Page 25 of Lost Souls

“Get outta here! Well, Saint Noreen, did I tell you I was an orphan? Twice.” Tears well in Arnie Garth’s cunning little eyes. “Both parents. One to Ebola, the other a stray bullet. I got nobody.” His voice begins to crack. “If… if I spend just one more lonely night alone and on my own, by myself, with no one to talk to, no one to care about me, playing solitaire for one and doing other solo stuff, I think I’ll surely die.” He grabs his napkin and wipes his eyes.“I’m… sorry. I’m so sorry, Noreen. You must think I’m beyond pathetic. Trust me, I don’t usually…”

Her strong, cracked hands, which still smell slightly of sheep and goat despite a goodly rub of her best carbolic (on both herandher furry companions), move slowly across the table to make contact with his own. He feels their roughness, as they graze his suntanned skin like sandpaper.

“Oh, Arnie. If there’s any way I can help…?”

Arnie swiftly removes a hand and grabs a room key from his pocket. “Room forty-three. I’ll be up in a minute.” He slides it across. “Make yourself at home.”

A muffled cheer rises from the surrounding tables, although whether it is from admiration or relief, we shall probably never know.

Chapter Thirteen

Character is like pregnancy.

It cannot be hidden forever.

(African proverb)

When he entersthe small but charming bedroom that he has somewhat optimistically reserved for the occasion, Arnie is happy to discover that Noreen Millburn has been sufficiently naive to act upon his invitation, which is always a plus.

He is less delirious that she has managed to find her way onto a TV channel showing an XXX erotic movie.Arnie can only assume that there was a glitch with the previous check-out, as he can hardly believe a fancy hotel like this clicks onto such a channel as a matter of course.

And ask yourself, who else in this story could be responsible?

When he suddenly realises that the movie is in fact one of his own – not exactly a classic, but, in its humble way, a representative example of his oeuvre (with its signature ‘positions’ instantly identifiable to the connoisseur) – Arnie Garth’s surprise turns to alarm. If she catches the opening or closing titles, his name and that of his company are all over it. He may even – he can’t quite remember – have a cameo.

Heaven forbid.

“Arnie – look at this!” says Noreen, pointing to the screen.

A strappingly handsome archaeologist has completed the unwrapping of a perfectly preserved and well-formed female mummy, one who is apparently more than happy to continue what she was doing two millennia earlier, with some Rameses or another.

“Iknow!” says Arnie, in a shock which, in its own way, is absolutely genuine. “And, Noreen, I am just ashamed to be a member of the same species as the vile degenerates who spew out this… garbage! Look at it. Corrupting! Degrading! Never mind the excellent lighting and state-of-the-art camerawork! So different from the highly educational, spiritually uplifting movies I make. Who would even watchYummy Mummy? Or whatever it’s called.”

“It’s not disgusting, Arnie,” says Noreen, whichcauses him to do a double take of which any comedian would be proud.

“It’s not?” he says, suddenly hopeful.

“No. It’s sad.”

“Of course it is. You are so right. More than sad. Tragic.Tsk. Why, exactly?”

“Do you really need to ask, Arnie?”

He nods. He really does need.

“These young men and women, so beautiful and healthy-looking, they should be learning about feelings. About emotions. And – and yes, aboutkindness. What’s more, they ought to be trying to convey these qualities to others. And not just indulge in – in meaningless sex.”

“Noreen, you’re a mind reader! We speak the same language, kiddo. And you wanna know something? I feel for you. I do. In a sort of emotionally kind and meaningful way. You wanna use the bathroom first? Maybe spray all those clothes and yourself with something flowery.”

The woman stares at him, as if pennies are just beginning to drop and she isn’t warming to the sound nor to the thought of picking them up.

“Arnie!You said in the restaurant not fifteen minutes ago that you didn’t want to be alone. You said you wanted someone to talk to. A conversation.”

“I do, sweetheart. I really do.” He looks offended. “Hey, I ain’t one of those guys that goes straight to sleep afterwards.”

Actually, he is, but he supposes he could just about stay awake for a bit, if his life depended on it.

Noreen throws the man a look she wouldn’t even give a departing fox who had just ripped the stuffing out of oneof her baby lambs. Rising up with some dignity and effort from the bed, she grabs her favourite bobbly hat from the side table, leaving the archaeologist and the mummy to continue making their own pyramid.