Page 60 of The Little Porto Book Club

My circadian rhythm is broken. If only I could turn back time and keep my sleep routine intact. All it takes is a few lapses and this is where you end up. A terrible night of tossing and turning, broken sleep and strange snatches of dreams featuring wedding dresses of all things. The sun is just breaking free as I swish open my curtains, muddling about how I’m going to effectively copyedit to my usual high standard when I haven’t slept well.

OK, fine. It’s the case. It’s Tiago. It’s my brand-new shiny sparkly life in Porto that I am suddenly enjoying! Why then does it keep me up at night? Is it anxiety that it might all be snatched away again? Finally, I, Viviane Álverez, have made real friends. Fascinating, funny oddballs to call my own who don’t blink an eye at my quirks.

It’s as if I magicked up the perfect group of eccentrics and now, I’m scared to lose them. Especially Tiago. My feelings for him have grown into something more romantic and I suppose if my mum can move on after the betrayal she suffered at my father’s hands, then I can too.

As long as Tiago is always truthful with me, I will not abide a man who lies. It’s like a snowball effect when the truth is bent and soon there’s a second family living around the corner. A family that I occasionally ran into. A family whose children I often complimented for their good manners when I’d bump into them buying bread, sans my father, obviously. I didn’t know who they were back then. The children will be seven and eight this year.

There’s a short, sharp pain when I think of those two little cherubic-faced kids. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the memories of my dad teaching me all that he did and the fact they just won’t have that. That pang of sadness sits heavily in my chest that they won’t have his presence in their lives, to teach them games, to buy them books. Small hobbies that became my great loves. What to do about it? Anything. Nothing?

First, caffeine.

I’m midway through coffee making when there’s a scream from upstairs, a bellow, a few grunts and a sound suspiciously like my mother is taking a tumble. I rush out to check to find her sliding headfirst down the steps.

‘Mum! Wouldn’t it be easier to walk?’

‘I fell. I slipped. I—’ She gingerly stands, assessing her elbow for damage. ‘I’m fine, fine, better than fine!’ From her dressing-gown pocket she takes her phone and brandishes it in the air between us. ‘Querida. I ran out of phone battery last night.’

‘That doesn’t mean you need to body surf down the stairs to charge it. This is how addictive technology is, it’s why I stand proudly on my soapbox about the risks involved.’

‘Fine, fine, listen. I didn’t, ah, body surf the stairs to charge my phone! I put it on last night but only just checked my phone to find a heap of messages. Most of them from Tiago’s mum, Zeliá.’

Oh no. Put a fork in me, I’m done!

‘Is it true? Are you and Tiago engaged?’

‘Engaged! Mother, you know my opinions about a woman and her autonomy!’

‘Well, are you dating?’ Her expression wrinkles, like she’s frantic for the answer.

I must tread ever so carefully here. I can’t tell her how I got into this mess. If Mum gets one whisper of anything illegal or untoward she will march me to the Polícia herself to share what I know. Even though I have nothing of evidentiary value, that will matter not one jot to her. But if I lie about Tiago and us dating that will also have consequences. Once again, rock. Hard place.

‘Tiago and I are firm friends. Book club friends. We enjoy talking about books.’ Although we don’t talk about them nearly as much as I would like since all those other mysteries keep cropping up.

‘Don’t be shy! You can tell me. I’m not even hurt that you told his mother first.’ The pout on her face says otherwise.

It reads: she’s absolutely devastated to be told second and she will hold on to that slight for many years to come. ‘It wasn’t that we told Zeliá first. It – uh.’ I don’t usually stumble like this, but I don’t also routinely lie to my mother about dating men either. ‘Uh, she caught us in a rather compromising position.’

Mother gasps, her face aghast. ‘No! Oh, I will die from embarrassment, querida, what were you thinking?’

‘What? Not that kind, Mother, seriously. In an unhappy bit of happenstance, she caught me giving him a kiss on the lips.’ A fake kiss, but I can’t think fast enough whether to be honest or not. I’m having trouble keeping up with the threads of so many lies.

She brightens. ‘Oh. She caught you kissing?’

‘I wouldn’t describe it as kissing. Mouths were tightly closed. It was more a meeting of the lips. A whisper of a meeting of the lips if you really want to get technical about it.’ OK, it wasn’t exactly that but Mother will be scandalised if I told her I kissed him hard in front of his mother, no less.

She waves the words away. Her eyes shining. ‘So, it was nothing indecent? And you didn’t tell her you were dating first? Not before me. You’d always tell me first, wouldn’t you?’

‘I didn’t tell anyone anything. Mother, what kind of indecent activity do you think I’d take part in in Tiago’s mother’s kitchen?’ It’s an outrage! This is a bit rich coming from a woman who has been dating an exhibitionist, but I keep that to myself.

Mum surveys her nails and I brace for bad news. ‘I don’t even want to think about it! Anyway, she’s invited me over for lunch to discuss.’ There it is, the grenade. An explosion goes off in my mind, there is no way to contain this now.

‘Discuss what exactly?’ I gulp.

Her smile is of the cat that got the cream variety. ‘The meeting of the families.’

‘No, absolutely not. You’ll have to make an excuse. Tell her you’re an imposter. That you’re going to Nepal on a spiritual journey and will not be taking your phone.’ Desperation makes me clutch my cheeks and pull at them. ‘Or how about that you’re violently opposed to our union because you don’t believe in a patriarchal society?’

Mother laughs, though I’m not sure what at. ‘What? No. I can’t wait to meet her. She said you wouldn’t tell her any details about me or give her my phone number. I know you’re concerned with cyber security and being cloned and whatnot but she’s your boyfriend’s mother.’