The sight of her sent a thousand thoughts shooting through my synapses. Never good at making immediate decisions, I stood there cowering, half an eye cocked towards the old woman who might or might not be related to me.
I looked up above me to the heavens and knew instinctively that Pa had never shrunk away from moments such as this. And for the first time in my adult life, neither would I.
I stepped out into full view of the woman and walked towards her. She didn’t turn her head towards me as I drew nearer. And when I was finally close enough to see her properly, I saw her eyes were closed and that she appeared to be asleep.
This gave me the opportunity to look at her face in more detail. I wondered if I should recognise some features of my own, but I knew there was every chance she would be a total stranger – someone who had occupied the house for the thirty-three years I’d been away from it.
‘Desculpe?Can I help you, senhorita?’
I almost jumped out of my skin as I heard a soft voice behind me and turned around. A stick-thin, elderly African woman with wiry greying hair and dressed in an old-fashioned maid’s uniform was looking at me suspiciously.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said quickly. ‘I couldn’t get any answer at the front door . . .’
The woman put a finger to her lips. ‘Hush, she is sleeping. Why are you here?’
‘Because I . . .’ How on earth did I encapsulate the truth to this woman in a few whispered words? ‘I’ve been told I have a connection to this house and I’d like to speak to the owner.’
I felt her appraise me and there was a sudden flicker of her eyes as her gaze came to rest on my neck.
‘Senhora Carvalho is seeing no one. She is very sick and in much pain.’
‘Well, perhaps you can tell her I called.’ I opened my bag and looked inside for one of my cards, which I handed to the maid. ‘I’m staying at the Caesar Park Hotel. Can you say I very much want to talk to her?’
‘I can, but it will make no difference,’ the maid said abruptly.
‘May I ask how long the lady in the chair has lived in this house?’
‘For all of her life. Now, I will see you out.’
Her words sent shivers through me and I threw one last glance at the old woman in the chair. If Pa Salt and his coordinates were correct, itmustmean that she was somehow related to me. I turned, and the maid began to escort me back across the terrace. We’d reached the corner of the house when a weak voice echoed towards us.
‘Who is she?’
We both stopped and turned round, and I saw the glint of fear in the maid’s eyes.
‘Forgive me, Senhora Carvalho, I did not wish to disturb you,’ she answered.
‘You are not. I have been watching you for the last five minutes. Bring her over. We can’t have a conversation one hundred metres apart.’
The maid did as her mistress asked and reluctantly walked me back across the terrace and down the steps into the garden. She ushered me in front of the old woman, and then read out the details of my card.
‘She is Senhorita Maia D’Aplièse and she is a translator.’
Now face to face with the woman, I could see she was emaciated, her skin a deathly grey, as though her life force was slowly ebbing away. But as her gimlet eyes swept over me, and a fleeting look of recognition and shock passed across them, I knew she was mentally alert.
‘Why are you here?’ she asked.
‘It’s a long story.’
‘What do you want?’
‘Nothing, I . . .’
‘Senhorita D’Aplièse told me that she had an association with this house,’ said the maid, almost, I thought, encouragingly.
‘Really? And what kind of association would that be?’
‘I’ve been told that this was the house in which I was born,’ I said.
