‘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, Praça 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 weddingcake 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 besideher, 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?’
