Page 33 of The Little Porto Book Club

He casually waves the apology away. ‘No, no, that’s just it. You’re the first person who ever raised that side of it with me. Everyone else was more concerned about the timings, the profitability, me not failing after so many years invested in this crazy idea. And never once did I consider the negatives, that I’d be designing something that shut people inside, that severed more ties with real people, that cut them off, cut them out, you know? My goal was to make an app where people could connect with other gamers but should I have focused more on connecting them outside their homes, away from their screens.’ His eyes are full of angst.

‘It’s not too late, Tiago. And while I’m a fierce defender of an analogue world, maybe that connection, those friends they make on a screen, are a lifeline for some. That might be the only connection they can cope with, have you ever thought of it that way?’

The angst falls away. ‘No, I haven’t.’

‘Books have been like that for me. After—’ I want to tell him about my dad, but this isn’t about me, this is about Tiago’s struggle to make sense of things. ‘—after I went through an upheaval, books became my lifeline, my refuge from the real world and all its chaos. Your app likely provides that for people too.’

He exhales a long breath, thinks it over. ‘Thanks, Viviane. I needed to hear that. You’ve inspired me. I’ve got some ideas about what comes next, so I’m keen to get working on those.’

My heart squeezes. ‘So will you go back to London?’ There’s a tech hub in East London known as Silicon Roundabout, where innovators like Tiago work.

He averts his gaze, rubs the back of his neck. ‘It would be easier to assemble a team there when the time comes.’

I swallow a sudden lump in my throat. ‘Here comes Zephyr and Thomas.’

Zephyr returns with a pretty tote bag. ‘How stunning are these? Like mini artwork.’ She brandishes a vintage tin featuring an Alice in Wonderland design. ‘Some of the tins have trivia questions and fun historical facts. My family back home will love these.’

‘Can we get out of this infernal sunshine?’ old Albert grumbles.

We continue to the Chapel of Souls, arguably the most beautiful church in all of Porto. The façade is covered in striking blue and white porcelain tiles known as azulejos, depicting scenes from the life of Saint Catherine. It’s a stunning piece of architecture, no matter how many times I lay eyes on it, it still takes my breath away. It’s a feast for the soul but my heart is strangely heavy. If Tiago leaves, which seems inevitable, this shiny new life will surely pale. The pendulum of friendship is a gnarly ride.

‘Wow,’ Zephyr says. ‘I love the azulejos artwork all over Porto, but this display might be the best.’

‘This and the azulejos inside São Bento Train Station,’ Tiago says, with pride in his voice. ‘Stunning.’ His gaze lands on me, so I’m quick to agree.

We head inside and take a pew at the very back, as we let out a quiet chorus of sighs at the change in temperature.

‘I haven’t stepped in a chapel for almost a year,’ Thomas says softly, almost reverential. ‘Maybe I need to fix that.’ I debate with whether to ask why but his face closes, becomes tight, so I let it go.

‘That was a bit of a trek,’ old Albert says, puffing. ‘And why convene in a chapel of all places?’ There are a few people milling about, lighting candles and taking in the solemn atmosphere, but they’re all up front so our whispers won’t interfere with their visit.

‘Well, meeting in a chapel is unexpected and photography is forbidden, so I figured if anyone was following us, this is a safe bet.’

‘Followed?’ Fear dashes across Zephyr’s face.

‘In the interest of safety, that’s all.’ I press on, we have a lot to get through. ‘So, as I see it, we each have a very particular set of skills and between us we can solve this case, if we harness our special strengths.’

‘Yes!’ old Albert says. ‘This is just like being in a movie. What are our skills though? Our strengths? I know my weakness and that’s walking. From now on I’ll have to remain more … static.’ He wrinkles his nose as he pulls a knee up to stretch, his joints crackling like a spitting fire.

‘Yes, we should keep that in mind. I’m sorry, I thought a walk would help in case we were tailed, but sadly, we weren’t.’ It’s disappointing, even The Man in the Blue Beret wasn’t shadowing us, but there’s not much I can do about it.

‘Tailed?’ Thomas laughs quietly, shaking his head with what looks suspiciously like disbelief. There’s always a sceptic in every whodunnit, so I’m thrilled we’ve got our very own in sad-eyed Thomas. Maybe a little whodunnit distraction might be good for whatever ails him.

Still, I keep a poker face, so he doesn’t know my ploy is to bring him into the fold more. As a person who is well acquainted with being on the outside looking in, I can spot loneliness a mile away. It’s written all over every line of his face, in the stooping of his shoulders. ‘Yes, tailed. It’s always best to take precautions, which brings me back to the matter at hand. I have keen observational skills and a brilliantly strategic mind. Tiago is my ever-faithful sidekick and can be relied on for boosting morale.’

‘Oh, shucks,’ Tiago says with a hand on his heart.

‘Also, tech is Tiago’s forte, so he’ll be our go-to for online investigations, digging into the dark depths of the notorious world wide web when, and if, needed. Thomas is our reality check, sensible and practical, offering a well-timed sigh and maybe a groan or two to let us know we’re in danger of going off-piste.’

Thomas duly offers a well-timed sigh to which Tiago sends me a look of amazement at my reading of our fellow book club member turned sceptic.

‘What about me?’ Zephyr’s forehead crinkles with worry. ‘I can’t think of any skill I have that might help.’

I spin to face my Gen Z friend. It strikes me that I’m not the only one in our group who lacks confidence or at least faces some level of self-doubt. How to make her feel understood?

‘Are you kidding? You’ve travelled around the world solo. That takes planning, organisational expertise and supreme confidence. You can talk to anyone, a skill I do not possess. That can come in very handy if we need to question someone on the sly. Same goes with you, Albert. If you and Zephyr team up, you’d make a formidable pair. No one will suspect the American and Australian are investigating their very own cosy crime. No one!’

Thomas sends me a dubious look. ‘A cosy crime? If this in fact happened, which I don’t think it did, not one part of it would be cosy, would it?’