Neither of us says another word as the album begins to play, and after a while the warmth of his arm against mine and the gentle rocking of the train make my eyelids droop. Without thinking, I rest my head on his shoulder.
In my semi-conscious state, my mind drifts back to my last visit to Nottingham to see Stella on Valentine’s Day. To her prickish boyfriend, Julian, and the drugs I didn’t say anything about. Stella sensed that I was upset about something and she was frustrated with me for not being straight with her.
But my patience for her has always been immeasurable – she is my rock, my champion, my home – so I didn’t lay into her about the company she was keeping. And look how that turned out.
‘Are you all right?’ Ash asks as we arrive at the Quinta da Regaleira.
‘I’m a little hungover,’ I say to explain my quiet mood.
‘Yeah, I’m feeling it too,’ he replies.
I wonder if he’s using that as an excuse, like I am. I’ve been so caught up in my own thoughts that I haven’t considered where his head might be at. We said a lot of vulnerable things to each other last night. Did he mean it when he asked me to go travelling with him? Does he have regrets?
I don’t want to overthink – I want to be present for our last few hours together – but it’s a tall order.
It takes us half an hour to walk up to the Quinta da Regaleira via Sintra’s pretty town centre and the place is alreadyswarming with people. Through the wrought-iron gates, we can see gleaming white spires and ornate chimneys rising out of a sea of greenery. We’re keen to check out the palace later, but we agree to go straight to the Initiation Well.
It turns out that everyone else has had the same idea. The line of people snaking away from the cave-like entrance goes on and on, up a dusty curved path edged with ferns and boulders. The further uphill we climb, the more hopeless I begin to feel.
This well was Stella’s main reason for wanting to come to Portugal. She saw it on Instagram that last time I visited her and she thought it looked like something out ofA Court of Thorns and Roses, the book she’d just finished reading. She’d already insisted I borrow it, but when she started researching other cool things to do in Lisbon, she grabbed it back and scribbled her list on the inside cover.
That book links me to Stella, to this place, and I needed to come today to feel closer to her.
But this queue is too much.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ I say desperately, slowing to a stop.
‘Why don’t we come back later?’ Ash suggests. ‘What time’s your train?’
‘Four o’clock,’ I reply dully.
‘It’s okay, we’ve got hours. Maybe the queue will die down.’
‘I really don’t want to miss out on seeing it.’
He places his hand on my shoulder. ‘I promise that you won’t.’
When I meet his eyes, I believe him. I release a long breath and nod and then we turn to head back down the hill.
Off in the distance are the yellow dome and red tower of the famous Pena Palace, and in the foreground, on the lower part of the property, mist rises up over towering palms, leafy tree ferns and primeval-looking cycads.
‘Check that out!’ Ash exclaims, coming to a stop by a white stone wall.
‘It must be water vapour from the fountains,’ I say as I join him. ‘Real mist would have burned off in this heat.’
‘Let’s pretend. It makes this place seem more mystical.’
I give him a small smile. My mind is still in overdrive about whether he feels awkward about last night, but the smile he mirrors back at me allows me to relax a little.
‘Do you want to sit down a sec? Take a breather?’ He nods past me at a stone bench seat that has been carved out of a boulder.
I nod.
The temperature is brutal, but it’s relatively cool once we take a seat in the shade of the giant oak branching out over our heads.
‘What do you know about this place?’ Ash asks as he gets a packet of spearmints out of his pocket and offers me one.
‘Only that it was built on the whim of a very rich man and by an Italian architect who used to design opera sets. Oh, and that it has approximately five hundred different species of trees from all around the world.’
