‘That’s an English word I’m not familiar with. I can recommend thesalada de polvoand thebacalhau à brás. Both are excellent.’
‘Oh, say that again. They sound so much sexier in your accent,’ she teased.
He shook his head in mock disapproval. ‘What am I going to do with you, Rebecca?’
‘I’m sure you’ll think of something.’
‘I need to eat… to keep my strength up. Why don’t I order those and you can try them?’
‘I’ll give them a whirl, and if I don’t like them, you can buy me another drink.’
‘I bet you will.’ He folded his arms and leaned forward and tilted one eyebrow.
‘Confident, much?’
‘What’s not to like?’ he said with an indolent shrug. ‘I know I’ll win this bet.’
‘It’s not much of a bet if I’m betting on myself not to like them– I’m losing both ways then, because I might starve.’
He laughed. ‘I wouldn’t let you starve. You need to keep your strength up too.’ His innocent smile wasn’t fooling anyone. ‘What about prawns? You like them?’
It was silly to be touched that he’d remembered but she was.
‘Love prawns, and the flaming meat skewer sounds good.’ She wanted some authority over the choices.
‘Excellent.’
Just as the wine arrived, an elegant older woman with swept-back grey hair, whom Rebecca had noticed upon their arrival, stood up in the centre of the room. Her regal bearing drew all eyes as she began to sing in a beautiful, deep, soulful voice,accompanied by a young man perched on a stool in the corner of the room playing a complicated-looking guitar.
‘She is the fadista,’ explained Felipe in a low voice. The timbre of the woman’s vocals caught at Rebecca’s heart, and she thought she was being a little fanciful but there was so much raw emotion in the woman’s mournful melody. Even though she couldn’t understand the lyrics, she felt profoundly moved. It wasn’t anything Rebecca had ever heard before and she raised her eyebrows in question at Felipe.
‘This is Fado,’ he said with a sigh, and his eyes took on a dreamy expression that she’d not seen before. ‘Listen.’ He took her hand and weaved his fingers through hers.
As the woman moved around the small restaurant singing to the tables, Rebecca felt the music flow through her. When Felipe squeezed her hand, she felt a connection between them that deepened with the swooping notes of the mournful song. The room around her faded as the music wrapped its words around her.
When the woman finished, it took a moment to refocus on the world. She smiled a little dopily at Felipe. ‘That was… amazing.’ She waved a hand in front of her face as if trying to brush away the unexpected emotion. Her took her hand and covered it with his as if to help her anchor back to reality.
‘I know. There’s something about Fado… something special. Some say it’s the soul of Lisbon.’
‘What is it exactly?’ asked Rebecca, feeling they’d just shared something magical.
Felipe leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment.
‘It originated in Lisbon among the working classes. Fado is a word for “fate” and the songs are about the destiny ofpoor, working people trying to survive the trials of everyday life in the city. It’s all about yearning and longing for love or for a better life or the hope that the future will bring so much more.’
Rebecca knew all about longing and yearning– she’d been doing that for too many years. She’d wasted so much of her life. She was sick of yearning for something she couldn’t have. A buzz of anger vibrated through her.
‘It sounds more romantic than it is,’ she blurted out.
To her surprise, Felipe’s mouth turned down in an uncharacteristic sorrowful frown, his eyes shadowed. ‘Yes, there’s nothing romantic about yearning for something you can’t have. It’s a waste of time and energy.’ He looked a tiny bit bitter, which was so unlike him. She turned her hand over and gave his a squeeze.
‘I’ve wasted a lot of time and energy waiting for Will.’ She shook her head. ‘Not anymore. I’m going to embrace life.’ She gave him a very direct look and Felipe’s mouth curved upwards in a slow, satisfied smile.
‘Are you now?’
‘Yes,’ she said, propping her chin on her other hand and holding his gaze before deliberately dropping her eyes to his mouth.
‘I’m sure I can help with that.’ He picked up her hand, lifting it to his mouth and pressing a kiss in the centre of her palm. Heat scorched its way through her, fast and hot, firing up an urge to run her index finger across his lower lip. He captured it in a gentle hold between his teeth, his tongue touching the sensitive pad of her fingertip.
