Page 36 of The Seven Sisters
‘Meu Deus!I leave you alone for a few minutes and again you turn a strange colour,’ exclaimed Floriano, appearing at the table and looking at me quizzically as he sat down opposite me. ‘What is it now?’
I was amazed he’d noticed my tension for a second time. And I realised it would be difficult to hide anything from this man, who seemed to have a natural, laser-like intuition.
‘Nothing, really,’ I said, tucking my mobile into my handbag. ‘In fact, I feel very relieved.’
‘Good. Now I’m having a Bohemia beer. Will you join me?’
‘I’m not really a fan of beer, to be honest.’
‘But Maia, you’re in Rio! You must drink a beer. It’s that, or acaipirinhacocktail, which I can assure you is far stronger,’ he added.
I agreed to the beer, and when the waitress came over, we both ordered the steak sandwich Floriano recommended.
‘The beef is Argentinean, and although we hate them for beating us at football all too often, we love eating their cows,’ he said with a grin. ‘Now I don’t think I’m able to wait any longer until you show me this precious object of yours.’
‘Okay.’ I brought the tile out of my bag and placed it carefully on the rough trestle table between us.
‘May I?’ he asked as his hands reached towards it.
‘Of course.’
I watched him as he picked it up with care and studied it. He then turned it over and glanced at the faded words on the back.
‘So,’ he breathed, and I sensed his surprise. ‘Only now can I understand what it was that shocked you. And yes, before you even ask, it looks to me as if this was once destined to adorn the body of theCristo. Well, well,’ he commented, the presence of the triangular tile cowing him into silence. Eventually he said, ‘Can you tell me how you came by it?’
So, as our beers arrived and then our steak sandwiches, I told Floriano the whole story. He listened patiently, only interrupting occasionally if he needed a fact explained. By the time I’d finished talking, Floriano’s plate was empty and mine was barely touched.
‘So, now we swap. You will eat while I talk.’ He indicated my plate and I did as I was bid. ‘I can certainly help you on one point, and that is with the name of the family who live in A Casa das Orquídeas. The Aires Cabrals are a very well-known Rio family – aristocratic, in fact. Descended from the old and now redundant Portuguese royal family themselves. Various Aires Cabrals have featured throughout the past two hundred years of Rio’s history.’
‘But I have no proof to show the old woman that I’m anything to do with her family,’ I reminded him.
‘Well, we can’t be sure of that yet. Or, in fact, of anything until we have completed a proper investigation,’ said Floriano. ‘Firstly, it’s very easy for me to trace their history through birth, marriage and death records. With a Catholic family as prominent as theirs, I’m sure the records would have been kept meticulously. And then we need to try to decipher the names on the tile, and see if they match the names of any of the Aires Cabrals.’
I was feeling woozy and jet-lagged now after the beer and my early morning wake-up. ‘Is it worth it?’ I asked him. ‘Even if the names did match, I doubt the old woman would admit to anything.’
‘One step at a time, Maia. And please, try not to be so defeatist. You have flown all the way to Rio to discover your history and you can’t give up after a day. So, with your approval, while you go back to your hotel and take a nap, I will play detective. Yes?’
‘Really, Floriano, I don’t wish to put you to any trouble.’
‘Trouble? To an historian like me, this is a gift! But I warn you, parts of it may end up in my next book,’ he replied with a smile. ‘Now, may I take this with me?’ He indicated the tile. ‘I might pop into the Museu da República to see if any of my friends are around in the lab with their magic UV imaging equipment. They can almost certainly help me decipher the inscription on the back of the tile.’
‘Of course,’ I agreed, feeling it would be churlish to refuse. I suddenly noticed two young women in their twenties hovering shyly behind Floriano.
‘Excuse me, but are you Senhor Floriano Quintelas?’ asked one of the girls, drawing closer to the table.
‘Yes, I am.’
‘We just wanted to say how much we loved your book. And can we please ask for your autograph?’ The girl offered Floriano a small diary and a pen.
‘Of course,’ he smiled as he signed the diary, then chatted easily to the girls. They eventually walked away, blushing in pleasure.
‘So, you’re famous?’ I teased him as we rose from the table.
‘In Rio, yes,’ he shrugged. ‘My book was a bestseller here, but only because I paid people to read it,’ he joked. ‘Many other countries have bought it for translation and will publish it in the next year. So we will wait and see if I am able to give up my profession as a tour guide and write full-time.’
‘Well, I thought it was a beautiful, moving book and I think it will do very well indeed.’
‘Thank you, Maia,’ he said. ‘Now, your hotel is close by,’ he added as he pointed out the direction. ‘And I want to get going before the various departments I need at the Museu da República are closed for the day. Shall I meet you in your hotel lobby tonight at around seven o’clock? I might have some answers for you by then.’
