Page 11 of The Little Porto Book Club

Why are people so uncomfortable in silence? That’s the bigger concern.

Tiago runs a hand over the back of his hair. No wonder it’s so floppy the way he’s always toying with it. ‘It’s just that a book club usually talks about books.’

I give him a hard stare. ‘Do you not recall promising me we’d be a silent reading club when you raised the idea when we first met?’

His lips pull to one side. ‘Yes, I do. You’ve got me on a technicality there.’ This time he conjures a cheeky smile.

He concedes, finally. He is conceding, isn’t he? It’s possible that Tiago is desperate for social interaction, he’s clearly bored without his working life and if so, I can empathise, but I cannot capitulate. It would set a precedent. No, I must remain firm, or next minute we’ll be swapping Portuguese recipes and soon enough our mothers will infiltrate the book club. ‘I’m sure everyone will enjoy diving into a book, and it will be you who struggles to remain mute. I’m not sure if you’re aware of this but when you talk a lot, you positively vibrate.’

‘I vibrate?’ He throws his head back as he laughs. The kind of laugh that scatters the birds outside. Everything he does is with the volume up.

I send him a soft smile. ‘Yes, you’re in constant motion, even when you’re still. You vibrate. Just an observation from someone who is skilled at this sort of thing.’

He gives me a nod of acknowledgement. ‘I’ll try my very best to read in absolute silence, and we’ll leave the chitchat for now.’

‘That would be appreciated.’

As I turn towards the table, Tiago puts a hand to the small of my back, his fingers barely touch the fabric of my shirt, but in the moment, it makes me feel like I’m in safe hands. And why is that? I’m a strong, independent woman.

There’s no time to ponder it as we join the others and quick introductions are made. Tiago asks us to switch to English because Zephyr is Australian and doesn’t speak Portuguese. When there’s a pause, I take that as my cue to set my boundaries firmly in place, because who knows how book club will go if Tiago takes charge. My gut roils, just because I can speak up doesn’t mean I find it easy. It’s hard to gauge the myriad emotions of humans.

‘Welcome to book club, where every Wednesday at precisely 4 p.m. we’ll read for two hours in absolute silence. Let’s begin.’ I hide the quake in my hands by picking up my novel.

‘Cool, I’m keen, but I’d love to get to know you all,’ Zephyr trills happily. ‘I’ve been backpacking for the last year but am staying put in Porto for a bit so I hope we can be friends. What do you do for work? Which bairro do you live in?’ It appears she is directing these questions to me.

Thomas shoots me a desperate grimace as if he too would prefer not to be involved in the whole ‘get to know you’ rigmarole. The way he squirms in his seat bolsters me to speak up for his sake as well as mine. ‘While I appreciate your interest in me, Zephyr, I’m sorry to say I don’t share personal information as a rule, particularly information that could be used for identity theft. We live in a world that sadly requires the utmost vigilance, so I implore you to consider this for your own safety too.’

Women should always protect other women, and so I hope this advice lands well. The group falls silent. I take heart that they’ve understood the concern that oversharing in this technological time is a risk that is best avoided.

Zephyr is a rainbow-accessory enthusiast, Doc Marten-wearing, Gen Z dichotomy who smiles widely at me. Seemingly not put off at all by my boundary setting, which is comforting in the moment. ‘Viviane is right – we could be anybody – so let’s do an icebreaker instead!’

Panic sets in. Do an icebreaker? I’ve stumbled into my worst nightmare.

‘That’s a lovely idea!’ Lucinda says, dropping her Agatha Christie novel to her lap.

I send an icy glare Tiago’s way, who studiously turns his cheek, letting it slide right past. So no support there then. Him and his lying eyes. You can’t trust men, especially ones who pretend to be the cute and caring boy-next-door type. Really, I should know this. And yet, for a moment, I forgot.

‘Come on, Viviane! It’ll be fun!’ Zephyr’s sweet smile makes it hard to fight back – it’s the face of an innocent. Far be it from me to shut her down, to stop her efforts, as hideous as they are. We must support the younger generation, the girls we paved the way for. Poor Thomas, slumped and slightly shell-shocked, looks like he’s praying the ground will open up and swallow him. It will not. I’ve prayed for this myself on many an occasion and nada.

‘Fine. A very quick icebreaker,’ I say. ‘But leave me out of it. Thomas too.’ The middle-aged man holds up his Crimean War hardback like a protective shield as he acknowledges me with a brief nod of thanks.

‘Yay!’ Zephyr claps happily, her chunky silver rings glint in the hazy sunlight. ‘OK, where to start … who’s a literary character you’ll never grow tired of?’

‘I’m back in!’ At no point did she say the icebreaker would be literary focused.

Tiago grins at me, but I studiously ignore him in a similar fashion as he just did, because I enjoy stewing in pettiness when the situation calls for it. I’m momentarily confused when out of the corner of my eye I see his grin widen.

‘Would you like to start, Viviane?’ Zephyr asks, resting her chin on her hands.

‘Yes.’ I’m quietly thrilled. The question of my favourite literary character requires little thought. ‘Detective Amber Quill is my favourite character of all time. A formidable woman with fierce intelligence who’s also a brilliant strategist. I’m hard pressed to find a character as comparable.’

‘Really?’ Zephyr scrunches up her nose. ‘I find her a bit … goofy.’

My gasp is so loud it echoes around the café, bouncing as if it’s a tangible thing. ‘Excuse me?’ I’ve misheard. Detective Amber Quill has an offbeat quirky side but to label her goofy beggars belief.

Zephyr shrugs. ‘Don’t you think so? I like goofy though, being similar myself! The goofier the better. Her inability to read the room, the way she blurts the most hilarious truth bombs. So yeah, I find her refreshing, but super goofy because she has no awareness of it. She thinks she’s this analytical detective when really it’s her trusty sidekick secretly guiding her through many awkward encounters, yet she remains blithely unaware of his machinations.’

I’m not sure what to make of this. Any of it. Detective Amber Quill’s sidekick is feckless, and that’s on a good day; he’s downright incompetent most of the time. In actuality, he reminds me of Tiago, they have that same dreamy gaze, the same jittery nature. And when it comes to Zephyr’s comments about the esteemed detective, well, I just cannot compute.