‘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,Mãe.’
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 issopa 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 mymãeand myavóbefore 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 thisbroa 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…’Deliciousseemed 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.’
