Beautiful Beast (Gypsy Heroes #3)(57)

With a loud sob I run out of the apartment.



I take a taxi to my street and ask the driver to drop me off at the corner. Cautiously, I walk towards my apartment building. I look up at the windows and they are all shut, the curtains drawn close. Exactly how I left them. I cross the street and go into the building and up the stairs. The door opens behind me and I whirl around nervously, but it is only the woman from the floor above me. She nods and moves to the lift. I take the stairs.

The corridor is deserted.

I go to my door and listen. There is no sound inside. Very quietly I let myself in and stand for a moment. It is silent and still. Vellichor. Once I would have appreciated it. Now, I want nothing to do with it.

I walk into the middle of my apartment and look around at my scrupulously clean home. Everything in its place. Except for the smashed vase and the flowers scattered everywhere. So he has been here. And he is not happy.

I take a deep breath and steel myself.

Quickly, Snow.

Ignoring the mess, I hurry to the bedroom and unpick the mattress. I take out the money and stuff it into my bag. I don’t take anything else. I am already at the door when I hear my phone ringing. I walk to it.

Lenny.

While it is still ringing, I take a piece of notepaper from a drawer and write on it. I thank him for everything he has done for me, but I tell him I have to return to India, back to my family. I say goodbye and I end it by saying.

Please don’t ever try to contact me again.

I stand at the door and take one last look. The walls seem full of my grief. Other than that, there is nothing of me in here. Then I walk out of that place forever.

I take a taxi to Heathrow airport and buy the next trip to India, which is a noon Air India flight.

‘You have a stop in New Delhi,’ the woman tells me.

‘That’s fine,’ I tell her.

At the check-in counter, the staff appears surprised and almost suspicious that I have no luggage. But I guess I don’t look like a terrorist so they let me pass. I go through passport control and sit down on one of the seats. I feel numb.

On the flight I don’t sleep. I close my eyes and think of Shane. I imagine him coming home and finding me gone. I imagine him calling one of his other women. I imagine, I imagine, I imagine. When the air stewardess comes around with the food trolley I have a raging headache. She gives me a couple of painkillers.

I take them and lie back in terrible pain.





Thirty-three


SHANE

We have a bitter north-westerly wind coming off the sea today.

The cat is curled up and I’m about to do the same for the afternoon.

I knew she was gone even before I got to the flat. I guess I knew from the moment she did not answer the phone. I open the door and the sound of silence is deafening. A pressing sensation of heaviness lodges itself in my chest. I walk to the kitchen table and there is a letter there. I leave it where it is and go out onto the balcony. I sit on a chair and, lifting my legs up, rest my crossed ankles on the railing.


I light a cigarette and take a long drag. Warm smoke fills my lungs. I blow the smoke out slowly. I don’t think. I just smoke. When I’m done, I kill the cigarette and go back into the kitchen.

I pick up her letter and read it. Her writing is delicate and neat. Just like her.

Hey Shane,

Before I go, I wanted to say it was fun while it lasted, and that I really enjoyed myself with you. You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever met.

I want to thank you for trying to help me, but more important than that, I want to thank you for bringing me back from the dead. If you had not come into my life … I don’t even want to think. You were like a lone star shining brightly on a dark night.

Anyway, I am returning to India today. In the end, that is my home. I will be safe there.

Take good care of yourself and thank you again, for everything. I’ll never forget what you did for me.

Best,

Snow

p.s.

Nothing was a lie. I meant every word I said to you. Every breathless word.

I let the letter flutter down to the table surface, and go into my bedroom. I sit on the bed and, taking her pillow, bury my face in it. I inhale deeply and let the smell of her hair fill my brain. I should have known last night that she was not asleep. I was too caught up in my plan.

How can she go to India? She has no money.

And then a reluctant smile comes to my lips. She had money put away. Good girl. And though it cuts like a knife that she has gone, I am glad that she is out of harm’s way. The best place for her at this moment is to be far away.

I put the pillow down and look at my watch. In three hours I have a meeting with Lenny. I’ll get her back. This is just temporary.

Whatever it takes.





Beware…

Beware…

Of my hunger

And my anger

- Mahmoud Darwish





Thirty-four


SHANE

He sits behind his desk, a cigarette between his lips, and squints at me. Cigarette smoke rises between us. His hand moves and the sickening gleam of white makes me think of him touching her body, and in a flash, before I can stop my thoughts, they have run on like stallions in heat. Him on top of her. Her on her hands and knees, and him pushing into her *. His ugly fingers digging into her little bottom as he slams into her. My gut twists with the kind of raw, tearing jealousy I have never experienced before. I want to f*cking shatter the smug bastard’s jaw.