Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
‘ S o this is the master en suite bathroom,’ she said with a teasing smile when they fell out of the very nice shower an hour later.
Felipe, it turned out, was very good with his hands and a bottle of shower gel.
He handed her a large, fluffy towel as she took in her surroundings.
The bathroom was tiled in dark green rustic tiles with a copper overhead shower and a large marble sink.
‘And this is the master bedroom,’ he said holding out a hand and indicating a simply furnished room, which she hadn’t a chance to take in previously.
The room was dominated by the bed that was set into an arched alcove, which was clearly an original feature.
It was painted in what looked like gold leaf and while the effect was decadent, it fitted beautifully into the rough-hewn sandstone walls.
Wooden shelves were mounted on the wall on either side of the bed and obviously acted as bedside tables.
‘It’s so lovely.’ She loved the simplicity and clever marriage of the contemporary and traditional, like the ceiling that had been painted in a muted beige which threw the original white plasterwork of decorative roses and leaves dotted around the ornate lamp into relief.
Then there was the far wall with its modern double-glazed window, framed underneath by the old stone sill and original ceramic wall tiles patterned with faded yellow and blue designs.
‘It’s beautiful. Any chance I can see the rest of the place?’
He squeezed her bare bottom. ‘I’d have given you the guided tour if you hadn’t insisted on dragging me straight to bed.’
She arched an eyebrow. ‘Of course. You were kicking and screaming every step of the way.’
‘Oh, there’s a courtyard,’ she said with a little cry of delight as she glimpsed the walled area complete with a stone fountain built into the wall. She was already charmed by the one room. ‘But we’re on the first floor.’
‘The building is built into the hill, so the back is much higher than the front. That’s what you get when you build on such steep hills. Come on, I’ll let you see the rest of the place.’
He pushed open the door to reveal the beautiful parquet floor, strewn with his shirt and her T-shirt along with their abandoned overnight bags.
It made her smile– they really had been in a hurry.
So much so, she hadn’t even noticed the stunning staircase running up one side of the wall– although staircase was too mundane a description.
It was a work of art, big, wide planks of dark wood on individual white plaster plinths.
Simple in design and execution. Thestark stairs had no banister or guard rail but made quite a statement.
‘This is really lovely,’ she said.
‘Whatever you do, don’t tell Katerina and Cristina. They like to think it’s some sort of bachelor hovel they’d hate.’
Rebecca grinned at him. ‘I could blackmail you.’
‘I’d make it worth your while not to,’ he said. ‘The bedrooms are on this floor and the lounge and kitchen upstairs.’ He pointed to another door further down the hallway. ‘Guest room. For guests.’
‘What am I?’ she asked.
He scrunched up his face in thought and then winked. ‘Definitely not a guest.’
The stairs opened out into a light, airy, open-plan room with a smart modern kitchen at one end, a run of cabinets, and a small cooker and sink built into another brick archway mirroring the one downstairs in Felipe’s bedroom.
At right angles was another run of cabinets and an alcove housing a fridge-freezer, which was such a perfect fit, you could almost imagine the fridge had been built to measure.
But it was the view opposite that drew her and she immediately crossed to the far end of the room, drawn by the golden evening light glowing through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
‘What a wonderful outlook– an estate agent’s dream.’
‘Yes. Once I saw, I was sold,’ said Felipe, coming to stand beside her.
Outside the window was a tiny wrought-iron balcony and just enough room for a table and two chairs. A leafy green climber wove in and around the iron railings, creating a natural screen from the narrow, cobbled street below.
From the balcony there was also a magnificent view of the wide estuary of the River Tagus.
‘I just love the pavement,’ she said, looking across at the paving on the street beyond made of a mosaic of small white stones, patterned with an intricate design of black stones.
‘It’s calcada Portuguesa . It originated in Lisbon in the mid-nineteenth century and then spread to other parts ofthe country and ultimately to Brazil.
We’re very proud of our pavements, although they’re expensive to keep up and can be a bit treacherous when it’s wet.
They’re an important part of our heritage and much prized. ’
‘It’s lovely.’
‘You’ll see plenty more around the city and in some of the squares.
We’ll go through Rossio Square this evening– there it’s like an undulating wave, an optical illusion and very disconcerting if you’ve had a few drinks.
Talking of which, would you like a drink now or shall we go straight out? Do you want to change or anything?’
Rebecca glanced down at the towel wrapped around her. ‘I think I’d better.’
‘I meant into something different.’ She considered the plain T-shirt and shorts she’d been wearing earlier. ‘Do I need to?’
He shook his head. ‘No. You can do whatever you like. I’m just going to put a fresh shirt on. But we’re not in a hurry. We can go out for a drink or have one here on the balcony and then go for dinner. What do you fancy eating?’
‘You’re the expert, why don’t you suggest somewhere?’ she said, feeling brave.
‘I know a great place. It’s a Fado house. Music and great food.’
As he was putting a new shirt, she slipped into his bathroom and put on a fresh T-shirt.
She pulled her wet hair out of its usual ponytail, gave it a swift brush and then bundled it back up again.
Her hair was so straight there wasn’t much point trying to do anything with it.
When she was younger, on the very odd occasion she’d tried to curl it, within an hour the curls had dropped out and she’d been left with limp rat tails.
When she came out of the bathroom, her mouth dried at the sight of him in an olive-green short-sleeved linen shirt.
He smelled wonderful, the sort of masculine smell that was probably cedar or sandalwood or something.
Whatever it was, it smelled a lot more sophisticated than the clean, fresh aftershave that Will favoured.
And why was she even thinking about Will now?
Felipe was a different man entirely. He intrigued her, and of course she found him bone-tinglingly attractive too.
It was funny that he was so completely different from Will.
She’d often wondered if her attraction to Will was that he was the antithesis of the men in her family.
Quiet, thoughtful, artistic and not interested in sport at all.
He was a writer and everything her boisterous and loud brothers were not.
Yes, she’d had boyfriends, nothing serious, but none of them had been like Will.
‘You look cross,’ said Felipe, reaching out to touch the frown line that she knew collected just above her nose in an angry V.
‘Sorry, just thinking. You look nice.’
‘And that makes you frown?’
She saw the mischief in his face and laughed. ‘No. So where are we going?’
‘We’re going to an excellent wine bar I know called Nova and then I will take you to Tasquinha Canto do Fado. It’s a small family restaurant known for its Fado singing.’
‘Okay,’ said Rebecca, happy to follow his lead. He took her hand, interlinking his fingers with hers as they left the apartment and walked down several steep streets until they reached a large square, Praca dos Restauradores.
From there they passed the Rossio railway station, which Felipe pointed out while sneaking a quick kiss.
She definitely appreciated Felipe’s tactile approach to tour guiding.
The station looked more like an art gallery or a museum or even a wedding cake with its double horseshoe-shaped entrance surrounded by elaborate stone tracery.
Here the road forked and they took the left, which led into another big square, edged on two sides by tree-lined roads. He gave her hand a squeeze.
‘This is Rossio Square. See the floor.’ They stopped and studied the striking design of wide black waves running across the width of the huge square, which was dominated by a large white marble monument.
She could see what he meant by the optical illusion. The waves almost looked as if they were moving.
‘You could get a bit seasick,’ she commented as they swiftly crossed the square, mingling with other couples also hand in hand on a leisurely evening stroll.
Rebecca smiled, happy to be a part of the scene instead of an onlooker as she had so often been with Will.
She’d been his regular plus-one at so many events– a bystander to everyone else’s fun.
The sun was still warm when they arrived at the chic wine bar.
Outside on the pavement, the cobbles had been arranged into an intricate pattern: intermittent circles with flowers in their centres.
Rebecca found it fascinating that the streets had their own paving designs and she couldn’t imagine the hours it must have taken to lay them.
The small wine bar had several tables on one level with another level at the back, and was decorated with vibrant murals in sea blues.
Low-level chatter added to the relaxed vibe, although she did notice most of the women were in dresses or skirts and she instantly felt that perhaps her shorts were a little too casual.
She was grateful to take a seat by the window and at least hide her bare legs under the table. Felipe picked up the wine list and opened it while Rebecca studied the wall of wines beside her, where apparently you could buy and then pay corkage to drink them.
‘What would you like to drink?’ asked Felipe, looking up from the menu and immediately making her feel like his entire focus was on her.
It was an intrinsic part of him, she realised.
He paid attention to her. It was nice. More than nice.
He made her feel feminine, sexy and visible.
How many times had she felt completely invisible to Will?
‘White wine? A Sauvignon or a Chardonnay? Anything in a glass?’ she joked. ‘I liked the one we had at Calheiros.’
Felipe smiled. ‘In Portugal, wines are from the regions. We don’t focus so much on single grape varieties, although that is changing. Wines are usually blends of different grapes. What sort of style of wine do you like?’
‘I like dry– I’m not really sure. I know what I like but I’m not sure what I don’t like, if that makes sense?’
‘Okay. You liked the Vinho Verde we had before.’ He motioned the waiter over who quickly returned with two glasses and a bottle. He set the glasses down and poured her a taster, which charmed her.
‘I can try it first?’
Felipe nodded.
She took a sip of the fresh and very, very slightly fizzy wine. The barely there bubbles evaporated on her tongue. It was so light, it was the perfect appetiser to the evening.
‘I like that, thank you,’ she said as the waiter filled up her elegant glass without worrying about measures as was the case at home. In fact, once he’d filled Felipe’s glass, the bottle was almost empty so he poured the last of it into her glass with a friendly nod.
‘I like their attitude,’ she said as he walked off.
‘ Saúde ,’ said Felipe, raising his glass and tapping hers when she reciprocated.
‘ Saúde ,’ repeated Rebecca, struggling with unfamiliar word. ‘I take it that’s what you say instead of cheers ?’
‘Actually, there are three different phrases. Saúde , which means health and the most widely used. You can also say à nossa , which is more informal and means to ours as in health, and then’—he lifted his glass—‘some people say chin, chin .’
‘Cute,’ she said. ‘Cheers! It’s handy being here with a native. You’re quite useful.’
She patted his hand jokingly, but he grabbed it and brought it to his mouth, kissing the inside of her wrist.
‘Glad to be of service.’
Inside her, something melted into ridiculous not-like-her-at-all goo, and in retaliation for the sudden mushy feelings, she said, in a deliberately throaty voice, ‘Oh, you were.’
‘Rebecca!’ he reprimanded, laughter in his voice as he pretended to be shocked. The delighted glint in his eye told her he was anything but.
‘Will you be all right if I abandon you tomorrow? I’ve got a few meetings, very dull– although in the afternoon one of them is a wine tasting. You’d be more than welcome to join.’
‘A wine tasting? That’s your idea of a meeting, is it?’
‘Of course. It doesn’t do to work too hard, you know.’
‘We have people come to the brewery for a “tasting”’—she held up her fingers mimicking speech marks—‘and then disappear for a three-hour piss-up in the nearest pub.’ She rolled her eyes.
Her dad and brothers wouldn’t know hard work if it bit them.
It was always her that ended up picking up the slack and sorting out the problems that often arose because they didn’t care enough to put time into getting it right.
‘Work is no fun if you don’t have some fun,’ he quipped.
Once again, she couldn’t help but contrast his attitude towards work to Will’s, who was dedicated and conscientious as much in his work as in his marriage.
Felipe was the polar opposite, which was why he was so easy to be with.
Not to be taken seriously. There was no danger of her falling in love with him– his ‘doesn’t do to work too hard’ attitude was far too similar to the men in her family, whom she’d done her best to distance herself from.
‘I’ll leave you to it. I’d really like to see the city. What do you recommend I do?’
Over their wine, Felipe made several suggestions, punctuating his comments with touches and smiles– she could get very used to that kind of attention.
By the end of the meal, she had several pins on her Google map with ideas of places to visit, recommended cafés to try and the perfect lunch place, a food court where she could try a number of Portuguese delicacies.
‘Thanks, I’m going to have a lovely day.’
‘Yes, but we’re going to have a lovely night, first,’ said Felipe. He pulled her to him as they left the wine bar and placed a quick kiss on the crown of her head. As she melted into him, she reminded herself that she mustn’t get used to this– even if it did feel perfect right now.