There were a few sniggers, but Leo nodded innocently, and Barbie Queue popped a halo on his head and slippeda pair of wings over his shoulders. He easily pulled off the angelic look with his chiselled face and cherubic dimples. Clean-cut and clean-living, like a grown-up choirboy.
Barbie Queue launched into ‘Angels’, crooning intensely in Leo’s face as he stared adoringly into her eyes. He could certainly put it on, that was for sure, and he barely flinched when she straddled him.Was that allowed?I side-eyed Brooke who seemed to be enjoying the show.
‘Should we rescue him?’ I asked, lightly.
‘Hell, no, he’s having a great time. Look at that smile.’ She waved over coquettishly while he put his hands under the chair. He was starting to look uncomfortable, which wasn’t surprising – Barbie Queue must weigh at least fifteen stone. She got off him eventually and picked up an armful of fairy-lit halos for the last chorus, spinning them out into the crowd and one by one the audience put them on and turned into angels. Glowing and happy and singing along.
Twelve
Monday 28th June
The rest of the Azores were now fully in view, and we were chugging steadily towards Terceira Island. The harbour looked far too small to accommodate the size and heft ofEsmeralda– something else for my worry list – but presumably Thiago and his brother knew what they were doing. Passengers lined the balconies, waiting patiently in the sunshine as the ship grunted and groaned its way into port, eventually dropping an anchor, or ten, to hold it in position.
Bing bong.‘Ladies and gentlemen, we have now arrived at Terceira Island, and you are free to disembark. You need to scan your cruise card as you leave, so please ensure you have it with you before making your way onto the bridge.’
It felt like we’d been sailing for months and I was desperate to feel land beneath my feet again. Solid, dry land. The greens and blues of the Azores were breathtaking, and it felt like we’d landed in the rainforest, without the flies and the humidity. Fresh, sunny air and a gorgeousmediterranean breeze. I spotted Heidi at the other end of the Main Deck and doubled back down the stairs to avoid her. I wanted to explore on my own for a few hours and listen to my self-actualisation podcast ‘You’re already there’. I hurried over the bridge, pulling my cap low as Arlo scanned me out.
‘Kat! Wait for me!’ Heidi called from the back of the queue, but I ignored her and jumped in the nearest taxi.
‘Olá,’ the driver said, turning down the radio.
‘Olá!Angra,por favor.’
‘Sim.’
‘Obrigado.’
That was the extent of my Portuguese –hello,pleaseandthank you– so I was relieved when he switched his light off and put his foot down. No messing around. The guidebook described Angra do Heroísmo, or Angra for short, as one of three capital cities in the Azores and the perfect place to disappear. It was a half-hour drive and it felt good to be in a car again, safely belted into the back, on wide, empty roads. The breeze tickled my neck through the window as I took in the lush forestry and the Mediterranean blues. The air was fresh in a different way to the cruise ship. Less salty and more… green – the diet my doctor was always recommending. Ornate buildings with elaborate windows whizzed by, giving Gothic fairy-tale vibes as we arrived into Angra’s historic centre. The grand church stood watch over the main square, a pale blue triumph with duomo-topped turrets either side of an ornate clock. Rows of white villas ran along the beachfront with sandy-tiled tops and colourful shutters, in turquoise, lime and cherry red.
The taxi pulled up in the harbour, outside a cosy coffee shop, and I went from sitting in the car to sitting in the sunshine. Peace. At. Last.
‘Olá. You are very welcome. What can I get you?’ A chunky man in a white shirt and jeans fussed around the table and presented me with a menu.
‘Good morning.Café con leche, por favor,’ I said, hoping my Spanish was close enough to Portuguese and desperate for some caffeine. ‘Do you have any pastries? Or something sweet to go with the coffee?’ I didn’t know the Portuguese for that.
‘Sim– but of course! You must try our local specialty – the Dona Amélia,’ he said, with pride. ‘Delicious, I promise you. Honey and cinnamon… mwah – one is never enough, huh?’
‘Sold,’ I said, closing the menu and handing it back. I looked out across the harbour and felt my shoulders drop in relief. The water slapped gently against the fishing boats as they returned with their morning haul, and tourists were taking photos and milling about, waiting for their boat trips to the other islands. A pair of tanned teenagers in vest tops and shorts stopped in front of me to stare at their phones, seemingly unbothered by their enormous red backpacks.
‘It’s this way!’ one of them huffed, pointing at a road sign withMonte Brasilin clear type. The highest point on the island was just beyond the city and jutted out into the ocean. Apparently the views were magnificent from the top but I couldn’t think of anything worse than hiking all that way in the heat.
The waiter reappeared with my coffee and a lumpy fairy cake covered in icing sugar, and I slipped on my headphonesand closed my eyes. Pure. Bliss. Nobody wanted anything from me – well, theydid, theyalwaysdid, but they couldn’t ask me unless they found me, and nobody would find me here. I could listen to my podcast in peace. Bryce Donnelly had been pepping me up with his words of affirmation for over ten years now. Well known as the ‘Aussie Gu-roo,’ he was the master of self-actualisation. When I’d been ghosted by dates in the past, Bryce was the only man who could snap me out of my misery. His message was one of control and empowerment. Apparently men ignoring me was a good thing. Every ghosting took me a step closer to finding the right one and becoming myself. Bryce said I could have anything I wanted – and what I currently wanted was to win this pitch.
The music started and I felt myself get into the zone. ‘Whatever it is you’re dreaming about, whatever it is you want. Imagine you already have it,’ Bryce lilted softly, in his hot, Aussie accent, then paused for effect. ‘You’ve got it. Say it with me.I’ve got it. It’s already mine.’
‘I’ve got it. It’s already mine,’ I repeated, mouthing the words as I exhaled.
‘Louder!’ Bryce could be very persuasive when he wanted to be.
‘I’ve got it. It’s already mine!’ I said to no one in particular.
‘Now say I’ve done it; I’VE WON,’ Bryce cried.
‘I’VE DONE IT; I’VE WON.’
I felt a tap on my shoulder and jumped. Leo was standing over me, and I nearly knocked my coffee over, whipping off my headphones.
‘Can I help you?’ I said, astonished to find him once again in my earhole. How had he found me here?
