Hello, Again Page 4

  This she did, but try as she might, Pepper could never get her grades back to where she wanted them, and by the end of that academic year, she was so disheartened that she gave up. On the rare occasions that she created art now, she always found it lacking, and each failure pushed her self-confidence down further. As far as Pepper was concerned, teaching the very basics was all she was good for, and so that was the level at which she stayed.

  The grouting was finished now, so she set each block aside to dry, and sat for a while looking out towards the garden, at the colourful banks of flowers, the terracotta pots decorated in mosaic patterns, the neat little pond surrounded by painted stones, and the bird table she had constructed from driftwood washed up on Aldeburgh beach.

  The urge to paint was needling her. It had been so long, yet perhaps, this time, she would achieve something special. If she didn’t give in, the compulsion would drive her to distraction – prevent her from sleeping.

  Mind made up, Pepper got to her feet and moved quickly, her body making the decision before her head had time to interfere. Switching off the radio, she searched through the music on her phone until she found the Prodigy and, turning it up to its highest volume, plugged in her headphones, pressed play, and selected a blank tile from the stack beside the door. Snatching up her paints, she daubed on first green, then pinks, purples and creams. The frothy outline of the lilac flowers appeared within moments, and Pepper barely waited for the paint to settle before she changed brushes to add details to petal and leaf. Her heart raced as the music thundered to a crescendo in her ears, and all the while her hand moved seamlessly across the tile, daubing, tweaking, perfecting. It was so easy, so joyful, so uncomplicated – Pepper could feel her shoulders knotting with effort, yet she continued to work, so set on finishing what she had started that she failed to notice the light begin to fade beyond the windows.

  Once she was satisfied, Pepper took a deep breath and switched off her music, closing her eyes briefly as vibrations of silence rushed into the void. Lifting the tile carefully so as not to disturb the paint, she carried it across from the table to the more solid work bench and set it down almost lovingly amongst the sawdust and curls of stripped wood. The delicate floral pattern was so lifelike that she could almost smell its sweet aroma.

  Hearing a noise in the garden, she swung round to find Josephine making her slow way along the path, her hand raised in greeting. Pepper opened the door.

  ‘Hello, darling – there you are!’ Josephine beamed. ‘I knocked and knocked, then tried the door and found it open – I hope you don’t mind?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Pepper said, wondering why her friend hadn’t tried to call.

  ‘I’m afraid I forgot my mobile,’ Josephine explained, as if she read Pepper’s mind. ‘I would forget my arms and legs these days, if they weren’t attached – oh!’ she exclaimed, gazing down at the tile on the workbench. ‘How wonderful – did you just paint this?’

  Pepper reddened.

  ‘It really is quite remarkable,’ Josephine appraised, bending over for a closer look.

  Pepper leant over reluctantly until their noses were level, then her blood seemed to come to a halt in her veins. The breeze coming in through the open door had blown some of the stray chippings across the tile, smudging the wet paint in several places, and dust had adhered itself to the petals.

  As Josephine continued to offer praise, Pepper gathered up a small key from a hook on the wall and made her way to the cab-inet in the far corner, unlocking a drawer and extracting the tool she needed. Before she had time to change her mind, she returned to the workbench and, in a single decisive motion, brought down her hammer and smashed the tile into tiny pieces.

  Josephine recoiled.

  ‘Good God! What on earth did you do that for?’

  Pepper shrugged, her eyes on the broken shards.

  ‘It was ruined,’ she said simply. ‘Worthless.’

  ‘Darling, it absolutely was not,’ Josephine assured her. ‘I thought it was beautiful.’

  ‘It wasn’t good enough,’ Pepper insisted firmly. ‘It was just a silly tile,’ she added, when Josephine looked as if she was going to protest further. ‘Forget about it.’

  Scooping up the pieces, she tossed them into the bin.

  ‘Tea?’ she suggested brightly, reaching for the light switch, but Josephine shook her head. If Pepper didn’t know any better, she would have said her friend looked sheepish.

  ‘What’s up?’ she asked suspiciously.

  ‘With me? Oh, nothing, darling. I was just wondering if you’d given any thought to what we discussed at the pub?’

  Pepper cast her mind once again to the book she had found, and to what Bethan would say if she were here. What would her sister make of the fact that she had never been abroad, simply because she was too scared, too anchored in Aldeburgh? She had thought that there were a hundred reasons not to go, but now she saw there was only really one – herself.

  ‘I have,’ she said, starting to smile. ‘And I think . . . Oh, sod it. I’m in. Let’s do it!’

  Josephine clapped her hands together in delight. Pepper suspected that she would have jumped up and down on the spot if she were able.

  ‘I am so glad to hear you say that,’ she said, still looking slightly shamefaced. ‘Because I am afraid there is a small chance I may have already booked the two of us a flight that leaves next week.’

  Chapter 7

  The rain that greeted Pepper and Josephine as they emerged from central Lisbon’s Santa Apolónia train station began so rapidly, and fell with such insistency, that for the first few minutes, all they could do was stand and stare – watching in open-mouthed awe as the droplets pummelled the surrounding trees and drenched the canvas umbrellas propped open outside a café on the opposite side of the street.

  There was that smell, too – the warm, metallic tang that sun-bleached paving stones give off when they have been doused in water. Steam seemed to rise from the ground beneath Pepper’s feet, as if the earth itself was sighing in contentment. She took it all in, her senses reeling and her mind whirling at the ludicrousness of her situation – of her being abroad for the first time, on a mission to retrace the steps of a love affair from the distant past. But while it might be bizarre, it was happening – she was here now, and she was determined to make the absolute most of every single moment.

  She and Josephine waited until the downpour had slowed to a trickle before making their way to one of the waiting taxis, Pepper’s wheelie case making a pleasant clackety-clacking sound as she pulled it across the cobbled street. They told the driver where they were staying, then relaxed back against the cracked leather seats as he started the engine.

  Pepper had fired up her ancient computer a few days ago and spent an enjoyable evening scrolling through images of the city, but it was a very different experience actually being here. Houses of all colours, from primrose yellow to faded pink and cool mint green, sat shoulder-to-shoulder along curved narrow streets, each one leaning against the next like packed-in concertgoers at a sold-out gig. Pepper tilted her gaze upwards as they drove and saw toothy grins where there were balconies, and dark eyes where painted shutters had been pulled together behind tall, elegant windows.

  They passed gift shops, wine bars, laundromats and tiny art galleries, all with their doors propped open in genial invitation. Chalkboard signs outside restaurants boasted of fresh fish caught that day, craft beers, and port sold by the glass. As well as the kaleidoscopic window displays, there was graffiti scrawled artfully across walls, and azulejos of all patterns and colours plastered up the facades of the buildings.

  The rain had stripped the petals from a vibrant bougainvillea overhanging the entrance to their hotel, leaving them strewn like confetti amongst the cobbles. Bending over to pick one up, Pepper caught the sweet, unmistakable scent of just-baked bread drifting out from a patisserie and felt her stomach rumble with longing.

  ‘It’s every bit as beautiful as I remember,’
murmured Josephine, whose entire demeanour seemed to be softening by the second.

  ‘I love it,’ Pepper agreed, smiling across at her friend. ‘I can’t believe I’m actually here.’

  Josephine clutched her arm, giving it a quick squeeze.

  ‘Darling, this is just the very beginning of our adventure.’

  Half an hour later, having unpacked, showered and swapped her comfortable flight ensemble of leggings and oversized shirt for a lime-green playsuit covered in toucans, Pepper ventured back downstairs and found Josephine propped up at the hotel bar.

  ‘Nice hat,’ she appraised, taking in the UFO-sized adornment that her friend had balanced across her lap. She had changed, too, into a long flowing dress covered with flowers.

  ‘Feel free to shelter underneath it if it rains again,’ Josephine said, gesturing for Pepper to sit on the stool beside her. ‘Do you want anything to drink?’

  ‘No, thanks.’ Pepper frowned at the glass of what looked suspiciously like gin and tonic in her friend’s hand. ‘Bit early for me.’

  ‘It’s sparkling water, darling,’ Josephine lifted her drink so that Pepper could smell it. ‘I’m not half as much of an old lush as you think I am.’

  ‘I think you’re very lush,’ Pepper told her loyally.

  She was remarkably serene, considering she was back in the place that meant so much to her, where so many memories were lurking around corners waiting to be rediscovered. Pepper was about to ask her how she was feeling, when Josephine disarmed her with one of her mischievous grins.

  ‘The fizz has done the trick,’ she announced. ‘I feel fit as a Cossack dancer, about ready to skip through the streets.’ Then, when Pepper gave her an incredulous look, ‘Come along, then – toodle-pip!’

  Outside, a late-afternoon sun had broken through and ushered away any remaining rainclouds. The higher they climbed through the twisty, shaded streets of the Alfama district, the better the view across the city became. Lisbon’s famed terracotta rooftops glowed like embers against a periwinkle sky, the Rio Tejo sparkled sapphire blue below them, and tramlines slithered like silvery eels across the roads and up around corners.

  Josephine seemed content to simply wander for the time being and reacquaint herself with the area, so she and Pepper followed what seemed to be the natural direction through the backstreets, eventually finding themselves at the edge of a wide, tiled viewing platform. There were tables and chairs arranged haphazardly around a small kiosk, but every single spot was occupied by a mixture of tourists and locals. Pepper could tell the latter from their deep tans and casual manner, while the pale-limbed British were all stiffness and sunburnt faces.

  Around yet another corner, in the shadow of a vast white-stone church, they came across a quaint yet rather shabby courtyard. The flowerbeds were unkempt, and cracks crisscrossed the surrounding walls, but little could detract from the beauty of a large blue-and-white mural. Pepper ran her eye over every individual tile, absorbing each brush stroke with mounting pleasure. The city was steadily working its ambient magic on her – she already sensed that there was less noise inside her head, fewer drumbeats inside her heart.

  There was a second courtyard below the one they were in now, and Pepper could see that it had a long shallow pool at its centre, as well as a tiled seating area overhung with yet more gaudy fronds of bougainvillea. As she followed Josephine down the steps, Pepper noticed a man walking up from the other direction. Tall and broad-shouldered, with a flop of golden hair hanging over his eyes, he was incongruous among all the small, dark Portuguese.

  As they drew level with one another, Pepper sneaked a closer look, only to blush as she realised he was staring right back. As their eyes met, the man smiled at her with such warmth and familiarity, that for a moment, she was taken aback, wondering if she somehow knew him.

  ‘Hallo.’

  Pepper felt her cheeks heat up all in a rush.

  ‘Er, hello.’

  Grinning as she dropped her gaze, Pepper fixed her eyes firmly ahead and tried to resist the need to turn around. The urge to have another look at this handsome specimen was a strong one. Whoever this man was, he was easily one of the most attractive Pepper had ever seen. He might even be the most attractive.

  She suppressed a ridiculous giggle and forced herself to keep walking, but the encounter had made her feel so skittish that she almost collided with Josephine at the bottom of the steps.

  ‘What’s the big hurry?’ she asked, looking over Pepper’s shoulder with intrigue.

  ‘Nobody. I mean nothing.’ Pepper cringed.

  Josephine removed her sunglasses and squinted up the steps.

  ‘Hello. Yes, you there,’ she called. Then, to Pepper’s horror, began to beckon with her hand.

  What on earth was she playing at?

  To the blond man’s credit, he did look rather embarrassed to have been summoned, and the smile he offered Pepper looked a lot like one of defeat.

  ‘Hi.’ Pepper shifted from one sandalled foot to the other.

  ‘Hello, again.’ He didn’t offer either of them a hand to shake, but when Josephine extended one of her own, he took it.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said then, sounding amused. ‘How are you today?’

  He had an accent, Pepper realised – Dutch perhaps, or maybe German.

  ‘We are extremely well, thank you,’ said Josephine, who was eyeing him in the same way Paddington Bear might a jar of marmalade. Pepper opened her mouth and shut it again. She couldn’t seem to stop smiling, but the ability to speak had apparently abandoned her completely

  The man beamed at her.

  ‘I thought that–– That we . . .’ He looked helplessly at Pepper.

  ‘Liked the look of each other?’ suggested Josephine.

  The man nodded, rubbing his hand across his jaw as he did so.

  ‘Perhaps, yes.’

  ‘How wonderful,’ she exclaimed.

  Pepper was torn between wanting to laugh and wishing the ground would open up and swallow her whole. She had gone past standard humiliation and into a realm of mortification previously unknown. Was it possible to simply stop living because you were so embarrassed? Pepper felt sure she would soon find out.

  Josephine was now busy introducing them.

  ‘And this is my very good friend, Philippa.’

  ‘Pepper.’ So, she could speak after all.

  ‘Finn.’

  Another smile. He was grinning wider than the Tiger Who Came to Tea – after he’d emptied all the kitchen cupboards.

  Pepper searched in vain for some more words – for any words. She was aware of Josephine looking back and forth between the two of them as if she was watching a tennis match, her unbridled delight at the situation threatening to bubble over like microwaved porridge.

  ‘We should . . .’ Pepper began, feeling herself redden. ‘I, er, we have to be somewhere.’

  ‘Ah.’ The man took a step backwards. ‘Perhaps I can take your number?’

  Pepper’s face must have registered her surprise, because he immediately started to apologise.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, folding and then unfolding his arms. ‘You must think I am a madman. I promise, I don’t do this. I have not done this before.’ He motioned towards the steps.

  Pepper wondered if this was a TV show, if any minute now, the old ladies she had seen selling cherry liqueur in open doorways would throw off their black shawls and reveal themselves to be the hosts of a hidden-camera series, designed to humiliate lonely, love-starved women.

  ‘That’s OK,’ she managed. ‘And I don’t think you’re mad – not yet anyway.’

  Looking more hopeful now than before, Finn took his phone out of his pocket.

  ‘Why don’t I take your number instead?’ she blurted, yanking out her own phone and holding it out triumphantly.

  ‘OK,’ he agreed, his smile slipping a fraction. ‘How many days will you stay?’

  ‘Oh, not long,’ she garbled, talking across Josephine. ‘Just a few.’


  Finn took her phone from her and tapped in his number.

  ‘You will send me a message?’

  ‘Yes, sure. I mean, why not?’

  The sun had slipped down between a gap in the buildings and was shining right into her eyes. Pepper blinked, wishing she had Josephine’s hat to hide under.

  ‘OK,’ said Finn, sounding more cheerful. ‘Maybe we can go for a coffee – or a beer?’

  ‘Yes. Maybe.’

  ‘Right.’

  He looked as if he wanted to give in to laughter, as if this entire situation was pure comedy. ‘I will go now,’ he said. ‘Nice to meet you both.’

  ‘Oh, the pleasure was all ours,’ called out Josephine, waving with unbridled enthusiasm as he strode away.

  Finn made it only a few steps before he stopped and looked down at Pepper once again, his gaze sending a bolt of delicious electricity right through her insides. She had been in Lisbon for less than two hours, and already it felt as if her life had changed.

  Was history about to repeat itself? Was she going to fall in love just as Josephine and Jorge had done all those years ago?

  In that moment, Pepper had never wanted to believe in something more.

  Chapter 8

  After the relative serenity of Aldeburgh, Pepper was surprised by how invigorating she found the bustle and noise of Lisbon.

  Scores of people meandered lazily through the braided backstreets, many of them slipping off the edges of the slim pavements like lemmings, spilling onto the wide roads only to stumble back a few seconds later as a passing tram jangled past. Music filtered out from the open doors of restaurants and bars, the sound competing with the buskers who seemed to have set themselves up at every second corner.

  They reached the outskirts of Alfama with relative ease, stopping every now and then at Pepper’s insistence to allow Josephine to rest. The streets became wider as they crossed into the neighbouring district of Bairro Alto, with its kooky boutiques and steep labyrinthine pathways. The wasp-like buzz of moped engines filled the air, as tanned youths in shorts and flip-flops zoomed past them at speed, one carefree knee cocked out to the side in a gesture of insouciance.