‘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.
There was evidence of the city’s artistic heart at every turn, from the patterned tiles – or azulejos, as Josephine reminded her – on the buildings to the posters stapled onto boards and lampposts, advertising everything from outdoor concerts to exhibitions. Pepper was enchanted by all of it – even the graffiti – and stopped numerous times to take photos. There were barely any tags or political statements, such as those she was used to seeing scrawled across surfaces in England, but rather Banksy-style cat-and-mouse stencils, colourful rows of aliens and what looked to be a teddy bear riding a sardine. Much of the more impressive street art had been created from mosaic tiles, and Pepper gazed in appreciation at a peacock, an elephant and the image of a vase filled with bright blue hydrangeas.
The temperature that morning was comfortable, a mid-dial warm rather than sticky, and the faint breeze that danced along Pepper’s arms felt like a caress. Despite taking out her phone every ten or so minutes – far more than she ever did at home – Pepper had yet to contact Finn. What had felt so exciting yesterday now just seemed silly. While Finn had undeniably got her attention, he was by no means the first man to catch Pepper’s eye as she passed him. He was, however, the first who had ever come back.
Men never came back.
Josephine had been very keen to bring up the subject of Finn as they had breakfast.
‘For what it’s worth,’ she had said, smearing butter across slices of dark, nutty rye bread, ‘I don’t think men like that come along very often.’
‘Men like what?’ Pepper asked, feigning ignorance.
‘A gentleman,’ Josephine stated, fixing her with one of the no-nonsense stares Pepper had come to know so well over the past year. ‘One that is handsome, polite, clean, and has all his own teeth.’
Pepper had been forced to fight the rising tide of a grin. ‘OK,’ she allowed. ‘I’ll let you have the handsome – but how can you really know if he’s polite all the time? He might curse his mother behind closed doors, for all we know. And he might have looked clean, on the outside, but what if he’s been wearing the same pair of pants for a fortnight?’
‘Not possible.’ Josephine lifted her water glass. ‘A man with fingernails that well-tended definitely looks after himself – mark my words.’
‘Why on earth were you examining his nails?’
Josephine had given her a wry smile. ‘I was checking for a wedding ring, darling.’
‘Even if he is single,’ Pepper allowed, taking a sip of coffee. ‘And we have no way of really knowing. But even if that is the case, I still don’t think I should message him. I’m here to keep you company and help you find Jorge. I’m hardly going to bugger off and leave you by yourself just so I can meet a strange man I’ll probably never see again. Who, by the way, could be an axe murderer who doesn’t wash his pants.’
She had torn a slice of bread into pieces as she talked, and Josephine eyed the crumbs with amusement.
‘If you don’t mind me saying,’ she remarked, ‘you seem rather . . . frustrated. In fact, might I be so bold as to suggest that a date with an attractive man might be exactly what you need.’
‘Stop!’ Pepper had given in to helpless laughter. ‘Please! I’m begging you.’
Josephine had relented then, but not before telling Pepper that she must ‘pay attention to what fate is telling you’.
Pepper, however, had already made up her mind that she was not going to message Finn. So many times, she had met a man and felt the same fizzing excitement, only to have her hopes dashed after the first few hours, when it became apparent that the two of them had little in common, or that she liked him far more than he liked her. Twice she had accidentally ended up on dates with married men whom she’d met on dating apps, and once she had gone for a coffee with a local farmer who seemed perfect, only for the two of them to be accosted mid-latte by his ex-girlfriend, who told him through sobs that she had made a big mistake and wanted him back. Pepper had left them kissing at the table, bewildered and frustrated at having made yet another bad choice. Against all that, the allure of love – real love – was a strong one. Pepper still wanted to find it and remained convinced that she would, but she needed more of a sign than merely bumping into someone.