Beautiful Beast(7)

‘Let me guess, he turned into a nasty little boy who pulled your hair and made you cry.’

I smiled. ‘Pulled my hair? He took it a few steps further. He set it on fire. It was the only time I saw my father lose control. He put the fire out with his bare hands and afterwards he tore a branch from a tree and whipped my brother with it until my mother came running out of the house screaming hysterically and threw herself over my brother’s body. I can still picture my father standing over them panting and wild-eyed. But enough about me, what about you? Tell me about you,’ I urge.

‘We are gypsies. My mother is from a Romany gypsy family and my father is an Irish traveler.’

‘Oh wow! That’s really interesting. You must have had some childhood too.’

‘I did. I had a wonderful childhood. At least, until my father died. Then it all kind of fell apart for a while.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I say.

‘It was a long time ago,’ he says, and quickly changes the subject back to me. ‘So, when and how did you end up in England?’

‘I ran away from home when I was nineteen,’ I say shortly.

His eyes fill with curiosity. ‘How old are you now?’

‘Twenty.’

He frowns. ‘You’ve only been in this country for one year.’

I nod.

‘How did you get mixed up with Lenny?’

I shake my head. ‘I can’t talk about it.’

He stares at me, his eyes unreadable ice chips, and I drop my gaze

‘But you are with him willingly.’

I nod.

‘I want you to memorize my phone number and address.’

He tells it to me and makes me repeat it.

‘If at all you need me, just call me or come directly to my home. There’s a spare key under the mat. Ring the supervisor’s bell and tell him your name and he will let you in. OK?’

‘OK.’





Seven


SNOW

When I hear the letter flap clatter back to its closed position the next morning, I run to the door to find two letters on the floor. One is a utility bill. The other I hold in both hands, my stomach clenched with excitement. With shaking hands, I tear it open and my eyes graze the first paragraph.

Oh my God! They accepted me!

I hug the letter quietly to the middle of my chest and feel a tiny fountain of joy bubbling inside me. The reindeer moss sees the water and knows things are about to improve.

If only there was someone I could tell my happy news to, but there is no one. I have no friends in England, and I have cut all ties with everyone in India. Of course, I can’t tell Lenny because he wouldn’t approve at all.

When I pass the mirror, I look at my reflection and almost don’t recognize the woman standing there looking back at me. Why, I look so alive. And then I am full of defiance. Why shouldn’t I celebrate my good news with someone?

I pull on a light summer coat and run out of my apartment. I skip down the flight of steps and onto the pavement. I think about taking a taxi, and then I decide that, from now on, I’m going to save every penny. I am closer than ever to my goal.

I walk down to the Tube station in a happy daze. In the carriage I smile to myself. A woman catches my eyes and, instead of looking away, smiles back. I grin at her. She smiles again then looks away.

Shane, it seems, is only nine stops away from me.

The magazine seller outside the station points me in the right direction, and I happily float towards where he indicated. Shane’s building isn’t quite as exclusive or as nice as Lenny’s, but I didn’t expect it to be.

I know Shane doesn’t have much money.

He drives a motorbike, and when I asked him outright how he knew Lenny he vaguely mentioned running a few businesses. In fact, I imagine his chateau, if it is not a farmhouse, to be a bit of a run-down job, but I don’t care. He is my friend.

I stand outside his apartment block with my finger hovering over his bell and have a moment of doubt. He did tell me to come whenever I felt like it and that he is almost always around before lunch. What if he’s not in, or he has a woman friend over? The thought is slightly sickening. With an odd flutter in my tummy, I ring the bell.

Shane’s voice comes through the speaker. He sounds aggressively surprised.

‘What are you doing here, Snow?’ he demands.

‘You said I could visit if … if … I wanted to,’ I stammer.

The buzzer sounds and I push the door open. I cross the foyer toward the lift, but all my earlier enthusiasm has evaporated to nothing. He didn’t sound happy to hear from me at all. I get into the lift and press the button for his floor. When the floor indicator passes the first floor, I hit my forehead with the heel of my hand.

Idiot!

This is not India where people just drop in on each other without calling ahead. I remember now, how it used to enrage my mother when my father’s Indian relatives would simply turn up and call at the gate whenever they felt like seeing my father. It was their custom, but not hers.

And Shane is British, like my mother. I should have called first.

Suddenly, I feel tearful. The little fountain stops bubbling and reindeer moss withdraws into itself again. Oh God! I’ve ruined everything. The lift door opens at his floor and I rush to press the button to close the door. For good measure, I hit the button marked G a few times too. Hurry up and close, I pray, but as the doors start to shut, a huge male hand curls at the edge of one of the closing doors.

‘Whoa,’ Shane says appearing fully at the entrance of the lift. ‘What the fuck? Were you going back down?’

I shrink back. ‘I’m sorry. I should have called first. It was rude of me. I forgot. These English customs; I’m not used to them. You might have guests, or you might be busy.’

He stares at me incredulously for a second. ‘You came to visit me?’ he asks.

I nod miserably.

He holds the door of the lift open, and reaching in pulls me out by my wrist. I bite my lip to keep from crying, but the tears are already stinging at the backs of my eyes. I can’t believe I am now going to cry, to add to my humiliation. I swallow hard and start blinking the tears back. Oh God, he’s going to think I am the biggest cry-baby in the world.

For a moment he seems frozen with astonishment. Then he reaches out suddenly and pulls me towards his hard body.

‘I don’t have guests and I’m not busy,’ he says into my hair.

Like a fool, I start crying in earnest. ‘I don’t know why I’m crying. I have no reason to cry. I’m such a colossal idiot,’ I babble.

‘I love it that you dropped by,’ he says softly.

‘Really?’ I sniff.

‘Abso-fucking-lutely.’

The little fountain in my heart starts bubbling again.

‘I’m sorry if I sounded unwelcoming,’ he says softly. ‘I didn’t know what to think. You took me by surprise. I was not expecting you, and I automatically thought something bad had happened to you.’

I wipe my eyes with the backs of my hands. ‘No, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Crying like a fool for no reason.’

‘Forget it,’ he says kindly.

‘OK,’ I agree, smiling gratefully.

‘Come on,’ he says and takes me to his apartment.

The first thing I notice are the toys scattered on the floor.

His smile is mocking. ‘In case you’re wondering, they’re not mine. They’re my niece’s and nephew’s. I’m babysitting for the next two hours.’

I listen, and the apartment is pretty silent. ‘Where are they?’

‘Sleeping, thank God.’

I chuckle. ‘How old are they?’

‘Liliana is four going on thirty-four, and Tommy is a three-year-old who, uniquely, channels monkeys. He climbed the cupboard the other day to reach for a packet of sweets.’

‘Oh,’ I say with a laugh.

‘They’ll be awake in an hour and you can meet them then.’

He wants me to stay and meet the children. ‘I’d love to,’ I say shyly. ‘So, they are called Liliana and Tommy.’

‘Well, he’s still called Tommy,’ he says dryly, ‘but, she decided last week that she no longer wants to be known as Liliana, but Margarite Hum Loo.’

I laugh. ‘Margarite Hum Loo?’

‘Yes, and you can’t shorten it and call her Margarite either. It has to be the full whack or nothing.’

I smile. ‘Why that name?’

‘No idea. You can ask her yourself when she wakes up.’

‘I will,’ I say still chuckling.

‘I’m just about to make myself a meal. Join me?’

‘Thanks, but I’m not hungry.’

‘You’ll regret it.’

Laughing, I follow him to his kitchen. It is done up in warm tones of honey and yellow.

‘What will you have to drink? Milk? Juice? Water?’

‘Juice will be nice.’

‘Orange, apple, or—Liliana’s favorite—mango crush.’

‘I’ll try the mango crush then.’

He takes a glass out of a cupboard and pours a thick orange-red liquid into it.

A cat comes to rub its face on my legs. ‘You have a cat,’ I exclaim, surprised.

‘Yup. That’s Suki,’ he says, scooping rice into an opaque plastic cup. He pours it into a silver colander.

‘Do you need some help?’ I offer.

‘Let’s get the rules clear right from the start. This kitchen is my domain,’ he states.