A French Kiss in London (11 page)

Chapter Eleven

The night went far better than they both had expected. At the end of the evening, Linda couldn’t feel her right hand from so much handshaking. Her face seemed frozen in a painful, permanent smile. In spite of all that, it had been a pleasant experience.

The most praising remarks she received had come from her lover, who remained extremely impressed by her talent. Looking at all the statues and woodcarvings created by the hands and imagination of the woman he loved, Gerard appeared to have had a revelation regarding her true identity.

When his gaze fell upon the statue of Apollo, an arrogant grin became imprinted on his handsome face. He winked at her, as if reminding her of a joke known only by the two of them.

Francesco overwhelmed her with compliments. The guests hadn’t stopped for a moment from showering her with laudatory remarks, while browsing around, looking at the works on display and carrying glasses of champagne. The catering staff moved constantly through the crowd, loaded with trays of appetizers and tumblers of drinks.

Annarita introduced Linda to the other two artists, whose works were also on display. One of them—a blond, bohemian-looking young man, dressed in multi-colored clothes—kissed both of her cheeks enthusiastically. He assured her repeatedly that it was an honor for him to be in the same room with her.

The other artist—a pale, overweight woman dressed in black clothes that were not at all befitting—treated her with distant respect. When the woman moved away, Gerard leaned to whisper in Linda’s ear, “Envy. Both professional and personal. She knows she’ll never reach your level. That’s why she’s acting like an icy bitch.”

Linda laughed softly, taking his arm.

“Don’t worry, darling. I’m used to this kind of reaction. Nobody’s perfect. I’ve always looked straight ahead, without taking much notice of the people around me. In fact, it’s more because I’m too distracted, not from arrogance or anything like that.”

“Shall we sneak out?” he asked, his voice full of hope. “If one more person whispers something about your
tonight’s escort,
I’m going to throw this champagne in their face.”

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry. I hope you didn’t feel offended. Curiosity and gossip are a pain in the ass. Just because I ignore them, I didn’t realize they could bother you.”

He smiled down at her, eloquently arching one eyebrow.

“Get real! You know me. There aren’t many things in this world that bother me. I have a much too healthy ego to be disturbed because some strangers consider me your new male accessory.”

She laughed behind the crystal glass.

“Oh, yes. Don’t tell me about the size and shape of your…ego. I know it too well!”

“Then let’s go. We can talk more about it at home,” he growled into her ear, his tone insinuating and inviting.

They sneaked among the guests like two teenagers, trying to make themselves invisible.

At the exit, Linda froze on the threshold, staring at the tall, dark-haired man who was just coming in. His beautiful olive skin was unshaven, his shirt was unbuttoned at the neck and the black suit he wore was a tad wrinkled.

“
Che piacere vederti, amore mio! Sono venuto apposta per te!
” he exclaimed, stretching his arms toward her. He stopped short when he saw Gerard coming behind her and placing his hand on her waist.

“Tony, what are you doing here?” she asked in English, when she recovered her voice. “What do you mean you came here especially for me?”

The two men studied one another from head to toe, a hostile tension crackling between them. Gerard also must have detected the hint of alcohol smell coming from the intruder. His hand tightened on her waist.

Tony noticed the gesture and his face twisted in a scornful expression. He said, “Ah, I see you have already replaced me. Didn’t take you long, did it? All men are after you like after a bitch in heat! It’s a shame she’s not too great in bed,
amico
,” he addressed Gerard with a derisive smirk.

In a fraction of a second, Gerard’s fist connected with Tony’s nose. The devastating impact and sound of that blow provoked to Linda a sickening sensation. Her ex-husband crashed to the ground, holding his face in both hands, while through his fingers trickled droplets of blood. He cursed them both in his native language, his voice distorted by pain. She didn’t think it was prudent to translate for Gerard the invectives Tony was throwing at them.

When Tony tried to get up, Gerard held him to the ground by planting a foot onto his chest. Raising his index finger threateningly, he spoke with deceiving calmness.

“Stay there. If you get up before we leave, I’m going to break your neck, not just your fucking nose. If you get close to Linda one more time in your miserable life, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

Linda felt the truth in that threat deep into her own bones and a chill ran through her whole body. She knew her ex-husband felt it too, because he stayed down, while his clothes were slowly soaking in his own blood.

On the way home, none of them spoke a single word. Linda was only grateful because nobody else had been present during the scene that had taken place at the gallery’s entrance. It was late and dark, so Tony hadn’t managed to ruin her evening in front of the guests. But the words he’d said in front of Gerard burned into her soul. Shame and insecurity had erased all her newly found self-confidence.

When they reached her house, Gerard climbed out of the car and punched in the alarm code. The gate opened, then closed automatically once they drove past. He parked in front of the house. After a few moments he turned to her, while she sat with her head bent, nervously twisting the ring on her finger.

“That asshole was your ex, right?”

She nodded, without looking at him.

“And you really believed what the son of a bitch said? Or do you imagine I believed a single word of it?”

She moistened her lips and took a deep breath.

“The fact that all men follow me like…like he said, is not true. I’ve never even looked at another man while I was married to him. I’ve never sought nor wanted anyone’s attention. In spite of that, he always had bouts of jealousy with no real reasons. He made me all kinds of reproaches, among them being…What he said about my…my performances in bed,” she finished, fighting hard the tears of humiliation, her heart pierced by an almost unbearable pain.

He gazed at her for a long while in silence, in a strange way she couldn’t interpret. She found out later that he was simply marveling at her sweet naiveté, which made him feel proud, in the strange way only men can experience. He cupped her cheek gently and turned her head toward him, his eyes riveted on hers.

“Linda, I’m far from perfect. Before I met you, I’ve had many women of all kinds, from innocents to those far more experienced than I. But none of them was capable of making me love her. None of them was like you—so beautiful, so sweet, so attractive, so sensual…None of them managed to satisfy me, in bed or outside of it, the way you do.”

She looked away.

“You don’t have to try to restore my ego. Please, just drop it.”

“I’m not trying to do that. I’m only trying to make you see the truth. My opinion aside, if that imbecile was unhappy with you, do you think he would have still come after you? Do you think he would’ve been jealous, or cared if you attracted other men’s attention? He took advantage of your innocence to shatter your self-confidence, so you’d stay with him. So you would think you’re worth less, that he was doing you a favor by being beside you. This is the tactic used by these caricatures of so-called men,” he went on disgusted, and the fury threatening to be unleashed radiated from him. “I should have killed that fucking worm!”

She saw his fists and teeth clench hard, as though he was trying to hang on to reason and control, not to give in to the instinct of crushing something just for a moment of release.

She began massaging her forehead, where a wave of pain was circling. Why, oh why had this shadow of her past reappeared? To fall over their newfound happiness and to affect not only her, but also the man she loved? With a deep sigh, she opened the car door and got out.

“Let’s get a drink, please,” she said, suddenly feeling bone-tired. “Don’t say any more irrational things.”

“I’ve never talked more seriously in my life, Linda. I would give anything to kill that bastard with my own hands!”

“And after that, what?” she snapped, exasperated. “Rot in prison for a man who’s not worth it? Men just don’t think, not even as much as that cat of mine!” she went on furiously, walking toward the house. “Are women the only beings in the world who have brains and reason? I can’t believe how…”

She cut off abruptly when, thanks to the very high heels and the pitch-dark night, she stumbled and fell. A sharp pain in her right ankle caused her to scream in rage and frustration.

When Gerard reached her, his ears were assaulted by the most inventive recital of cuss words he’d ever heard. She could bet that not even in the slimiest alleys from ill-famed neighborhoods had he heard words like those now coming from her mouth. She didn’t even try to stop it. Using anger and pain as pretexts, she continued swearing, mixing English with Italian and possibly with other languages as well.

“Are you alright, baby? Are you hurt? Did you break anything?”

He carefully felt both of her ankles, to make sure that everything was intact.

“Wow! We have such an extensive vocabulary,” he said laughing, looking extremely entertained. “You should give me lessons. Just a scratched knee, my love.”

As he gave her the verdict, he lifted her in his arms and started walking toward the house.

By the time they reached the front door, the pain had subsided and so had her fury. Having run out of invectives, she only muttered under her breath sporadically.

He installed her on the living room sofa, cleaned her scratches with antiseptic and applied a Band-Aid on top. Then he kissed her knee and continued to trace kisses on her thighs, which were now revealed by her uplifted dress. The feel of his hot breath on her skin was doing wonders to calm her. When his shoulders began shaking with a soft laugh, she lifted her head to peer at him, puzzled.

“What happened?”

“Nothing unusual.” He looked up at her, sheepishly. “If I tell you, will you blush?”

“It depends.”

“I was just thinking that I’m not a teenager anymore, Linda. In fact, I’m far away from those days. But I only need to look at you, to have you close, and my body reacts like a teenager’s,” he confessed, then grinned when he saw her heated cheeks going pink. “I see you know what I mean.”

He leaned in to kiss her, but not having enough space on the narrow sofa, he let himself slide to the floor. He took her with him, lowering her on top of him, mindful at her injured knee. He kissed and embraced her frantically, showing her through their bodies’ language how deep and intense his feelings were.

“I love you. I want you so much!” he whispered raspily. “You make me the happiest man on Earth.”

Because she felt the same, and because in a certain degree of intimacy bodies can’t lie, Linda believed him. This wonderful revelation gave her wings and the courage to abandon herself to him, body and soul, as she’d never really done before.

“I love you too, Gerard,” she whispered back, and this time meant it with all her heart.

Part Two—Pocket World

“There are more things in heaven and earth...

Than are dreamt in your philosophy.”

-William Shakespeare-

Chapter Twelve

Monday started with the shrilly screech of the alarm clock, the sound of which was scraping at Gerard’s eardrums. He stretched out a hand to turn off the alarm, before Linda could smash the clock against the floor.

Since their plane departed at ten a.m., they’d stayed at her house, luggage and all, planning to take a cab to the airport.

After taking a quick shower, they had some breakfast, then dressed casually for the journey in jeans, T-shirts and sneakers. Each had a single handbag containing some clothes, toiletries and a few other essentials.

Mrs. Adams had come over the previous evening to take Pirata to her own home. The cat had left a bit panicked, to Linda’s maternal despair. The housekeeper had called a couple of hours later to report that Pirata was quite cheerful and he’d become suspiciously friendly toward Dixie, Mrs. Adam’s neighbor’s cat.

“I hope I won’t be stuck with illegitimate grand-cats at this age,” Linda had told the old woman, grinning.

Having checked the luggage one more time to make sure they had all they could possibly need during such a short trip, Gerard called the cab company and ordered a car, giving them Linda’s address.

They reached the airport a little earlier than boarding time. After all formalities and check-ups were over, they finally embarked.

Gerard was startled to learn that his lover was terrified of flying, as well as of any heights over ten feet. Therefore, he felt obliged to distract her by talking almost non-stop during the three and a half hour flight.

“Tell me more about your friend,” Linda almost begged him, clasping his hand and breathing like an asthmatic in the throes of an attack.

“Breathe calmly and deeply, my love. Otherwise, you’ll hyperventilate and faint,” he advised. “Now, let me tell you about Jean-Paul. He’s almost sixty and was born in Paris. He and my father met during the military service, which was mandatory back then, and they remained friends after that. Jean-Paul graduated from the Medical School of Paris. Since then, he’s been doing his job with complete abnegation.”

“So how did he land in Romania?”

“He’s married to a Romanian woman, Mariana. I don’t know how they’ve met. A while back, he opened his own private clinic in Cluj-Napoca, the city where they live.”

“And he’s already started curing people with this treatment he invented?” she asked with genuine interest, seeming to have forgotten a bit about her discomfort.

He shifted in his seat, to better arrange his long legs.

“We have to clarify one thing, baby. Jean-Paul didn’t invent this treatment. Others have discovered the healing properties of hellebore. They even created medication to cure some types of cancer by using it. In fact, everywhere in the world exist methods of treating cancer, HIV, etcetera. But they were never put out on the market. Shortly after an announcement is made regarding such a magic treatment’s discovery, nothing is ever heard about it again.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Good question,” he replied on a long breath and placed her hand more comfortably on his thigh. “The most plausible and popular hypothesis is that there’s a worldwide conspiracy. A group of people who don’t want these diseases to be cured, for reasons known only by them.”

“People? You mean monsters! Who could do such a thing? Who could indirectly kill so many millions of suffering souls, by hiding the existence of a potential cure? Only sick, diabolical minds could do that!”

“Some very powerful people or groups of people, Linda. People who control the humankind. Who knows what their purpose is? It can be one as simple as to avoid the over-population of the planet and the draining of all natural resources, for example.”

“But it’s inhuman! There are other solutions—the balanced distribution of those resources, the elimination of waste, which kills this consumption-oriented society. But not to use illness, despair and premature death as weapons…”

She stopped abruptly, as though a sudden thought had flashed through her mind.

“Gerard, if you will succeed in developing a more complex treatment from the snake venom to treat many types of cancer, you will become famous. What do you think will happen then? What if someone will try to silence you too?” she asked, looking panicked.

He stared through the window at the clouds, which resembled huge cotton rolls. Then he squeezed her hand, touched by her concern. But there was a strange sadness in his voice, when he said, “I think there’s a
thin
chance something like that might happen. I don’t mean about the fame. I couldn’t care less about that. I’m talking about my being able to cure several types of cancer. There’s a thin chance because the treatment must be a local one. It’s much too dangerous to be used systemically. Do you understand? I can use it externally, for a melanoma, maybe for some nodules or small tumors. But in severe cases I think it could do more damage than good. Nevertheless, every life is important to me, so I’m going to keep fighting with all weapons just to save even one.”

They sank into silence for a while, reflecting on all the atrocities hidden behind the trivialities of daily life.

“Speaking of Romania,” he resumed after a time, turning to her once more, “there are a lot of valuable doctors and medical institutes out there. For instance, I’ve heard of a doctor who created a line of products made from insects. He uses them to heal all kinds of diseases, hepatitis, even some types of cancer.”

“Drugs made from insects?”

Her face twisted into an involuntary grimace, making her slightly freckled nose wrinkle.

He smiled, amused by her expression of disgust.

“Yes. If I’m not mistaken, it’s something to do with kitchen-bugs’ salivary glands, but I’m not sure. There’s also an institute called
Cantacuzino.
Among multiple valuable medical discoveries, they created an extraordinary vaccine against numerous strains of the flu virus. It had become known and efficient in all of Europe, until its production was stopped.”

“Why?”

“Unknown cause. Lack of funds. I seem to recall that was the reason they invoked, but again, I’m not sure. Anyway, the point is that, although worldwide Romania is considered just a lousy third world country, they have some valuable people there, and not only doctors. Jean-Paul is fascinated by their history. He told me a bit about it. I confess I was impressed.”

“Hmm,” she said thoughtfully. “I’m beginning to become more and more intrigued by this country.”

Their plane landed right on time at the Otopeni airport in Bucharest. Since none of them spoke a single word in Romanian, they expected to be confronted with major communication issues. However, they were pleased and surprised to learn that almost everyone seemed to speak at least a rudiment of English. From the airport they got into a cab, asking the driver to take them to a car-rental center. In strongly accented English, the driver guaranteed them they will promptly reach their destination, which they did, in less than ten minutes.

The English spoken by the car-rental’s staff was much superior to that of the cab driver. Gerard and Linda decided to rent a blue Jeep that looked sturdy and well cared for. After filling all the forms and paying the necessary fee in Euros, Gerard guided the car in the capital’s traffic. It seemed extremely congested, even chaotic.

At first, Linda had expressed concern because everything was backward, compared to Great Britain. The car’s wheel was on the left side and they had to drive on the right side of the road—something to which she wasn’t accustomed. Besides, distance was measured in kilometers, not miles. But Gerard, who had driven in France as well as in England, adjusted quickly to the new travel conditions. They both breathed easily when they got out of the city.

They had a classic map he’d printed out from the Internet before leaving. Linda kept turning it on all sides, trying to understand the route and cursing expansively all the Geography classes she’d skipped. In all appearance, it was a three hundred and twenty kilometers distance to Cluj-Napoca.

The highway was quite crowded, so Gerard kept the speed to a reasonable limit, taking advantage to admire some of the scenery. As he’d expected, Romania was an extremely beautiful country, with every landform possible. The road began at lowlands level. When they weren’t crossing villages or towns, on both sides of the road they saw large fields of corn, sunflower, wheat, and other plants they couldn’t identify.

They had the feeling they hovered in an ocean of green under the clear sky. They stopped by the roadside to admire the magnificent fields and to move their numb muscles. The air was much cleaner than in London and had a special fragrance. Every breeze carried a scent of freshly mown grass.

They resumed their journey. The freeway was sprinkled with curves—the more so as the altitude grew and they entered the hills area. They both yawned and gulped to release the pressure in their ears.

After another hour, Linda spotted a sign that read
RESTAURANT—
a word whose meaning was unmistakable. She quickly urged him to pull over.

“I’m starving!” she exclaimed.

“Me too, darling, but you forget we can’t even read the menu,” he pointed out, but slowed down anyway and pulled into the almost-empty parking lot. They climbed out of the car and stretched luxuriously.

“We’ll figure it out.”

They headed toward the long building, which had the rustic look of a large cabin. The air smelled of pine and mountains.

The restaurant’s interior was dimly lit and cool. Everything smelled of wood and delicious food. Only two tables were occupied—one by a young couple who spoke to each other in tender whispers, and the other by three red-faced old men, who had several bottles and glasses in front of them and were chatting loudly.

Gerard and Linda sat at a table near a window, which revealed a breathtaking view—a heavily-forested valley where a few huts peeked here and there from the deep green, their wooden roofs almost swallowed by the surrounding vegetation.

A thin waiter came to bring their menus. When he concluded they were tourists and didn’t speak a single word of Romanian, the young man shrugged, helpless. He didn’t understand English, nor Gerard’s French. Linda opened the menu randomly. Everything seemed written in Sanskrit. She chose something called
sarmale cu mamaliga. F
rom the section
DESSERT
—another word she thought she understood—she chose
papanasi.

Gerard burst out laughing. Entering her game, he also chose something randomly, indicating to the waiter what he wanted—
ciorba de burta.

The young man watched them dubiously, said something that could mean anything, then left.

“I’d say I hope you know what you’re doing,” Gerard said, “but I know you haven’t a clue.”

“Come on, live a little! It’s a restaurant, so everything must be edible.”

Shortly, their food arrived. Linda had on her plate three rolls made from sour cabbage leafs, filled with minced meat. Next to them was a pile of yellowish paste, which she said was delicious.

Gerard wasn’t too excited about his food.

“It looks like baby-puke,” he told her grimacing and shuffled his spoon into the bowl filled with a white-yellowish liquid, into which were floating pieces of meat. Its origin was a mystery and he preferred it to remain that way.

Linda scrutinized his food. She smelled it, then took a spoonful.

“Mmm, it’s delicious! Granted, it’s not as good as mine, but it’s not bad. It doesn’t resemble anything I’ve tasted in my life. Here, try it!”

He took a few testing sips, then began eating more enthusiastically. Still, after tasting her food, he declared she’d gotten the better bargain.

Dessert met with mad success. They both showed their appreciation to the waiter by using signs, and made him look extremely pleased.
Papanasi
were some kind of fried donuts made from cheese, served with jam and sour cream. Linda noted down the names of all the dishes they had, with every intention of looking up the recipes and learning to cook them. When the waiter brought their bill, Gerard congratulated her because she had a considerable amount of Romanian
leis.
She’d made the exchange near the car rental center, since payments in Euros were not accepted everywhere.

Full and rested, they climbed once again into the Jeep and resumed their journey to the smoky peaks of majestic mountains, which filled the horizon.

The road had cleared some and the view was spectacular. Gerard peered into the distance at the forested ridges, which seemed to support rolls of blue and yellow clouds. Turning his head to glance at Linda, he noticed her eyes were closed. She had dozed off, probably rocked by the car’s motion and by the radio playing in the background.