble now.
Ana entered the room carrying two small vases of wildflowers. Rebecca had noticed them dotted around the hotel, filled with sprigs of lavender and rosemary.
‘Hello,’ she said, placing one of the little vases in the centre of the table and giving her cousin and sister a meaningful look. ‘This might calm things down. Pay no attention, Rebecca. We all love each other, really.’
Felipe rolled his eyes, but there was a small smile on his lips.
‘Cristina, put the bread on the table.’
Maria rounded everyone up and they all sat down at the table while she brought large plates of soup and Cristina placed the big basket of warm bread on the table.
‘Mmm, smells gorgeous.’ Rebecca faked a smile, wondering what on earth was in the soup. She wasn’t very adventurous when it came to food, and even though she’d left home a long while back, renting a flat a few streets away in the village, her tastes hadn’t evolved much further either.
‘This is sopa de peixe ,’ said Maria. ‘Fish soup, made today with fresh sea bass, potatoes and tomatoes. I made it for the restaurant earlier in the week but decided to play with the recipe and make some this evening.’
‘You work in the kitchen?’ asked Rebecca.
‘Yes, I am Executive Chef.’ Maria made a mocking bow. ‘A big title, eh? For cooking the food I’ve always cooked. Good family food like my m?e and my avó before me.’
‘That’s not true, Tia Maria,’ admonished Ana, turning to Rebecca. ‘She’s brilliant and far too modest. The restaurant owes its reputation to her fantastic food. People come from far away to eat here. She brings a contemporary twist to traditional recipes and celebrates the local ingredients.’
Maria shook her head, blushing a little and waving a hand in denial. ‘Ana is a brilliant baker. She made this broa de milho . Cornbread. Very good. Try some. It is perfect with soup because it is dense and doesn’t fall apart when you dip.’
Grateful that there was plenty of bread, Rebecca took apiece from the proffered basket, which was lined with a colourful napkin.
As she looked around the big table, she realised that everything looked warm and inviting.
A traditional tablecloth with embroidery and lace covered the table, and at each place setting there were rustic side plates, decorated with olives, oranges and lemons.
Chunky water glasses were arranged around a big jug on the table.
Nothing matched, but the well-loved and well-used pieces all came together beautifully.
It was ironic because growing up in her parents’ house, everything was perfectly coordinated and yet there wasn’t much importance placed on the actual food or presentation or sitting down together.
Rebecca took a hesitant mouthful of the soup– she wasn’t a big fish fan. Her memories of eating fish came from square white packets from the freezer, each with a plastic sachet of gloopy parsley sauce.
A punch of flavour hit her mouth and spread over her tongue, a tidal discovery of onions, garlic and salty fish, along with herbs and rich stock.
‘This is…’ Delicious seemed inadequate. ‘It’s really lovely.’
Maria beamed at her. Rebecca felt the warmth of her smile penetrate her heart. The woman seemed genuinely thrilled by her words.
‘Good Portuguese fish soup.’
It wasn’t long before the air was filled with chatter and Rebecca sat listening to the good-natured teasing of the women around them. Felipe sat back and let them get on with it, sipping his wine and shooting occasional smiles at her.
‘Ana, will you take me shopping on Saturday?’ said Katerina. ‘I really want to buy a new bikini.’
‘Can I have your red one then?’ interrupted Cristina.
‘No.’
‘But you don’t need it if you have a new one and you have three others anyway.’
‘I need them all.’
‘You can see your bum in that red one.’
‘Good, because I have a very nice bum.’
Felipe covered his ears. ‘I don’t need to know this at the dinner table.’
Both girls rounded on him. ‘But your girlfriends all wear sexy bikinis. We saw you on the beach with Angelina. With the cutest bikini I ever saw.’
‘Yes,’ said Cristina. ‘And your hand was on her bottom.’
Ana cleared her throat. ‘Do you like the bread, Rebecca?’
‘Yes, it’s really tasty. Different. And you make all the lovely pastries too, I heard. I had breakfast this morning. It was amazing.’
‘Yes. Although, Felipe, I still need to talk about?—’
‘Tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Let’s relax now.’ He picked up his wine glass.
Ana nodded. ‘You’re right.’
Rebecca looked at him, relaxing in his chair, the picture of indolence, whereas it was obvious that his mother and Ana both worked incredibly hard.
She wondered what he did all day. He was good-looking and charming but obviously not someone to take seriously.
Maybe a light-hearted, frivolous summer romance with someone like him would take her mind off her heartache.
Although she wasn’t sure that was possible.
Will would always be there, tucked away at the back of her mind, holding on to her heart.
Rebecca spooned up some more of the amazing soup. ‘I can’t believe how good this is,’ she said again to Maria.
‘It’s good quality ingredients and fresh fish.
The local market is very good, and the garlic and onions all come from the family farm, which is managed by my other daughter’s husband.
We grow the herbs here.’ Maria suddenly smiled and looked at her son.
‘Felipe, you should give Rebecca a tour, after dinner.’
‘Oh no, it’s fine,’ said Rebecca.
‘It’s no problem. He doesn’t mind,’ said Maria, giving her son a very direct stare. ‘He’s not been so busy today.’
Felipe gave a lazy shrug. ‘I’d love to, but I have plans this evening.’
Of course he did. Rebecca shrugged back. ‘It’s fine. I’m quite tired, and I’d like an early night.’ She tried not to let the tiny sting of rejection affect her. He was a flirt and a player, he’d said as much. She’d do well to remember that.