Cinnamon Twigs (34 page)

             
‘It’s all artificial.’ I unbuttoned my shirt collar. ‘It’s not a very nice world out there I’m afraid, Soraya.’

             
‘What do you mean?’

             
‘It’s full of prying people and harsh critics.’

             
‘Surely it isn’t that bad?’

             
‘No, I suppose it’s not
all
bad. I guess I came here so I could be myself.’

             
‘And you couldn’t be yourself at home?’ she asked.

             
‘I don’t think so. People label you. And I changed. No, I couldn’t be myself anymore.’

             
‘Did you want to be a celebrity?’

             
‘Yeah. Always. Ever since I can remember. But I wanted to be known for my work, not my private life.’

             
‘And that’s why you came here?’ She gave me a searching look.

             
‘Yeah. The media will never know where I’ve gone. I’ll always be a mystery.’

             
‘How dramatic.’

             
‘Well, I’ve always been a dramatic person!’ I laughed, realizing how much of a dick I sounded. I quickly waved this sense of realization away.

             
‘And do you think you’ll be remembered for your work?’

             
‘I’m afraid not. I’ll be remembered for my private affairs. The press have written my life for me, but they’ll never get the final chapter. I s’pose coming here is the only way I can get one over on them.’

             
‘Would you like some wine?’ Soraya smiled at me with her agate eyes. ‘My father was very fond of his drink! There’s quite a selection in the cellar.’

             
‘Yes, please. That would be lovely.’

             
‘I’ll go fetch us a couple of bottles.’

             
I gazed at the dancing flames of the fireplace. Oddly, they reminded me of a picture book my mother had given me as a child. Fairies dancing around woodlands, under the shadows of red and white polka dot mushrooms, their clothes dazzling and faces bright with an innocence and happiness that can only be understood in childhood.

             
So, this is my new home. I’ll be happy here
, I thought to myself.

             
The sun went down steadily, tingeing the sky with a red hue. The day would soon be over, awaiting a new dawn.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

A Winnowing Fork

Soraya
came back with two bottles of Chablis.

             
‘You’re going to have to get used to not having electricity,’ she said.

             
‘That’s okay. No television or Internet. I can definitely live with that!’

             
‘You’ll have to use the oil lamps when you’re in your bedroom at night.’ The dancing flames of the fireplace cast inconstant light on her pretty face.

             
‘How traditional.’

             
Soraya opened the first bottle of wine and filled our glasses.

             
‘Would you like a cigarette?’ she asked.

             
‘Sure. I shouldn’t smoke too many.’

             
‘Why’s that?’

             
‘Doctor’s orders, I’m afraid. My heart isn’t in the best shape.’

             
‘I must warn you, it’s liquorice flavored tobacco.’

             
‘Well… That’s a bit different.’

             
‘Yeah, I pick them up from the market.’ She lit her cigarette, letting the smoke float through the darkness.

             
‘I’ll have to take a look at this marketplace. I’ve got plenty of cigarettes in my case though.’

             
‘Did you pack your stuff yourself?’

             
‘No. Jonathon did it for me. I had to get a brand new wardrobe. I’ve left all my possessions behind.’

             
‘That must have been hard.’

             
‘It was.’ I lit my cigarette. ‘But I think it’s for the best.’

             
‘I hope you don’t mind me asking, but who is Lauren?’ Soraya’s eyes drew away from mine for a transitory moment.

             
‘She’s my wife.’

             
‘You left your wife behind?’

             
‘Yes, I did.’

             
‘Do you still love her?’

             
‘I loved her in that life, yeah.’

             
‘You don’t worry she’ll meet someone else?’

             
‘I hadn’t thought about it, to be honest. I’ve always been very paranoid about her meeting another bloke anyway. She’s so beautiful and a much better person than I could even imagine being. I don’t believe in leagues, and I’ve had to resist propositions from incredibly sexy women, when I first became famous anyway, but Lauren’s

certainly a
Chayot Hakodesh
to my
Ishim
.’

             
‘I didn’t understand any of that.’

             
‘They’re types of angels.’

             
‘You’re comparing yourself to an angel?’

             
‘Oh God, yeah… You must think I’m such a prick!’ I laughed, sensing the discomfiture as it stained my cheeks scarlet.

             
‘You must have had a troubled marriage…’ Soraya took a sip from her glass.

             
‘I think people grow apart.’

             
‘In what way?’

             
‘People change, and there are all sorts of factors that contribute to those changes.’

             
‘What sort of factors do you mean?’

             
‘You ask a lot of questions.’ My face contorted into a splenetic smile.

             
‘I’m sorry.’ She kept her eyes on the pale yellow tint of her wine.

             
‘No, it’s my fault. I should be used to people asking me questions by now. And you have a right to know, I suppose. “
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo
”.’             

             
‘Eh? Shall we talk about something else?’

             
‘Why don’t we talk about you?’ I grinned.

             
‘Okay. What would you like to know?’

             
‘How long have you lived alone?’

             
‘Three years.’

             
‘What do you do with yourself?’

             
‘I go for walks on the beach in the mornings.’

             
‘And?’

             
‘Well, there’s very little else to do, I guess.’

             
‘You must do other things?’ I took a big gulp of my wine and then refilled the glass.

             
‘I just lounge around really. Or do everyday chores.’

             
I couldn’t understand it. The girl knew nothing but the island. Her days consisted of walks on the beach, but she was young and beautiful, with her whole life ahead of her. How could she be content with just lounging around?

             
‘How do you afford to look after yourself?’ I asked.

             
‘My father left us some money when he passed away.’

             
‘Us?’

             
‘My brother and me.’

             
‘Oh, right.’

             
‘But it wasn’t much. My brother left the island to get a job. But he never came back.’

             
‘Oh… So how do you
keep
supporting yourself?’

             
‘I’m used to living alone. So it’s okay, just looking after myself. I won’t have any problems now you’re here either.’

             
‘What do you mean?’

             
‘Jonathon paid me to provide for you.’

             
‘Oh, of course he did.’

             
The bottles became empty. Soraya went upstairs to change her clothes. She came back with more wine. She wore pink, silk pajama shorts and a thin, white cotton t-shirt, with nothing on underneath. Her hair fell loosely down to her waist.

             
‘You know, you really are a beautiful girl.’ The words tumbled out of my mouth.

             
‘You must be drunk!’ She giggled.

             
‘Pissed as a fart.’

             
‘I’ve never heard anyone talk like you. Your accent is very strong now you’ve had a drink.’

             
‘I’m Welsh,’ I said.

             
‘Welsh?’

             
‘Yeah, I was born in Wales. It’s part of Britain.’

             
‘Oh.’ She cocked an eyebrow.

             
‘Where were your parents from?’

             
‘My mother was French and my father was American. I’m a bit of a mongrel, as you can probably tell from
my
accent.’

             
‘How distinctive.’ I poured myself another glass.

             
‘I hope you’re enjoying the wine.’

             
‘Too much, I’d say! It’s lovely. I’ve become a bit of a connoisseur on wine.’

             
‘Really?’

             
‘Yeah, I suppose I had to be. I became accustomed to elegance.’

             
‘You won’t find much of that here!’ She laughed. And yet, her smile was ineffably elegant.

             
‘It’s nice to get away from it all. I was kinda corrupted. I became pompous. That’s not how I was brought up. I changed. Sometimes I hear myself talk and wonder who this pretentious arse-hole is.’

             
‘And that’s why your marriage failed?’

             
‘Maybe.’

             
‘It’s never too late to change back.’

             
‘The die has been cast.’ I decided to change the subject: ‘Have you got any books here?’

             
‘Yes, would you like me to show them to you?’

             
‘Maybe tomorrow. I’m in no fit state for reading right now!’

             
‘My father used to read a lot. He never read modern fiction. Only the classics. I think he owned just about every book that Charles Dickens ever wrote.’

             
‘Hmm, likewise,’ I said. ‘I don’t mind reading them again though. I think I’d go mad if I couldn’t read.’

             
‘I heard you were a writer.’

             
‘Yeah, that’s right.’

             
‘I hope you won’t go mad if you can’t write?’ She smiled coquettishly.

             
‘I sincerely hope not. I’ve come here to get away from all the work.’

             
‘Did you work hard?’

             
‘Yep. My career was one big balancing act. But I couldn’t stop working.’

             
‘And do you think you can stop now?’ She handed me another cigarette.

             
‘I have no choice.’ I lit the cigarette and drew the smoke deep into my lungs. ‘I’ve made my decision. I’ve left my career behind.’

             
‘Some things aren’t easily forgotten.’

             
‘I know.’

             
‘You don’t feel like you’ve cast your memories aside, do you?’

             
‘I don’t understand.’

             
‘Well, memories make us who we are. But you’ve left your old world behind. You’ve started afresh.’