Page 24 of The Little Porto Book Club

Mum’s gaze changes into the shifty variety. ‘The extended family have forgiven you, it seems. Or are at least willing to risk it again.’

I sigh. ‘That’s unfortunate. Which cousin is it this time?’

‘Ida.’

My shoulders slump. Ida’s getting married? Do they not care one jot about their autonomy, these cousins of mine? ‘Do I really have to go?’

‘Sim. Half of Porto will be there.’

I latch on to that piece of luck. ‘Great, so they won’t notice if I’m not in attendance, surely?’

‘Ida wants you there, under strict instructions that you won’t utter a single word at the ceremony or the speeches during the reception. She loves you and looks up to you as her older cousin.’

Absolutely none of that is true. Ida is a petulant twenty-six-year-old who wears far too much make-up and uses some volumizing device on her hair that makes it stand so high above her head that the Sixties called and asked for their beehives back. She also takes great delight in hiding my noise-cancelling headphones at family parties and watching the fallout. She hasn’t done it since I mentioned how flammable her hair products are and how I carry a lighter with me just in case it comes in handy one day.

‘Ida loves me but is silencing my voice? That’s not love, that’s control.’

Mum shakes her head. ‘Well, she just wants it to go smoothly and says you can bring a plus one. In fact, she insisted on it.’

I narrow my eyes. ‘A plus one? She insisted, or you insisted?’ I can read this crafty soul like a book.

There’s a guilty twitch of Mum’s lips which is proof enough for me. ‘It doesn’t matter who insisted, it matters that you can bring a friend. It’s going to be a long day and this way, you’d have a friend to lean on, to chat with.’

This is Mum’s way of steering me closer to Tiago or a book club friend in the hopes I’ll cement a real friendship. Or, quite possibly my wedding etiquette is below par and this may be a way to prevent another public spectacle like the one previously mentioned and they’re willing to sacrifice one of my new friends who’ll undoubtably be interrogated by my family to achieve that.

‘Fine. If I must go I will, but I am not bringing a friend.’

‘Oh, yes, you are. Ida insisted.’

‘Why does everyone around me get to do the insisting? How do I not matter in the equation? Is this because in their eyes I’m a twenty-nine-year-old spinster destined to walk the hallways alone?’

‘You will only remain alone if you choose to be. And as for Ida being the person doing all the insisting, it’s just the way it goes with weddings. Please, querida, do it for me? For the sake of family harmony.’

I harrumph even though it’s quite below my maturity level. This is a side effect of dealing with my many cousins and their many weddings. ‘Allow me to pack my bags for this ridiculous guilt trip you’ve got me marching towards.’

‘Ha! Think about it, Viviane. The family are always asking after you and are concerned that you don’t accept their invites. A wedding is a big deal, more so than a birthday party.’

‘Mother, there are sixty-three Álverez cousins here in Porto alone. That’s a lot of events. Elisa’s birthday with all those sugar-happy, ten-year-old terrors pushed me over the edge. She used the piñata bat as a weapon. On partygoers’ shins! What a menace.’

Mum lifts a brow. ‘Remind you of anyone?’ I used to act out as a child in a similar fashion, and it’s annoying Mum remembers this. My ten-year-old cousin is just a touch more violent, or if her mother is describing it, more ‘tactile’. ‘Little Elisa’s misunderstood, and you of all people should be able to empathise with that.’

I huff. I hate it when she’s right. ‘Fine. I’ll consider attending yet another monotonous family wedding, but only because I’m being guilted into it and not because I want to go.’

‘Great. And keep that sort of thing to yourself. Who will you bring as your plus one? Tiago?’

‘Why Tiago? Simply because he’s of the male persuasion? Isn’t that a bit sexist? What if I happened to enjoy the company of a female friend and felt more comfortable in their presence, since weddings often send people into a lust-fuelled frenzy?’

‘A female friend is good too. But isn’t Tiago of a similar age to you?’

Wait. I sift through our previous conversations about Tiago and am positive at no time did I mention that he’s of a similar age to me. I have the mind of a savant and do not forget details such as this. I kept this information back from her on purpose. Portuguese mothers hear that magic number and instantly think that he’s of a marriageable age, and before you know it, strings are being pulled and families have come together without the couple in question being any the wiser.

‘How do you know how old he is?’

She takes the tea towel from her shoulder and wipes the banister as if it suddenly needs her full attention. ‘An assumption, that’s all.’

‘Mother! You’ve been spying on me.’

Her face reddens. ‘I needed a loaf of bread from the padaria.’