Alentejo Blue by Monica Ali

Author:Monica Ali
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Transworld
Published: 2007-05-27T04:00:00+00:00

It was the opening day of the internet café, in the old frozen-fish shop, and at least a dozen people had turned up. Teresa looked in through the window below the lettering that still said Congelados Aquários and saw Antonio with his finger in his ear. The way he scratched, so vigorously that his body vibrated, he looked like a dog with a flea. She averted her eyes and licked her lips to make them shine. After waiting a moment or two she stepped inside.

The walls were painted a futuristic shade of acid green, the chairs and tables had tubular metal legs and by the back wall was a long trestle with two computers which no one had dared to approach. There was a small bar with a notice advertising beers at fifty céntimos a pop, and by the door a couple of shuddering chest freezers plastered with pictures of prawns.

Vicente was talking to Antonio. Teresa said, ‘Congratulations, Vicente. Have you set a date?’

Vicente stood there, lording it over them. He held his head unnaturally high and was constantly sucking and rolling his cheeks so it seemed as though he would spit on you. He slapped Antonio on the back and said, ‘You’re looking at a condemned man, my friend.’

They offered fists to each other and rubbed knuckles. Teresa crossed her legs.

‘So,’ she said when Vicente had moved away, ‘what did he say to you?’

Antonio squeezed her knee under the table. ‘What do you mean? When?’

‘The wedding. I suppose he was talking about it.’

Antonio put his hands on top of the table, waiting to catch hold of hers. The palms were scrubbed pink but his fingernails were lined with engine grease. His mother had stitched up a tear in his overalls using white thread. It looked like a scar across his chest. ‘No. Not really,’ he said. He smiled plainly at her and she conceded a hand to his.

‘Never mind,’ said Teresa. ‘Were you busy this morning?’

‘Oil leak on a Peugeot 504. Broken fan belt on a Fiesta. Senhor Mendes brought the Mercedes in for a service. I said, “Why, isn’t she running right?” The inspection was only six months ago. He said . . .’

‘Well,’ said Teresa, ‘sounds busy.’ She nodded towards the computers. ‘Shall we try it out?’

‘Can’t,’ said Antonio. ‘There’s no connection.’

‘Of course not, no.’ She looked at Antonio’s dark, accepting eyes, the slightly goofy way his hair sprang away from the parting, the length of his earlobes smudged with dirt. This is a great opportunity to make new friends. ‘I love you,’ she whispered.

‘Me too,’ said Antonio, without urgency.

‘I mean it.’ How fierce she sounded.

‘Me too,’ he repeated and she pulled away.

Paula, wearing a tight skirt that showed the line of her knickers, came to take their order.

Teresa stood up and kissed her. ‘I’m so happy for you, Paula. It’s really wonderful.’

Paula fanned the fingers of her left hand and studied the ring. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I’m a lucky girl.’

Antonio was at least twice as handsome as Vicente, who had narrow shoulders and small, mean eyes.

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