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6
The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Milan Kundera
If the hot cocoa and pumpkin pie have warmed my heart and my body, the effect isn’t going to last long out here in the biting cold. But despite the dropping temperatures, throngs of people are milling around, scurrying from shop to shop, saddled with huge bags full of wrapped presents and Christmas decorations that will make a home cosy and festive.
It’s obvious that for some time the villagers of Starry Cove have been very busy with preparations. And it seems they’ll be so up until Christmas Eve. But, with all the scurrying to and fro, they still find the time to stop and chat and laugh with their fellow villagers.
When was the last time I stopped to chat and laugh? I wonder. If it weren’t for Maisie, I’d be completely on my own. My many acquaintances and colleagues is one thing, but true friendship I truly welcome and am glad to have met such a lovely girl as Rosie.
But Maisie isn’t my favourite person right now after that prank she pulled last night. Imagine, trying to get me and that lout together. He’d literally have to be the last man on earth and even then, I’d still say no.
I stand still in the stiff breeze, welcoming it, hoping it’ll help me to clear my head of the cobwebs. As it whips my hair around my cooling face, I feel myself laugh. A real liberating, open-mouthed belly laugh. I can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed. It must be all the chocolate and cakes and friendships, making me giddy with something akin to… levity of heart?
There’s certainly something to be said about the great outdoors. For a brief moment, Stephen and Lady Bracknell seem more than five hours away. It’s as if they’re on another planet and I’ve just discovered an entire new world where they can’t reach me with their everyday run-of-the-mill troubles and hassles. I’ll be back to work and on fiancé duty soon enough, but for now, I’m a free agent.
I pull out my mobile in search of my grandmother’s location. I’ve put it off long enough. Time to face the unknown.
As I breathe in the cool air to muster some courage, the wind whips at my scarf, which alights from my shoulders before I can grab it. In dismay, I watch as it soars beyond my reach and is caught by higher currents, which suck it upwards into the heavens, like a pixie spirit escaping its captor. I break into a run down the length of the coastal path as my scarf dives for the beach and at one point it looks as if it’ll actually fall back down towards me. But soon another gust whips it away until all I can see is a thin line disappearing on the horizon.
‘Oh, no,’ I groan.
That was the last present from my mother before she died. One of the very few.
And then I spot him. The local drunk from yesterday. He’s seen my every move and not made a single attempt to help. Perhaps because he looks unstable on his legs. I can’t tell if he’s still drunk from the other night or if this is a new bender he’s gone off on.
‘Soyou’rethe London lass everyone’s talkin’ about.’
I look back up at the sky in case the winds decide to surrender what is mine, but it doesn’t look like that’ll be happening anytime soon.
‘What do you care who I am?’ I bite off.
‘Because I’ve never seen you before. And I know everybody.’
‘Maybe I’m from the city of Truro and we’ve never met.’
‘Trust me, you’re not from Truro.’
‘How do you know for sure?’
‘First of all, because I know everybody and everybody knows me.’
‘What are you, some kind of local celebrity?’
He guffaws. ‘Oh, I’m infamous, alright. But you, you can’t be from round here because you’ve got that Bambi look in your eyes. And no one here looks at me like you do.’
‘And how exactly am I looking at you?’ I straighten my head and close my slack jaw. He truly is beautiful. Such a shame he’s damaged goods.
He tilts his head as if to assess me better.
‘Without hatred or pity. A bit of impatience, maybe, but that’s understandable. What are you, a teacher or somethin’?’
‘That I am,’ I answer, still straining my eyes on the horizon for my scarf. ‘How did you guess?’
He shrugs. ‘My parents, from what I can remember, were teachers. Like them, you have that sanctimonious air, like you ate bleddy books for breakfast, lunch and dinner.’
‘You sound like you have a lot of disdain for education.’
‘Of course not. I used the word sanctimonious, didn’t I?’
