Page 78 of The One That I Want

‘By day, he provides a vital service to workers on the Strand,’ Ewan says, playing along.

‘By night, he rearranges the crockery, saving over-orderers from having to drag across a second table.’

‘We’re a bit daft,’ he says affectionately.

‘We are,’ I agree, ‘but also hilarious.’

‘Well, that goes without saying.’

He tops up my wine, then we start eating, bites interspersed with exclamations of ‘wow’ and ‘you’ve got to try this’. When we’ve made a decent effort on the array, but I can’t possibly eat another thing, I sit back and dab my napkin at the corners of my mouth, then lay it in my lap.

‘That was…’ I shake my head and sigh contentedly, ignoring the niggling questions buzzing at the back of my mind. As I told myself earlier, now is not the time to delve into an analysis of my friendship with Ewan.

‘It absolutely was,’ he agrees. ‘There’s still a splash of wine left.’

‘Oh, go on, then.’ He pours the remainder of the bottle evenly between our two glasses. ‘You mentioned Porto and Barcelona earlier… I’ve never been to either – did I say?’

‘You alluded to it.’

‘Right, so which should I visit first?’

‘Which is my favourite?’ he asks, touching his hand to his chest. He sucks his breath in through his teeth.

‘Too difficult to choose?’

‘Itisa bit of a conundrum. I mean, Porto is…breathtaking. The Douro… it’s as if the city was there first and the river carved its way right through the middle… And the buildings… There’s this kaleidoscope of colour and textures and they’re all piled up haphazardly, as if a child built the city out of Lego without any planning or forethought… And the terracotta roofs! They form this bright-orange blanket across the entire city. And if you ride the Gaia Gondola, which is on the southern bank of the river, or if you walk across the top of Luis I Bridge, you get to see all of it from on high. It truly is incredible.’

‘So, Porto then?’

‘Actually, I’d have to say Barcelona.’

‘What?’ I ask, laughing. ‘After gushing like that about Porto?’

‘I told you it was a conundrum. There’s a wild kind of beauty to Porto, but you see, I can’t go past the carefully planned order of Barcelona. You’ve probably seen an aerial photograph of how the city blocks are laid out?’ he asks, and I nod. ‘Well, that. Plus, I love the architecture, especially in the Gothic Quarter.Andthe food. Oh god, the food.’

‘What about the food in Portugal?’

He makes a face.

‘Also not your favourite?’

‘It’s… Let’s just say I prefer the food in Spain.’

‘Ahh. And, tell me, if what you like about Barcelona is the order and how everything’s laid out just so, how do you reconcile Gaudi’s work? I mean, isn’t that the opposite of order? I’ve only seen photos, of course, but Sagrada Familia looks like a set of ancient candelabras all bunched together – and the candles have burnt down over and over again through the decades, but no one’s ever cleaned up the melted wax.’

‘That’s… I’ve never heard it described that way before,’ he says appreciatively. ‘There’s the writer coming out again.’

‘You didn’t answer my question,’ I tease.

‘Your quest— Oh, right. I suppose it’s the juxtaposition,’ he says, holding out both hands to illustrate. ‘The order and the chaos together – the contrast…’

‘A bit like people,’ I say. ‘I find that the ones I gravitate towards or am closest to are a mass of contradictions. Like my best friend, Tiggy – she’s this chaotic person who lives whimsically and with verve, yet she’s a graphic designer and her work has to be so precise – she’s also very tech savvy and a total neat freak. So, like you said, the order and the chaos together – but in a person.’

‘She sounds incredible.’

‘She is,’ I say, smiling fondly at the mention of my bestie.

‘Only fitting really.’

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