Page 59 of Lost Souls

Arnie has no idea what just happened, but he can tell from Cleo’s gawping face that something sure did.

“You pig!” says Noreen. “How could you?”

“Hey,” says Arnie, misunderstanding, “from my angleit looked like you were doing most of the work!”

“Er… Arnie?” says Cleo, nodding towards the photograph.

Arnie very slowly turns and far more swiftly understands.

“You’remarried!” accuses Noreen. “Tothat!”

“Only legally!” explains Arnie. “Listen, Noreen sweetheart, there’s no love there. It was purely business.”

“And I know whatsortof business, don’t I? Oh, Arnie, I was just beginning to think…” She stops, and he wonders if he is noticing a moistness in her actually rather striking pale-blue eyes. “How can I trust you ever again? I’m sorry – I want to go home!”

“But it was only one lie, cousin,” lies Arnie. “One teeny, tiny, minuscule lie! I’d never lie to you about anything else! Noreen, please… you can’t go! Not now, not for one tiny, fuckin’ minuscule, shitty little lie!”

“ArnieGarth!” chides a doubly shocked Noreen. “How can you use language like that in front of your lovely sister?”

“Whoa, girlfriend,” says Cleo. “Sister? He told you I…? Hey, I ain’t his sister, Noreen! I’m his mistress!”

“Two lies,” says Arnie. “Two teeny, fuckin’miniscule—”

But Noreen has already stormed out of the room. The ever-loyal and much-travelled Stanley follows, pausing only to bite Arnie hard on his ankle on the way.

Arnie and Cleo exchange looks as the front door slams once again.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Words are like bullets. If they escape, you can’t catch them again.

(African proverb)

Noreen Millburn hasnever hailed a cab before, in either the Old World or the New, but she knows how to raise an arm. For safety’s sake, this very first time, she decides to wave at least two arms, plus an outstretched, walking-booted leg for luck.

“Where is the fire, señora?” says the cab driver, pulling into the kerb.

For a moment Noreen wonders if her ignorance of all things worldly has caused her to flag down the wrong type of vehicle but soon realises that this is just the man being American, or whatever he is, and leaps straight in.

“Okay. Where we goin’?” asks the cabbie, starting the meter.

“The airport, please!” says Noreen, with some urgency. But it is barely a second before she changes her mind. “No, wait. I-I need someone to talk to.”

“I not a therapist.”

“Oh, no. Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean you.” She thinks on this for a little while. “Now, this may seem a rather odd request…”

The cab driver, who is originally from Nicaragua, rolls his eyes and prepares for a cemetery run. Here we go.

On the other side of the street, a man is watching through the open window of a large black Mercedes. And smiling broadly. Anyone passing might assume he was alone, until a woman’s unexpressive face bobs up from the depths and follows his gaze.

“Looks like someone ain’t too happy,” observes Big Louie, still grinning.

“Not just her,” says Melisande, pointing to the doorway of the apartment block. Arnie is rushing out into the street, with Cleo close behind.

“Noreen!” he screams, in some desperation. “Come back here, you stupid, pig-headed, judgmental broad!”

Cleo is already unlocking her car. “Cut the sweet talk, Arnie – and get in!”