Robert Wilson - A Small Death in Lisbon

'Monsanto park… from here. That's a bit complicated,' she said.

The sweat came up into his palms.

'Am I going in the right direction?'

'More or less. It's just… it can get complicated after the Parque de Palhavã.'

'You're not going in that direction are you?'

'I'm getting the train to Cascais.'

'I'm going to Cascais. I just don't want to go out on one of the main routes at this time of day on a Friday. I want to cut through Monsanto and join the Cascais motorway that way. I'll give you a lift… to your door. How's that?'

She looked at Miguel. Those blue eyes looked into his. And what did they see? The vulnerability of the old fat guy. Nothing to worry about.

'Unless…' he said, inspired by the stress of the moment. 'You haven't got to go back to your office first or anything, have you?'

The psychology was right. He remembered things.

She got in. The lights changed. Miguel's foot came off the clutch a little too quick and the car shot forward with a squeak from the tyres. He eased himself back into his seat. Calmed down. They were together now. He'd done it. He'd made contact.

She had a small bag. She threw it between her feet. She didn't put on the seat belt. He buzzed the window up. They were comfortable in the air conditioning.

'Keep going straight,' she said, and rocked very slightly backwards and forwards.

Sadness flapped inside his chest like a flag at half-mast.

He changed gear. His knuckle made contact with her brown thigh. She didn't move it away. He rested his hand on the gear stick.

'What's your name?' he asked.

'Catarina,' she said.

He smiled behind his moustache. She didn't ask him his. Kids don't.

He talked about his daughter, Sofia. His brother's daughter, but he didn't say that. He tried to shut out the second voice in his head, which told him that it knew what he was doing. He was being nice. He was good at being nice and it was working already. She kicked off one of her clumpy shoes and brought her leg up, rested the heel on the edge of the seat.

'Go right here, and take the first left,' she said.

'Do you like music?' he asked, wondering instantly if that sounded stupid.

'Sure,' she said, and shrugged a small shoulder at him.

'What sort of music?'

'Maybe not your sort of music.'

'Try me. I know them all. My daughter plays them all the time.'

'The Smashing Pumpkins.'

He nodded and engaged her in a game to translate the band's name into Portuguese, but there were too many names for different types of pumpkin and they couldn't decide. That was when she told him that she was a singer in a band, and they missed the turning to Monsanto. They headed north and wandered the streets of Sete Rios around the zoo, and then back down towards the gigantic Aguas Livres aqueduct striding out into the hot afternoon, and then on to the right road which underpassed the railway line and into the park.

As they talked, as she fielded his questions, she'd gather her blonde hair behind her in a fist and, gnawing a non-existent nail, would study the windscreen looking for a reply in her head. It made him feel how young she was again. How sometimes she was fifteen, and other times twenty-five. How sometimes she was a schoolgirl, and other times she could be having sex in a Pensão with… forget that. Strike it from the text.

They climbed up into the park through the pines, the stone pines threaded with empty tarmacked tracks, some leading up to the military installation and the Forte de Monsanto, others cutting through to the motorway and still others heading deeper into the park.

'What time is it?' she said and leaned over to look at the dashboard.

He smelt her hair.

'Just gone five o'clock.'

She sat back and slipped her shoe back on again and stretched her legs out into the footwell.

'There's a place up here with a great view of Lisbon, shall we take a look?' he asked, wanting it to be just an outing.

'OK,' she shrugged.

He pulled into the empty car park of the restaurant at the Alto da Serafina and drew up at the low wall. They got out and stood on the wall. The city stretched out before them. The squat, colossal dark glass towers of the Amoreiras dominated the skyline.

'Those towers…' she said.

'That whole area used to be mulberry trees for the Lisbon silk industry,' he said, talking to her like he talked to his own daughter, his brother's daughter.

'They're alien those towers… they look like they're going to kill the city. Suck up all its energy.'

It surprised him. He didn't say anything.

'Do I know you?' she asked, doing her catwalk away from him down the low wall.

He tensed in his shirt and looked at her legs.

'I don't think so.'

'I keep thinking I've seen you.'

'Let's get back in the car,' he said. 'I don't want to be late.'

She got off the wall, flashing the gusset of her knickers.

He pulled out of the car park and carried on through the pines, the endless umbrella pines. He took a wrong turning. Out of the sun. She didn't notice. He stopped the car.

'This isn't right,' he said, his heart pounding in his throat.

He backed into the trees.

'What are you doing?' she asked.

'I'm just turning round.'

He moved deeper into the trees and into a clearing. Out of sight of the road now. The engine stalled. The sun shone into the car. The tinted windows darkened. She looked down at his hand on the gear stick.

'What's the matter?' she said.

'I don't know.'

'I did see you before,' she said. 'I remember now. You came into the café near the school. You were standing behind me.'

'The café? What school?'

'The Bella Italia near the school.'

'Not me. I didn't know you were at school.'

'I'm sure it was you. That tie. In the mirror.'

'In the mirror?' he asked, something travelling through his veins now like electricity gone bad.

He saw everything pin-sharp, right down to the tiniest blonde two-millimetre-long hairs on her leg. She moved into the corner of her seat and brought her feet up on to it, not slipping out of her shoes this time.

'I've seen you before,' he said, and she brought her fists up under her chin. 'In the Pensão Nuno at lunchtime with your two boyfriends. Were they the ones from your band?'

The information mesmerized her.

How had it happened? How had it gone wrong? It should not have been like this. He swallowed again looking at her but not. Looking at her reflection in the windscreen.

'What do you want?' she asked, her voice quavering.

There was still time to stop this. He could stop it now, go back to the talk, go back to the Smashing Pumpkins. He didn't have to…

He stretched out a hand. A hand thick with hair. Hair that went up the fingers nearly to the top joint. Animal hands. He circled her ankle with his thumb and forefinger.

She flicked her foot out and the rhinestone-studded heel of her shoe thumped into him just above his heart. He gripped the ankle and held on. She grabbed his tie. He crushed her wrist in his hand and she yelped and let go. He twisted her arm. She lashed out with her other foot and caught him high on the chest this time. He twisted her arm more and she turned. She had to turn. He pressed forward with his weight over her. He pushed her face into the corner of the seat and the door.

'Don't hurt me,' she said. 'Please don't hurt me.'

He grunted. Her noise coming to him muffled. He pushed up her skirt and yanked her pants down, under her knees, right off, over her stupid shoes. She felt her back cracking under his weight. Heard him fumbling in the glove compartment not far from her head. She wrenched her other arm out from underneath her and tried to lash out. He drew her head back.

'No,' she said. 'No, please. Don't hurt me. Do what you want, but don't hurt me.'