Where TWO RIVERS MEET

For Celia, it was the most magical place somewhere dreams come true

- 

Mértola? Really?' Paulo the taxi driver looked at Celia incredulously in the rear-view mirror. 'It's not so good for tourists. No high-street shops, no bars. Bit remote. I can take you to a city?'

Celia shuffled her too-tight skirt down and ran a tissue across her forehead, a little mortified at being judged so immediately.

'No, Mértola please,' she said firmly, gripping onto the door handle as the car sped up. 'I've been waiting for 20 years to return to Portugal. Mértola was the most beautiful place I'd ever been.' She bit her lip. 'I hope it hasn't changed too much.' Paulo laughed. 'Oh don't worry, nothing much changes there!' He pulled the taxi onto the motorway and they headed inland, towards the hills.

Celia peeled herself from the leather taxi seat and thumped her large suitcase onto the steep cobbled street with an audible groan. It wasn't just the long journey from Faro airport in an un-air-conditioned car that had made her uncomfortable. With each mile that she drew closer to her destination, the bubbling sensation in her stomach had grown more intense what on earth have I done?

And yet, standing under a shady olive tree, with a gentle spring breeze starting to cool her down, she could feel her pulse begin to slow and a sense of peace take over. Why had she left it so long to come back? Life had got in the way.

After a few minutes' walk downhill, the road ended and she dragged her bag along a barely passable track. She had forgotten how ramshackle the winding streets of Mértola were. With a manicured hand, she swatted at bugs and overgrown branches, cursing herself for her impractical choice of footwear. But within 10 minutes, she was there, her new castle... Well, shack actually.