Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
A day in the laundry had not been part of his plan today and it had set him back a good few hours.
He drained his coffee and massaged his temples, squinting at the laptop screen.
He still had next week’s rotas to plan, had to call the laundry company to increase deliveries while Luisa’s daughter was ill, and place the wine order.
He well remembered the extra juggling and stress in the early days if ever his cousins were sick.
When his phone rang, he sighed and took the call.
‘Hey, Tomás, I was just about to put my order in.’
‘Good job you didn’t, my friend. We’ve had a problem in the warehouse and I’m afraid most of the wines you usually have aren’t available.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘A stock issue. Our inventory recorded more than we have. We’re holding tastings over the next few weeks for customers to try alternatives. Or I can recommend some, but I know you like to be hands-on.’
That was true; Felipe liked to know about the wines and their provenance.
Every year, once the wine menu had been agreed, he’d hold a staff training day so that everyone could taste the wines.
It also doubled as a family day because they would close the restaurant, and husbands, wives and children would join them for a big barbecue.
It was a way of thanking the team, most of whom had been at Quinto do Mar for so long they were almost family.
Antonio had been a waiter when Felipe’s father had died, and now he was the restaurant manager and the closest thing to a father Felipe now had.
‘Send me the details and I’ll let you know when I can come to Lisbon.’
‘If you could come on Friday or over the weekend, I’ve organised some wine tastings.’
Felipe sighed and flicked through his calendar, working out what he could move and what could give.
He could ask Antonio if he could cover as duty manager on Saturday night and ask one of the waitresses to be restaurant manager on Friday.
‘I could juggle a couple of things.’ That would give him the Friday for the tasting.
Finishing the call, he laid his phone down and reached for his empty cup, frustrated when he realised he was out of coffee.
Could he spare the time to go to Lisbon again?
He could kill several birds with one stone because he could also have a meeting with the flour supplier that Ana wanted to try and the kitchen supply company, as his mother had been asking if they could update the ovens and he was considering purchasing a new ice machine…
If he could do all of those on one day, that would justify the trip, and he could tag his official day off onto the trip– not that he ever had a full day off.
There was always something on his laptop that demanded his attention, but visiting Lisbon always made him feel better, especially as a few of his old cycling friends were staying in the city at the moment.
It would be good to catch up with them and make use of the small apartment he owned in Principe Real.
Realising that it was nearly eight-thirty and his brain was too frazzled to do any more this evening, he decided he’d do the rotas in the morning and head to dinner.
‘Has the new menu gone to the printers yet?’ asked his mother the minute he entered the kitchen. ‘I think maybe we should also include arroz de pato as we haven’t had it on the menu this month. What do you think?’
Felipe bit back a sigh, not wanting to point out that she was sitting on the final proof and he was waiting on her for approval– and he’d already chased her for it twice.
What he wanted to say was, What do you think? But he knew better.
‘It sells well and is always popular,’ he told her, even though she wasn’t interested in sales figures and statistics.
All she cared about was that people loved her food.
Which, on the one hand, was good and was what had built the restaurant’s reputation, but on the other, if she had that knowledge, she could take on the responsibility of planning and printing the monthly menus herself.
‘Can I paint your fingernails, Felipe?’ asked Cristina, bounding in waving a bulky bag that clinked with the numerous bottles of nail varnish he knew it contained.
‘Not tonight,’ he said.
‘Why not?’ pouted the younger girl.
‘Because I have boring meetings with grown-ups in Lisbon at the weekend.’
‘And your secret girlfriend wouldn’t like it,’ piped up Katerina from her seat on the small sofa in the corner of the big kitchen.
‘No, she wouldn’t. She’d get jealous,’ he said with a teasing smile he was far from feeling.
The women in his family were convinced that whenever he visited the city for meetings, he was quietly seeing a girlfriend. According to them, his apartment in Lisbon was a secret love nest, and he wasn’t about to disabuse them– otherwise they might invite themselves to stay.
‘Hey, Rebecca,’ Cristina called, spotting a new victim as she entered the kitchen. ‘Can I do your nails?’
Rebecca, wearing a T-shirt and jean shorts which very much suited her long legs, looked startled in a rather adorable way.
‘Mine?’ She glanced down at her hands, and he saw the fleeting expression of disquiet and remembered what she said about having them done to impress the man she was in love with. Her mouth tightened and then he almost saw her spine stiffen with resolve.
‘Why not?’ she said. It took a couple of seconds before she added.
‘Are you any good?’ Which was such a Rebecca thing to say– funny that he knew that about her already.
Catching each other’s eyes, they smiled, and for some reason he didn’t understand, he felt proud of her.
Despite her strong, confident personality, he had a feeling that perhaps she was as lost and damaged as he was.
It was the first time he’d recognised it in someone else, let alone acknowledged it about himself. Maybe because it was familiar.
Since his father and uncle had died, he’d packed away what he really wanted from life and put on a front for everyone to see.
Every day had been a conscious effort to keep up the facade so that no one worried about him, which ensured his family felt secure and safe, knowing their futures would be taken care of.
‘Of course I am,’ said Cristina with all the scorn a twelve-year-old could muster, which Felipe had to concede was considerable. ‘What colour would you like?’ She began to lay the little bottles out in a rainbow line.
He saw the bemusement on her face.
‘I don’t know. What do you think?’
‘The green is cool,’ said Cristina, picking up a neon-lime colour.
Rebecca shook her head. ‘No, not that one.’
‘Blue?’
Rebecca scrunched up her nose. ‘Something a bit more subtle, maybe?’
Cristina frowned at the unfamiliar word and shrugged. ‘Boring, you mean.’
‘I guess so,’ said Rebecca. ‘Ease me in gently. I’m not used to this girly stuff. I have brothers.’
‘What, no sisters?’ asked Cristina, her words incredulous as if such a thing wasn’t possible.
‘None.’ Then Rebecca looked a little shamefaced. ‘Well, I had a cousin, Anna… but she… she never really fitted in. And my brothers teased us about things like that, so nails weren’t really a thing in our house.’
‘Well, now they can be,’ said Cristina. ‘But I’ll go slow with you.’ She picked up a pale pink and shook it. ‘How about this one?’
‘Perfect.’ She glanced at Felipe again and he nodded.
‘Good choice,’ he said. ‘Last time I had a different colour on every nail– green, blue, brown, white and yellow.’
‘Interesting,’ said Rebecca, lifting one brow. ‘How long did you wear that for?’
‘He took it off after one day,’ complained Cristina. ‘It’s one of my colour palettes on Animal Crossing . You can choose?—’
‘Do not get her started on Animal Crossing ,’ said Katerina. ‘It’s sooo dull.’
‘It is not. It’s better than all those stupid TikToks with the pouty girls doing stupid make-up or silly dances that you’re always looking at.’
‘That’s a pretty colour,’ said Ana, coming in and to the rescue as usual. Felipe shot her a grateful look. He didn’t have the energy to break up the bickering between his younger cousins.
‘What’s for dinner?’ he asked.
‘ Bacalhau ,’ said Ana.
‘My favourite!’ yelled Cristina, brandishing a nail file as she started on Rebecca’s nails.
‘What is it?’ asked Rebecca, understandably nervous as Cristina began.
‘It’s yummy,’ said Katerina, ‘and Tia Maria makes the best bacalhau in the world.’
‘It’s a very traditional Portuguese dish. Very popular. Made with layers of potato and salted cod with lots of onion, garlic and olive oil.’ He saw Rebecca’s face tighten just a tiny bit.
‘Interesting,’ she said manfully, but doubt belied her words.
‘Do you not like cod?’ he asked.
She lifted her shoulders almost defensively. ‘I’m not a big fan.’
‘Even though you live on an island surrounded by cod-fishing waters?’ he teased.
‘Our cod is salted because sailors would bring it back and that was the best way of preserving it. You know, of course, that the Portuguese were great explorers. Vasco de Gama, Bartolomeu Dias and Ferdinand Magellan and Cabral who first claimed Brazil for Portugal.’
‘And we are famous for football,’ piped up Cristina, who was leaning over Rebecca’s left hand and painting her nails with a clear base coat of varnish.
‘Now that I do know,’ said Rebecca. ‘Everyone’s heard of Cristiano Ronaldo, but in England we have Fernandes, Dia, Silva all playing for the Premier League.’
‘You know your football?’ asked Felipe, wondering why he was surprised.
‘Of course I do. I grew up with Man U supporters.’ She beamed. ‘If you can’t beat them, join them.’
Intrigued, Felipe wondered what her life at home must be like. It was clearly the opposite of his, surrounded by women, whereas she had a predominantly male family. Was that why he was drawn to her and enjoyed her company so much? Because she was one of the boys?