Salt and Sugar – Part 2: Breakfast on the Tram

The café Rui chose was on the corner of a steep street in Chiado, with blue tiles on the walls and a waiter who called every customer meu amor. He ordered for both of them, with a flourish that made Inês roll her eyes, and then sat back, looking pleased with himself.

"Coffee, bread with butter, and a tart," he said. "Because you can't stop me from eating them."

"I can," said Inês. "I just don't want to."

The coffee was strong and bitter. The butter was salty and soft. The tart, when it arrived, was perfect, the top blistered and dark, the custard warm and sweet, and Inês closed her eyes and sighed.

"You're happy," said Rui, watching her.

"I'm eating a tart in the sun on my day off," said Inês. "Of course I'm happy."

"That's not the reason."

She opened her eyes. He was leaning across the small marble table, elbows on the surface, his expression open and a little shy.

"Can I ask you something?" he said.

"Yes."

"Why did you never let anyone else make the custard? Not your staff, not your grandmother, not the cranky Admiral?"

Inês considered the question. She had never been asked it before.

"Because I was afraid of what would happen if I got it wrong," she said slowly. "If I let someone else do it, and they ruined it, I'd have to admit I couldn't control everything."

"And can you?"

"No," said Inês, and smiled at her own honesty. "Nobody can. That's why I bake before dawn. It's the only time the city is quiet enough for me to think."

They finished the tart. Rui paid, insisting that the breakfast was his fault for chasing her around the back step all those weeks, and they walked out into the bright morning, the castle shining above the rooftops.

At the bottom of the hill, they caught the number 28 tram, its wooden seats worn smooth and its bell ringing as it climbed the narrow streets. Rui stood by the window, one hand on the rail, and Inês stood beside him, close enough for their shoulders to touch every time the tram lurched round a corner.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Wherever the tram goes," said Rui. "I've always wanted to ride it to the end, without knowing where I'd get off."

"That sounds very dangerous."

"It's only dangerous if you're afraid of the view," said Rui. He glanced at her sideways. "Are you afraid of the view?"

"I'm afraid of you," said Inês, quite honestly, "a little. You make me want to say things I've been keeping in the oven too long."

He laughed, a bright, surprised sound that made the other passengers turn round.

"Can I ask you something else?" he said.

"Yes."

"Would you like to kiss me, here, on the tram, while the whole of Lisbon pretends not to notice?"

Inês's heart gave a happy jolt. "Yes," she said. "But if I say stop, we get off at the next stop and buy the best ice cream in the city."

"Deal," said Rui. "Green?"

"Green," said Inês, and stepped in closer, and kissed him.

It was warm and quick and a little bit clumsy, the tram rocking beneath them, and it tasted of coffee and butter and the sweet custard still lingering on her lips. Rui's hand came up to rest against her waist, steadying them both as the tram swayed round the bend, and she felt him smile against her mouth.

When they parted, a little old woman in the seat behind them began clapping slowly.

"Muito bem," she said, with a wink.

Rui went scarlet. Inês laughed so hard she had to hold on to the rail.

"Next stop," said Rui, breathless. "Ice cream."

"Next stop," agreed Inês, and didn't let go of his hand.