Page 93 of The Seven Sisters
‘Would you like to come round later this evening? Apparently, Valentina is cooking me supper tonight. You’d be welcome to join us.’
‘No, I wouldn’t want to intrude.’
‘You won’t be, really. Actually, it’s my birthday today,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Anyway, as I said, you’re very welcome.’
‘Happy birthday,’ I said, feeling either irrationally guilty for not knowing, or hurt that he hadn’t told me this sooner. And I wasn’t sure which.
‘Thanks. Well, if you won’t join us this evening, shall I collect you tomorrow and drive you up to the Casa?’
‘Really, Floriano, you’ve done enough. I can take a cab.’
‘Maia, please, it would be my pleasure,’ he reassured me. ‘I can see that you’re upset. Do you want to talk about it?’
‘No. I’ll be fine tomorrow after a good night’s sleep.’ I made to open the passenger door, but as I did so, he placed a gentle hand on my wrist.
‘Remember that you’re grieving. You only lost your father a couple of weeks ago and this . . . odyssey back into your past must be emotionally unsettling on top of it. Try to be kind to yourself, Maia,’ he added softly. ‘If you need me, you know where I am.’
‘Thank you.’ I climbed out of the car, walked swiftly through the hotel lobby and took the lift to my floor. Once in the sanctuary of my room, I let the tears flow. Though preciselywhatI was crying about, I had no idea.
*
Eventually, I fell asleep, and awoke feeling calmer. It was past four o’clock, so I took myself off to the beach and had a swim in the bracing Atlantic waves. As I wandered back to the hotel, I thought about Floriano and the fact that it was his birthday. He’d been so very kind to me, perhaps the least I could do was to take round a bottle of wine as a gift.
As I showered the beach from my body, I imagined Valentina, Floriano’s six-year-old daughter, making him supper on his birthday. The image was so poignant I could hardly bear it. Floriano had brought her up almost entirely single-handedly, even though he could easily have handed her over to her grandparents.
I knew that witnessing father and daughter together and the obvious love they shared was what had destabilised me earlier. Not to mention Floriano’s incisive comments about me on the drive up to the convent.
Maia, you have to get over yourself, I told myself firmly, aware that all that had happened and was happening to me was making me feel as though my protective outer shell was slowly being peeled away, revealing my vulnerable inner self. And Ihadto start dealing with it.
Having dressed, I listened to my phone messages for the first time in three days. Both Tiggy and Ally had obviously heard from Ma about my abrupt departure and were requesting a call back to find out where on earth I was. I decided I’d contact them once I’d met with Yara tomorrow and perhaps then I could tell them exactly why I was here.
I texted them both to say I was fine and I’d email them all with my news soon, then, mirroring my earlier thoughts with decisive action, I left the hotel and walked into the heart of Ipanema. I found a supermarket and bought two bottles of the best red wine they had and some chocolates for Valentina. I walked through the bustling square, where a night market was attracting the locals, and made my way to the street where Floriano lived.
Climbing the steps, I was faced with the choice of five buzzers. I pressed the first one and got no reply, then the second and the third. Pressing the last one and receiving silence, I was just about to turn tail and retrace my footsteps back to the hotel when I heard a shout from high above me.
‘Hey, Maia! Press the top buzzer and I’ll let you in.’
‘Okay,’ I called out to him. And a few seconds later, I was at the already open door to his apartment.
‘We’re in the kitchen,’ he shouted as I entered. ‘Go up to the roof terrace and I’ll see you there.’
I did as I was told, noticing a definite smell of burnt food pervading the downstairs rooms. I stood looking out over the terrace at the sun setting behind the hillside which housed thefavela. Finally, Floriano appeared, sweating slightly.
‘Sorry about that. Valentina insisted she wanted no help heating up the pasta dish that Petra had helped her make earlier for her to serve to me tonight. Sadly, she turned the gas onto full power and I’m afraid it’s a burnt offering for my birthday supper. I’ve left her in the kitchen to plate it up, but she wants to know if you would like some too. I think I could do with some help to chew my way through it,’ he admitted.
‘If you’re sure there’s enough, then yes, I’d love to stay.’
‘Oh yes, there’s plenty,’ he said as he noticed the bottles of wine and the chocolates.
‘To wish you a happy birthday,’ I said. ‘And also to say thank you for all the help you’ve given me.’
‘That’s sweet of you, Maia, I appreciate it. I’ll go and get another wine glass and see how the cook’s getting on downstairs. And tell her that we have another guest for supper. Please, sit down.’
He indicated the table as he left and I saw that it had been spread with a white lace tablecloth and carefully set for two. In the centre of the table, taking pride of place, was a big homemade birthday card, depicting a man with stick arms and legs, and bearing the caption, ‘Feliz Aniversário Papai!’
Floriano eventually returned, carrying a tray with a wine glass, extra cutlery and two bowls of food. ‘Valentina has ordered us to begin eating,’ he said as he set the contents of the tray on the table and proceeded to open a bottle of the wine I’d brought.
‘Thank you,’ I said as he carried an extra chair to the table and set another place for himself. ‘I really hope I’m not disturbing you. And that Valentina doesn’t mind me gatecrashing her special supper with her father.’
